Excerpt ~ Taken from Chapter One of Hunters.
I gave Zee a nod just as I turned the handle and entered the darkened room. Light hurts them so I switched it on and let it flood the space. It was a standard sized bedroom, nothing special about it. A once white wardrobe rested against one wall, it looked old and had faded over time. My eyes moved to the locker that was pine. It was bare of any ornaments and sat tightly against the single bed that the girl lay on. Her body was partially naked and her long blonde hair was stuck to her neck with sweat. I couldn’t make out her features as her face was no longer human looking, neither were the hands that rested on her swollen abdomen. I turned to the man to give him a piece of my mind for forgetting to tell us this one small detail, but he had bolted, leaving us with his pregnant and possessed daughter.
Words of another language and another time came out of the girl’s mouth, more than likely cursing us into the ground or into hell.
Zee’s hands moved robotically, taking items out of his trench coat. He placed two small white candles on the window sill, but didn’t light them – they were a just in case. He stayed close to them, but leaned against the wall. His presence dominated the space and he looked so large in the small room.
“Do you want to do it or shall I?” I asked.
I always gave him the option; he did most of the work, but I hated tiring him out.
He gave me the once-over, considering if I was strong enough. “You go ahead. I’ll observe,” he finally answered.
My moving towards the girl caused the demon inside her to rev up, making her body move at all the wrong angles.
I splashed her with the holy water. It bubbled up on her skin, the vapor rising and disappearing. A hiss left her mouth and more words followed. Taking out the bible, I turned to the page where the most powerful prayer lay, holding the cross steadily in my hands I started,
We drive you from us,
Whoever you may be,
All satanic powers,
All infernal invaders,
All wicked legions,
Assemblies and sects.
In the name, and by the power of Our Lord Jesus Christ,
May you be snatched away and driven from the Church of God,
And from the souls made to the image and likeness of God,
And redeemed by the Precious Blood of the Divine Lamb.
The sound of laughter made me stop. As the demon overtook the girl’s face completely, my heart rate elevated. Zee, quick to act, lit two candles, knowing what was to come as the light bulb brightened, casting a blinding light in the room before it exploded and small shards of glass flew into the air. I covered my face, protecting it from the onslaught of the flying glass. Small cuts across my hands stung and warm blood slid slowly down my fingers. I took my hands away, ignoring the pain. The flames from the small candles Zee had lit danced across the room but gave little light. Not being able to see fully always made a possession more frightening; no matter how many times I did it, it never got easier.
“Aaabbbiiigggaaaiilll,” the demon hissed inside the girl, slowly stretching my name, but I heard it. My body responded, causing me to stumble back, never before had a demon or spirit spoke my name. I stood paralyzed.
“Abigail,” this time it was Zee and I could hear the warning in his voice.
I needed to continue. I sucked in a deep breath and wiped the blood from my hands onto my jeans. I started the prayer again, saying it faster, and louder. My voice trembled slightly. I was shaken after hearing that thing say my name. The demon inside the girl roared to life and squirmed with a voracity that shook the bed savagely. The bed’s thin, wooden legs slammed into the carpet, the noise drowning out my words, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop for fear of what might happen. I continued as pictures fell from the walls, their frames snapping with the impact and the glass shattering across our feet. The curtains billowed now from an unseen wind. The bed continued to move rapidly. And the large wardrobe shook violently, its doors swinging open and closed, the sharp bang lifting my heart every time. Zee stood protecting the candles from the breeze that raced through the room, carrying the foul stench of an unwashed body. I spoke louder closing my eyes, forcing myself to stay focused, even against the activity in the room. I clung to the cross. As my grip tightened it caused my cuts to bleed, coating my hand once again. I could feel the cross slipping and soon my hand was empty.
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