Exorcized (Episode Five: The Nightshade Cases) Read online

  Episode Five: Exorcized

  (FADE IN:)

  INT. – RICHARDS HOUSE – NIGHT

  The young man writhed on the bed, red-faced and screaming in a voice vibrating with hate. His hands and feet thrashed as he fought against some inner power only he recognized. The black-suited priest leaned over him, spraying his skin with holy water. The parents hovered in the doorway of the bedroom.

  “What’s happening?” The mother’s shrieking demand for answers only seemed to fuel the young man’s agony. Sweat stood out on the boy’s skin, huge eyes spinning in his head, tongue thick and flailing as he bounced three times to the edge of the small bed, feet slapping on the floor.

  “Dante,” the old priest whispered over his shoulder between chants of verse in Latin, calm and commanding. “Get them out. Now.”

  Behind him, the slim, dark-haired priest stopped chanting, closing his Bible as he hurried forward, slightly less in control than his teacher. He inserted himself between the panic-stricken parents and his elder who performed the exorcism.

  “Please,” Father Dante said in a quiet voice only calm on the surface, hoping they didn’t hear his panic. “He must have privacy.”

  The mother bowed out with a soft sob, the father leaving second, dark eyes huge, locked on his son’s twisting face. The young priest closed the door behind himself, firmly, with precision, before nodding to the parents.

  “You said it wasn’t a possession.” The woman’s wailing had gone quieter, at least, but the young priest winced at her piercing tone. “You said this was just a precaution.”

  “You must trust Father Harry,” he said, heart clenching as he realized he’d finally witnessed his first true demonic takeover after all this time assisting the father. “He knows what to do.”

  ***

  INT. – RICHARDS HOUSE – NIGHT

  Father Harry Schaefer’s heart wasn’t as young as it used to be. And he hadn’t had a real possession to deal with in over ten years. What started out as a pretense to calm the parents had evolved quickly into this thrashing, screaming mess on the bed, a boy with the eyes of a demon.

  Dear God, Father Harry thought. Protect me from my own foolishness.

  A faint breeze washed over the back of the priest's neck from the open window as the boy’s eyes flared from the cold, dull red of the demonic into normal human brown the moment before they flew wide, a gasp sucking terrified air into the young man’s chest. Father Harry bent over the child as his lips moved, whispering, whispering. A demon trick, meant to lure the priest into its grasp. He knew better, learned better when he was just a young man himself and undergoing his training at The Vatican. But, he couldn’t resist the panic in the child’s eyes, the absolute terror.

  Father Harry knelt on the bed, leaning close. “Tell me what you see,” he said.

  When the boy spoke, Father Harry understood. He’d made his final mistake.

  ***

  INT. – RICHARDS HOUSE – NIGHT

  The sudden silence troubled Father Dante so much he finally peeked inside the room, hoping to see Father Harry soothing the now demon-free child. He’d waited as long as he dared for the priest to summon him. Dante couldn’t wait any longer.

  He should have been more careful about allowing the parents to follow in behind him. The woman’s scream of horror just made his own primal terror worse.

  Father Harry would perform no more masses, no further exorcism. Not in this life. Not as his blood oozed from the hole in his crotch where his private parts used to be, mouth gaping wide, eyes staring at the wall. Where a giant symbol had been drawn in his blood.

  All the while the now peacefully sleeping boy lay curled up beside him.

  ***

  Episode Five: Exorcized

  (Smashwords Edition)

  Copyright 2014 by Patti Larsen

  Purely Paranormal Press

  Find out more about Patti Larsen at http://www.pattilarsen.com/

  Sign up for new releases http://bit.ly/pattilarsenemail

  ***

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Director Annetta Ribken www.wordwebbing.com

  Production Designer Valerie Bellamy www.dog-earbookdesign.com

  Editor Jessica Bufkin

  Producer Anne Chaconas www.badassmktg.com

  Series Created and Written by Patti Larsen

  ***

  INT. – RICHARDS HOUSE – MORNING

  Gerri glared at the symbol on the wall of the boy’s bedroom with growing irritation. She hated the religious cases, especially now she had zero access to her friend, Dr. Kinsey DanAllart. If only the captain weren’t so short sighted about the whole Simone Paris/Julian Black connection. Sure, Black was under investigation for drug trafficking through his club, Exotica. And yes, Simone Paris was his live-in girlfriend. But just because Kinsey was contracted through her employer, Silver City College, to translate some stupid symbols on some stupid artifacts, it shouldn’t preclude her friend from being able to come give her a damned hand.

  Didn’t help her other partner-in-crime, Dr. Rachel Hunter, was also missing from the scene. Gerri’s stare of annoyance drifted from the bloody smear on the wall to the back of Dr. Daniel Druit’s head. He might keep his silver hair close cropped, his thick white mustache trimmed neat and tidy, but there was an unkempt feeling to Druit that always put Gerri on edge. Not to mention the fact he always smelled oddly, slightly off.

  Like she could tell anyone that. Or use her strangely heightened olfactory sense as a reason to have Druit expelled from one of her cases. She wished. But, doing so would mean admitting out loud to those who might think she was whacked out of her cranium she was a freak.

