Page 27 of The Shadows of Excess

It reminded me of Wile E. Coyote chasing the Road Runner.

Meanwhile, Scott cautiously approached the door and peered into the hallway. “Stay there. I don’t see anything.”

Above the loud sound of shattering glass and more screams, Detective Harris shouted, “Stay in your room. Stay in your room.”

Scott looked like he was going to disobey, but he glanced at me and stayed rooted in my room.

Damon stumbled back in, his fingers raking roughly through his dark hair. His face was drained of color, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He shook his head, trying to process what he’d seen. “I can’t believe it,” he muttered in a tone Ghost Adventures’ Zak Bagans might use when the supernatural world threw yet another curveball his way.

Scott and I looked at each other in frustration, then back at him.

“Damon, tell us what happened?” I pressed, my heart racing with anxiety.

He collapsed into a chair, his laughter tinged with disbelief. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “For Heaven’s sake, tell us what happened!”

Damon met my curious, desperate gaze. My heart quickened. I had never seen him act like this, and it scared me.

He laughed as if he were mad. “There was a freakin’ priest next door and a couple of nuns.”

I clapped my hands hard. “Damon, tell us.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Damon continued, his eyes still wide with disbelief. “The shadow approached a sleeping child, but the priest and the nuns were praying over the child or something. The kid screamed, and so did the nuns.

“All of a sudden, the priest stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out what looked like a plastic bottle of holy water. He muttered an incantation, then splashed the water onto the shadow. The shadow screamed in agony as black smoke swirled up from the water stains, then jumped out the window.” He shook his head. “I swear, that was crazy.”

As Damon’s story hung in the air, the door opened. Brody and Justice stepped back inside, their expressions a mirror of Damon’s earlier shock. Behind them, a priest with curly hair and a neat mustache followed, accompanied by a stern-faced guard who scanned the room cautiously.

The traditionally clad priest offered a gentle smile. An air of calmness surrounded him despite the chaos of the situation. “I’m Father Ray,” he introduced himself, his gaze shifting between me and Scott. “I apologize for the commotion next door. These are indeed strange times.”

Brody cleared his throat, glancing at Father Ray with respect and curiosity. “Father, this is Scott, and our new friend Sawyer here.” He gestured toward me. “They were getting the rundown of what happened.”

Justice, usually the more composed of the two, spoke with an edge of urgency. “Father Ray, did you really…” His question trailed off, his skepticism evident.

Father Ray’s eyes twinkled with mystery. “Ah, the wonders of our world and the next,” he commented cryptically. “Sometimes, faith and the supernatural cross paths in the most unexpected ways.”

The guard, who had remained silent, finally spoke in a deep, firm tone. “I’m not sure what I saw, but we need to ensure everyone’s safety. There could be more of those things lingering in the hospital.”

Damon raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back casually. “Well, you’re not wrong there, big guy.” His tone remained light, but his eyes were sharp and assessing. “These kinds of freak shows don’t usually travel solo. Looks like we might have a full-blown infestation on our hands.”

He glanced around the room, his gaze landing on each person briefly. “First things first, we gotta secure the place. Purify it, if we can. I’m talking salt lines, holy water, the whole nine yards.” He loaded his rifle with phoenix grass casings. “And I’m willing to bet my Fairlane there’s some kind of creepy, demon-y nest here we need to find and torch.”

“Wait.” Brody held up his palm and turned to Father Ray. “Before we do this, I’d like to know who you are.” Suspicion coated his tone like smeared jelly on toast.

Father Ray smiled at Brody as if trying to reassure him. “I’m a priest who’s had some training in combatting the dark arts.” He continued speaking with steady resolution. “You must use an ancient incantation. It’s powerful, rooted in the essence of exorcism and protection. Repeat after me: ‘Exorcizo te, spiritus maligne, in nomine Domini. Fugiat iniquitas a sanctuario Dei. Vade, spiritus nequissime, ad locum destinatum tibi.’”

As we listened intently, he translated. “It means, ‘I exorcize you, malignant spirit, in the name of the Lord. Let wickedness flee from the sanctuary of God. Go, most wicked spirit, to the place appointed for you.’ However, to make the incantation work, you must believe in the words.”

I frowned, not sure I could trust him. Demons could be impersonating him. “Where did you learn this?”

Father Ray shrugged. “Rome? Where else? I was specially chosen to learn how to fight evil.”

Brody gazed at him with determined intensity. “Can these words be used by anyone to make demons disperse?” He clearly understood the importance of every action in the battle against evil.

Father Ray shook his finger. “You must have faith, or it won’t work. The incantation is ancient, passed down from Jesus to St. Peter.” He lifted the plastic bottle, which had a cross on it. “This isn’t just any holy water. It comes from a sacred well in the little town of Solario in Mexico. Their patron saint, Eduardo de Aguas Claras, would draw from the well to heal people afflicted in spirit and body.

“Saint Eduardo was renowned for his deep compassion and his uncanny ability to soothe the souls of those in distress. It was said his mere presence brought a sense of peace and contentment to those around him. The people of Solario believed the well was blessed by his touch, imbued with his profound empathy and the grace of his unassuming spirit.”

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