Demon Inside, Part Four

Two hours later we’d all taken breaks for the restroom, coffee, and snacks from the vending machine upstairs. Except for Caffero and, of course, Walker, who went back and forth from demon to human, switching between cursing and pleading while spitting and soiling his pants.

            I couldn’t tell if Caffero was making any progress. I did know it was good that the room was soundproof.

            Rachel and I sat outside the door in a couple of folding chairs we’d scrounged from another room.

            “I’m not staying here all day.” Rachel munched a granola bar. “I’ve got work to do.”

            “You can go home if you want. Hawkins will shoot me if I try to leave.” I sipped my coffee. “I just don’t think he knows what he’s doing.”

            “Give me a minute.” Rachel stood up, stretched, and pushed a button next to the card slider.

            Hawkins peered out. “What?”

            “I’m going to go home.” She tried to peer past him into the room. “I just want to watch for a minute.”

            “This isn’t a baseball game,” Hawkins growled. But he stepped back to let Rachel and me enter.

            Caffero held his cross in two hands, still praying loudly. Walker cowered, whimpering. Walker, not the demon.

            “Please let me go.” Tears streamed from his eyes. “You can arrest me. I’ll plead guilty. Just let me go.”

            Even without psychic powers, I could tell this was going nowhere. We had to try something else.

            And I could only think of one thing to do.

            I clutched Rachel’s hand. “Help me?”

            Her arm stiffened. “Are you going to do something stupid?”

            I tilted my head. “Don’t I always?”

            Hawkins leaned behind me. “What are you two talking about?”

            “Just let me try something.” I took a deep breath and wished for one more gulp of coffee.

            Then I stepped forward. “Hey, there. Padre?”

            Caffero interrupted his prayer to give me a glare that would have melted a stained-glass window. “I’m a minister. And I’m in the middle of—”

            “You’re getting nowhere.” I glanced at Walker.

“This takes time!” Caffero looked at Hawkins. “I can’t work with these interruptions, sir.”

Hawkins smirked. “I think you’d better listen to him. He knows about this stuff.”

“I’ve dealt with this demon before.” I glanced at Walker. “I should have done it better. Sorry.”

Caffero crossed his arms. “What makes you think you know how to handle something like this?”

            I laughed. “I’ve killed vampires and a dragon. I’ve dealt with angry ghosts, witches, invisible assassins, shapeshifters, zombies, and aliens. You’ve done three exorcisms? I’ve met more demons than you’ve thrown holy water at.”

            Caffero looked up at Hawkins. “Sir?”

            Hawkins hesitated, looking between us. Every cop depends on instinct as much as evidence. After a moment he nodded. “You can go, Caffero. Thanks for trying.”

            So Caffero packed up his supplies and left without a word. He tried to slam the door, but the hydraulics only allowed it to close with a click.

            Hawkins loomed over me. “Okay. Now what?”

            Me and my big mouth.

            I squeezed Rachel’s hand and took a step forward. “Walker? It’s me. Tom Jurgen.”

            He looked up. “Tom?”

            “Yeah.” I stayed a safe distance away. “Let me talk to him.”

            Walker shuddered. “I c-can’t. He’ll—take me over again. Every time it’s worse. Like I’ll never get back.”

            “I can’t promise anything.” I had to be honest. “But I’ve dealt with this thing before. Let me talk to him.”

            Walker closed his eyes, too weak to argue. “O-okay.”

            Rachel stood behind me. Hawkins leaned against the door.

            When his eyes opened, the demon looked through them. “You.”

            “Yeah, me. You remember?”

            The demon laughed. “You set me free. You’ll get your reward in Hell.”

            Maybe. “I don’t believe in Hell.”

            “Believe, asshole. It’s waiting for you.”

            “It’s waiting for you.” Could I do this? No, I don’t believe in hell, and I’m still unsure about God. Even after everything I’ve seen.

But I knew one thing: “I set you free.” Years ago. To save Rachel. “That means I have some power.”

