Camp Damascus(55)

“This is my service,” he retorts, dropping his seat back and relaxing as faint hymns begin to drift across this parking lot toward us. The choir within is sparse and modest, a vastly different tone compared to Kingdom of the Pine gatherings.

I gradually realize Saul’s words could have two distinct meanings. Either he’s fine with enjoying tonight’s church service from a distance, or he understands I need company and his presence is a duty of friendship.

Either way, I’m thankful Saul’s here with me.

We sit like this the entire time, listening to the wind in the trees and smelling the fresh Douglas fir as it wafts across our nostrils. The sermon inside is faint and muffled, unintelligible unless the whole congregation sings together, but that doesn’t seem to matter much. I find myself shocked at how pleasant the whole experience is, the seething anger I’ve had toward Kingdom of the Pine briefly checking out.

Eventually, our service ends and Saul starts the car with a roar. We pull back onto the road, heading home through the shadowy forest as the sun makes its move from afternoon to evening.

I’ve courageously stared down Pachid before, but what we’re about to do is a frightening leap beyond. I have no idea how this demon is going to react to the scenario we have in store, but I can only imagine she’s not gonna be happy about it.

I reach over with one hand and hold my previously broken finger, remembering the last time I dared defy her. The fracture was a warning, and her next one will likely be less generous.

Fortunately, as we fly down the road I’m strangely energized. It’s a familiar sensation, but one I didn’t expect to revisit anytime soon. This is the way I used to feel right after church service, bounding out the door with a fire in my belly and feeling ready to take on the world.

It’s an unmistakable mindset, but this time there was no real performance to accompany it, no submission to a higher power or prayer for forgiveness.

I just took a moment to rest and be thankful, and now I’m ready for anything with the power of a thousand suns behind me. The complicated, magical, deeply focused power of Rose Darling.

I’m ready to exorcise my demons.





9





HELL FREEZES OVER


“You look nervous,” Saul says through a single wireless headphone in my right ear. “Don’t worry. It’s just a demon from the depths of hell here to keep you from being too gay.”

I can’t help laughing. “Well, when you put it like that, I suppose I could loosen up a bit.”

I glance at the camera above me, peering down from one of the metal structures within Saul’s enormous garage.

“I’m more worried about being posted in the middle of all these gasoline barrels,” I continue. “Please don’t pull the trigger early.”

“I won’t pull the trigger early,” Saul assures me. “I also won’t pull it too late, but just in case, you’ve got eyes on the RID?”

I glance over my shoulder at his homemade weapon, an ominous tank and nozzle that hangs quietly in the darkness. It’s a little over-the-top, but Saul’s engineering brain couldn’t help itself upon learning the mortal weakness of our enemy.

Ranged Incendiary Device. Also known as a flamethrower.

“I can’t believe you expect me to use that thing,” I reply. “I admire your skills, but it looks like it’d just blow my hands off.”

“Well, it’s a last resort,” my friend continues through my earbud, the faintest hint of defensiveness in his voice.

“How’s everything looking up there?” I ask, hoping to catch a glimpse of Saul’s crow’s nest perched high atop one of these enormous metal shelves.

“Just wonderful,” he confirms. “Cameras are rolling, the trigger is ready … now it’s your call.”

I take a deep breath and sit up in my chair, mentally preparing for what’s about to unfold.

The newfound confidence I’ve gained has carried me far, but as Saul waits for my signal I find the wave of conviction finally breaking within me. Discovering my voice in the face of a toxic family life and an oppressive faith is one thing, but the worst they could’ve done was excommunicate me from a community I was already at odds with.

It’s a painful, difficult journey, but the methods of Pachid are significantly more visceral.

A vision of Martina’s broken body spilling from the closet fills my mind, her twisted head staring up at me with huge, bulging eyes.

My whole life I’ve heard stories about doing battle with demonic forces, but those dark energies were abstract and metaphorical, not a literal encounter with some undiscovered species.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Saul asks, his voice filled with concern.

Correlation is not causation, and I know this. Just because flames trapped a demon within my vehicle, it doesn’t mean this technique will work a second time. Our current data set is a single point in the middle of endless nothing.

Still, what other options do we have? We could test our theory and summon Pachid in a low-stakes situation, poking and prodding her with hot objects then cataloging her reaction, but would that really be any safer?

Or would that just give the creature time to adapt and plan?

I’d typically find confidence in prayer at a moment like this. Now, however, I find confidence in myself; mining strength from the simple fact that pushing onward is the only option we’ve got.