Unholy

1. Father Levi

“And how long has this been going on?” I ask, folding my hands over the Bible laying in my lap. I resist the urge to trace the white cross etched into the cover, my initials at the bottom. It’s my favorite Bible. A gift from my father when I graduated seminary school.

“About a month.” Moira’s eyes are damp as she stares at the stairwell behind me. She clutches a tissue, sniffling every few minutes.

“That long?” My eyebrows reach my hairline. She nods.

“Yeah. It started off small. Just little things. Mood changes. Sudden outburst of anger.” Her eyes go far off again, as if she is living in a memory. I take her hands, squeezing them. She focuses on me again for a split second then she looks down. “But then he started to speak in a language I had never heard. He levitates at night. He says terrible things, like he is going to kill us when we sleep.” Her words break off into a sob.

“I see.” I pat her back, trying to comfort her.

“You have to understand.” She sobs. “Killian is a good man. He’s so sweet and generous. He’s down to Earth and honest.” She grips my hands tight and looks into my eyes with passion. Her tone is just shy of begging. “Well… he was.” Her bottom lip trembles.

“I believe you, Ms. Ambrose. It happens so often with these types of… situations.” I hope my words are comforting. I do believe her. I have never met her son before, but demons usually choose the kindest and most innocent people to possess.

“Can you help him?” she asks, and I falter. I don't like to make promises. I have a great success rate with these types of things, but not everyone can be saved. “Please. You have to help him. He’s… please.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Father Clarke…”

"Father Levi, please.”

"Father Levi. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” she bends down, kissing my hand .

“Do you have somewhere to go for the night?” I ask her as soon as she’s facing me again.

“Why?”

“Oftentimes, I ask families to leave the house when I’m performing an exorcism. Mostly for your safety, but also for mine. It’s not a pretty process. I won’t hurt him, but it may seem as though I am. You can return in the morning, and I will have an update on his condition.” I keep my voice even, clinical. I really hope she doesn’t argue. It would be so much easier for her to leave.

“I can’t leave him like this. That’s my son.” A fat tear rolls down her cheek, her nose red, cheeks blotchy.

“I know. I will take very good care of him. However, you know him. You have a personal connection to him. He will appeal to that. He will appeal to your mothering instinct and your love for Killian. The demon possessing him will use that.” I have seen it happen on multiple occasions. I've been ripped away from a demon-possessed person right when the demon was about to give up. All because of a concerned family member .

“What if I promise to stay down here. The whole time. I won’t go upstairs no matter what I hear.”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to leave him, but it’s for the best. It allows me to perform my duties without interruption.”

“Okay. I guess I could go to the city and stay the night with my sister.” Moria’s voice is barely above a whisper, acceptance taking hold.

I nod. “I think that would be for the best.”

“Just let me pack a bag real quick. Won’t be but a moment.” She gets up stiffly and disappears through a doorway.

I stand from my seat, looking around the room. There are pictures hanging on the wall, so I walk over to them. In the first, Moira stands next to a boy. They look so much alike, it tells me right away that it must be her possessed son, Killian.

I study the picture closely. Killian is tall and handsome with thick, black hair. He looks like he could be a model. He’s smiling, perfect teeth surrounded by a strong jawline, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. His dark green eyes feel like they’re piercing my soul. There is something cold about them. It sends a chill down my spine. This has been going on much longer than Moria thought, it seems.

I continue to look around the room, finding more pictures of Killian hanging on the wall or sitting on shelves. One shows him in his graduation regalia, proudly holding up a bachelor’s degree. Another of him with some sort of award in his hand. Moria is clearly very proud of him. In all the pictures, he’s smiling, acting normal, but his dark green eyes remain cold, like evergreen trees in the middle of winter, frost clinging to their branches.

“That was taken about a month ago.” Moria's voice startles me. I turn to find her coming toward me, holding a small black leather bag in her hand. She points to the picture. “It was his 26th birthday. Right before…” Her voice trails off.

I nod in understanding. “Where is he now?” I ask, glancing at the picture one final time. I don't have the heart to tell her my suspicions. She doesn't need to know. It will be over after tonight.

“Upstairs. In his room. Second door on the left.” She points at the stairwell .

I nod again, glancing in the direction of the stairway. If she hadn’t said anything, I would think there was no one else in the house. Killian, or the demon possessing him, is quiet. I grab my bag that I left beside the chair and head toward the stairs.

“Father.” Moira's voice pierces the quiet room. I turn toward her, surprised to find her looking alarmed instead of sad.

She walks to me in three quick strides. “Before you go up there, I have to tell you something.” Her eyes are shiny. She grabs my free hand with hers, gripping it so tightly I worry for the bone. I look down at our hands then back up at her, jarred.

“What?”

