13. The Light Bearer.
13
The Light Bearer.
“ Sarnas : A demon ruler of the Chasm. First known possession in England in 1677. A local priest was called to exorcise a young farmer’s wife. Sarnas, after offering her name, killed him before the exorcism could be successful (details unknown). The host died in captivity three days later, after a long agony due to the demonic invasion. Records mention her twice more: once in Rome in 1789 (see case study #242), and again in Chicago in 1999 (see case study #243). Some theorize that Sarnas is a class-two demon who has been coming to our plane for centuries. She is cunning and difficult to deal with. Be on your guard (see words of banishment page 302). Exorcists facing her should use the B-678 stimulant.”
-Extract from the State Exorcist’s Manual , edition of 2047.
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, 2052
As the demon reaches for my throat with her open jaw, Azeroth punches her in the face. Josman falls back down, and a few teeth fly to the basement’s floor, leaving drops of blood on their trail.
I glare at the hybrid. “Don’t damage him too much. She needs to talk.”
Azeroth gives me an almost apologetic look. I would believe it if not for the small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
The soldier of Hell struggles against the titanium chains, turning them tighter and stronger. They never learn. Dark veins have appeared on Josman’s forehead. The demon is a class-two; it’s a lot of power to handle for the host without the help of mutations.
When she stops her struggle, her feverish eyes fall on Azeroth standing above her and hiding the light with his wing.
“Oh, the prodigal son,” the demon says, her voice distorted by the abuse on Josman’s vocal cords. “The Light Bearer’s shadow. How do you enjoy life as a human?” she laughs. Blood bubbles on her lips. “This new face suits you. Human and weak.”
“I enjoy it quite a lot,” says Azeroth with a smile. “I can hunt down Abaddon’s lackeys just as well from this side, Sarnas.”
Abaddon . The King of the Chasm. I’ve read this name countless times while studying the State Exorcist’s Manual during my time on Ketron Island. Some dark cults worship him. He’s a powerful demon of legend.
She laughs again. “You know, we threw your carcass into the darkest pit, but we kept your wings. Our king has put them on the wall behind his throne, beside the Light Bearer’s wings. In death, you are reuniting with your father. How do you like that?”
This time, a shadow falls over Azeroth’s face. Before I can stop him, he has buried his claws in Josman’s chest. For a heartbeat, I fear he’s going to kill the host before we have time to get answers. But he only lowers his face above hers as she coughs more blood.
“What I like is the idea of you being a prisoner for eternity,” Azeroth says. “Stored on ice for centuries, your soul frozen in time while the war is being fought without you, long enough for your name to be forgotten by all.”
It’s my cue. I pull the Eames vessel out of my pocket. The cylinder is still cold to the touch. It’ll stay like this long enough for us to store it safely back in the nitrocase.
Sarnas cackles. “I won’t stay a prisoner for long, Shadow! They’re coming for all of us, even the ones in their icy prisons. We’ll be free, and the others will lead us to the gate! And this world, at last, will be ours.”
I share a glance with Azeroth.
“Where is the gate?” I ask.
She turns her crazed eyes to me. “The White Exorcist… we meet at last. You’re harder to get rid of than vermin. My Lord will take pleasure in breaking you once he has crossed over to your world. He has plans for all of you humans. And when—”
I punch her in the face, breaking Josman’s nose. They howl in pain as one, a combination of two voices.
Azeroth snorts and looks at me, one eyebrow raised.
“I hate when they ramble,” I say. I gesture with the Eames vessel. “We should hurry before someone comes looking for Josman. Get out. I’ll do the rest.”
She doesn’t know where the gate is. But she has given us enough clues.
“I can stay,” Azeroth says. “I have claimed this body as my own, and your little device cannot attract me out of it. Only Hell is enough to tempt my soul.”
I nod. It’s good to know.
There is a sudden commotion upstairs.
I look up and say, “Can you make sure no one comes to bother us while I do this?”
If I’m interrupted halfway through the ritual, there’s a chance the demon’s soul might escape back to Hell. And we don’t want the general of Hell’s armies to go back to her master.
Azeroth nods and walks upstairs, his illusion back on again.
Sarnas thrashes on the floor. I bury my combat boots in her stomach to keep her in place.
“You filthy human,” she says. “You’re an insect waiting to be crushed under Abaddon’s hooves! Do you think you’re safe with one of us? Azeroth is nothing without his father. The Light Bearer is no more, and your world is ripe for the taking.”
I grab her by the collar and pull her up, close enough for her to understand every word that I whisper as I say, “What makes you think the Light Bearer is no more?”
I let a sliver of my power shine in my eyes—the light I borrowed from my demon, now mine until the day I die.
Sarnas gasps, recoiling. “You—”
“Do you think cutting the wings off his corpse in Hell was the end of him?” I chuckle. “This world was his playground long before you were born, demon. It’s his domain, and mine too.”
Demons only understand strength and power. And right now, Sarnas has seen her better. She escapes to the confines of her host, letting Josman take control again. He only whimpers and shakes like a leaf.
I let go, and he falls back to the ground. The Eames vessel is cold in my hand as my grip tightens around it. I sing the words; the ones used during a ritual to attract a demon to our world. Her soul is already on this side, so I don’t require a circle and a sacrifice to guide her way. The human flesh inside the vessel is tantalizing and much easier to inhabit than a struggling human host. There’s no soul to share the space with. Josman roars as the demon is forced to the surface. She can’t resist it for long.
Only the strongest of exorcists succeed in capturing demons. The words require conviction and willpower to work. But I’ve been doing it for years and they come easily to me.
