- Chapter 70 -

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Damian

Reality melted away during the exorcism rights. As the words passed Damian's lips, laced with power, his mind descended into a plane of calm, of silence. He could hear his own muttering voice and the woman's screaming - but it was distant, as if he were listening to it underwater. Removed from the chaos, he could focus, he could draw out the power that would set the woman free.

Or at least, so he hoped.

The woman was far gone, he knew it. The demons had broken her body with their own strength, forcing her to her limits. But he couldn't fail. Not in front of Samara, not when her trust was in him, not when his hope to save her hung in the balance, slowly being throttled to death. He tried not to think of Abraham's face. He tried not to think of the brief glimpse he'd had of it before he went deep into meditation: glassy eyed, drooling, almost...lifeless.

Damian couldn't let the man die. He wouldn't.

With a suddenness that startled him out of his quiet headspace, the woman went limp in his arms. He stumbled backwards, stunned at the abrupt lack of resistance, still holding her tightly. Margaux was crouched over Abraham, crying his name, holding his head. The room seemed to spin and Damian closed his eyes for a moment, trying to shift his brain back to normalcy. The exorcism had worked...but why did it feel so strange?

He eased the woman down upon the rug, torn between seeing to her and tending to Abraham. But his decision had already been made for him. The woman was still and swiftly growing cold; her eyes empty, blood seeping from her mouth and ears. The demon had fled from her, and the moment it did, she'd had no strength left to survive. A pang of regret shot through him - another victim, another life lost. Failure.

But he couldn't think of that now. There was still a life that hung in the balance. 

Abraham still lived.

"He's breathing!" Margaux was weeping frantically, clutching her limp husband. "He's still breathing, please! Abraham! Wake up!"

Damian rushed to their side, moving Margaux out of his way with as much gentleness as he could. "Let me see to him," he said, his hands shaking with the urgency. The man's breath was shallow and slow, his eyes were fluttering. Dark bruises were blossoming on the man's throat, and Damian rolled Abraham carefully to his side, tipping his head back to clear his airways.

"Come on, man," Damian muttered. "Keep breathing. Keep breathing. Bring me something for his head! Samara, would you-"

Samara was gone.

For a moment Damian thought she had merely moved to a safer space in the room. But no...she was gone...gone completely. His worried eyes locked with Margaux's as he looked about in confusion.

"She's gone," Margaux whispered. "She's gone I..."

"Tell me you can sense her," Damian said tightly, pulling off his jacket and folding it up to place under Abraham's head. "You can sense her energy can't you?"

Margaux concentrated for a moment, her eyes growing distant. "No. N-no...I can't feel her at all...her energy isn't here..."

"What do you mean she isn't here?" His panic was rising. Samara must be hiding, she must have run when she saw the possessed woman - but no - no, Samara had been there, beside him, fighting along with him, armed with her cleaver. She wouldn't have left his side. She wouldn't...

Not unless she didn't have a choice.

Chills prickled over his skin. Surely she was nearby. Surely...

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