“Killian is… I… I didn’t have a choice.” Her voice breaks. She looks away, guilty.

“Didn’t have a choice?” I repeat, confused.

“He’s tied up,” she blurts out, not making eye contact.

“Oh.” I can’t think of anything else to say.

“He was… he was trying to… masturbate in front of me. He wouldn’t stop. I-I didn’t trust him. I couldn’t sleep knowing what could happen to me, so I…”

“You tied him up.” I finish, trying not to wince. I have seen it before. It’s not uncommon, and I don't blame her one bit.

“Yes. Just during the nights. He’s been fighting me, though. I was lucky to get the ropes on him tonight.” I almost ask how she’s managed to thus far. Demons are strong and powerful. They usually don’t do anything they don’t want to do. Perhaps this demon was toying with her. Or maybe Killian fought the demon off long enough to allow his mother to keep him safe.

“Okay. Thank you for the warning.” I nod.

“Please, take care of my boy. Bring him back to me.” She sniffles, wiping her eyes with a fresh tissue. I don't respond, not even a nod because some people are beyond salvation. She turns from me, leaving through the front door. I don't move, don't even blink until I hear her car start up and then drive away.

My limbs unfreeze then. I go to the door, locking it and putting the chain on it for good measure. I walk through the house, making sure each door is secured and barricaded. The last thing I need is for Moira to change her mind and come back .

After I double check everything, I pick my bag up off the floor, my favorite Bible in my free hand. I hold it tightly, letting the warm feeling of God’s hand settle over me. I take a deep breath then another. I go up the stairs slowly, one at a time. The third floorboard creaks as it holds my weight. I know the demon is listening. I don't want to surprise it. I want it to know I'm coming.

When I get to the second door on the left, my steps falter. I’m usually not this nervous. It’s almost routine for me, but something about this feels different. I look out the window at the end of the hallway, the inky darkness giving no relief to my unease. No star nor the moon can be seen in the sky, as if the demon has sucked all the light from this small section of God’s creation.

I kiss my Bible, saying a silent prayer before I grip the doorknob, slowly turning it. It’s not locked. It opens with an easy click. The room inside is dark. Darker than anything natural, like a black hole that can only be found in space sucking up everything bright and glorious. I almost turn around and leave. I could call Moira and tell her that her son is beyond saving .

No. I can do this. I have to help them. I made a promise to God when I accepted my role.

I straighten my spine and slowly walk into the room, feeling around for the light switch. Thankfully, I find it quickly and flip it on, bathing the room in a soft light from a tall lamp in the corner of the room. I instantly find Killian. He’s in the middle of the bed, wrists and feet tied to each corner. I involuntarily suck in a breath.

Killian wears only a pair of thin shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. His long body is pulled tight, thick ropes digging into his flesh. Tattooed skin stretches over lean muscle. Skin so pale, it looks more like ink spilled over white paper than human skin with tattoos. It almost glows in the dark.

“Fuck, I thought you lost your nerve.” The voice is deep and gravelly, but it doesn’t sound inhuman like voices painted with a demon’s usually do. My eyes snap up to his face. A wide, almost manic smile is spread over his lips. His dark green eyes are cold, almost calculating.

He’s gorgeous. I stifle that thought down. I haven't had impure thoughts like this since I was a teenager. That was part of my reason for joining the Seminary. It was the only way to give my life to God and walk the straight and narrow path. No temptation.

I don't answer, just lay my bag down beside the door, still holding my Bible. Killian doesn't even glance at it. Instead, he watches me with that chilling gaze. I grab a nearby chair, legs scraping across the floor as I sit beside Killian’s bed. I slowly lower myself onto it, crossing my legs.

“But I will admit. I love anticipation. It’s a kink of mine.” Killian licks his lips, the natural red color suddenly glossy with spit. I try not to focus on that. I’m a professional.

“I want to speak to Killian Ambrose.” My voice is unwavering, unlike my body.

“You are,” the demon says, not blinking.

“No. I’m speaking to whatever is possessing Killian Ambrose,” I respond, folding my hands over the Bible on my lap to keep them from shaking.

“You wound me,” he says, but there is no pain in his tone. He’s smiling again, two front teeth just a tiny bit bigger than his others. He looks younger than his 26 years at the moment. His smile suddenly turns into a smirk. “But I kinda like it.” And just like that, the moment bursts like a bubble of soap meeting a thorn.

“I want to speak to Killian Ambrose,” I repeat, fixing the demon with a hard stare.

“The one and only. Drink it up, buttercup.” The demon’s eyes roam up and down my body, his muscles flexing enticingly.

“I’m not playing this game.” I sit back, forcing my gaze to look at his face, not his body. It’s one of the most difficult things I've ever done, and that includes pledging celibacy.