  Not going to happen. Bad enough she finally told Kinsey and Ray the truth. Gerri sipped her coffee with glowering sullenness, the icing on this particular cake shooting her a death-glare from across the room. Her partner, Detective Jackson Pierce, pretended to be a cop as he bothered Gerri’s favorite CSI, Tommy Binks. She contemplated kicking his ass out of the room and making him canvas again like a lowly uni, but thought better of it. Binks could handle himself.

  Didn’t help her irritation her last case still troubled her. The fact Ian Moore, murdering psychopath at seventeen, bore the same burn marks as her first weird case’s killer. There were, however, no obvious ties between Curtis Alexander and the Moore kid, nor was Ian gay or connected to the Collective of All Souls as the young bartender at the Starlet Lounge had been.

  Whoever marked Ian Moore, he’d taken their identity—and his crazy—to the grave when she’d put a bullet in his head. Sure, he was dead the case was solved. But, she hated loose ends about as much as anything in the world. And he was a loose end that wiggled and wriggled until she squirmed.

  Gerri prodded one of the other CSI’s with her foot, annoyance showing in her attitude as she gestured with her coffee mug at the symbol on the wall. “You get a shot of that?”

  The young woman visibly fought the urge to roll her eyes, only partially stopping the reflex action before her lips curved in a smile that did nothing for her tiny face. “What do you think?”

  “Chase.” Binks might have been a tall, skinny drink of water who looked partially albino and reminded Gerri of the rabbit from Alic
e in Wonderland, but he had a voice like a whip crack. The young woman’s attention snapped to him immediately, respect written all over her face. “The detective asked you a question.”

  She nodded to him then to Gerri, attitude shifted. “Sorry. Yes, Detective.”

  “You’re new.” Gerri offered her free hand, gloved already. The young woman shook it.

  “I am. Cat Chase. I just transferred from Atlanta.”

  “Good to have you.” Gerri’s eyes drifted over the fallen old priest as Druit shifted to one side, studying the gaping pool of black between the old man’s legs. She felt grateful for the dark color of the old man’s pants. Though, the smell of so much blood, as usual, made her crave a red, rare steak. Just adding to her irritation. “Any idea what it means?”

  Chase stood, tiny body swallowed up by the heavy blue coveralls she wore, feet minuscule in her paper slippers. She shook her head, pigtails tucked neatly into a hair net, gloves slipping free the safety glasses covering her pale, green eyes. Gerri felt like an awkward giant next to her, looking down at the top of the young woman’s head, noting the faint line of sunburn on the part in her light brown hair.

  “Not a clue,” she said. “But I’ll look it up and see what I can find out.”

  So much easier just to ask Kinsey. Gerri let Chase get back to work, slipping her phone from her pocket. Knowing what she was about to do was highly illegal and could get her fired and, most likely, jail time, she snapped a quick picture of the symbol. Before she could change her mind and recover her good sense, Gerri sent it off to a familiar email address and exhaled.

  Jackson’s gaze met hers, but she just smiled at him with her teeth showing so he’d know to back off. Her partner turned his back on her, like she gave a shit.

  Saved her from having to look at his ugly face.

  Her phone vibrated. Gerri glanced at the text message.

  Murder?

  Her thumb flew over the keyboard on her smartphone. Weird?

  Aramaic, Kinsey responded. For pedophile. So, not weird. Just sick.

  Gerri’s jaw clenched, hand tightening around the phone. Made total sense. Now she understood the missing plumbing. Gotcha. Thanks.

  There was a time "weird" would have freaked her out. But standing there, staring at the dead priest, her stomach turning over in revulsion, Gerri would have given anything for a little weird right about then. Anything but a priest accused of molesting kids.

  Gerri stepped away from the scene, out of the room. Let Jackson have his moment. She’d do a tour of the scene after everyone was gone, like she always did. For now, Binks had the evidence gathering well in hand, and though she didn’t trust Druit, there wasn’t much he could do to screw up the body.

  She had other things to do. And questions to be answered. Hopefully, answers she would dig out of the shaking, pale young priest she’d passed downstairs, being held by a pair of unis for further questioning.

  Gerri’s anger burned inside her as she headed down the stairs to confront the man of God, hoping he gave her an excuse to go hard on him.

  ***

  INT. – RICHARDS HOUSE – MORNING

  Gerri’s boots touched down on the hardwood floor of the hallway, thudding down the hall to the small kitchen where Officer Candice Mills waited for her with a grim expression. The young officer tipped her head to the detective before speaking in a low, intense voice.

  “Parents are in the living room with Purcell.” She was learning, still a rookie, but not as green as she had been when they first met. Gerri almost grinned. “The second priest is in the kitchen here.” Mills flipped open her leather-bound notebook, nails chewed to the quick, all business. “He claims he only left the vic for five minutes when Father Harry told him to take the parents out after shit hit the fan.” She winced. “Pardon my language, Detective.” Her strong, New York accent came through and Gerri just shook her head.

