The room smelled of sweat, incense, and fear. The parents stood huddled near the door, whispering frantic prayers under their breath. The girl Amelia, was tied to the bed with thick leather straps. Her dark hair was matted with sweat, her wrists raw from struggling, but her expression was eerily calm.
Possessed people didn’t look like this.
“She spoke in different languages,” her mother whimpered. “She was too strong. But she wasn’t… she wasn’t violent.”
Eli rolled his shoulders and took a step closer. “What languages?”
“Latin. Aramaic. Something we didn’t recognize. She—she recited entire passages from the Bible backwards.”
“Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling a flask from his pocket. “Let’s see if there’s something nasty hiding in there.”
He uncorked the flask, filled with blessed water from an old church in Italy. As soon as the first few drops touched Amelia’s skin, her body convulsed violently. Steam rose where the water had touched.
Eli swore under his breath. “Okay. You’re real.”
He pulled out his worn leather book, flipping pages as he began the exorcism. Latin rolled off his tongue, sharp and commanding. Amelia’s back arching off the bed. Then, suddenly—too suddenly—the screaming stopped.
The girl collapsed onto the mattress, unconscious. The presence was gone.
No. It didn’t leave. It left her. A shadow pooled near the far end of the room. The air turned ice-cold. And then she emerged. She was unlike any demon he had faced before. Glowing violet eyes, wide with fear, stared at him from
A shadow pooled near the far end of the room. The air turned ice-cold. And then she emerged.
She was unlike any demon he had faced before.
Glowing violet eyes, wide with fear, stared at him from across the room. Pale, almost luminous skin, marred only by intricate black markings. Silver-white hair cascaded over her shoulders, reflecting the dim candlelight. But the most striking feature was the set of curling black horns, arching gracefully from her skull. She was… afraid.