Philip Cade (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
a_wicked_pissah) wrote2013-07-29 08:16 pm
a_wicked_pissah) wrote2013-07-29 08:16 pm
Routine Exorcism
There were days when you just shouldn't leave the house. Phil had experienced quite a few of those days, and yet he continued to walk outside. That was either the definition of bravery or insanity. But that's getting ahead of things. What's important to know at the moment was that this was one of those days. And was Phil at home? No, no he was not.
***
It was a routine exorcism. Phil wasn't a priest, but he'd made it his business not to have to be. If priests were the only thing that could stop demons, then the world would be an entirely different place. Yes, he was a Catholic. But that wasn't the point. One organized religion holding all of the cards in a situation like demonic possession just didn't make any sense, especially when you took into account how young Catholicism was and how vast the world outside of its boundaries was. Phil had developed his own methods for dealing with demons, and they were, in many cases, more effective. Religion was just one tool in the toolbox.
"He's...he's upstairs. I just...I didn't know what to do...my priest laughed at me..."
Phil nodded to the woman as he stepped into her home. "Sometimes they do that. Don't worry. I come cheapah than them anyway."
He'd climbed the stairs. It was an old colonial style house, with lots of wood. Homey, and a little cramped. She'd followed him nervously. From behind the closed door at the top of them, to the right, there was a lot of growling and snuffling. As soon as Phil had set his hand on the doorknob, the growling stopped and the screeching began. He'd winced.
"You might not want to be in the room."
"No, I want to be there. For him."
Phil had shrugged and opened the door. The man tied up in the chair was literally frothing at the mouth and ranting in a language that felt like defecation on the human ear. It was foul and profane. The woman behind him had burst into tears.
"I don't know what he's saying!!!"
"Of course you don't. It's upside down Latin."
"What?"
"You know Latin? Take it, flip the wuhds upside down, and that's what you've got. Theah like looking into a mirrah, in some ways."
She hadn't quite understood, but she'd nodded. He had set to work.
***
Now he looked at the results of his handwork. The man was more securely bound, but the damage was already done. He'd torn at his clothes and his flesh, as if trying to escape it. Now, on the ground around him in a neat circle, was a series of runes Phil himself had drawn. Some were from his research, others were his own creation. Time to go to work.
The demon ranted at him. They always loved to talk. It was their great downfall. He began to repeat the demon's words back at it in the proper Latin, reversing the reality it created for itself. A demon's language carved out it's place on this plane, and he was negating that. Each word seemed to scald it, and it flinched and screamed. The woman yelled out too and clutched at Phil. He tried to gently push her away, but there was more force behind it than he intended and she stumbled and fell on her butt. The demon's very presence was adding violence to the room, but he didn't have time to apologize. This bastard was powerful.
The demon couldn't help itself. It continued to speak, yelling obscenities at Phil. In fact, it had to speak. To do any less would be to be negated from this world entirely. Now that they were engaged, it was a contest of wills. It ranted and raved. He returned it's words tit for tat. It tried to outpace him, because if Phil missed a beat, it would get a foothold on him and he'd have to come back from behind. Fortunately, he was used to this. Unfortunately, the demon was powerful enough to not be thrown out of the body in the first few rounds (which were characterized by "paragraphs", incidentally enough).
This was bad. Very, very bad. It was using up the resources of the body it inhabited to throw out out the powerful words to combat Phil. It was a fact that some did not survive the process. The woman knew that, but she would probably not be prepared to deal with it when she saw it. In his career doing this, he'd only seen three people die.
And this man became number four.
It came suddenly, and far more violently than he'd ever seen it before. In each previous case, the demon had been exorcised, leaving the body, and the body had slumped to the floor. In this case, the body literally exploded outward, drenching both he and the lady with blood and gore. In the brief silence, he screamed at her.
"DON'T LOOK!!! DON'T LOOK AT IT!!!"
He was already averting his eyes. But not looking was the easy part. In the next second, the inexplicable happened. It kept speaking.. Phil was forced to start negating it again, but it was...harder. The force of the words hit him like a hammer, each utterance staggering him. His eyes were drawn to the runes on the floor, which were now blazing white hot. A heat shimmer rose over them, and he could..oh shit. He could see them melting down into the floor. They kept their shape, so they would continue to do their job. But how long would the house last? It came to him that the house was wood. So much wood.
