Chapter 22

Hong Kong – Leon
Canada – Matthew
USA – Alfred
Seychelles – Shelly
Australia – Kyle
England – Arthur /Artie
France – Fran / Francis
Denmark –Mathias Normann
Norway – Lukas Normann
Sweden – Berwald Oxenstierna
Finland – Tino Väinämöinen

As Lukas and Mathias enter the cellar again Francis just got thrown against an old rack with antiques flying around and the old wood crashing to ground alongside Francis. Mathias jumps to the screeching man and tries to get a hold on him, but he gets taken off guard when the man below him suddenly bucks up and turns them around. Taloned hands wrap around his neck and soon enough Mathias finds himself light headed despite pushing against that slender man on top of him.
Tino steps in and manages to pull off Francis with his strong hands long enough, that Mathias manages to crawl away and get himself oriented again. But it has been too easy as Francis jumps onto the police man now and with an ugly ripping sound Tino suddenly feels something warm and wet drip down his neck and he screams as he pulls away. Francis spits out the piece of skin he ripped out of that chubby cheek to return back to the greater threat, Mathias.
Lukas however wasn't just watching the horrible scene in front of him, as something white has caught his attention. He grabs the dusty table cloth, unfolds it with one movement and just as Francis opens the bloodied mouth over Mathias' red face he drapes the fabric around Francis, disabling him to move his hands or his jaw to bite.
Arthur, now at Lukas' side, wraps his arms around his husbands torso, keeping him from throwing the table cloth off him. Lukas, on his feet again pushes a chair towards them, on which Arthur, with the help of Mathias, puts down Francis.
"We need something to tie her up!" grunts Mathias, but Lukas is already on the old drawers and racks, pushing over old jam jars and nails until he finds a long sturdy rope. He fumbles still with it to untie it, as he hands one end over to Mathias. Trusting that Arthur still keeps Francis down on that chair, both men quickly wrap the rope around the man and the chair several times and with quick fingers Lukas makes a tie he is sure of, not even a supernatural being can open easily. Just as he finishes the tie, one gnarly hand manages to slip free and finds its way, even blind, to Mathias' throat. Tino is ready now though and with one quick movement and metallic clicking he binds the hand to the chair with the help of his handcuffs.

"You gotta call the Fathers Vargas and get them over here," Mathias managed to choke out as his chest heaved for breath.
"They are too far away," Lukas objects, breathless but with a steady gaze on his husband. "Look at him. He won't make it." Mathias follows with his eyes the finger pointing at the writhing and screeching Francis. He stumbles backwards as he straightens himself and lands in the middle of the room. Arthur is looking between them, his hands in fists, grabbing onto nothing that could help him in this situation. Lukas got up again as well from his crouching position, looking at Mathias, knowing that the gears in his heads are turning, already knowing what his decision is going to be. Because it is the right one.

