Virgil’s Demons (An RBMC National Chapter Prequel)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

VIRGIL

1 982- The Past

My name is Virgil Desdemone, and I… am an Exorcist.

I was born to make suffer, those already tortured souls that had unwillingly become what we most hate…demons. Those who didn't want to leave this land of the living and only survived in this realm to cause havoc on human lives. Their souls, putrid and full of hate, envy, greed, lust, pride… every sin imaginable, and even those sins that an innocent soul couldn't possibly imagine.

But I was also an emissary of a mortal sin. I had a bloodlust that was unquenchable. The adrenaline and power that came after a kill was a dark thrill I feasted on, but then there was the other side to it. The one that came after a good fuck.

The truth was, the sight of blood excited me, especially when sliding down a woman's breast, or the curve of a thick thigh. The craving came after the thrill of a good kill. The adrenaline kicked in and I went in search of somewhere, or someone to quench it.

I never wanted to harm anyone, especially not a woman. I just wanted to watch her bleed. To see a woman in the throws of an orgasm, confusion hazing over her eyes as I pinned her down and slightly caused that tiny sting of pain, the smell of fear on them made me hard. The way their eyes grew large, pretty mouths drew open as they were introduced to a different kind of pain and lust. But they never stopped rutting on my cock, their innocence taken, and yet they whined and moaned as I licked their wounds. It was how I introduced them to my demons. It was an addiction, a torment I silently dwelled in.

This alone was why I had joined the priesthood. Oh, but I'm far from being a priest. I took the oath solely to have an excuse to remain alone and abstinent. But I wasn't put on this earth to forgive any sins. I was put here to destroy them.

Love was for the weak-minded, those of us who preyed on demons couldn't afford to love. The wicked would use that against us to make us falter, to make us sway from our faith and I needed all my focus on the the fight. One little mistake could cost me my life. And I wasn't prepared to join them in hell just yet.

Women.

Women were my weakness, and we were all better off keeping me chained away. It worked out. I didn't hurt anybody else, and in the end, they didn't leave me.

I stared down at the young woman who was tied up to the bed. She would be my third exorcism. My third attempt to cast out evil alone. In the first two attempts, I had watched as the priest who taught me had failed the souls that were commended to him. During the last exorcism, the demon took both his and the young boy's life. The priest had been too busy drowning himself in alcohol to prioritize the child who needed his help. I had tried to help but I was cast aside by a drunkard who let his demons consume him.

It seemed the Vatican chose their soldiers based on who walked the line between good and evil, and who knew demons better than those who had always lived with them on their backs. Seeing this, I swore that I wouldn't let that happen to me. I wouldn't let the Vatican or my demons stop me from what I knew I was made for.

I watched the young woman's face distort. The demon haunted her and tortured her physically as well as spiritually. I had to admit I was fascinated by how it transformed before me. It was an advantage of having one foot grounded in the living realm and the other foot burning in hell with the rest of the sinners.

The demon flickered in and out of sight, its form only half visible in the dim light of the room. Shadows clung to it like a second skin, tendrils of darkness slithered across the woman's body, twisting and tightening around her like a web. Its shape was grotesque, a twisted imitation of humanity, with stretched-out limbs that bent in unnatural angles, joints cracking with every movement. Its skin was oily and slick, much like the tar that rose from the depths of hell. It shimmered with a sickly sheen of decay, as though it was rotting from the inside out.

I felt the weight of its presence, thick and suffocating, like a pressure on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Normally, demons were nothing more than a disturbance in the atmosphere, a cold breeze or a sudden drop in temperature, a raising of the hairs on the back of your neck. But when you had them trapped like this, in moments where that thin veil between hell and earth grew thin and frail for them, I was able to see their true form.

It was the eyes, though, that haunted me the most. Two red, glowing orbs, emanated from within this shadow of a monster. They flickered like embers in a dying fire. They were unnaturally large, bulging from the demon's skull, if you wanted to call it that. It was a barren hollowness that barely contained its grotesque form. Its eyes pierced through you, seeing straight through to your core, to every dark thought, every regret, every fear you ever tried to bury.

They weren't just the eyes of a predator—they were the eyes of something that had tasted the darkest corners of human despair and savored every moment of it.

