3. Exorcism

After a night of phone calls, preparation, and no rest Father Tony sat in booth in at Lori's Diner. He cupped his small brown mug with hot coffee around his folded palms and looked out the window waiting. He took big breaths and exhaled deeply, fighting both his sleeplessness and doubts. On the white linoleum table with dark freckles sat his plate of uneaten waffles and melted whip cream. The Diner was busy and Father Tony focused on the blackness of his coffee while he ignored the hustle of waitresses, the clanging of plates, and the smell of bacon. He occasionally glanced over the circular red leather stools and brass molded counter top at the display bottles of Coors, Pabst, and Bell's (what he assumed to be a local favorite).

Fourteens hours after hearing Emily wail, while ash remained dug underneath his fingernails, Father Tony didn't know what to think anymore. Exorcist preparation required hours of reflection and prayer and he always dutifully did it, although he always considered it an act of going through the motions. Last night, while praying to the stars and hearing no reply, the wail made him question his lack of faith. The wail was so-he didn't know what-so powerful that when he thought back over the events of the last afternoon it was haunting. It chilled. Yet, he couldn't help but think how easy it would have been to fake. Go on . Record the T-Rex from Jurassic Park, the probe from Star Trek 4, and mix in a little Nine Inch Nails, and blast the whole thing over an amplifier. Any 14 year old could do it. A lie was the preferable belief. It was more logical.

"You must be Father Antonin Czarnaki. You called me last night. I am Barbra James," a woman in her early sixties said sitting across from him. At first Father Tony wondered how she knew who he was, but then realized he wore his collar.

"Tony, please. You want something to eat?"

"Just coffee."

Barbara James was for Father Tony the perfect therapist. She lived in the area; she was willing to work on a prorated fee, and she was an atheist willing to an Exorcism. Over coffee, Father Tony told her everything from what to expect from the ritual and to an explanation of the ash underneath his fingernails. She agreed it was faked and that Emily desperately needed her help.

Barbara James was a sixty-two year stocky woman with short grey hair. Father Tony was sure that in the sixties she was the kind of woman grabbed rifles out of the authorities's hands and fucked on the dirt near a campfire. Her atheism was a religion. She believed that Churches were evil institutions that perpetuate gender inequality and religion existed only as a denial of finality of death. Father Tony could not disagree. Now she was a mature therapist who believed in the wisdom science and in both the horrific and healing power of humanism. She would be perfect for Emily.

After talking for over an hour they hopped the 1966 Chevy Chevelle and headed back to John Hoebetker's farm. He had arranged to meet Michael Schnieder, the third member of his team and the family's Baptist Paston on the farm.

When the pulled up Michael and John sat on the steps of the front porch waiting.

Father Tony explained what he expected out of everyone. He would be in charge. Nobody was to speak, unless he asked them. Barbara was an observer and recorder. She was to film the entire Exorcism (plus the Catholic Church required a woman in the room when performing an Exorcism on a girl). John was to remain at the ready downstairs. He was not to come upstairs unless directly asked by Father Tony. He was instructed to be ready to provide water, tea, blankets, food, crosses, flashlights, or anything that might be requested. Michael was the assistant. He would instructed to repeat prayers to take over when Father Tony needed a break.

"Any questions?" Father Tony asked.

"Will her head spin?" Barbara asked.

"I doubt it," Father Tony curtly replied, knowing that 360 degree head spin was impossible to fake.

"Yeah, I got a question?" Michael said. "What's that smell?"

"Sulfur," John said. "Emily has reeked on an off again since this started."

They all breathed in and looked at the wood paneled ceiling. A mist of pungent heavy odor seemed to seep through the cracks in the ceiling and the stench of rotten eggs inhumed in the backs of their mouths. It came on fast and strong.

"It knows what's happening," Michael said. "When we tried before it always knew that something coming."

"Well, no point in waiting around down here," Father Tony said, while at the same moment thinking that a fourteen year old girl is nothing to fear.

