The doorbell rang, echoing through the house.
Eyla walked along the short hallway glimpsing shadowy figures in the rooms as she went past thinking skeletal hands were reaching around the door.
She quickly smoothed down her fizzy hair and took hold of the key in the front door, she forced her hand to turn the key with a loud click. She winced at the sound.
Eyla opened the door cautiously and saw Warren smiling politely. He had a brown satchel slung round one shoulder. There was a sympathetic look in his eyes seeing the small, frightened expression on Eyla's tired face. She simply stared at him until she said.
"Sorry come in Warren." She opened the door wider.
"Thank you," he said, his eyes took in the modern laminate floor and cream walls of the hall. It was so average you would think the possession would take place in some grimy basement filled with satanic symbols. But this was the type of place he commonly found himself in. He felt kind of disappointed especially after recently watching a horror film on possession, despite the inaccuracies in it.
Eyla hurried past him.
"I'll take you to the back room," she said quickly.
He followed her noting the door with Samson’s name written in blue, block letters, the pictures of some family, her and Samson. "Such a shame they have been dragged into this," he thought, taking his eyes away from the pictures.
They came into the back room which was actually dissected into two rooms with a breakfast bench; on the right a kitchen with a polished plastic work top, everything was overly arranged such as the tea, coffee and sugar pots neatly arranged in a row all facing forward and not one out of line with the other.
On the left was a round glass and metal dining table. There were rows of shelves filled with books and DVDs. From this distance he could see they were all colour coded.
"I'm sorry about the mess, been kinda stressed you know?"
She picked up the only two toys on the floor and put them on the side. Everything else was spotless. He couldn't understand why it was messy, his house and office was half as clean as this place on a good day at best.
"You have a lovely home," Warren said, he put a hand on the cold metal chair. "May I sit?"
“Yes, yes of course sorry I forget to say have a seat, and you don't have to ask,” she said, before darting off into another room. "Any refreshments coffee, tea, all the usual stuff," she called from the kitchen.
Warren placed the satchel on the ground.
"Yes please, I would like black coffee no sugar," he called.
Ten minutes she came back with a steaming mug of coffee. She held it out to him.
“Thank you Eyla,” he said, taking the hot mug into his hands. He held it letting it warm him up and banish the chill from outside.
Eyla sat down, a packet of cigarettes in her hand tapping the corner of it on the table. She twirled it in her hand and opened it. She put one in her mouth pausing for a moment looking ashamed of herself.
“You need a light?” he asked, taking out a lighter and clicked it.
She leaned forward and placed the tip of it into the small, yellow flame. Puffs of smoke escaped as she leaned back into her chair.
“Thank you, you want one?” She held the open end of the packet towards him.
“No I’m fine,” he said as he placed the lighter back into his pocket. “I quit ever since this case where there was this demon made of this tar and I were smoking, well I dropped the cigarette didn’t I. The demon caught fire and exploded into all these horrible fleshy pieces that became blood-sucking leeches. I was covered in bite marks for weeks.”
“Sounds horrible,” Eyla said, taking the cigarette out of her mouth.
“I’m sorry too much detail,” he said.
She reached over to the ashtray tapping the ashes into it.
“Yeah a little bit,” Eyla replied. “I don’t usually smoke I mean I hadn’t smoked since I were a teen you know? This is a recent thing that came up in the last month, all this has made me fall into the comfort of old habits.” She stabbed the cigarette into the ash tray.
“Yes it is a hard time for both you and Samson, where is Samson?” Warren asked.
“In his room sleeping,” she said.
“Well I will need to put a protection spell on his room in order to protect him in case the demon does become violent.”
Eyla dropped the cigarette
“Do they always become violent?” she asked, withdrawing her hand. She began to twist the ring on her finger.
“Depends really but usually I can control them and keep them from causing serious damage. It is when a demon is particularly strong that it becomes difficult and things can go dangerously wrong.”
“Will Samson be alright?”
“As long as I put a protection spell inside his room in the doorway. It will protect him and the entire room from the demon. As long as you do not open his bedroom door, otherwise the demon can focus its energy on the symbol and break it apart, understand?”
“Are you sure? The first time it sets its eyes on that symbol the demon will break that protection spell,” Warren warned.
“Yes I understand,” she replied.
“Good,” he said. He reached over to open the satchel, he took out a thin, silver knife and a clear plastic butchers bag stained red.