The demon's mouth twisted into something that resembled a grin, sharp, jagged teeth catching the light as it whispered to the woman. I couldn't hear the words, but I knew their intent. They were designed to break her, to tear at her will until there was nothing left.

The demon turned to me, those eyes evil and amused, stared back at me. A slow, malevolent smile flickered on its vile face. A shiver ran down my spine and I froze. Although the demon tormented its victims, I was the one who was left staring into those eyes. I was the one who was left to remember what waited for me if I ever faltered... if I ever made that one mistake that would cost me everything. That's what the wicked thrived on—the smallest lapse, the tiniest crack in your resolve. One misstep and I'd be next at the gates of hell.

Don't think for one second I didn't belong there, in hell. I deserve every torment that was waiting for me, every demon I've sent screaming below had a plan for my soul. I served God, but I never claimed to be a good man. I've seen what I've done, the blood on my hands. It doesn't wash off, no matter how many prayers I mutter, no matter how many demons I send back to that pit, no matter how many times a Catholic priest forgives me in the name of that God. Every time I look in the mirror, I see a man who's crossed too many lines, and broken too many rules.

I tell myself that I'm doing God's work, cleansing the world of its evil. But deep down, I know the truth. There's a part of me that enjoys the kill—the violence, the hunt. The feeling of power as I face those monsters and break them. I tell myself it's for these souls, for God, but it's more than that.

Sometimes, when I look into their eyes—those wretched, hate-filled eyes—I feel a connection. Like we're not so different. Like the only thing separating me from them is a thin thread of faith, and I'm always one step away from snapping it. Maybe that's why I do this. Maybe I'm not fighting for redemption. Maybe I'm just punishing myself. Because I know, deep down, I deserve it.

I deserve to be destroyed by the very darkness I've tried to control.

Taking a breath, I steadied myself as I reached for the weight of the crucifix beneath my jacket. The cold metal pressed against my skin, grounding me in the moment. This was what I was made for. I was a vessel of God, a soldier, chosen to cast out evil, to cleanse the world of its filth. The weight of my faith surged within me, steadying my hand, but the demon's laughter cut through it like a dull blade, grating and hollow.

It echoed in the room, mocking any resolve I held. "You. A vessel of God?" it sneered, its voice dripping with contempt as it let me know it could read my thoughts. "You believe that lie?"

I forced my voice to steady. "Tell me your name, demon."

The laughter grew, sharper now, filled with cruel amusement. "You think you command me? You, of all people?" It leaned closer, its eyes burning with malice. "You're no soldier. You're nothing but a broken man, if you want to call yourself that, clinging to a God who's already abandoned you."

I gripped the crucifix tighter, but that sliver of doubt crawled up my spine like ice. One thing demons didn't do was sugarcoat the truth. And when they did manage to tell you one, it was usually dug out of your subconscious for them to play with. Because I too believed that God had long abandoned me.

"By the power of God," I growled, my voice low, my words sharp, "I command you to leave this woman. You do not belong here."

I began to pray the Our Father , my voice steady as I clung to each word like a lifeline. The demon's body twitched, warping for a split second, my rehearsed prayers slowly affecting it. For a heartbeat, I thought I had the upper hand, that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different. Then it chuckled, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through the room, mocking my attempt. The young woman's body, Lucia, convulsed violently on the bed, her limbs thrashing as the demon's presence tightened its grip on her.

Lucia was only twenty-one. Sweet, innocent, full of life. She had grown up in a small Italian town, raised by a family that adored her. She was everything pure that existed. A bright smile, warm laughter, a soul untouched by the world's darkness. Just a few months ago, she'd been engaged to a local boy, and she was full of excitement and happiness for the life that lay ahead of her. She was planning her wedding, dreaming of a future.

And now she was this.

Her once beautiful features were twisted by the demon's corruption. Her dark, flowing hair, now clung to her sweat-drenched skin in matted clumps. Her olive complexion had turned pale, almost green. It was drained of its warmth, and her once vibrant brown eyes were now sunken in, dark circles seemed to hollow them out, and she was now filled with the demon's malice. Her teeth had gone yellow, thick perfect lips, now cracked and dry, and they twitched as the demon laughed through her. The sweet, carefree girl who'd laughed with her family, who'd been loved by her fiancé, was gone. What lay before me was a shell, her body broken and raped by the evil inside her.

