Chapter Twenty-Five

Hastings Mills, NY, July 18th, one year ago

“I baptize you, Abigail Rawlings, in the name of the Holy Father!”

They’d gathered around Abby’s bed again. For the past three hours, Lockhart had alternated between reading from his Bible, reciting prayers, and calling for the demon to vacate Abby’s body. The feeling of déjà vu was strong for Stone as he kept flashing back to the last time he’d watched Lockhart perform an exorcism.

Just like Evan Michaels, Abby thrashed on the bed, fighting the neckties that bound her to the footboard and headboard. Red blotches covered her pale, sweat-soaked flesh wherever holy water had scalded it. Her bloodshot eyes held the yellow haze of advanced liver failure.

“We who were baptized into the house of the Christ Jesus were buried with him into death. And just like him we will be raised from death with our souls cleansed and ascend into the glory of the Father and walk with the newness of life.” Lockhart cast more holy water across Abby’s writhing form. Rank, polluted steam rose up, causing Ken to turn his head from the camera. Shari and Claudia gagged and covered their faces while trying to hold their meters steady.

“Esn drek from a whore’s ass!” Abby cried, the words somehow even fouler coming from her young mouth. “Šarlatan! Zoyne! Your words hold no power!”

“Then why do you quake?” Lockhart shouted back. He raised his tattered Bible. “I am an instrument of the Lord and his power flows through me! I command you, foul demon, obey my words and begone! You cannot harm this creature of God now, nor the bystanders, nor any of their possessions. Obey me, beast of darkness. We are immune to your treachery. Begone!”

“Nein!” Abby’s back arched and the tendons in her neck bulged. The covers flew off the bed onto Ken’s camera and Del leaped up to pull them off. What few items remained on her shelves fell to the floor. Her face swelled, cheeks expanding until Stone was positive her flesh would split open.

“Mâtu priːst!” Lumps formed under Abby’s skin and slithered around like alien parasites as she shouted at Lockhart. “Irrumabo vos sacerdos! Lac filio vestra mater!”

The curtains flapped and the closet door opened and slammed shut, over and over.

“See how the demon speaks in tongues!” Lockhart poured an entire bottle of holy water across Abby’s face and set the cross on her chest. “In the name of God, I command you. Begone!”

Abby shrieked and fell back on the bed, gasping for air.

The room went still.

In the resulting quiet, the air took on a heavy quality. Stone found himself drawing deep breaths and still couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen. He saw the others panting as well. All except Lockhart, who held his Bible up like a shield and closed his eyes. The twins took two steps back and the frightened looks on their faces warned Stone to move away from the bed. The pressure in the room grew and a dull ache formed deep in his ears, accompanied by a loud buzzing. His face grew hot. At the same time, blood surged to his groin and set his penis throbbing. Randi’s arm brushed against his and the throbbing built into a full erection.

Abby’s mouth opened and greenish-yellow light exploded from her. Deafening thunder filled the room. Every window in the room shattered and the closet door slammed into the wall so hard it stuck there, the knob embedded in the Sheetrock. A tremendous gust of wind whipped up clothes and papers and knocked over the camera tripods. The dresser drawers shot out and hit Ken. Del grabbed him and held him up.

Stone’s ears popped and the pressure disappeared. Everything crashed to the floor.

Lockhart lowered the Bible and approached the bed. Randi gripped Stone’s hand. Abby lay still, her eyes closed. A great anger rose up in Stone.

She’s dead. It’s Evan Michaels all over again. I’ll kill Lockhart with my own hands if that bastard has—

Her chest hitched and she drew in a gasping breath. The welts faded away, leaving only pale, white flesh unmarred by swellings or burns. Other than the deep purplish shadows under her eyes, she appeared fine.

“Is that it? It is over?” Curt asked.

Lockhart moistened his fingers with the holy water and made the sign of the cross on Abby’s forehead. When she didn’t react, he nodded.

“The demon is gone. Your daughter’s soul is once more in God’s hands, and this place is free from the creature’s evil.” Lockhart stepped away as Curt rushed forward and pulled his daughter into a hug.