They walked up the stairs in a single-file while John sat on the couch downstairs. He followed his hands and started to pray.

A few feet from the door, Father Tony turned to Michael and handed him a black leather bag the type that a doctor in the 1950s might have used to make house calls. While Michael held it Father Tony opened and took out a rosary and a book titled Rituale Romanun.

"Everything else I will need is inside. When I ask for something it will be in there."

Upstairs the smell of the sulfur was much stronger and Barbara pinched her nose as they turned toward the bedroom door.

Thump thump thump thump thump thump. The wall erupted in series of thumps. It sounded as if twenty fists were on the other side of the wall rapidly knocking wall.. Michael jumped and Barbara moved to the other side of the hall. Father Tony put his ear against the wall and felt the vibration of every rapid knock against his earlobe. It sounded as if there were at least ten people knocking. The thumps were not strong but rapid.

"What the fuck," he mumbled to himself.

"It knows," Michael said as he turned pale. "It knows that we are coming to take back Emily's body and its trying to scare us off."

"Look. It's just a girl and a bag of parlor tricks, now snap out of it. If we going to help her running afraid is last thing we can do. If you want to run go downstairs with John. We will do it without you."

Father Tony opened the door to a nightmare vision that sent his belief system into a whirlpool of confusion.

Father Tony's eyes first fell on Emily. She sat on the bed in a catatonic and bizarre state. She state Indian style, like the Buddha-but twisted. Her jaw went left, her neck went right, her ears, nose, and eyebrows were unflinchingly flared. Her eyes popped and bulged and she never blinked. Nothing moved or twitched. She sat there, as still as as statue not even blinking or moving to breath. The window was open and the sun shone through and bathed Emily in light. Her skin at places was blistered, burned, and scrapped. Dried blood was smeared and crusted on the sheets.

Father Tony glanced at Emily only for a moment because despite the oddity of her appearance relative to the rest of the room she was normal.

Books, like dust, floated randomly around the room and thumped against the walls. The struck the wall and simply turned in another direction, and continued to float until they hit the next obstacle, where they turned and would continue on there way. They thumped and knocked against the walls and were the obvious cause of the commotion in hallway. There were two dozen and they all floated so that the pages dangled to the ground.

Father Tony had never seen anything like it. He turned and grabbed a book out of the air, half expecting to pull the string that held it in place. Instead the book continued. His initial grab wasn't powerful enough to pull the book from the air. He yanked it again, pulling with enough force to take a step back. The book came loose, as if it some one let it go.

Michael and Barbara both stood in the door with bewilderment in their eyes.

Many of the books were ripped and the ripped pages floated randomly amongst the books.

In his initial glance, Father Tony didn't notice but after having stood in the room a few seconds he quickly realized that walls were burned from floor to ceiling and when he rang his fingers over wood it was crispy and black soot filled his fingers. They smelled of sulfur. He didn't notice initially because the floating pages created wallpaper covered most of the black. So that as if by magic the books floated, the pages ripped, and then the pages attached themselves to the wall.

The book in his hand was a Nancy Drew and several of the pages were torn. The tares were perfect, as if cut by a knife.

Father Tony tossed the book on the ground, pulled his crucifix, keeping it between his body and Emily, and walked toward her.

"Emily?"

Nothing but the thumping of the books against the wall.

Father Tony turned to the bag Michael held, took out a purple stole, wrapped it around his neck and made sure that the purple side showed.

He grabbed Michael's forehead, traced the cross with this thumb and said, "I bless you in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Stay strong Michael, the battle will soon begin."

He grabbed Barbara and repeated the same blessing, but add, "could you please begin recording."

Emily had still not breathed, moved, or blinked. The deep repeated thumping of the books against the wall was the only sound.

Father Tony kneeled placing his folded hands on the bed next to Emily.

"Christ have mercy. Lord Have Mercy. Christ hear us. God the son, Redeemer of the World. God the Holy Spirit. Holy Trinity, one God. Hear us and bless Emily Hoebetker."