I know the exact moment when Sarnas’ soul travels to the Eames vessel. There’s a change of pressure in the room, and my eardrums pop. The device warms a little in my hand, a sign that she has taken residency. I have less than twelve hours to put her back on ice.
Carter Josman lies on the basement floor, unconscious. He’s bleeding from his multiple shallow wounds on his chest and nose.
“You got her?” Azeroth asks from the door upstairs.
“Yes,” I say, pocketing the vessel and stepping away.
I should leave now, except I have one last thing to do.
My eyes roam over the basement and find the large freezer. Unease twists my gut. As I walk to it, a part of me really hopes she’s no longer in there. But as I open the door at the top, I’m welcomed by the unseeing stare of Josman’s sacrifice. Frost covers her face and blue lips. She’s now forever young, killed by the man she loved.
Some days, I’m choking with hate for humanity, and I think we might deserve to be invaded. We’re no better than demons, and maybe that’s why we’re the perfect hosts.
Only experience stops me from emptying my guts all over the floor. It’s sad to say, but I’ve seen worse. I’ve been doing this job for years now.
I pull out my phone. The first number to come up, unsurprisingly, is the police. Like the State Exorcists, they tolerate me and turn a blind eye. I do most of the dirty work, so they don’t have to. They already lose too many officers to demons’ attacks every week.
“I’m reporting a demon-related crime,” I say to the police dispatcher who answers the phone.
I give them the address and the location of Josman and his dead girlfriend. I hang up when she tries to ask me for personal information. She’ll check my number and realize who I am. They’ll know it’s a serious tip. In less than an hour, this place will crawl with investigators. From there, they’ll connect the dots and Carter Josman will pay for his crimes. He might even provide useful knowledge to help them track down the demonic traders who performed the ritual for him.
Azeroth says nothing as I walk upstairs, but I can feel his eyes on me. The party is in full swing as we make our way through the house. He quickly positions himself in front of me. The crowd parts for him like the sea for Moses. My eyes are on his back, so I notice when he reaches for an expensive bottle of whiskey left on a table.
We exit the house from the other side. The air is thick with brine. I follow Azeroth down the stairs and to the beach. There are people here, too, but we make our way farther to the quieter part. The moon is a thin crescent reflected by the sea.
I’m not sure why I’m following him. We should get a cab and go back to Los Angeles.
Once we’re alone with only the sound of the waves, he drops the illusion. The talons at the tips of his wings touch the moon.
He hands me the bottle of whiskey.
“To wash away the taste of misery,” he says. “I can feel it emanating from you.”
“Creepy.” I chuckle derisively. I take it nonetheless. “What do demons know of misery?”
“A lot, actually. Our world is a harsh one, and so are its people. But it doesn’t mean we don’t feel despair. We just learned to thrive in it.”
I stare at him for a moment. His features are mostly hidden in darkness, but his eyes glow like molten gold. I take a swig of whiskey. It burns all the way down.
“You’re a powerful demon,” I say.
“Flattery, exorcist?”
I ignore him and continue, “What did your host sacrifice to call you from Hell?”
“You want to know how rotten the soul I devoured was?” He smiles, and his fangs reflect the moonlight. “Milo sacrificed nothing during the ritual. He wasn’t even at the center of it. But that day, only his soul was damaged enough to let me in. He had lost his twin sister during a gang war. He was… welcoming. I helped him get his revenge before I took over.”
My grip tightens around the bottle. It was just like the day when my demon possessed me. I had been craving to be saved. To be cared for and given a choice. I was welcoming, even without realizing it. The travelers of worlds always require to be invited, one way or another.
Azeroth is truly the Light Bearer’s son. He has the same taste in hosts.
“Your father. Is he the one you’re looking for?” I ask.
I’m walking on thin ice.
Azeroth sighs, eyes on the sea. “Yes. He took me under his wing when I was a fledgling, but I was loath to call him father. He’s my friend. He arrived in your world twenty years ago, following the opening of the gate. I stayed in Hell to fight and defend his legacy. But nine years ago—in your world, but only a few months in mine—his body died. Something severed the tether between his soul and Hell. I want to know why.”
Because I devoured his soul and he’s now part of me , I almost say.
But I keep my mouth shut. I’m not in the mood for a fight of epic proportions, and I still need Azeroth’s help to find the gate.
He grabs the bottle of whiskey and drinks a generous gulp.
I change the subject to avoid giving too much away.
“Do you still feel him inside you?” I ask. “Milo.”
“Oh, yes. He was a resentful bastard. Even more than me. I still have his lingering anger at everything. The world, his family, his gang… He would have burned them all to the ground if he could. It’s the reason why he didn’t fight me in the end. Even once he had his revenge. He wanted the demons to have it all. Too bad for him. I’m one of the rare ones who like your world as it is.”
“Well then, we better hurry and find the gate.” I gesture for him to pass me the whiskey.
My skin tingles where our fingers touch.
He laughs as he watches me swallow one-third of the bottle in one go. I never indulge; there’s too much at stake for me to risk being drunk. But tonight, something’s pulling at my sanity. I feel unnaturally at ease around Azeroth.
Maybe it’s a remnant of my demon’s feelings for his adoptive son, I realize with discomfort. If he buries a knife in my back at some point, I’ll have it coming.
I take another gulp and walk along the beach. The waves come close to touching my feet, and my shoes sink in the wet sand.
“What now, ashy one?” Azeroth asks, following me.
Sarnas doesn’t know where the gate is, like so many demons I hunted before her. But she wasn’t entirely useless. She gave us one important clue. The demons who are on ice certainly know where it is. And the soldiers of Hell will soon free them from their cold slumber if we don’t get there first.
I sigh, dreading what’s coming. “We have to break into the State Exorcists’ vault.”