The demon’s eyes followed hers and widened at the sight of the murdered pet left to rot long ago. A thick but narrow tongue licked its lips hungrily. It looked like an addict unable to contain itself at the sight of that which it fiended for. The presence pressed its preference into her thoughts. “The fat.” Letting out a harsh cackle, which felt like a sharp pain in Martha’s mind. She flinched as it continued. “I only crave the fat.” It craned a long neck to look around Martha and find the children. “I like children better,” it said with sympathetic mockery. “They look rather plump, even now. Perhaps I’ll allow you to see their carcasses too...”
Enough. Martha snarled in disgust. “Enough.”
The demon gave her an amused look, cackling uncontrollably, pogoing up and down in a blur like a worn piston in an old hit-and-miss engine.
She stood taller and murmured, “Most Glorious Prince of the Heavenly Army, Holy Michael...”
The demon snapped back in surprise, looked over her shoulder, and saw Officer Michael Street in the car. An aura of pure white light intensified around him, emanating from the car.
“Do not invoke him!” the demon hissed the demand into her mind, landing a psychic punch.
Martha recoiled slightly in response, squinting her eyes in pain, but recovered quickly. Knowing protective energies could manifest in all sorts of ways when needed, Martha stepped forward unafraid, closing the gap between herself and the manifestation, pushing the Zippo ahead of her words.
“...Archangel, defend us in battle against the princes and powers of darkness in this world...”
The demon vibrated his response over her words with an almost empathetic look, mocking her as he mewled. “You can feel it, can’t you? Witch.” The word burned her emotionally. Despite her respect for the craft, doubt crept in. She couldn’t help but consider that perhaps no magic remained in the world. Anyone with a bit of talent must know this. Right? The now vacant word—witch—had become an insult of the highest order, not just in psychic circles but also among those who had spent their lives using their talents to help others or to simply make a living. Martha couldn’t help but stumble in her chant as despair filled her heart.
Martha did not consider herself a witch, but this demon wanted to plant that seed, to lead her astray by setting her intention on a different path of mental inquiry. She could not let herself be distracted by suggestion.
“All your... talent,” the demon spat at the word, “and you don’t know what is coming? Your precious Officer Michael, your pathetic ability... They will only take you so far.”
Martha steeled herself. She could not allow this entity a psychic victory. She resumed the chant.
“...Make captive that animal, that ancient serpent, which is enemy and evil spirit, and...”
The demon shrieked once more as its mist dissolved back into the shades and shadows. “You will regret your life,” it hissed, tongue flicking as it hazed out of focus. Her mind filled with eerie screams of tortured souls retreating back into the shadows as if someone was slowly turning down the volume.
Then silence.
Martha relaxed her shoulders and lowered her Zippo. She pulled in a deep breath, then released it slowly, finding her center once more. The tree across the street exhaled a heavy breeze along with her as if to help ground them both.
With the demon gone, Martha turned to the children, who cried silently in fear. She knelt before speaking, holding the flame close between them. “You must go now. Hide. Stay safe. I will come back for you when the time is right.”
They nodded and appeared to calm as they glided backwards into the shrubs. Martha maintained reassuring eye contact with them until they were gone, then clicked the lighter closed. As she hastened to the car, an understanding occurred to her. The children were bound in service also, but to the demon. It seemed obvious that machinations were at play here and that someone had conjured this malevolent entity from the forbidden realm.
Officer Street was on the phone and appeared to have not taken notice of the spiritual attack that played out. Martha regarded him for a moment. He cannot see. Then she simply got into the car, took a deep breath, and decided to keep what had transpired to herself for now.
Officer Street spoke into the phone, then lowered it when she got in. “Ready to go?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you find out anything useful?”
“I believe so. But I need time to process,” Martha replied. She regarded him for a moment then managed a warm smile. She could still see the remnants of his aura. Such a soothing presence. “Come, we must get to the hospital. Now.” She waved her hand impatiently like a grandmother would, to get kids moving along.
He gave her a placid smile, nodded, and returned to his call as they pulled off. Martha was relieved to be leaving Haynesville Woods Avenue once again.
𓂓
They rode the elevator up in silence. Pondering the depth and dynamics of the situation she now found herself in, Martha flushed with a tinge of regret. Perhaps I’ve been too hasty with my generosity. She had always been hesitant to work with the authorities. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them, it was indeed the opposite. They could be trusted to do their job. If she demonstrated an ability to give police information that no one else had, they might become suspicious of her. Coax her along while they built a case against her behind her back. It would be a cruel reversal if she were implicated in a crime just because she tried to help in an investigation by using her ability.
But this scenario felt different. Through tragedy, the spiritual fabric of Haynesville Woods Avenue had been torn, exposing a malevolence that only a person with her talent could see. These folks needed her help. It was as simple as that.
But there is more to know.
On the ride over, Martha tried to consider why the officer had taken the time to look her up in order to gather information about the Geist captured on the video. It did not appear to be relevant to the case. Officer Street had everything he needed. The video appeared to be enough evidence for a conviction on multiple counts. Why slow it down? Why seek out her advice if it wasn’t absolutely necessary? She reflected on their earlier conversation and realized the officer’s concern might be of a personal nature. He’d deftly obtained the information he needed from her without revealing the connections between the people she was about to meet.
Martha regarded the laptop he carried, presumably so he could show them the videos. The elevator dinged and the door opened. As they stepped out on the floor, Martha gently pushed her hand on the crook of Officer Street’s elbow. Pausing, he looked down at her. “Ma’am, is something wrong?”
“It has occurred to me that I don’t know anything about the people I’m about to meet. Could you enlighten me so I don’t walk in quite so uninformed?”
Officer Street considered this for a moment. “Sure. Clay is a landscaper. My little brother, Sean, works for him. He stayed today after they transferred Clay from the ER, to keep him company. The mother, Jackie, and daughter, Elena, live across the street from the property that Clay and Sean are working on.”
“I see, thank you.” Martha’s suspicions were confirmed. He probably knew Clay at least a little bit, maybe more since his brother worked for him. This was personal.
They turned the corner and headed to Clay’s room. Officer Street went in ahead of her.
As she entered, Martha stopped suddenly, taking in the scene inside the room. “Oh mein,” she breathed out.
The form of a man lurked under the TV, arms crossed over his chest, a brooding angry look on his face, his features hazy in an ethereal glow. His head jerked around to look at the people entering the room. The movement eerily blurred as the visual manifestation tried to keep up with the motion of his intense energy. The entity dropped his arms then moved toward the door as Officer Street walked by him. Then he stopped in front of Martha and looked her directly in the eyes. A voice, slightly garbled in her mind, uttered in disbelief, “You can see me?”
Martha stepped back, raised a hand to her mouth, and gasped.
His eyes widened. “You’ve been there, haven’t you?”
Martha didn’t reply.
“You saw them?”
