The Forsaken: Part VI

Lucas sat in a holding cell at the police station. He looked at images on his phone while Elizabeth tried to crack into Chief Jones’s computer. His story was too hard to believe, even though he knew better. Lucas knew she needed time. Elizabeth needed time to verify his claims, accept they were true, and that she needed his help.

While he waited, he studied the crime scene photos from the basement. Lucas knew the occult, but the rituals Mary Lou Jones used were foreign to him. While he combed over each image, hoping to find clues, he struggled with flashes popping into his head. Lucas was flashing on the dark tunnel he remembered from his wife’s death.

He heard the echo of the voice like yesterday. Suddenly, Lucas stood in the dark corridor before a massive door.

The voice bellowed slowly, “Lucas…Shaw.”

“Hey, are you with us?” asked Elizabeth.

Lucas looked up, seeing Captain Harper in front of him. She was swinging the keys to the holding cell on her middle finger. His eyes darted, side to side, realizing where he was. Lucas finally nodded.

“Did I interrupt something?” asked Elizabeth.

He shook his head before standing up, stretching, and staring at the door. Elizabeth looked at the man. The notes only listed him as a consultant. She found nothing else helpful.

“So, consultant?” she questioned. “Do you have any insights to share?”

“Do you mean to the disappearances?”

Elizabeth shook her head. She was still struggling with the death of her friends, her mentor, and his wife being a serial killer.

“Arthur,” sighed Lucas.

“Yes, Arthur. Arthur and Mary Lou were close friends of mine,” explained Elizabeth.

“What do you want to know?”

“All of it,” she answered.

Arthur explained the church sent him to investigate a possible demonic connection to the disappearances. There was no indication it was the chief’s wife. He admitted he thought it was the chief at first. Only after getting to know Arthur did Lucas realize the wife was involved.

“Did he know?”

“No,” said Lucas.

Elizabeth sat beside Lucas with her head hung low. It hit her hard, but she knew it was all true. Everything Lucas had told her about the church, the case, and her boss was the truth.

“So, he’s in hell?”

Lucas looked at her. He wanted to say no. He couldn’t, however. The thing inside her convinced Arthur to silence Mary Lou. Taking him was the price the demon paid.

“I’m sorry,” said Lucas.

“What next?” Elizabeth asked him.

There was still the ominous, erie blue mist. It told Lucas the creature was still in LeClaire. The locals, unequipped to deal with the thing terrorizing their town, would need help. That was if Elizabeth wanted him to stay.

“I guess that would be up to you, Captain.”

“Presuming everything you’ve told me is true,” Elizabeth hesitated, “can you beat it?”

Lucas wasn’t sure which demon was possessing Mary Lou. He knew, in his gut, it was another prince. It enveloped the town in darkness, keeping anyone from escaping. The power it displayed meant it was a creature in line for the throne.

“I’ve killed his kind before,” Lucas answered.

Elizabeth took that as a sign and invited Lucas to stick around. She handed him an I.D. that she found on Chief Jones’s desk. She didn’t know much about the church. However, if Arthur believed giving Lucas his own I.D. and badge was a good idea, it was worth her finishing.

“It’s provisional, but it’ll give you authority to carry weapons, detain people, and other perks that go with being a cop,” she told him.

“Great,” he smiled. “So, you’re letting me stick around, at least until this is over.”

Elizabeth laughed at the question, motioning for him to follow her out of the holding tank.

“I’m going downstairs for the official examination by the medical examiner,” Elizabeth told him.

Lucas told the captain he was on fumes and needed some sleep. He was going to catch some shuteye at the hotel. Then he wanted to shower, change clothes, and find somewhere that was still running a kitchen. His adrenaline slowing down allowed him to feel something.

“Call me if anything breaks. Otherwise, I’ll be back in a few hours,” ordered Lucas.

Lucas arrived at his hotel room and called Arch Bishop Rogers. The Arch Bishop was sitting in his private quarters when the phone rang. He looked at the name on his phone and answered in a rush.

“Lucas, are you alright, my son?”

Everything considered, Lucas had been in worse situations. He assured Arch Bishop Rogers he was fine.

“From the news reports, your situation hasn’t changed much,” said Rogers.

