THE NUN
The clock strikes midnight.
Claire’s parents are demanding to see their daughter, while Sister Mary tries to appease them and get them to wait.
The other sisters are all in shock. A few have fainted at the news that Father Benedict is dead, while the others are in a corner, on their knees, praying.
I pace around trying to think of a solution. Claire—or, rather, the demon—is a danger to us all. I have no idea how to go about it without Father Benedict. Worse, I don’t know of any other priest with experience in exorcisms anywhere in the vicinity of Radcliffe.
And if Father Benedict could not finish the exorcism, I doubt an inexperienced priest could.
So where does that leave us?
In an attempt to keep the demon inside, I’d put crosses all over the door and windows, hoping that would at least keep it contained. But for how long? If the entity escapes, none of us are safe.
As I continue to think of a possible solution, loud screams come out of the room, followed by a low, demonic voice that beckons the sisters to open the door.
Worse, the demon seems to know everyone’s past.
It did not just know mine. It is now calling each sister by name, whispering long-buried secrets and luring them in with wicked promises.
I catch sight of one of the sisters listening in to the door, her ear against the wooden frame, her hand hovering over the knob.
“Stop!” I tell her and pull her away. “Leave.”
She regards me with scared eyes before she scurries away.
“Agatha, we meet again,” the demon purrs. Its voice is thick and hoarse, and though I know it to be evil, there is a compelling quality to it. “Wouldn’t you want your baby back? Your fiancé? I can give them to you. You only have to open the door.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. As much as I wish I could say I was beyond temptation, I am not. For just a moment, I imagine what it would be like to have my beloved back by my side, to be together with our baby.
But then I open my eyes and realize that this is all a game to this demon.
Elroy and Plum are long dead, and nothing can bring them back.
I take a deep breath and step away.
A loud noise at the end of the hallway startles me. It’s followed by the slamming of a door.
I hurry toward the noise. Claire’s father has burst out of the room, his wife behind him. In their wake, Sister Mary is on the floor, her lip busted open.
“I will see my daughter now!” he shouts.
I glance between the spouses and Sister Mary, and a red haze covers my sight.
“You will not!” I tell him sternly. “You will go back into that room and wait.”
“I’m not going anywhere without my daughter.”
“Your daughter is possessed, and she is a danger to us all.”
“I must see her for myself.”
“No!” I shout. Grabbing one of the metal candle holders off the wall, I aim it toward him. “You will go inside the other room, now!”
His eyes widen in fear at the sight of the heavy item. But somehow, he thinks a frail nun wouldn’t hit him, so he charges at me. Before he can get too close, I raise the candle holder and hit him over the head.
He drops down to the floor. His wife screams in shock.
“Sister Mary, come here,” I tell her. She raises herself off the ground and slowly comes to my side. The blow must have affected her quite a bit because her steps are wobbly. “Check his pulse.”
She does as told while I give the wife a look. She understands my meaning and backs away into their room.
“He’s alive,” Sister Mary whispers.
“Good. Now help me drag him into the room.”
We manage to get his body inside, after which I close the door and lock the spouses in. This should buy us some time, though I am aware I can’t keep two people hostage forever.
“What about the girl?” Sister Mary asks in a small voice.
I tell her the situation and that the entire convent, potentially the entire town, might be in danger.
“Good Lord,” she mutters, making the sign of the cross. “What will we do?”
“I . . .” I sigh. “I don’t know.”
Another scream thunders through the halls of the convent, followed by an unnatural shake of the walls. Sister Mary regards me with trepidation.
Just then, someone knocks at the main door—three loud knocks in slow, measured succession.
“Should we . . .”
“I’ll go,” I say, marching toward the front entrance.
I raise myself on the tips of my toes to look through the peephole. It’s dark out, but I can somehow make out the outline of a man.
“Who is it?”
“I am a friend of Father Benedict,” the stranger replies.
I frown. “Father Benedict never mentioned a friend coming.”
“Perhaps he did not have the time.”
“What are you—”
“You are dealing with something beyond your control. You require help.”
His words startle me. It’s almost as if he knows something happened to Father Benedict. But . . . how?
Against all common sense, I creep the door open just enough to look at the newcomer.
He’s young. In his mid to late twenties at most. He has dark hair that curls around his ears, and a pair of startling green eyes that seem to be staring straight into my soul. He has faint scars on one side of his face.
“Who are you?”
“I can help you,” he insists.
I narrow my eyes at him. “How?”
“You have a very limited time until that demon ascends and takes on a physical form. Since it consumed Father Benedict’s soul, I reckon it will be only a few hours before that happens.”
I blink. “Ascends? What do you mean? And how do you know Father Benedict is dead?”
“I can help you, Sister Agatha.”
“How do I know this is not the demon’s hand, and he is not using you to get free?”
“You do not. But I think you are smart enough to realize that, regardless of whether the demon is using me or not, you are in danger. The town is in danger.”
I purse my lips as I regard him carefully. He’s right about that. Whether he is just another instrument of the demon or not, it is clear that we might not survive the night if things continue like this.
But if he can help . . . I would rather take the risk.
Pulling the door open, I motion for him to enter.
He gives me a nod and a small smile.