“Okay I have a lamb’s heart,” He tapped the plastic bag. “This is where I will store the demon’s soul temporarily. I will take a bite out of the heart and the demon’s soul will be inside my body. However there are symbols burnt into the heart which will protect me from being fully controlled by the demon. That way I can keep control of the demon and ask it questions, convince it to let Samson’s soul go.”
Warren picked up the knife it glinted in the light revealing its razor edge.
“This is for when something goes terribly wrong, a last resort. This can be used to kill a demon by stabbing it through the heart but this is no ordinary blade, it does have consequences for the soul who wields it.”
He placed it down.
“Finally there will be some destruction if the demon decides to try to scare us, you must ignore this. Do not interfere at any moment, do not speak, and do not try to help me or even go near me when this is happening. This demon will hurt you.” He said all this with experience clear in his voice, the times when this went wrong clear in his eyes.
Warren had the heart in front of him where it stained the glass table top. The black scorch marks seared into the flesh were clear to be seen. Eyla sat opposite twisting her hair in her hands.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked again.
“Yes I am,” Eyla replied, trying to sound confident but it came out quiet.
He stared at the heart, he began to speak clearly like he was giving a grand speech. It was in a language Eyla could not recognise, filled with old words that oozed power. He spoke louder and faster.
The lights dimmed and the room grew cold.
She saw the heart start to move, almost like it was beginning to beat again. The black marks became lighter as the flesh darkened into purple than black. The marks became shining white like there was a bright light shining from inside.
Warren took a deep inhale and grabbed the blackened lamb’s heart in his fist. He took a large bite of the flesh, choking it down. His eyes bulged and blood dribbled down his chin.
Eyla grimaced at the gory scene noticing how the blood was soaking his shirt. She wanted to turn away, run to the bathroom to throw up but she could not. This was for Samson.
Warren dropped the heart onto the table, sputtering onto the table top so little splatters went all over the top in a fine spray. His shoulders tensed up as he clawed at the table, screeching each time. He was whimpering in pain.
“Warren?” she whispered, knowing he said not to interfere but she still felt the need to help him.
A louder cry was voiced.
Eyla flinched digging her nails into her thigh in order to stop herself rushing over to him.
He lifted his eyes to her, glaring black holes of that demon.
She started to scream but muffled it with her hand. Warren’s face contorted in a sinister, sadistic grin. Laughter escaped his lips like the cries of maddened ghosts.He sat up, his head lolled back on his neck.
The boy is mine
Eyla clutched her chest crying at that awful voice echoing through Warren.
Warren’s head fell forward, blinking his eyes to reveal his normal eyes although with a grey hue.
“You desire the soul of Samson Jenkins in replacement of the soul that has disappeared Taylor Jenkins yes?” Warren said loudly.
“How did the soul of Taylor Jenkins disappeared, souls do not just disappear?”
Samson Jenkins is mine.
“No he is not, no he is not!” Eyla wanted to scream at the demon. It took nearly all her effort to press her lips together to keep quiet.
“Samson’s soul is not yours to take,” Warren said.
In three days his soul will be mine.
“I think not!” Warren shouted. “I believe you have Taylor’s soul.”
It roared and loud crackles pierced Eyla’s ears. She glanced down to see the glass table cracking. She jumped up and moved back.
“You have Taylor’s soul and I think you are trying to steal Samson’s soul for yourself.”
The lights started to cut off until there was only the light above them still working.
“You will release your claim on Samson’s soul forever or I will have to stop you,” Warren said.
The floor beneath their feet creaked and dropped a level like how an elevator drops when severed.
Eyla screamed as everything slammed into the ground again. The windows rattled, some things had fallen and smashed to the ground. The whole house was sinking into the earth. She imagined some giant dragging down the house from underneath.
“You are not dragging us to hell!” Warren shouted, bringing out a small glass globe from his pocket. He threw it at the ground it smashed into bright flashes of harsh light that illuminated the whole room hurting Eyla’s eyes.
The house stopped sinking but still shook violently.
She saw Warren grinned at the small victory.
The light cut off.
A scream of agony followed from Warren.
The light sparked to life again.
There was red pooling on the table. Eyla backed away crying covering her mouth with her hand.
Two finger on his left hand were bent all the way back till they were touching the back of his hand. Blood gushed from the shards of bone poking out of the skin.
Warren convulsed in his chair until it rocked violently. He fell to the floor, black smoke erupted from his mouth, filling the air.