            “You have no power.” The demon snarled.

            “Did I set you free or not? You were trapped inside that box. I told you to go. You obeyed me.”

            Rachel stepped back. I wondered if she was remembering the moments when the demon tried to make her kill herself. But I couldn’t think about that now. “I set you free. Now I’m taking that back. Go away. Back to wherever you came from. Go back.”

            “You think you can order me?” The demon laughed. “Do you want to know what I know about you? The first girl you screwed, the car accident when you were drunk, the abortion? Stealing money from your father? You think you have the right to tell me what to do?”

            I tried to breathe slowly and steadily. I could explain all those—most of them—but arguing wouldn’t help. “You can say what you want. It’s time for you to go.”

            “What about her?” The demon spit toward Rachel. “Your girlfriend screws other men. Any man. She dreams about doing it when she’s sleeping next to you. Don’t you, slut?”

            Rachel’s face was stone. She said nothing.

            “And your mother.” The demon laughed. “Do you know about her? Do you know how she—”

            “Yeah, my mother wishes I’d become an accountant.” I didn’t want to hear any more. “Keep going. I got Dudovich killed. Hawkins here would still like to shoot me for that, and everyone in this building would like to lock me up and sodomize me. Tell me whatever you want. You need to go.”

            “Dudovich sits in hell while demons like me rape her day after day and she curses you for letting her die.” The demon howled in glee. “Think about that. Everyone you loved, they’ll all leave you—and you’ll die alone, and then you’ll go to Hell, and you’ll be tormented for eternity. You have no faith to save you.” The demon leaned forward, pulling at the cuffs. “You’ll be all alone in the darkness, with no one to help you.”

            I took a breath, trying to keep my mind and my legs steady. “You have to go. I’m telling you to go.”

            “You can’t!” The chair toppled forward. Walker’s head hit the tile with a grunt of pain and a blotch of blood on his forehead. The demon twisted Walker’s neck to glare up at me. “You have no power over me! I will kill you and everyone you love! You’ll watch them die in agony! Cursing you for what you did to them!”

            “You’re scared.” I took a step forward. “You should be. You’re going back.”

            “No . . .” The demon moaned. “Never.”

            “Go back.” I spit on Walker’s neck. I’d apologize later. “Wherever you came from.”

            “I can’t.” He grunted. “You can’t make me. You can’t—”

            “Go back,” I repeated. “Go back.”

            “No.” He rolled from side to side. Blood leaked from Walker’s cuffed wrists. “I won’t—”

            “Go back home.” I managed to keep my voice quiet bur firm. “Go home.”

            “No!” The demon howled. His shout echoed off the soundproofed walls. “NO!”

            “Go back.” That came from Rachel, beside me now. “Back to Hell, you son of a bitch.”

            “No!” The demon beat Walker’s head against the floor. “I won’t, I won’t, I won’t—”

            “Yeah, you will.” Now it was Hawkins, sensing that the demon was weakening. “Get out of my city. Get out of my world.”

            “No.” The demon slumped over. “No. No . . .”

            I expected a flash of fire and lightning. Instead Walker’s eyes just closed. His shoulders went limp. He gasped once, then turned his head on the floor, breathing slowly, asleep.

            I looked at Rachel. “Do you think . . .?”

            She blinked. “You want me to—”

            “Is it gone?” Hawkins watched Walker. “We need to know.”

            Rachel sighed, then crouched down, reaching forward.

            Her fingers brushed Walker’s forehead. He moaned. Her knees trembling, ready to spring up and jump back, she pressed a palm on the top of his scalp.

            A second passed. Two . . .

            Rachel stood up and rubbed her eyes. “It’s gone.”

            I put a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

            She swatted it away. “Shut up.”

            “You’re sure?” Hawkins circled Walker, looking him over from all directions.

            “I’m sure.” She turned to the door. “Can I go now?”

            “I’ll meet you upstairs,” I said.

            “I’m going home.” She pulled on the door.

