Page 1 of Unholy

Chapter one

Father Levi

“Andhowlonghasthis been going on?” I ask, folding my hands over the Bible laying in my lap. I resist the urge to trace the white cross etched into the cover, my initials at the bottom. It’s my favorite Bible. A gift from my father when I graduated seminary school.

“About a month.” Moira’s eyes are damp as she stares at the stairwell behind me. She clutches a tissue, sniffling every few minutes.

“That long?” My eyebrows reach my hairline. She nods.

“Yeah. It started off small. Just little things. Mood changes. Sudden outburst of anger.” Her eyes go far off again, as if she is living in a memory. I take her hands, squeezing them. She focuses on me again for a split second then she looks down. “But then he started to speak in a language I had never heard. He levitates at night. He saysterrible things, like he is going to kill us when we sleep.” Her words break off into a sob.

“I see.” I pat her back, trying to comfort her.

“You have to understand.” She sobs. “Killian is a good man. He’s so sweet and generous. He’s down to Earth and honest.” She grips my hands tight and looks into my eyes with passion. Her tone is just shy of begging. “Well… he was.” Her bottom lip trembles.

“I believe you, Ms. Ambrose. It happens so often with these types of… situations.” I hope my words are comforting. I do believe her. I have never met her son before, but demons usually choose the kindest and most innocent people to possess.

“Can you help him?” she asks, and I falter. I don't like to make promises. I have a great success rate with these types of things, but not everyone can be saved. “Please. You have to help him. He’s… please.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Father Clarke…”

"Father Levi, please.”

"Father Levi. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” she bends down, kissing my hand.

“Do you have somewhere to go for the night?” I ask her as soon as she’s facing me again.

“Why?”

“Oftentimes, I ask families to leave the house when I’m performing an exorcism. Mostly for your safety, but also for mine. It’s not a pretty process. I won’t hurt him, but it may seem as though I am. You can return in the morning, and I will have an update on his condition.” I keep my voice even, clinical. I really hope she doesn’t argue. It would be so much easier for her to leave.

“I can’t leave him like this. That’s my son.” A fat tear rolls down her cheek, her nose red, cheeks blotchy.

“I know. I will take very good care of him. However, you know him. You have a personal connection to him. He will appeal to that. He will appeal to your mothering instinct and your love for Killian. The demon possessing him will use that.” I have seen it happen on multiple occasions. I've been ripped away from a demon-possessed person right when the demon was about to give up. All because of a concerned family member.

“What if I promise to stay down here. The whole time. I won’t go upstairs no matter what I hear.”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to leave him, but it’s for the best. It allows me to perform my duties without interruption.”

“Okay. I guess I could go to the city and stay the night with my sister.” Moria’s voice is barely above a whisper, acceptance taking hold.

I nod. “I think that would be for the best.”

“Just let me pack a bag real quick. Won’t be but a moment.” She gets up stiffly and disappears through a doorway.

I stand from my seat, looking around the room. There are pictures hanging on the wall, so I walk over to them. In the first, Moira stands next to a boy. They look so much alike, it tells me right away that it must be her possessed son, Killian.

I study the picture closely. Killian is tall and handsome with thick, black hair. He looks like he could be a model. He’s smiling, perfect teeth surrounded by a strong jawline, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. His dark green eyes feel like they’re piercing my soul. There is something cold about them. It sends a chill down my spine.This has been going on much longer than Moria thought, it seems.

I continue to look around the room, finding more pictures of Killian hanging on the wall or sitting on shelves. One shows him in his graduation regalia, proudly holding up a bachelor’s degree. Another of him with some sort of award in his hand. Moria is clearly very proud of him. In all the pictures, he’s smiling, acting normal, but his dark green eyes remain cold, like evergreen trees in the middle of winter, frost clinging to their branches.

“That was taken about a month ago.” Moria's voice startles me. I turn to find her coming toward me, holding a small black leather bag in her hand. She points to the picture. “It was his 26th birthday. Right before…” Her voice trails off.

I nod in understanding. “Where is he now?” I ask, glancing at the picture one final time. I don't have the heart to tell her my suspicions. She doesn't need to know. It will be over after tonight.

“Upstairs. In his room. Second door on the left.” She points at the stairwell.

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