Constantine meticulously buckled his seatbelt in Bethany's black 2006 Nissan Maxima and eyed her. "Are you sure you're safe to drive?"
"Of course. I only had a glass... and a half... of wine," she nodded, trying to reassure him, but failing. "High tolerance. Trust me."
As she put her car into reverse, Constantine made sure his seatbelt was secure. After accelerating out of the parking space too quickly and breaking just as fast to compensate, she managed to find her way onto the road.
Constantine closed his eyes to ignore Bethany's driving. "We will meet two hours a day Monday through Thursday, and Saturday for one hour at St. Mercy Cathedral. That's your apprenticeship." He paused. "You will not attend exorcisms until you're ready."
The wheel jerked slightly. "What? Why?"
John took a drag. He knew she wouldn't be particularly fond of this part. "Until you're able to help me, you're just a distraction and a liability."
"A liability?"
"Bethany, you don't just kick back and pry a demon off of someone's soul." He flicked his spent cigarette out of a cracked window as punctuation. "These demons are pissed off. They don't want to be sent back to hell and they fight to keep it that way."
A moment of silence passed. "Okay," she finally said. "So... I wait outside while you do your exorcist stuff."
"Exactly."
-
They arrived at the location where the exorcism was to take place, which was a modern- and expensive-looking suburban house on the edge of the Hills. Constantine left the car without a word of goodbye. He left his door slightly ajar.
"Jeez," Bethany muttered. She reached over and slammed the door. Constantine, walking up the sloping, manicured lawn, showed no sign of notice.
Bethany was sober now. She turned the engine off but left the radio going, and, frustrated, jabbed a few buttons to try and find some good music. Constantine's standoffish attitude was frustrating. She knew he tended to detach himself from humanity, which was kind of odd, she mused, considering performing exorcisms was a way of bettering humanity. She knew that he wasn't friendly, and told herself not to take it personally.
She didn't want to come off as weak to him, though. If she just succumbed under his apparent callousness, then she would be nothing in his eyes. Standing up to him would be the only way to confront this issue. Bethany found a radio station she liked, grinned, and turned up the music.
-
Father Hennessey opened the door as Constantine approached. The din of faint cries and crashes echoed through the large foyer.
"Father," he said. "I told you I was interviewing tonight. Unavailable."
"He's violent; he's not going to last like this." He paused. "You came, didn't you?"
Constantine lit a cigarette, inhaled, and muttered, "It's not like I have a choice," before brushing past him, upstairs, toward the commotion.
He followed the noise, Hennessey not far behind, and as he approached the door of the possessed room, he heard a dull thudding, not unlike the sound of a match enveloped in cotton.
The cries and screaming grew louder, and the rhythmic beating increased as well. With every step, the din amplified. Finally he reached the door and threw it open. Distorted guitars wailed from the open window. The room was dark, but sweltering hot, even on the cool evening with a sea breeze drafting through the room.
The possessed boy was tied into the bed with electrical wires and extension cords. The boy thrashed so hard and so wildly that the cords had to be pulled terribly tight to keep him bound. The cords acted as tourniquets, and the boy's hands and feet had turned a ghastly bluish tinge.
Constantine stalked to the window and pulled off the blinds to reveal Bethany in her car throbbing with music and a full moon partially obscured by clouds. With a small decorated triangular mirror, he concentrated and reflected the moonlight onto the boy's face. He hissed and spit blood in Constantine's direction, in obvious pain.
Hennessey stepped forward and threw drops of holy water from a flask onto him. The demon inside the boy screeched and writhed more furiously. The water steamed off of the boy's hot skin and face, leaving welts.
He procured a thin metal cross and began muttering a prayer over the violently thrashing body.
"Not yet!" Constantine yelled over the music. The moon slipped behind the cover of clouds, and the beam of moonlight weakened. "Hennessey, wait!"
The priest stopped his prayer. The boy grinned slowly, and let out a guttural laugh.
Constantine wiped the sweat off of his forehead, and cursed the infuriating demon and the distracting teenager under his breath. The moon slipped even deeper behind the clouds. He abandoned the mirror, and flipped on all the lights in the room. Only the closet light and a table lamp turned on; the cords of the others had been used to bind the possessed boy. Though the artificial light was not nearly as potent as moonlight, the boy spit in anger at the pain it caused him.
"Hennessey, which prayer?" Constantine did not usually bother with the prayers, but the fearful Hennessey would not be able to pull this off on his own.
He stumbled over his words. "The, uh, the Saint Cyriacus prayer… Kyrie, eleison," he began.
"In English." Constantine couldn't manage the Latin prayers as well. "Lord, have mercy on us."
They recited together. "Lord, have mercy on this boy for whom we pray. Have mercy on his soul. Saint Cyriacus, invoked against demonic possessions. Saint Cyriacus, protect and help this boy. Lord, have mercy on his soul. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."
The demon writhed slower and slower throughout the prayer, as if it considerably weakened him. Father Hennessey made the sign of the cross, and then splashed holy water on the boy in the shape of a cross. The boy's back arched in intense pain as the demon inside the boy screamed. The scream was entirely otherworldly, and completely drowned out the music. It seemed to have more than one pitch, both high and low at the same time. When the scream ended, the music was off, and Bethany and the boy's family were at the door. The boy had passed out.
After a moment of awed silence, broken only by the gasping sobs of the parents, Constantine brushed off his jacket and turned to Bethany. "Untie him, will you?" He picked up his mirror and left the room.