“No sir, they haven’t. Chief Jones is no longer part of the story. His wife was the soul used by one of the princes. The creature convinced Arthur he’d spare his wife if Arthur shot her and himself,” explained Lucas.

“My god, no.”

“I was there, in the room. It happened right as we were starting to question Mary Lou. Moments later, I heard Arthur mumble, ‘take me instead,’ and it was over. He pulled his gun and shot her and then himself.”

Lucas assured the Arch Bishop that things were still controllable. The second in command was able to be persuaded to cooperate with him.

“You’re sure?”

“She made me an investigator, on a provisional basis. I’ve got department credentials, a badge, and a LeClaire issued weapon. I think she understands my value in this,” explained Lucas.

“Good. This is very good. We can’t lose track of the beast. If this is a second prince, then we have to identify it and take it off the board.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Lucas sighed.

To Lucas, generals didn’t shout battle cries and mission statements from over a thousand miles away. The ones he respected were the ones who got into the middle of things and were taking the same risks as their soldiers. He might be god’s most effective soldier, but Arch-Bishop Rogers was no leader.

Lucas said his goodbyes after the two prayed. He locked his door and went to the shower, peeling away clothing as he walked. Stepping under the warming water, Lucas felt the tingling sensation of the water striking his skin. It perked him up. That wasn’t what he wanted.

After being in the shower for a while, Lucas wrapped a towel around himself. He walked out to the hotel bed, threw down a sheet he carried with him on trips, then used his blanket to cover himself. Lucas was ready to sleep for a week, not that he would ever be that lucky.

A knock at the door woke Lucas. He sat straight up, grabbing a pistol from beneath his pillow. Pointing it at the door, remembering he didn’t have pants on, he yelled, “just a minute.”

Lucas pulled on a pair of jeans, holding the handgun at ready. He peeked through the curtains. Elizabeth Harper was standing outside with what looked like food in her hands. Lucas tucked the gun in his pants and let her in, poking his head out to check for anyone watching.

“Like you could see much in this blasted fog,” she reminded him.

“No, you’re right,” admitted Lucas, walking toward the closet at the back of the room.

Elizabeth noticed the gun sticking out of his pants. She wondered if he was expecting trouble.

“Can’t be too careful,” sighed Lucas, putting on a teeshirt.

“True,” she admitted. “What good does one of those do you against something otherworldly?”

Lucas sat down and admitted that a pistol didn’t do much more than slow down an enemy in the case of the possessed. There were far more potent weapons to use on someone damned or one of the forsaken. He saw the look on her face, reminding him that Elizabeth was new to this.

“I’m sorry,” he told her. “The forsaken, they’re the ones that are possessed. They didn’t ask for what happened to them. There isn’t a deal in play.”

“And the damned?” asked Elizabeth.

Lucas explained that the forsaken were the ones that god allowed a bad thing to take over their bodies. The damned were foolish enough to delve into the darkness. They were looking for fortune, glory, or something they couldn’t achieve. They were damned to hell.

“And the forsaken aren’t?”

“Mostly, they’re victims. If we can get to them in time, there’s still hope,” admitted Lucas. “But, it’s a long shot. What happens to their mortal bodies is brutal. Mostly, we might be able to save their souls.”

“Exorcisms,” sighed Elizabeth.

Lucas took the food out of the bag. He was surprised to see Elizabeth had cooked. There was lasagna, salad, dressing, and wine. He looked at the bottle. It wasn’t a bad vintage, considering she lived on a cop’s salary.

“This was really nice of you. Aren’t we going on patrol soon?”

“We’ve got to eat,” said Elizabeth. “And the wine’s to calm the nerves.”

Lucas had not enjoyed a home-cooked dinner in months. Life on the road, avoiding getting close to anyone, and hunting down the church’s hit list did that. Not that he complained. Lucas chose the life.

They sat, picking at their food and swapping stories. Elizabeth filled Lucas in on the local scene, and she would ask about investigating cases for the church. They were like two kids, or young lovers, playing twenty questions to get more acquainted. When they finished, Lucas took the plates into the bathroom and scraped them off.