  “Said worse myself, Mills.” She peered into the kitchen where the slim, handsome young priest sat with his head in his hands, feet fidgeting on the floor. It had been hours since the supposed exorcism, but he’d stayed despite being cleared. It said something about his character. He looked up as Mills went on, dark brown eyes full of horror and self-loathing, brown tinted skin and thick black hair all Hispanic.

  “This is Father Dante Delacruz,” Mills said, her tone of voice rising as the young priest stood up and approached Gerri on shaking legs. He might have been dressed in a black suit with his little white tab showing, but he looked barely out of seminary school to her. “He was with Father Harry during the procedure.” She wrinkled her nose. As if unable to say it.

  “Detective Geraldine Meyers, Father.” She shook his hand, not surprised to find his cold, clammy, trembling.

  “Detective.” He cleared his throat, warm contralto the voice of a singer, soothing despite his upset. “Have you found out who did this to Father Harry?”

  Gerri glanced at Mills. “How’s the kid?” She hated to think the boy could have been responsible, but the mark on the wall accused the priest of a serious—if all-too-common in his line of work—crime.

  “Still passed out.” Mills jerked her chin toward the door. “At St. Boniface. I called in, nurse said he’s unconscious.”

  Father Dante sank onto the kitchen table, the narrow space seemingly filled with his tall, dark suit. “I don’t understand,” he said. “I was only gone five minutes. Father Harry and I…” he rubbed one hand over his face, the rasp of stubble on his jaw loud in the quiet of the kitchen. When his dark eyes met Gerri’s, his horror was back, voice cracking from it. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

  “So, tell me how it was supposed to go down, Father.” Gerri used her best soothing tone, guiding him to a chair, joining him. He settled both hands on the table top, shoulders hunched in stress. While he wasn’t Gerri’s type—okay, so he was a priest, but more than that—she found his self-possession oddly attractive.

  “The Richards family has been in consultation with Father Harry for several weeks now.” He seemed to settle as he told her the business side of what happened. “They feared their son was possessed.”

  “How so?” It was Gerri’s turn to take notes. The shining silver pen her mother gave her as a gift reflected the light coming in through the kitchen window. It really was closed and cramped in here, not a breath of air moving, and likely no air conditioning in the tiny house. Gerri was glad she’d be out of here before the full heat of the day.

  “They claimed he had certain signs of possession.” Father Dante’s shoulders uncoiled, his tone taking on a teaching lilt. “Loss of appetite, biting and scratching his own skin, an unnatural change in his expressions at odd moments, as though he were no longer in control.” The priest swallowed. “Changes in tone and timber of his voice as well as speaking a language his parents didn’t recognize.” Aramaic perhaps? Gerri wrote it down as the priest went on. “Their final straw, they said, was a fit of rage in which he hit his father, showing supernatural strength.” There were lots of explanations for all of the above. Gerri could think of a few mental health issues that might trigger some of the kid’s behaviors. The priest shifted in his seat, discomfort in his face. “I’m not supposed to be telling you this. But Father Harry—”

  “Off the record.” Gerri closed her notebook. Not like the kid’s parents thinking he was possessed was something she cared about. She was more interested in who killed the priest. Did the son do it? Possibly.

  Father Dante sighed. “Father Harry and I assumed, after much consultation with the boy’s doctors, he simply had a mental illness above his disability.”

  Gerri couldn’t help frowning. “What disability?”

  “James Richards has Down Syndrome,” Father Dante said. “I thought you knew?”

  She hadn’t, but easy enough for her to find out through public record. “Go on.”

  “From what his doctor told us, it’s rare for Down Syndrome patients to develop mental health issues. But not unhear
d of.” Gerri had to check into that. “He was diagnosed with schizophrenia six months ago.”

  Bingo. “About the same time the parents started noticing shifts in his behavior?” What was wrong with people? Possessed, her ass.

  “Father Harry and I both assumed so,” Father Dante said. “But, when James’s behavior only devolved instead of improving with medication, we finally agreed to come.” He wiped his mouth with his shaking hand. “I’m sorry. This has touched me deeply.”

  Gerri let him shake for a moment, eyes wide, locked on the table, before leaning forward and covering his one free hand with hers. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said. “But I need to know what happened, Father. So I can find out who killed your friend.”

  “My mentor.” Father Dante’s other hand dropped, settling on Gerri’s. The clammy feeling was gone, his skin soft and slightly warm. “Father Harry was the exorcist for California. And I was training to take his place when he retired.”

  Gerri didn’t comment on the whole hocus pocus thing, partly because she honestly didn’t know what to believe any longer. She’d seen enough weird the last few months she didn’t doubt there were things out there in the world that weren’t what anyone would call normal. But, the idea the kid was actually possessed by a demon…

  She’d have to see that one herself to believe it.

  “Father Harry began the ritual,” Father Dante said. “We both assumed we were simply humoring the Richards’s. They are both among the extremely faithful.” Fanatics. Nice way to say it. “But, when Father Harry began the rite, the boy freaked out.” Father Dante’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’ve only been training for a year with Father Harry. And I’ve never seen anything like that.”