Love & Exorcisms | 18+ | COMPLETE |

- Chapter 41 -

I had never told that story before. The words felt odd on my tongue. Recounting it...felt false. Like something made-up. Like it could not truly have happened to me. Even still, even with the memories and images in my head, and the scars in my own flesh, I still had my doubts that it had even happened at all.

"I woke up alone," I said. I couldn't meet Damian's eyes anymore. I was too frightened to see how he looked at me. "I was lying in the sun. Dawn was breaking. I was wearing clothes that weren't mine. The blood from my wounds had seeped through the cloth. I was still bleeding...down there. I felt sick. I vomited up bile. Someone had made an attempt to bandage me. I still held my cleaver in my hand." I shook my head. "I don't know why I kept that, or how I'd gotten it back after they took my clothes from me. Of all things..."

Damian sat beside me on the bed. I longed to rest my head on him, if even for a moment, but I refrained. "You saw the knife downstairs in my desk, didn't you?" he said. "With the runes upon it?"

I nodded, recalling my snooping the first time I'd visited his home. "I did."

"That was the knife my mother was given to kill me," he said. "After my Amma killed her, I took it with me. I've never parted with it, even though the sight of it haunts me, always." He paused a moment, then said. "Would you like it back? Your cleaver?"

I nodded quickly. "There's comfort in having it, though I don't know why. But it's back in the Doll House."

"We can retrieve it," he said. "Though I may have to lock it somewhere to ensure you don't always have access - my apologies. But perhaps it will at least be a comfort to have nearby."

"It will," I said quickly. "Thank you."

I looked up at him, finally. His tired eyes met mine and sad smile spread across his face. "You're very brave, Samara. To survive a possession of that caliber was something my mother could not do, yet you did. You still do. And I couldn't save her, but..." His hand reached out, tentative, to brush a stray strand of hair uncaught by my braid out of my face. "But I will save you. We'll find a way."

"I think I realize now...what happened..." I said slowly, my voice choking up despite my best efforts. "When you told me what happened to you...what happened to your mother...you were the Sacrifice...the offering to make the ritual work, weren't you?"

"Aye," he said. "When a soul is sold to a reaper, they release a burst of power when they come into this world to claim it. That power can be harnessed and utilized, by those who know how. It was by that power that they hoped to solidify the creation of the gateway within my mother."

"Then it was the same with me." Tears slid down my cheeks. Guilt - fresh guilt, the kind that gnawed at my guts and dug its claws into my heart - washed through me. "I was the gateway. And the unborn...my unborn...was the sacrifice..." I curled up on on the bed. I could not bear it. I buried my face in the pillow and sobbed openly. Damian put a hand on my shoulder and let me cry. It was cleansing, if not entirely comforting. I could not undo what had been done. But perhaps, with Damian's help, I could still salvage my own life.

When my tears were spent, I raised my flushed face from the pillow and sighed heavily. I wanted nothing more than to sleep. This day had been the longest of my life and I was ready to drown it in blissful unconsciousness. I was certain Damian was as well. But before he could leave. I had one final question. Something that had been slowly knocking about my head ever since the demons let it slip as they were taunting me.

"The demon who was possessing that man in the church," I said slowly. "The voices called it The Beast, and they said...they said I let it through. What does that mean?"

Damian frowned, then rubbed his hand over his forehead as if to ease away the impending wrinkles. "When did you arrive in New Orleans, Samara?"

Uncertain how such a question pertained to my own question, I replied. "In January. 10 months ago."

He nodded slowly, as if my answer had been something he expected all along. "In the past 10 months, the Jazz City has seen more catastrophic instances of demonic possession than I have ever seen in my 6 years here. According to Alex Iscariot, who has been here nearly 15 years, it is  the worst he's seen as well. Dozen of Upper Echelon possessions-"

"Upper Echelon?" I queried.

"The Upper Echelon is said to be the home of the most powerful of demons and otherworldy spirits," he said. "Demonic royalty if you will. Also the home of Reapers, like our Kiiji. They are incredibly dangerous exorcisms to undertake. Such demons are ancient and strong, and can quickly overwhelm their host. Usually, when such a demon inhabits a body, it annihilates the human soul immediately, and takes full command of the body left behind." He winced. "It's a terrible thing. It leaves the exorcist with little choice but to destroy the host body, and burn the heart. Otherwise, the demon will heal and return and continue to wreak destruction." He seemed to think for a moment. "You are a gateway, Samara. You carry within you a rift between our dimension, our world, and the next. That includes the Upper Echelon. Imagine a vast wasteland like the deserts in the West, and how few folk dared to make the journey across it to the coast. Now we have railways and steam engines that make the journey through the wasteland quick and painless." He looked at me solemnly. "You have become the railway, Samara. Through you, demons small and large can make the journey into our world without batting an eye."

My stomach had sunk into my feet. "I'm putting everyone in danger, aren't I?"

He didn't look as if he wanted to answer. He was staring at the door, and the rune he had drawn above it - the rune that blessedly was not causing such a terrible humming in my head as it had seemed to before. "We're going to put an end to this Samara," he said, and his voice had taken on such grim determination that it sent a chill up my spine. "You will not be lost to this. And nor will any other soul...not again."

He rose from the bed and opened the door. But before he left he looked back a final time. "Sleep as long as you need. I'll send Octavio up to check on you in the morning. We'll have breakfast ready for you." He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "Don't fear. The door is locked. You're safe."

He shut the door. I heard the lock click into place. I was so tired that I did not even have time to worry. I was out within minutes.