“You may call me Valerion,” the stranger says. He takes off his long leather coat and hangs it on a chair near the entrance. “Show me to the demon.”
I nod. We walk down the hallway, and as we encounter the other sisters, I advise them to gather in the chapel, quite a distance away from the room, in case the situation worsens.
“Should I stay in case Claire’s parents cause trouble?” Sister Mary asks, lingering behind.
“That will not be necessary,” Valerion answers. “You may leave.”
She glances at me for confirmation, and I give her a silent nod, after which she departs.
Alone with Valerion, I show him to the room where the demon is.
He stops in front of the door.
“Could you please remove the crosses?”
Odd, but I don’t question it. I simply take off the crosses before unlocking the door for him.
He steps inside, and I follow suit, wanting to see with my own eyes how he plans on getting rid of the demon when even Father Benedict could not.
Poor Father Benedict, his corpse is in the middle of the room, his eyes bloodshot. I avert my gaze and say a small prayer for him.
Valerion notes the grisly murder but does not mention it. Instead, his attention is on the possessed young girl currently sitting in a corner and crying. She looks . . . normal.
“You may leave if you should wish to,” he suddenly mentions.
“What?”
“It appears the demon has not ascended yet, but that does not mean it is not dangerous. You may leave.”
“I . . .” I take a deep breath and straighten my spine. “I will stay.”
“Suit yourself. Keep to the back, please.”
“All right.” I take a step back and fit my back against the wall.
Valerion walks casually toward the girl—demon. He has none of the tools Father Benedict used for exorcisms, nor does he seem inclined to borrow the late father’s items. He’s empty-handed as he stops in front of the girl.
“Claire, is it not?” he says.
The girl slowly raises her head to look at him. No longer does she have the bloodshot eyes from before, nor the rash around her mouth. She looks . . . completely healthy. Not Possessed.
“Yes,” she whispers. “Please help me.” Her voice is light and soft.
Valerion sighs. “You do not need to play those games with me,” he mentions. “You can sense who I am, can you not?”
I frown. What does he mean by that?
The girl’s eyes glaze over until they become fully black.
“You will not control me,” the demon shouts in a thick, monstrous voice.
It jumps back against the wall, climbing backward toward the ceiling.
Valerion shakes his head. “Alas, I do not want to control you. I merely want you gone.”
A deafening shriek erupts in the air. I press my hands to my ears. Valerion seems unperturbed.
He doesn’t move. He merely watches, almost amused.
The demon shrieks again, and this time, the walls of the convent shake.
“Done with your tantrum?” Valerion asks in a bored voice.
“I will not be your thrall!” the demon continues in what seems like a frantic voice, almost as if it’s . . . afraid?
My ears are still ringing from earlier. But even with my focus shaken, I can see there is a strange dynamic between Valerion and the demon.
“Come out now. There’s no point in staying there any longer. You will not be able to ascend.”
“No!” the demon shouts.
“Yes. Come out while I’m still being nice to you.”
“You will not win. I will consume one last soul and—”
Before I can blink, Valerion has the girl in his grasp. W-what? When did that happen? How?
He holds Claire by the neck with his right hand while pressing his left one over her chest.
A grey mist oozes out of her chest. It’s barely visible at first, but it soon grows in intensity. Claire flails her arms around as she keeps on screaming as if in pain—or rather, the demon does.
What is Valerion doing? And how is he drawing that grey mist out of Claire?
I don’t understand. I’ve witnessed tens of exorcisms in the past, and none have been like this.
The mist becomes a dark smoke, an amorphous blob. Claire’s body goes limp.
Still holding onto the blob of smoke, though I do not know how he manages to do it, Valerion carefully lays Claire’s body on the bed.
“She’s dead. I’m sorry. The demon has been inside her too long and has already consumed her soul,” Valerion tells me with a sad expression.
“B-but . . . what is that?” I point to the dark mist.
“What’s left of the demon. Was,” he corrects as the black cloud starts to dissipate toward his open palm. Valerion wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Level one only,” he mutters under his breath.
“What are you talking about?”
He gazes at me as if he forgot I was there.
“It was a low-level demon.” He shrugs. “I was hoping he’d be stronger.”
I gawk at him. “You . . . what?”
“It is of no consequence now. Your demon problem is gone.” He dusts off his clothes and makes to leave. But before he does, he stops by the corpse of Father Benedict. “I’ll help you bury them,” he states.
“But Claire . . . Her family will—”
“They should not see her like this. Her body will rot quicker than an average one because the negative energy from the demon has already eaten at it from within. If you wait much longer, you will not like what you see.”
“All right. I suppose we will find a way to break the news to her parents. Poor girl . . .” I say as I take one last look at her body. So young, and now she’s forever gone.
“I will ensure the parents do not trouble you.”
True to his word, Valerion does all the work: from digging two makeshift graves to carrying the bodies and burying them. Then he somehow convinces her parents that Claire’s death was natural.
Not only are they not belligerent with us, but they leave at dawn without asking any questions.
Odd. Truly odd.
So as Valerion turns to leave, too, I can’t help but ask.
“Just who . . . what are you?”
He pauses in the doorway, his lips curling upward.
“This is not the last you will see of me, Sister Agatha.”
Then he’s gone. But not for long.