Mathias feels his blood rushing in his ears, the pounding of his heart, his hands which should be shivering in fear and adrenaline but are steady and ready for anything he is going to do. His eyes shift from Tino holding his bleeding cheek, Arthur who is ash white but still at Francis side, Francis himself who never ceases to try and get out of his prison. Eventually his eyes meet those of Lukas. He knows. He knows what he is going to do and therefore it hurt him even more to have to say it.
"I need you to leave."
"What are you talking about?" Lukas says, brows furrowing and jaw tensing.
"I have to do it," Mathias says in a calm voice, urging Lukas to not fight him, because he'd lose. To do it for him. "The exorcism."
"What?" interjects Arthur and steps forward. "I thought you'd need a priest. You're not a priest?!" he says, his knot of worry clouded now by confusion and disbelief.
"Well, do you have a better idea?" Mathias asks, staring Arthur down who retreats back to his place beside of Francis.
"He can do it," Lukas breathes out, sending a reassuring glace towards Arthur. Just enough to make him shut up. "You can do it," he ads and looks straight into Mathias eyes, saying much more than only those four words.
"But you gotta get out of here," Mathias demands now and points towards the stairs, his eyes not looking pleading anymore.
"I'm not gonna get out of here." Lukas steps forward again, not letting Mathias get through with it. "I'm not leaving you!" he screams to hopefully get through that thick skull of Mathias.
"Damn it Lukas, I am not gonna do this with you in here!"
Lukas huffs, and with two steps he is close up to Mathias. They stare each other down and Lukas knows, that this time, glaring won't change a thing. Mathias loves him too much for it. Wants to protect him too much sometimes, like a puppy.
"God brought us together for a reason, this is it." Lukas said, maybe a bit too urgently, a bit too pressed. But the screams and wails of Francis did not leave them with much time. Those light blue eyes soften, Mathias mouth opens in a silent protest that dies on his tongue. And for once Lukas ignores that sad puppy stare. "I'm gonna get the book," and with one whirl of blond hair he leaps up the creaking wooden stairs. With heavy breaths and sweaty palms Mathias reaches under his collar and retrieves a chain with a simple golden cross and lets it fall over his breast, facing Francis.

As Lukas runs in and out of the house he can hear Berwald shouting for Shelly upstairs. Trusting the Swede, he does not go up but heads directly to the cellar, a bible with a simple leather cloak in hand. Mathias has already ordered Tino and Arthur to stay in the other half of the room than Francis is, close to the stairs. Wordlessly Lukas hands his husband the bible and knowing exactly, where the concerning pages are, he flips through the rest of them to the right spot.
As Lukas hears the familiar tunring of old pages he notices that the screeching stemming from Francis has toned down. He merely wails anymore, moaning in pure agony, swaying in the old chair.
"In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit," Mathias says out loud, marks the cross over his chest and forehead with his fingers and kisses the golden cross. "Vade retra, Satan. Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio,» he reads from the book, and fumbles shortly with a viol to then splash holy water over the white table cloth. The groaning intensifies to high pitched screech. The viol falls to the ground and shatters. All around the four men and Francis the racks and shelves and antiques start to rumble, all the dusty old things start to bend and fall down or over. The screech vibrates in their chests and as Lukas casts a glance at Mathias his worries are confirmed. The tall man stands there open mouthed, with widened eyes and a trembling book in his hands.

Alfred shivers, still suppressing the small sobs trying to escape his lips. His jacket is not enough to warm his body or to ease his anxiety. Wide blue eyes are fixed on the house. Alfred doesn't know whether it was good that he still has his glasses on or whether he'd want to see only a blurry mess.
Suddenly something flutters behind the car, feathers whipping through the air. He quickly turns around but he can't see anything in the darkness. The fluttering gets louder, this time from the side. He can barely make out a movement when suddenly the window beside him bursts and a raven chokes out its last cries before it dies with a last stroke of its wings. Alfred shrieks and scrambles backwards to the other window, his heart pumping and his hands trying to clutch onto something that has not glass shards embedded into it.

Berwald made it to the ground level. He has searched all of the rooms upstairs to no avail and now he was left with the living room, the kitchen and closets. No lamp was burning in the house and his breath formed small clouds in front of him. At least he was a man who trained in his spare time as well, so he could still breathe evenly and stay focused. His mind raced to every corner April could hide herself in. There were too many in this old house.
His heart jumped when he heard something thudding against wood. He turned around but it was impossible to make out where that sound came from. In front of him was just the wall. Another tump sent his eyes to the right, but again, only the old grandfather clock was to be seen. A bird fluttered up outside and the Swede could hear how it made a turn around the house.
He stepped outside, as Shelly may have been the reason for the bird to fly up. Just as he sets foot on the porch a black shadow passes mere centimetres in front of him and he can feel the sharp wind formed by the wings hitting his face. He stepps back and whirls around. Something crashes against the window to his left. He clutches his fists, ready to defend himself, when he sees that it was a black raven. A raven that has pierced through the window but is now stuck half through it. It struggles against the shattered glass, croaking miserably as the spikes cut through its flesh.
Berwalds breath gets stuck in his throat when he now heard a whole swarm of birds screeching, croaking, crying, fluttering, banging, flying without a goal and crashing all around the house.