As if the situation couldn't get any worse, he heard the tenor of the woman's screams change. Now she was laughing. Now shrieking. And laughing again. She'd looked at the demon, and it had devoured her mind. The human psyche simply could not take the madness that a demon, the antithesis of all life, represented. In the next instant, he felt her land on him hard, clawing and tearing. All life would be an aberration to her now, and she would eradicate it if she could. Her nails and teeth bit into his flesh, and he yelled out in pain.
"MONKEY!!!" His voice was hoarse, but the small creature heard him. There was a loud CRACK sound of a gun going off, and the woman fell back from him. She flopped on the ground. He didn't have to look down to know that she should be dead, but her body wouldn't realize it for a few seconds.
Then his blood ran cold. He'd stopped speaking to counteract the demon. It was laughing at him. Laughing. And why not? This kind of chaos was what it lived for. He fumbled for the cross around his neck and held it up, one last resort.
"YOUR FAITH IS WEAK, LITTLE MAN. BUT YOUR BLOOD IS NOT."
At first, Phil didn't know what it was talking about. Then he saw. As she had clawed at him, the woman had shed his blood in a spray. A drop had landed on one of the runes. The demon leaned down and very deliberately drew it's finger through the blood, smearing a line through the rune. Shit. Shitshitshit.
"I AM GRAKTOSTYG, CORRUPTER OF CHILDREN, DEVOURER OF FAE!!!"
The force of it's true name shattered the wood that the runes were inscribed on. Normally, a demon would not reveal it's true name because there was power in it, but in this case that power was useful. The entire house began to shake. Then fire erupted between the cracks in the runes, scorching him. Phil did the only thing he could - he turned, grabbed Monkey, and dove for the window. The glass shattered around him as he leaped, falling two stories to hit the ground hard. There were several cracks as bones broke, and he groaned in pain.
"I COME FOR YOU."
"No you don't..." He weakly reached down and smeared his hands in his blood. Holding monkey tightly, he drew a rune on the ground. He could feel the demon approaching quickly, but he slapped the rune as soon as it was done. The world twisted around him, and his stomach lurched as time and space knotted up and deposited him...elsewhere. The demon was loose, but knowing demons, it wouldn't care much about him for a while. It's mind would turn to other things, depraved things. Unless it held a grudge, in which case he'd deal with that as it came. It was his responsibility either way.
For the moment, he threw up all over the ground. Runes were not the best way to travel, and he was pretty broken anyway. Definitely not up to taking it.
"Dizzy." He laid back and closed his eyes.
***
It was a routine exorcism. Phil wasn't a priest, but he'd made it his business not to have to be. If priests were the only thing that could stop demons, then the world would be an entirely different place. Yes, he was a Catholic. But that wasn't the point. One organized religion holding all of the cards in a situation like demonic possession just didn't make any sense, especially when you took into account how young Catholicism was and how vast the world outside of its boundaries was. Phil had developed his own methods for dealing with demons, and they were, in many cases, more effective. Religion was just one tool in the toolbox.
"He's...he's upstairs. I just...I didn't know what to do...my priest laughed at me..."
Phil nodded to the woman as he stepped into her home. "Sometimes they do that. Don't worry. I come cheapah than them anyway."
He'd climbed the stairs. It was an old colonial style house, with lots of wood. Homey, and a little cramped. She'd followed him nervously. From behind the closed door at the top of them, to the right, there was a lot of growling and snuffling. As soon as Phil had set his hand on the doorknob, the growling stopped and the screeching began. He'd winced.
"You might not want to be in the room."
"No, I want to be there. For him."
Phil had shrugged and opened the door. The man tied up in the chair was literally frothing at the mouth and ranting in a language that felt like defecation on the human ear. It was foul and profane. The woman behind him had burst into tears.
"I don't know what he's saying!!!"
"Of course you don't. It's upside down Latin."
"What?"
"You know Latin? Take it, flip the wuhds upside down, and that's what you've got. Theah like looking into a mirrah, in some ways."
She hadn't quite understood, but she'd nodded. He had set to work.
***
Now he looked at the results of his handwork. The man was more securely bound, but the damage was already done. He'd torn at his clothes and his flesh, as if trying to escape it. Now, on the ground around him in a neat circle, was a series of runes Phil himself had drawn. Some were from his research, others were his own creation. Time to go to work.