Eyla clamped her hand onto her mouth to avoid breathing it in.
The black smoke swirled and swirled in and in on itself, raising up to the ceiling. It slammed against the ceiling as if it were a solid object and dissipated into nothing.
“Samson” Eyla thought, and ran forward. Something groped her ankle. She spun round seeing Warren laying broken on the floor.
“It’s still here - you can’t go - to Samson,” he said, wheezing through every word.
Eyla shook her head. “No I can’t leave him!” she shouted, and ran to Samson’s room. She grabbed the door handle that led to the hallway and tried to turn it. It would not budge and she shouted in vain to let it open. Eyla could hear Warren getting up, the scrap of his knees against the laminate floor.
“Eyla don’t!” he pleaded, pain clear in his voice.
She cried pressing against the door. She pushed the handle down with more force.
The door gave way and Eyla fell through. She slammed her chest against the floor which winded her. She gasped for air, her arms shook as she tried to push herself up. Something grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her up by it. Pain laced her skull and she tried to pull back her hair, it ripped. Eyla stumbled backwards trying to drag air into her lungs that were still in shock. Her hand touched the tender spot on the back of her head and it came back wet.
The door behind her rattled as Warren tried to open it.
Samson could be heard wailing.
Eyla staggered forward, seeing his bedroom door in sight. Some of the blue letters had been knocked off the door laying smashed on the floor, the white door scarred with deep gorges where the splintered wood was revealed under the paint.
A hand slapped her across the face, drawing blood. Her vision became blurred and she grasped the wall opposite. Her cheek stung, reddening immediately.
Eyla pushed herself from the wall and stumbled to Samson’s room. She forced the door open and staggered in, stepping over the painted protection symbol. Samson was sat up his cradle crying, face bright red and soaked in tears.
“Samson!” she said, and rushed to him. He reached out to her, she picked him up as carefully as she could and cradled him close. “I got you, I got you,” Eyla cooed in his ear.
The ground rocked violently and Eyla grabbed hold of the cradle tightly with one hand to prevent herself falling over. There were huge ripping sounds. She glanced over her shoulder and saw with sickening horror that the ground had been torn up, destroying the protection symbol.
It happened so quickly something like hooks dug into her back and ripped partway down. Eyla screamed and held Samson tighter, some instinct made sure she kept hold of him, protected him.
The hooks were immediately wrenched out and there was chanting heard in a hoarse voice. Warren’s voice.
Eyla could feel the raw flesh of her back, the blood pouring down and soaking her t-shirt.
The chanting got louder and there was another shout of agony.
She could not leave Warren defenceless, remembering the ruined mess of his fingers, how he was still going she did not know.
Quickly she opened the wardrobe beside her, she pulled down some clothes placing them quickly on the floor of the wardrobe. She placed Samson on it, he gripped her t-shirt tightly in his small fists. Eyla kissed him on the head quickly.
“Mummy will be back,” she said, and closed the wardrobe. Samson started to cry desperate sobs.
Eyla wanted to hold him again but she made herself walk to the open door. She looked out and saw Warren held up by his throat by a shadowy figure, something red throbbed in its chest, its shadowy skin swirling round it. The heart. Warren was gasping and the shadow was clawing rapidly at his stomach that was painted thickly in red.
A glint of silver caught her eye and she spotted the slender dagger. Eyla ran and picked it up. She crashed into the figure, slashing the knife in any direction, cutting away bits of smoke.
Warren was dropped from the demon’s grip and laid motionless.
Eyla was punched to the ground, her lip split open and she tasted copper in her mouth. She was dragged up and thrown down again. Something snapped in her chest and she cried and tried to crawl away.
The demon grabbed her shoulder, Eyla pushed herself to turn to face it and swung the knife round. It sliced into its chest cutting the beating heart, the demon howled and retreated. Adrenaline allowed Eyla to drag her broken body up, numbing her pain as she moved forward.
Black gloop decorated the knife and the floor.
The demon was writhing on the floor, its claws scrapped weakly across her face.
She swung the knife again cutting into the heart again, the demon crumbled to the ground. Eyla stabbed it through the chest again and again in uncontrolled strokes that pierced the tough muscle of the demon’s heart. Finally a stroke went directly through. The metal of the knife melted burning her hand, the demon was breaking apart in front of her, the cracks leaking light. The demon’s body broke apart and an explosion of white light followed consuming both Eyla and the demon.