Page 296 of Sinister

The girl slowly raises her head to look at him. No longer does she have the bloodshot eyes from before, nor the rash around her mouth. She looks . . . completely healthy. Not Possessed.

“Yes,” she whispers. “Please help me.” Her voice is light and soft.

Valerion sighs. “You do not need to play those games with me,” he mentions. “You can sense who I am, can you not?”

I frown. What does he mean by that?

The girl’s eyes glaze over until they become fully black.

“You will not control me,” the demon shouts in a thick, monstrous voice.

It jumps back against the wall, climbing backward toward the ceiling.

Valerion shakes his head. “Alas, I do not want to control you. I merely want you gone.”

A deafening shriek erupts in the air. I press my hands to my ears. Valerion seems unperturbed.

He doesn’t move. He merely watches, almost amused.

The demon shrieks again, and this time, the walls of the convent shake.

“Done with your tantrum?” Valerion asks in a bored voice.

“I will not be your thrall!” the demon continues in what seems like a frantic voice, almost as if it’s . . . afraid?

My ears are still ringing from earlier. But even with my focus shaken, I can see there is a strange dynamic between Valerion and the demon.

“Come out now. There’s no point in staying there any longer. You will not be able to ascend.”

“No!” the demon shouts.

“Yes. Come out while I’m still being nice to you.”

“You will not win. I will consume one last soul and⁠—”

Before I can blink, Valerion has the girl in his grasp. W-what? When did that happen? How?

He holds Claire by the neck with his right hand while pressing his left one over her chest.

A grey mist oozes out of her chest. It’s barely visible at first, but it soon grows in intensity. Claire flails her arms around as she keeps on screaming as if in pain—or rather, the demon does.

What is Valerion doing? And how is he drawing that grey mist out of Claire?

I don’t understand. I’ve witnessed tens of exorcisms in the past, and none have been like this.

The mist becomes a dark smoke, an amorphous blob. Claire’s body goes limp.

Still holding onto the blob of smoke, though I do not know how he manages to do it, Valerion carefully lays Claire’s body on the bed.

“She’s dead. I’m sorry. The demon has been inside her too long and has already consumed her soul,” Valerion tells me with a sad expression.

“B-but . . . what is that?” I point to the dark mist.

“What’s left of the demon. Was,” he corrects as the black cloud starts to dissipate toward his open palm. Valerion wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Level one only,” he mutters under his breath.

“What are you talking about?”

He gazes at me as if he forgot I was there.