Her mother had come crying to me for help. Begging me to rescue her daughter.

Me.

A Hero?

I tightened my grip on the crucifix, my heart sinking as the weight of her fate bore down on me.

I will save her. I need to be stronger.

The demon's laugh grew louder, more taunting. "Look at her now, Virgil," it hissed my name, its voice laced with venom. "All that innocence is gone, and now she is my whore."

Its disjointed fingers trailed over her hair. "Look at her, Virgil. Do you want her? Were you thinking of these naked tits as you yanked your cock in the shower," it hissed, fondling her breasts. "Don't lie to me, Virgil, I know your mind is as twisted as mine."

"Shut the fuck up," I growled, knowing deep down inside I had flickers of these thoughts earlier. I knew they would come and haunt me sooner or later.

"It's because of you she is like this," the demon sneered. "You failed her."

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat, forcing myself to keep praying, but my voice wavered.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

The demon's laughter echoed louder, the sound filling the room with a sickening vibration that burrowed, like scratching nails down a chalkboard, into my skull. My prayer faltered, my grip on the crucifix slipping as the weight of its words sank in.

"You feel it, don't you?" the demon taunted, its voice slithering through Lucia's cracked lips like poison. "That doubt gnawing at you, eating away at your precious faith."

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the sound, trying to stay focused on the words of the prayer. Our Father, who art in heaven… But the demon's voice was relentless, pushing deeper into the cracks of my mind.

"You thought you could save her. You thought you were strong enough. But look at her." It leaned forward, dragging Lucia's body closer to the edge of the bed, her limbs jerking and twitching as she moved. "She trusted you. Came to you for help. And what did you do? You let this happen."

My throat tightened, and I felt the weight of guilt press down on me. I couldn't look at Lucia...not like this. Her eyes, now looking hollow and dead, stared straight through me as if accusing me of everything I'd failed to do.

"You let her fall, just like you've let the others fall," the demon continued, its voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "You're no soldier of God. You're just a pitiful human pretending to be something more. You were never going to save her, Virgil. And you will never save anyone else."

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to speak again. " Deliver us from evil ," I whispered, the words barely a breath.

The demon laughed again, Lucia's broken body convulsing with its twisted amusement. " Deliver us from evil ?" it mocked, its tone turning sinister. "Tell me, Virgil, who is going to deliver you from evil? Do you think your God is listening? You think He's watching over you as you stumble and fail? You're all alone, and you know it."

I tried to push back against the words, but the doubt curled around my chest like a vice, squeezing tighter with each syllable. I could feel it all creeping in, that fear, the uncertainty. Deep down I knew it was telling me the truth.

"Deep down," the demon continued, its voice softer now, more insidious, "you know you're no savior. You're not chosen. You're just like me, aren't you? Hungry to divulge in all that sin. Driven by darkness."

"No," I whispered, but the word felt weak, they no longer held power. The demon had gotten to me.

"Don't deny her your gaze, Virgil. Look at what you've done. You think this is the last one? There will be more. And you'll fail them, too. Just like you failed her."

I forced myself to open my eyes, but the sight of Lucia—her once innocent face now twisted with torment—was too much. My hands trembled, the crucifix heavy in my grip, and for the first time, I felt the full weight of my failure.

Maybe the demon was right.

Maybe I wasn't strong enough.

The demon's voice slithered, smooth as oil, filled with mockery. "You are no hunter?" It laughed again, louder this time. "You reek of sin, of doubt. You're no, holy warrior. You're a goddam joke!" It cackled, the laughter scraping against my skull and I dropped to the floor covering my ears.

I clenched my jaw, ignoring the chill that crawled up my spine. "You have no power over us! Get the fuck out of my head!" I screamed.

The demon tilted its head, its glowing eyes narrowing as if it were studying me. "Is that what you think, Virgil? That you're pure? That you're worthy to speak in His name?" It hissed, and the shadows around the room grew darker, pressing in on us.

I tightened my hold on the crucifix until it bit into my palm. "You will be chained down, demon. Speak your name!"

It leaned closer, its breath cold against my face, Lucia's body thrashing violently beneath its weight. "Tell yourself whatever you want," it whispered. "But deep down, you know. You've seen the darkness inside you. It's the same as mine. You think you're above it all, but it's there. It's always been there, Virgil. You. Are. Not. Worthy."