“Abby!”

“Daddy?”

She pressed her face against his neck, tears running down her cheeks. Ken moved in closer with the handheld camera, a huge smile on his face. Even Del wore a grin rather than his usual stoic expression. Randi let go of Stone’s hand and gave him a sheepish grin.

“Well, it looks like we were dead wrong this time. I guess we owe—”

“It’s not gone.”

Everyone turned toward Claudia and Shari. Their white eyes told Stone they’d entered one of their trances.

“Witchcraft,” Lockhart whispered. Stone ignored him and approached the twins.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Is it Abby’s mother?”

“No. The evil,” Shari said. “It’s still here.”

“The darkness,” Claudia finished. “Stronger.”

“The beast,” Shari added.

“Move away from the witches.”

Someone gasped. Stone looked back. Lockhart had a pistol aimed at the Brock sisters.

“It’s their own evil they sense,” Lockhart said. “The Lord has shown me the path to salvation. I must rid the world of their danger. He commands me.”

Time seemed to slow for Stone as the black eye of the barrel stared at him. Light flared and an unseen force pushed him aside just as a flash of silver passed him. The boom of the gun sounded wrong in his ears, too long and deep. Someone screamed, “Noooooo!” the word stretched out and low, like something from a movie.

Stone landed on the bed and time returned to normal speed.

Shari crumpled to the ground, a red stain blooming in the center of her t-shirt.

Claudia dropped to her knees, her hands clutched against her chest and her mouth hanging open in a silent cry.

Lockhart pointed the gun at Claudia. “May the Lord have mercy on your souls.”

The bedroom door slammed closed.

Abby let out a mad cackle and rose into the air, her eyes blazing jack-o’-lantern orange.

Stone grabbed the edge of the footboard and hung on as the bed swung back and forth. Lockhart shouted something and pointed the gun at Abby, then shrieked and grabbed his hand as the pistol twisted from his grasp and floated up in the air. Furniture and clothes lifted and whirled in a circle. Books and toys struck flesh with bruising force.

The gun went off and Del stumbled back with a bellow, clutching his arm. Another shot put a hole in the dresser. Del shouted for everyone to hit the floor. Stone rolled off the bed and watched as the others dropped to their hands and knees. The pistol fired again and again until it clicked empty. Then it got swept away in the miniature tornado.

Stone crawled to the door and yanked on the knob but it wouldn’t turn. Randi pressed against him and he held her tight. They watched as Abby floated above the bed, her arms stretched out and her legs pressed together like Jesus nailed to an invisible cross.

She opened her mouth and disgorged thick ropes of pulsing green slime that stunk of sulfur and rotten meat. The wind whipped the ectoplasmic material around and splattered it everywhere. Droplets of the foul-smelling sludge struck Stone’s arms, where they burned like hot oil. Abby laughed again and chanted a phrase he didn’t recognize.

“Asmodeus suscitat! Asmodeus suscitat!”

Movement above her caught Stone’s eye. A roiling black cloud emerged from the ceiling, the size of a pillow but growing larger. Shapes formed within it. Arms. Faces.

It’s back!

The roiling smoke coalesced, the shapes gathering definition. Otherworldly visages, monstrous parodies of animals mixed with human features. Three, then five. Some sprouted horns, others fangs. The constantly churning cloud kept the details blurry. Tiny flashes of green lightning sparked deep inside the wraith.

A peal of thunder rattled the house and the smoke-creature broke apart. One piece dove into Abby’s mouth and the rest flew out the shattered windows. The lights went off, plunging the room into darkness. Voices shouted and someone pounded on the door.

The gale stopped and a rain of clothes and toys fell down. The door unlatched with a click. The lights came back on, flooding the room with sudden brightness. A pair of legs squeezed past him and out the door. Lockhart. Stone shouted for someone to stop him.

Claudia let out a keening wail and toppled over. Forgetting the priest, Stone went to help her but Randi grabbed his arm and pointed at the ceiling.

“Look!”

A series of letters was burned into the paint.