“It won’t be the cleanest, but at least they won’t be as messy when you get them out of your car,” he promised Elizabeth.

He brought the plates out and put them back in Elizabeth’s bag. Disappearing again, he returned with two drinks, telling her they’d do much more to keep the nerves calm. Lucas put hers in front of her and sat across from the attractive cop.

“Cheers,” he told her, holding his glass up.

“What are we drinking to?” smiled Elizabeth, her bedroom brown eyes twinkling over a girlish smile.

As their glasses clinked and Lucas sipped from his drink, Elizabeth took a long gulp before freezing in place. She began to twitch and moan, her face muscles tensing and her eyes bugging out. As she looked at Lucas, he sat and smiled, pulling the pistol from his pants and aiming it at her.

“Now,” he said. “You’re not going to find it all that easy to get out of here this time.”

Lucas kicked up the rug, displaying one of the Keys of Solomon, fabled magic symbols believed to restrain the powers of otherworldly creatures. They were from a language long dead, except for those who studied ancient lore and the occult.

The thing across from him lunged forward, stopping when Lucas raised the chromed Berreta. He reminded his guest that it might not stop something otherworldly, but it would slow them down.

A guttural, baritone voice begged from the body of Elizabeth Harper.

“What was in that glass?”

“Oh, that,” laughed Lucas. “Arch-Bishop Rogers gave me a flask filled with holy water before coming out to the corn belt. I guess it was one of the nicer going away presents he could have gotten for me. I’ll have to send him a thank you note.”

The creature sat, holding its’ throat, coughing out a dark fluid. It was in pain. Lucas could tell that much. The trap beneath the rug was doing its job. Lucas’s guest hobbled, now he could interrogate the creature without interruptions.

“You son of a bitch!”

“Easy, tiger. We’ll get to the shit talking round soon enough. Right now, why don’t we start with an easy one?” asked Lucas. “You’re the demon that was inside Mary Lou Jones.”

“Fuck you, you’re just worm food.”

Lucas lacked patience. So he splashed the thing in front of him with more holy water. It wasn’t like something from the movies, but he could tell the discomfort it caused a demon was excruciating.

“Yes!” growled the thing in front of him.

“Good. Now we’re getting somewhere,”

“When we’re through, you’ll wish you’d killed me,” announced the beast.

Lucas was ready to skip to the bonus question. He had just one concern before they got that far into things.

“Did you jump Elizabeth Harper in the morgue?”

Growling, the creature bragged, “It was easy. She was all caught up in her feelings. Oooh, this one had a real fatherly feeling for Arthur. Too bad he’s downstairs.”

“Is she dead?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” bellowed the monster.

If she were dead, the creature would have bragged about killing her. Elizabeth was alive.

“One more question? When you said we, who are we?”

“You’ll find out,” the beast cried out. “Just wait.”

“What’s your name?” asked Lucas, holding the flask over the creature’s face, grabbing it by the cheeks to force its lips open.

“No! No!”

“Last chance!” screamed Lucas as he started to pour.

“Magnus Marchio, Aamon!”

“That’s what I thought,” said Lucas, holding up a phone to the ear of the beast.

“Hit it padre!” yelled Lucas, slowly pouring the holy water down the creature’s gullet.

Only moments after Father Rogers began chanting the rights of exorcism and Lucas held the girl's mouth open, pouring copious amounts of holy water down her throat, a howling wind blew open the door to his hotel room. Two others ran in, but Lucas turned on the speaker, and they froze.

Elizabeth began to vomit massive amounts of black goo, her voice returning through the noisiness.

The goo shot straight up, covering the ceiling, and alarming Lucas. There was more of that goo than fluid in a human body. He feared they were losing her.

“Hold on dammit!” he screamed. “Don’t you quit fighting!”

As the last of the thick, tar-like substance exited her body, her head fell against Lucas. He looked at her porcelain skin and tired, weary eyes and shook her in the seat.

“Say something,” he demanded.

“What the hell was that?”

Lucas yelled at the phone, “Padre, do you think we killed it?”

“No, Lucas. We forced it out of Ms. Harper. We didn’t kill it. For now, you’ll need to take extra steps to protect the girl.”

“Wait, protect me from what?”