Mathias who has just resumed reciting from the bible, with a more stable voice and hand, mind set back to the life saving task in front of him, is yet again interrupted. The loud crashing noise gives him enough warning to raise his hands in defence when glass shards from the small cave window go flying across the room. The small animal that has crashed into the house is sent flying against some racks and the sound of a body hitting wood and the shivering jars are enough to conceal the sound of a breaking neck. All four men stand in shock as the grey pigeon dies in front of their eyes. But they are left not a second before all of the shelves begin to mimic the one and start again to sway, to quiver and to tremble as Francis resumes his screeching.
Mathias returns to his task, frantically trying to end the reciting, ignoring the other men to be able to concentrate. Tino's hand travels to his black tie belonging to his uniform and loosens it up. Francis rocks now with his whole body against the chair, the rope and the handcuffs. He almost falls over, when Mathias once again stops reading in order to surge forward to keep him stable.
"Hold him still!" he bellows, and the others come to his aid. "Hold him!"
Lukas and Arthur both wrap their arms around the protesting body, as Mathias resumes with the single lightbulb over their heads swinging around, letting the shadows dance around them.

As soon as Berwald enters the kitchen he stands still. He has heard something he was looking for. There is a small voice crying in the kitchen.
"Shelly?" he asks into the room but the only answer he gets is a muted whine. The room seems empty so he goes two steps to the kitchen sink and pulls the curtains back which hide the tubes of the sink. The crying is still there, but not here.
"Shelly?" He asks again, looking around. There! The miserable crying of a small girl. Under the floor.
"Shelly, you under there?!" he yells and bangs on the floor.

A wind seems to breeze all around the cellar, trying to turn the pages over Mathias trembling fingers and letting that precious light bulb sway faster and faster. Lukas can't say whether the miserable wailing comes from Francis himself or the creature possessing him. It doesn't matter, as Francis has to stay strong. As Arthurs arms grow weak, Lukas steps in front of the writhing body under that white fabric and clutches the head between his hands. He tries to keep him still, making him face him through that cloth.
"Francis!" He calls out to him, to his soul somewhere in that body. "Francis, don't give in! Don't let her take you!"
Arthur retreats slowly and with fearful eyes he pleads to Mathias:
"You have to stop. You're killing him!"
Upon hearing Arthur's request Lukas jumps back to his feet and glares him down.
"No, he can't."
Having no time to sort out the dispute, Mathias continues to read again from the bible.
Suddenly the crying of Francis changes and both Lukas and Arthur turn around as they hear him.
"Arthur! Help me!"
Just as Mathias finishes his sentence Francis inhales sharply and with an ugly cough vomits blood which taints the white fabric red.
"Mathias, God damnit, stop!" Arthur yells over the quelching of open flesh but the Dane can't react. Arthur closes in and just wants to snatch the bible out of Mathias hands, as a stronger hand gets a hold of his arm.
"Understand this, we are now fighting for his soul." Lukas explains, blue eyes piercing through Arthurs frightened gaze. Arthur keeps still, the sounds of his husband echoing in his head, Mathias strong but trembling voice seeming so weak against him.
"In the name of Jesus Christ, the saints and all the angles, I command you to reveal yourself!" Mathais demands now and every eye turns around as the sound of ripping fabric reaches their ears. With a last inhuman groan, a face emerges with yellowish white eyes, old skin that looked and smelled like being left in water for days and deep wrinkles over which some wiry white hair falls.

Thank you for your patience! I really hope you still enjoy this fic even without a beta! Soon this fanfic is coming to an end and I already have something else in store for you. But the new tory is like a 180 degrees turn from this one, promise 3