Page 2 of Unholy

I nod again, glancing in the direction of the stairway. If she hadn’t said anything, I would think there was no one else in the house. Killian, or the demon possessing him, is quiet. I grab my bag that I left beside the chair and head toward the stairs.

“Father.” Moira's voice pierces the quiet room. I turn toward her, surprised to find her looking alarmed instead of sad.

She walks to me in three quick strides. “Before you go up there, I have to tell you something.” Her eyes are shiny. She grabs my free hand with hers, gripping it so tightly I worry for the bone. I look down at our hands then back up at her, jarred.

“What?”

“Killian is… I… I didn’t have a choice.” Her voice breaks. She looks away, guilty.

“Didn’t have a choice?” I repeat, confused.

“He’s tied up,” she blurts out, not making eye contact.

“Oh.” I can’t think of anything else to say.

“He was… he was trying to… masturbate in front of me. He wouldn’t stop. I-I didn’t trust him. I couldn’t sleep knowing what could happen to me,so I…”

“You tied him up.” I finish, trying not to wince. I have seen it before. It’s not uncommon, and I don't blame her one bit.

“Yes. Just during the nights. He’s been fighting me, though. I was lucky to get the ropes on him tonight.” I almost ask how she’s managed to thus far. Demons are strong and powerful. They usually don’t do anything they don’t want to do. Perhaps this demon was toying with her. Or maybe Killian fought the demon off long enough to allow his mother to keep him safe.

“Okay. Thank you for the warning.” I nod.

“Please, take care of my boy. Bring him back to me.” She sniffles, wiping her eyes with a fresh tissue. I don't respond, not even a nod because some people are beyond salvation. She turns from me, leaving through the front door. I don't move, don't even blink until I hear her car start up and then drive away.

My limbs unfreeze then. I go to the door, locking it and putting the chain on it for good measure. I walk through the house, making sure each door is secured and barricaded. The last thing I need is for Moira to change her mind and come back.

After I double check everything, I pick my bag up off the floor, my favorite Bible in my free hand. I hold it tightly, letting the warm feeling of God’s hand settle over me. I take a deep breath then another. I go up the stairs slowly, one at a time. The third floorboard creaks as it holds my weight. I know the demon is listening. I don't want to surprise it. I want it to know I'm coming.

When I get to the second door on the left, my steps falter. I’m usually not this nervous. It’s almost routine for me, but something about this feels different. I look out the window at the end of the hallway, the inky darkness giving no relief to my unease. No star nor the moon can be seen in the sky, as if the demon has sucked all the light from this small section of God’s creation.

I kiss my Bible, saying a silent prayer before I grip the doorknob, slowly turning it. It’s not locked. It opens with an easy click. The room inside is dark. Darker than anything natural, like a black hole that can only be found in space sucking up everything bright and glorious. I almost turn around and leave. I could call Moira and tell her that her son is beyond saving.

No. I can do this. I have to help them. I made a promise to God when I accepted my role.

I straighten my spine and slowly walk into the room, feeling around for the light switch. Thankfully, I find it quickly and flip it on, bathing the room in a soft light from a tall lamp in the corner of the room. I instantly find Killian. He’s in the middle of the bed, wrists and feet tied to each corner. I involuntarily suck in a breath.

Killian wears only a pair of thin shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. His long body is pulled tight, thick ropes digging into his flesh. Tattooed skin stretches over lean muscle. Skin so pale, it looks more like ink spilled over white paper than human skin with tattoos. It almost glows in the dark.

“Fuck, I thought you lost your nerve.” The voice is deep and gravelly, but it doesn’t sound inhuman like voices painted with a demon’s usually do. My eyes snap up to his face. A wide, almost manic smile is spread over his lips. His dark green eyes are cold, almost calculating.

He’s gorgeous. I stifle that thought down. I haven't had impure thoughts like this since I was a teenager. That was part of my reason for joiningthe Seminary. It was the only way to give my life to God and walk the straight and narrow path. No temptation.

I don't answer, just lay my bag down beside the door, still holding my Bible. Killian doesn't even glance at it. Instead, he watches me with that chilling gaze. I grab a nearby chair, legs scraping across the floor as I sit beside Killian’s bed. I slowly lower myself onto it, crossing my legs.

“But I will admit. I love anticipation. It’s a kink of mine.” Killian licks his lips, the natural red color suddenly glossy with spit. I try not to focus on that. I’m a professional.

“I want to speak to Killian Ambrose.” My voice is unwavering, unlike my body.

“You are,” the demon says, not blinking.

“No. I’m speaking to whatever is possessing Killian Ambrose,” I respond, folding my hands over the Bible on my lap to keep them from shaking.

“You wound me,” he says, but there is no pain in his tone. He’s smiling again, two front teeth just a tiny bit bigger than his others. He looks younger than his 26 years at the moment. His smile suddenly turns into a smirk. “But I kindalike it.” And just like that, the moment bursts like a bubble of soap meeting a thorn.

“I want to speak to Killian Ambrose,” I repeat, fixing the demon with a hard stare.

“The one and only. Drink it up, buttercup.” The demon’s eyes roam up and down my body, his muscles flexing enticingly.

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