“Awe, why not?” His voice is hurt, but there is a mocking quality to it. I don’t respond. Just stare at him. I can’t give this demon what it wants. Finally, the demon drops the hurt act, his face morphing so suddenly, it’s creepy. He looks me up and down. It takes everything I have not to adjust my clerical collar because it suddenly feels as though it’s choking me.

“I sure am glad that old bitch hired a hot priest. I don’t know what I would have done if some fat, old man came hobbling into the room. It would have totally cramped my style. Imagine if he had a heart attack on top of me.” The demon shudders .

“Killian. If you’re in there, I hope you can hear me. I’m going to help you,” I say loudly.

“Fuck, you’re even hotter when you ignore me. I guess I’m gonna have to act out to get Father’s attention.” The demon makes his eyes big and wide, almost innocent. He arches his back off the bed, and I can’t stop myself from watching the motion.

“That’s not going to work.”

“Seems to be working pretty well, Father Leviticus.” His voice is husky, eyes traveling over my body once more. I swallow, my Adam’s apple hitting my clerical collar with the motion. I breathe carefully, trying not to show the demon that he’s starting to get to me a bit.

“How did you know my full name?” I ask, genuinely taken aback. The only people that know my full name is Leviticus are my parents and my doctor. Everyone had always called me Levi. My father had reserved Leviticus for when he was disappointed in me. I had always felt somewhat indifferent about the name. My father chose it. As a child, I had always wished he would have gone with something normal like “Michael” or “Benjamin” .

“I know a lot of things about you, Father.” The demon has a sparkle in his eyes as he studies me. I squint at him, trying to decide if it’s a bluff. Something about his words and expression makes me uneasy. I mentally shake myself. I can’t let him know that he’s got me questioning myself.

“Alright. I’m tired of this.” I stand from his chair, walking over to my bag.

“Did I disappoint you, Father? You’re gonna have to punish me,” the demon whines behind me, and if he notices my steps falter for a split second, he doesn't comment.

I bend over. “Fuck, your ass is scrumptious.” The demon wolf-whistles behind me. I don't acknowledge the comment. I just set my Bible next to my bag and slowly unpack its contents. I set each item down next to my Bible one at a time.

“Oh. No one told me you were bringing toys. How kinky. All of mine are in the closet, but I’m a bit tied up at the moment.” The demon’s words are smooth and slick, like a solid sheet of ice. I continue to ignore him, placing the Oil of the Sick, Oil of the Catechumens, and Holy Chrism Oil in a row. Beside them goes the holy water that I blessed myself. The last thing I pull out of my bag is a pure gold cross. It’s heavy in my hands, intricately decorated with smooth ridges and swirls.

“I was thinking a different kind of cross could be used.” The demon smirks as soon as I turn toward him. I hold the cross out in front of him, like a shield.

“Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle,” I start, taking a careful step toward the demon.

“He speaks again. Sweet infant Satan, I love your voice. It’s so… silky.” The demon’s big body shivers, as if my voice is softly gliding over his skin. I would be a liar if I said the comment didn’t make my words pause and my heart flutter.

I swallow, righting my posture. “Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.”

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you sing.”

“May God rebuke him, we humbly pray.”

“You’re turning me on, Father,” the demon moans, chin tilted toward the ceiling.

“And do thou…” My voice waivers as I desperately try to ignore the demon’s sexy words .

“Fuck, I’m so hard right now.” I can’t stop myself from looking down, the thick outline of Killian’s cock straining against his shorts makes my own long-dead shaft fill up with blood. I swallow, ripping his eyes away. I don't know what power this demon has over me, but it must stop now.

“O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the power of God…” I manage to get out between my own ragged breath.

“You’re gonna make me come. Untouched.” The demon words are breathy as he writhes against his restraints. His hips thrust off the bed into thin air, chasing something that I can’t see. I lick my lip, watching a wet spot appear right where the head of Killian’s dick would be. The spot is not very big, just a drop, but it has my cock rock hard and standing to attention.

“Thrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls,” I yell, taking two more steps forward, now so close to the bed I can feel the heat radiating off of Killian’s body like the gateway to Hell. A thin sheen of sweat coats his pale skin, each tattoo dancing as he writhes on the bed, hips thrusting into nothing .

“Almost there, Father.” My eyes widen at the scene in front of me. I’ve never seen a demon behave this way. This must be some kind of perverse demon whose ultimate goal is to entice lust, and I’m falling into the trap. I can’t stop watching him thrust into the air with abandon as if he’s putting on a show.

“Amen.” I press the cross against the demon’s chest. The skin below sizzles a bit, but nothing compared to what usually happens when I do this.

The Demon moans, eyes popping open to meet mine as his hips stiffen. I can’t stop myself from watching. Can’t force my eyes away. Killian’s shaft twitches, the wet spot on his shorts growing larger as he continues to writhe and moan with abandon.