            What the hell? I supposed she was exhausted. And mad at me for making her check Walker. We could talk later.

            Hawkins released Walker’s cuffs. “We’re going to need a medic down here.” He slowly rolled Walker onto his side.

            “What happens to him now?”

            He shook his head. “Not sure.”

           

           

A doctor came down and bandaged Walker’s wrists. He got Walker some water and gave him some painkillers. Hawkins found some fresh clothes for him. They didn’t fit, but they were clean.

            “It’s gone.” Walker gulped from a water bottle. “W—what happened?”

            “You friend here got it out.” Hawkins jerked a thumb at me.

            He stared at me, uncertain. “Jurgen?”

            “You can thank me later.” I glanced at the door. “What’s going to happen to my client?”

            Hawkins looked as if he wanted to punch something. Instead he let out a disgusted grunt. “I’ll log him as a vampire. That’ll keep him out of the database. But listen—” He loomed toward Walker. “We’ll have the DNA evidence when it comes back. You try to sue the city, or me, you’ll be up for Lori Santos’ murder. Demon or no demon.”

            “Okay.” Walker’s head bobbed. “I just want to go home.”

            “Then go.” Hawkins pulled the door open.

            I got Walker into a cab and gave him some money to get home. I didn’t expect to get paid, but I made a note of the cash.

            When I got home, Rachel was waiting in my apartment drinking a beer.

            “You all right?” She seemed tense.

            “How’d you do it when that minister couldn’t?” Her eyes were almost accusing.

            “I don’t know about him.” I sat down. “But demons try to shake your faith. At least that’s what they said in The Exorcist. I don’t have any faith. At least not any religious faith.”

            I wanted to reach for her hand. But I had a feeling she’d pull it away from me. Something was wrong.

            “Look.” I tried to think of a way to start out. “What he said—I can explain it all. It’s not a pretty story. I’m not . . . nowhere near being a saint, and I was stupid when I was—”

            “That’s not it, you idiot.” She gulped her beer. “You remember what he said about me?”

            “They’ll say anything. That’s part of it. Also from The Exorcist.” I may have watched that movie too much. “They lie.”

            “Not . . . entirely.”

            My chest froze. “Uh—what?”

            “I make jokes, but—” She turned her chair away. “Yeah. Just—yeah.” She bit her lip.

            My mouth wouldn’t work for a minute. “You mean . . .”

            “Yeah.” She looked as if she wanted to throw up again.

Oh god. “Who? How many? Wait, I don’t want to—”

            “Shut up.” She gazed at the floor. “It was just a couple of one-night stands . . . okay, more than a couple, I guess. They didn’t mean anything. I didn’t . . .” She ran a hand across her eyes. “Don’t look at me.”

            I turned to gaze out the window. After a moment of watching the trees outside blow in a cold wind I caught my breath. “Okay. Why?”

            “You’re just so—intense.” She turned back and forced herself to look at me. “It’s not just the vampires and the monsters and the giant mutant chickens. It’s just—you’re so driven. You can’t give up. You had a nervous breakdown and you went right back to chasing monsters. I just—can’t take it all the time.”

            “It’s what I do.” What I’d always done. It was why I’d gotten divorced.

            Uh-oh. Maybe a pattern here?

            “I know.” Rachel nodded. “You can’t change. I don’t even want you to change. It’s just—”

            She shoved her chair back and stood up. “I should go.”

            Did she want me to ask her to stay? I didn’t know what to say.

            “I’m sorry.” She ran a hand through her red hair. “I didn’t . . . I don’t know. Damn it.”

            Sorry that she’d done it? Or sorry that I’d found out? I didn’t want to ask. “We should talk more.” Not now, though.

            “Okay.” She hesitated, then made her way to the door and left.

            I looked at the half-empty beer she’d left. After a few minutes I stood up and poured it down the sink.

            Then I sat down on my couch, exhausted.

            The demon was right. In the end I’d be left alone.

           

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