The demon ranted at him. They always loved to talk. It was their great downfall. He began to repeat the demon's words back at it in the proper Latin, reversing the reality it created for itself. A demon's language carved out it's place on this plane, and he was negating that. Each word seemed to scald it, and it flinched and screamed. The woman yelled out too and clutched at Phil. He tried to gently push her away, but there was more force behind it than he intended and she stumbled and fell on her butt. The demon's very presence was adding violence to the room, but he didn't have time to apologize. This bastard was powerful.
The demon couldn't help itself. It continued to speak, yelling obscenities at Phil. In fact, it had to speak. To do any less would be to be negated from this world entirely. Now that they were engaged, it was a contest of wills. It ranted and raved. He returned it's words tit for tat. It tried to outpace him, because if Phil missed a beat, it would get a foothold on him and he'd have to come back from behind. Fortunately, he was used to this. Unfortunately, the demon was powerful enough to not be thrown out of the body in the first few rounds (which were characterized by "paragraphs", incidentally enough).
This was bad. Very, very bad. It was using up the resources of the body it inhabited to throw out out the powerful words to combat Phil. It was a fact that some did not survive the process. The woman knew that, but she would probably not be prepared to deal with it when she saw it. In his career doing this, he'd only seen three people die.
And this man became number four.
It came suddenly, and far more violently than he'd ever seen it before. In each previous case, the demon had been exorcised, leaving the body, and the body had slumped to the floor. In this case, the body literally exploded outward, drenching both he and the lady with blood and gore. In the brief silence, he screamed at her.
"DON'T LOOK!!! DON'T LOOK AT IT!!!"
He was already averting his eyes. But not looking was the easy part. In the next second, the inexplicable happened. It kept speaking.. Phil was forced to start negating it again, but it was...harder. The force of the words hit him like a hammer, each utterance staggering him. His eyes were drawn to the runes on the floor, which were now blazing white hot. A heat shimmer rose over them, and he could..oh shit. He could see them melting down into the floor. They kept their shape, so they would continue to do their job. But how long would the house last? It came to him that the house was wood. So much wood.
As if the situation couldn't get any worse, he heard the tenor of the woman's screams change. Now she was laughing. Now shrieking. And laughing again. She'd looked at the demon, and it had devoured her mind. The human psyche simply could not take the madness that a demon, the antithesis of all life, represented. In the next instant, he felt her land on him hard, clawing and tearing. All life would be an aberration to her now, and she would eradicate it if she could. Her nails and teeth bit into his flesh, and he yelled out in pain.
"MONKEY!!!" His voice was hoarse, but the small creature heard him. There was a loud CRACK sound of a gun going off, and the woman fell back from him. She flopped on the ground. He didn't have to look down to know that she should be dead, but her body wouldn't realize it for a few seconds.
Then his blood ran cold. He'd stopped speaking to counteract the demon. It was laughing at him. Laughing. And why not? This kind of chaos was what it lived for. He fumbled for the cross around his neck and held it up, one last resort.
"YOUR FAITH IS WEAK, LITTLE MAN. BUT YOUR BLOOD IS NOT."
At first, Phil didn't know what it was talking about. Then he saw. As she had clawed at him, the woman had shed his blood in a spray. A drop had landed on one of the runes. The demon leaned down and very deliberately drew it's finger through the blood, smearing a line through the rune. Shit. Shitshitshit.
"I AM GRAKTOSTYG, CORRUPTER OF CHILDREN, DEVOURER OF FAE!!!"
The force of it's true name shattered the wood that the runes were inscribed on. Normally, a demon would not reveal it's true name because there was power in it, but in this case that power was useful. The entire house began to shake. Then fire erupted between the cracks in the runes, scorching him. Phil did the only thing he could - he turned, grabbed Monkey, and dove for the window. The glass shattered around him as he leaped, falling two stories to hit the ground hard. There were several cracks as bones broke, and he groaned in pain.
"I COME FOR YOU."
"No you don't..." He weakly reached down and smeared his hands in his blood. Holding monkey tightly, he drew a rune on the ground. He could feel the demon approaching quickly, but he slapped the rune as soon as it was done. The world twisted around him, and his stomach lurched as time and space knotted up and deposited him...elsewhere. The demon was loose, but knowing demons, it wouldn't care much about him for a while. It's mind would turn to other things, depraved things. Unless it held a grudge, in which case he'd deal with that as it came. It was his responsibility either way.
For the moment, he threw up all over the ground. Runes were not the best way to travel, and he was pretty broken anyway. Definitely not up to taking it.
"Dizzy." He laid back and closed his eyes.