“A-Fucking-men.” The demon’s voice sounds like it was pushed through a meat grinder, forcing my gaze to his. The cross is still pressed against his skin, a red welt forming below it. It’s not blackened with melted skin like it normally would be. What is going on?

“That stung a bit, but it was just the trick to take me over the edge.” The demon is smiling lazily, eyes heavy as if he’s ready for a nap. I remove the cross from his chest, examining it.

“What kind of Demon are you?” I ask, perplexed.

“Worried because your little magic trick didn’t work as you had hoped?” he asks, eyes still lazy but the smirk firmly in place. I don't answer, my mouth gaping open in shock. “Maybe you’re having too many impure thoughts.”

“Excuse me?”

“Impure. Sinful. Depraved. Wicked. Unholy . ” The demon lists, seemingly bored.

“I am not,” I scoff.

“Then why are you hard?” His eyes flicker down to my groin. What? I look down, too, seeing the outline of my own shaft straining against my black pants. I can feel the tight coil of pleasure behind my belly button. My balls ache. How did I ignore that? It’s been so long. Sure, I had urges since joining the priesthood, but I have been able to push those thoughts to the side and replace them with God.

“What kind of demon are you? Some kind of demon of perversion?” I ask again, trying to change the subject. Desperately willing my erection to go down. I don't have power over this. It’s the demon’s power that is making this happen. It’s gotta be.

“You keep reaching that hard for an excuse, you may touch God,” the demon chuckles darkly, and I have the sudden urge to hurt him. I’ve never met a demon so infuriating, and I have exorcised many. I take a deep breath. Then another. The demon is clearly trying to bait me, and I’m just playing into his game.

Heavenly Father, please give me the strength to defeat this monster.

I look up to the ceiling but don't feel God’s presence all around me like I normally do. I feel nothing but the demon’s presence beside me and my cock throbbing for touch. Has God abandoned me because of my impure thoughts? No. My God would never do that. He is forgiving. He has forgiven me once for those types of thoughts. Saved me from them. He can do it again. I have Faith.

“Asmodeus.” The name is released from my mouth like a prayer. That gets the demon’s attention. His eyes snap up to mine, the green replaced by black.

“My given name is Killian. ”

“No. That’s the name of the poor boy you possessed.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Asmodeus, the Demon of Lust. I should have known.” I am disappointed in myself for taking this long to figure it out. This demon has been nothing but sexual since the moment I walked in the door. He probably has some sort of special power that tempts. It’s no wonder my body is affected in such a disgusting way.

“You know nothing.” The demon’s beautiful red lips curve into a smirk, and I almost believe him. Almost believes that he’s hiding something important from me.

“I know that you’re tied up and there is nothing you can do to stop me from expelling you from your mortal host.” My gaze rakes up and down Killian’s body, watching his chest and stomach expand with each breath he takes.

“You think these ropes can hold me?” he asks, and I don't answer. Perhaps I should have doused them in holy water for good measure. “This is all one big kinky game to me, Father.”

“One that I will win once I finish my duties here.” I level my chin with the ground, standing tall. I look down my nose at the demon, making it clear that he is beneath me in every way. He will be forced back to Hell where it belongs, and I will eventually take my spot in Heaven, alongside Jesus.

“I like a confident man.” He smiles, red lips stretched across white teeth. It shouldn’t be as pretty as it is. This thing is everything unholy. It’s everything tempting. It’s everything I was warned about. “Even if that confidence is misplaced,” he adds.

I say nothing. Just turn around to look at my array of items. I grab the Bible and holy water. I open my Bible to a bookmarked passage and begin reading in Latin. I don't always use Latin for these types of duties, but this demon seems like it’s not going to give in easily.

“And he knows Latin. Are you trying to turn me on again? ‘Cause it’s working, Father.” The demon’s voice is slow and sultry, and my words pause. He looks at me curiously, as if I am a puzzle that is missing a few key pieces for the image to come together. And the demon is about to force those pieces into place any minute now.

“Are you scared?” I ask .

“Scared of a few words in a dead language and some spicy water?” he asks, eyes devouring my body like the disciples devoured the food at the last supper. I swallow, trying to even out my breathing.

“Scared of being expelled from Earth. Sent back to the place you belong.”

“Oh… yeah. That’s not going to happen.” The demon stretches, as if bored of this conversation so he’s preparing for a long nap.

“What makes you so confident?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” The demon winks, and that's an expression I haven't heard in a long time. Something about it scratches at the back of my memory. I’ve heard it before. In fact, I’m pretty sure I heard it a lot, but I can’t seem to remember where or how. A face suddenly appears in my brain.

Gabriel.