Love & Exorcisms | 18+ | COMPLETE |

- Chapter 21 -

I was too weak to speak, too weak to even raise my head. Damian's boots creaked over the floor as he crouched before me. Quick as a snake, his hand darted out and snatched away the shard of broken glass, casting it into a far corner. I didn't even try to stop him. I couldn't fight him, not in the state I was in.

"Did Dr. Carnickey get his blades in you too?" I said, barely able to focus on his scars as I struggled to raise my head. They were similar to mine, but simpler: more runes and less lines. I never thought I would witness such a sight...marks like mine...perhaps...perhaps he would understand...

"Who is Carnickey?" I felt his hand grasp my shoulder, preventing me from flopping over limply to the floor. "Samara, tell me. How did you get your scars?"

This is what becomes of you when you fight us, when you resist. Weak girl. Foolish girl. He will hurt you just like the rest, use you.

"They want me to kill you," I murmured, smiling grimly. "They really hate you, Mr. Hearst. Why?"

"Because I have dedicated myself to eradicating their kind," he said. "I'm an exorcist, Samara. Like my mother, and her mother, and a long history of women and men of my bloodline. They know I can wield power over them."

"Exorcist? For the Church?" I winced as my stomach clenched and growled. I desperately wished I had not made him spill the soup. My anger was quickly being replaced by alarm at the desperation in my body. I needed food. Water.

"Not for the Church - ah, easy now," Damian said, catching me as I began to tip forward, utterly limp. He struggled to pull the sheet around me before he lifted me, cradled in his arms. I wanted to resist, to tell him he could piss off...but I was too hungry. Too tired. I let my head rest against him as he rose. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, hovering between the bed and the door. But when I moaned at a sudden strike of dizziness that forced me to close my eyes, it seemed his mind was made up.

"Damn it all," he muttered, as he opened the door with one hand and carried me out into the hall. I felt a brief and overwhelming nausea as we passed beneath the symbol above the door. But with it passed I could breathe easy again. The humming in my ears was gone.

I could barely keep my eyes open to have a look at our surroundings. I glimpsed darkly papered walls and mahogany panels. Doors with shining silver handles. Paintings of gray stormy seas before massive cliffsides. As I breathed in against his bare chest I could smell his sweat, the soft scent of sage and vetiver. I felt him move down a stairway, and caught glimpses of a wooden railing curving beside us and a round mosaic ceiling above.

"I hate you for this, Hearst," I said softly. I could hear his heart beating, pounding. I wondered if he was frightened, if he still felt the same horror I had seen on his face when he first glimpsed my scars. An exorcist..."eradicating their kind"...he could wield power over...them...

"Who are they?" I said. There were flashes of light as we passed by open windows. I could smell something...savory and spice...wood smoke...

"I do not yet know who they are," he said. He pushed through a swinging door and the smells intensified. I glimpsed hanging pots and pans, herbs and meats. "But I know what they are. Open your eyes. I'm going to put you down and it will help you steady yourself if you look around."

I opened my eyes fully, hesitantly. We were in a kitchen. The walls and floor were all bare wood. There was a hearth, a wide stove, and a plain table covered in flour and dirty mixing bowls. Something in a large iron pot was boiling upon the stove, filling the room with warmth and the intoxicating aroma I had sensed from the hall. Damian lowered me to a stool beside the table, moving slowly, allowing me to rest myself against the tabletop and lay my head upon it.