Conversations with the Light Bearer (Religious Satire)

CHAPTER XXII - Pandemonium

CHAPTER XXII

PANDEMONIUM

Fingers of warm light glimmered through a tangle of trees. Beneath a blanket of stars and darkness, the cabin glowed ginger on the porch and through the windows, a beacon for travelers lost in the swallowing night. At the top a myriad of dead leaves blanketed the roof like an ugly wig, the chimney puffing smoke through its single nostril. Down the porch a suspended oil lamp swayed casually to the silent wind, its fire licking the cold midnight air. Like most cabins the house was built on stone and stacked timber, a modest bastion made to stand the test of time and solitude. If not for the hex this would have been a stroll to the privy, but then again houses in the middle of the forest weren't really my cup of tea. For all we knew a cannibalistic witch may have already taken residence here, waiting for fresh livestock to simply enter her domain.

"Henry." I locked my feet on the ground before the porch. "We have company."

The priest pressed a foot beside me. "I know."

A family of three emerged from the creaking door: a large balding man in his fifties, his scrawny freckled wife, and a young boy of five smiling with a kitchen knife in his hand. Slowly all three formed a line on the porch, the wood squeaking under the weight of their feet.

"You will not pass—" said the father.

"Leave now—" followed the mother.

"Or die," finished the small boy.

I turned to Henry with a nod. With just one look he knew what needed to be done. This wasn't our first exorcism after all, and hopefully it wouldn't be the last. My task was usually to distract the possessed while the exorcist chanted the words, but that usually worked with only one demon. And not only did we had three meatbags this time around, but the boy was also carrying a large knife, and I was in no mood to play with children and their kitchen sets. Improvise, Vincent. I whispered to myself. Just improvise. "Ready?"

Henry took a deep breath. "Now!"

It all happened so fast.

Before the priest could even start to chant, the little boy raised the kitchen knife, and plunged it straight to his mother's womb. Blood splattered on her skin and silk, her white apron staining red. With shock and terror in her eyes, the woman gasped for breath and life, staring down at the boy she called her son. I was a fool to think the weapon was meant for us. This was Mammon after all, utterly mad and despicable. The Demon of Greed would slay thousands simply out of boredom, and a small family like this was barely a fraction of his totaled atrocities.

"No!" I bolted for the porch, reaching for the boy and the blade. "No! Damn it!"

The child took three more sickening stabs at his mother's belly before I could reach him. By the time I managed to restrain him, the mother had already collapsed to the floor, the steel well under the flesh up to the bloodied handle. Coughing out blood, the frail woman turned her eyes at me as a single tear ran down her freckled cheek. "Please . . ." She coughed hard, her own blood drowning her as she spoke. "Please . . . Save . . . My son."

"Henry!" I shouted, my arms locked around the boy. "Anytime now!"

It was no good. With events quickly spiraling into chaos, I completely overlooked the husband, now choking the life out of my friend on the naked ground. Henry was struggling and grasping for air, his face reddening to a plump fresh tomato. Though they seemed of similar age, the possessed man was built of hard muscle and bone, a hulking lumberjack with knuckles made of stone. "I must kill you," the madman uttered as he strangled further, like a mindless drone following his master's command "I must kill you!"