I could feel the truth of its words digging into me, each word digging into me like a sharp knife. I wasn't perfect—I'd never claimed to be. The blood on my hands, the weight of the lives I'd taken, the constant battle with my own demons—they were all part of me. But that was the price of the path I walked. This is what He made me into. This is what God had put me on earth for.

"It's not my fault!" I screamed. "And that's the difference between you and me," I spat, forcing the words through the haze of doubt. "I have choice. I can fight my demons. You, on the other hand, are one."

The demon grinned, pulling Lucia's face wider, its cracked lips pulling back over jagged teeth. "We're not so different, Virgil. You hide behind faith, behind that pathetic lie of righteousness. But when the time comes, when you're faced with the truth, you'll fall. Just like the rest of them."

I lifted the crucifix higher, feeling that surge of power course through me. "Then let's see which one of us burns first."

I began to pray, the darkness engulfed us both. The doubt continued to gnaw at me. Suddenly, my voice was swallowed by an overwhelming weight of fear that gripped my chest. My legs buckled beneath me, and I stumbled backward, crashing into the corner of the room. I pressed my back against the wall, the crucifix slipping from my grasp and clattering to the floor. The sound was hollow, meaningless.

The power I'd felt moments ago drained from me like water through clenched fists. Confusion settled in and the crucifix, which was my weapon of faith, suddenly felt cold and useless. The demon's laughter echoed in my skull, louder, sharper, like nails scraping against glass.

"Fight back," I whispered to myself. "You have to...try..."

I watched helplessly as Lucia writhed on the bed; her screams muffled by the suffocating presence of the demon. Her eyes, now human, opened wide with terror, they flickered to me for a brief moment, begging, pleading for me to save her.

But I couldn't move.

"I... I can't..." I muttered, my voice barely a whisper. My whole body was shaking, the weight of my own failures pressing down on me like a thousand stones. I wanted to fight, but my arms felt heavy, my heart pounded in my chest like it was trying to break free.

"You were never going to save her," the demon taunted, its voice dripping with cruel amusement. I watched in horror as it hovered over her, its long, twisted fingers tracing her cheek, its touch leaving a trail of decay in its wake. "You're not a savior, Virgil. You are weak and you are as blood thirsty as I am."

"No..." My throat was tight, my voice strangled. "I…"

Before I could finish, Lucia's body jerked violently, her back arching unnaturally as the demon sank its claws into her chest. Her screams tore through the air, and I watched, paralyzed, as blood spilled from her lips, her body convulsing in pain. The demon was feeding on her suffering, her fear, relishing every agonizing second.

"Stop!" I tried to shout, but it came out as a broken plea.

The demon's laughter grew louder, more sinister, as the Lucia's body fell limp beneath its grip. Her chest heaved one final time before going still, her eyes dull and lifeless, locked on me.

She was gone.

I should have saved her.

I curled further into the corner, my head in my hands, shaking uncontrollably. The room was spinning, the edges of my vision blurring as guilt and terror consumed me.

How could I have failed? How could I have let it happen?

"You're pathetic," the demon hissed, its form looming over me now, casting a dark shadow across the floor. "You think you're special because He chose you. But you're nothing."

I couldn't even look at it. I could feel its eyes on me, burning into my soul, stripping away every ounce of strength I thought I had.

"You couldn't save her," it continued, voice thick with venom. "And you won't save the others. You'll fail. Over and over. Because you are weak ."

I flinched as the demon crouched down in front of me, its grotesque face inches from mine. I could smell the rot on its breath, feel the chill of its presence on my skin. "I'll be back for you soon, Virgil," it whispered, its voice barely above a growl. "And when I do, you'll beg for mercy. But there won't be any."

It stood, straightening to its full, towering height, and for a moment, it just stared down at me, eyes gleaming with sick satisfaction. Then, with a final laugh, it vanished, leaving behind nothing but the suffocating weight of my own failure.

I remained there, trembling in the corner, staring at the lifeless body on the bed, knowing the demon was right. I allowed those doubts to fill my head.

I was too weak.

How could I possibly think I was a soldier of God?

I would never be able to beat it because I wasn't worthy.