Still nothing but the thump, thump, and thump of the floating books against the wall.

Do I have the faith for this? Father Tony wondered with folded hands while looking up.

Father Tony turned to the camera to explain.

"I will now ask for help from the saints. Mary, mother of God, pray for us. St. Michael, pray for us. St. Gabriel, pray for us. St. Rapha...

Emily's head turned extremely slowly so that she faced Father Tony. Her expression only the direction she looked. The books continued to thump. Father Tony looked into her eyes and the only two expressions he could read coming out was questioning, 'what are you doing?' and 'I will fuck you up.'

"St. Peter, pray for us, St. Paul, pray for us. St. James, pray for us. St. John the apost...

Emily's mouth didn't move but the wail blasted. It shot out of her mouth as if she were screaming louder than possible but she took no breath. It was too loud to speak so Father Tony stopped asking the Saints for help, held his forehead in his folded hands, and waited defying the wail that blasted in his face.

Father Tony knew that this was a moment in his life. Logic dictated that everything he had been experiencing, the wail, the ash, the books, had to have an explanation. And yet here he was experiencing them and unable to explain it. He could see the crossroads he stood upon. He turn to God and regain his faith-perform his first true exorcism. Or he could ignore the immediacy of the moment and have faith that smoke and mirrors would soon be discovered.

Emily wailed for eight and a half minutes without a breath. Father Tony kneeled with folded hands and realized, belief or not, devil or not, it didn't matter. He was here to perform a ritual; it was his job and it would help this poor girl either way.

As soon as she stopped Tony continued, "Our father who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven..."

As he prayed, the Rituale Romanun slide from underneath his folded hands. As if an invisible man were yanking, it jerked with three strong pulls. Father Tony grabbed it but it was too strong, it jerked out of his hand and floated above the bed. In a feat of not knowing what to do, Father Tony's instincts took over. He jumped. And like catching a football leapt through the air and catch the book by pulling it against his stomach and wrapping his arms around it. Only he didn't fall. The book held his weight, leaving him dangling, hair around his eyes and feet swaying, in the air and the entire breath of his body being pushed out under his weight. He coughed and gasped but his position was too awkward and slipped off the levitating book and fell on the foot of the bed. He bounced and the springs shot him to the floor where he caught himself on hands and knees.

Still Emily stood catatonic and the books "thumped thumped thumped" against the wall.

From the ground he looked up to his assistants. Michael was scared and Barbara followed him with the camera with a look that mirrored the confusion and loss of certainty in his eyes.

The pages of the Rituale Romanun and flipped and ripped themselves out of their spine.

"This can't be happening. I have never seen a real one. I don't know what to do," Father Tony said more to himself than to anyone else. MORE DESCRIPBTION OF EM NEEDED

Michael pulled out the Holy Water, dipped the dry up palm leaf, and sent a spray over Emily. The drops splashed over his skin and immediately evaporated into puffs of steam. The skin, where drop splashed, turned into a red scar of burned flesh.

"Stop it. You're only hurting Emily. It doesn't care," Father Tony said getting off the floor.

Again, experience and instinct guided his action. Father Tony went to his bag and pulled the relic that the Vatican supplied him. It was a small glass jar and inside was the right pinkie finger of St. Margareta Edner. After receiving the relic and being told it would be his most effective weapon, Father Tony studied. He wanted to know everything there was know about St. Margareta. She was a German mystic nun. She lived in the fourteenth century it was said that she had ongoing conversations with the child Jesus. Father Tony imagined he was the boy who of whom history didn't record-that she spoke with a boy from the ages of two sixteen. Her reported conversations inspired a people suffering famine and plague. Her vision inspired the people of Munich and, during a time when more than one pope claimed power, she managed to keep the people loyal to the correct pope. While studying Father Tony visited the Vatican and read her journals. At the time he read it he considered her visions bullshit, the meanderings of a woman facing the death of the black plague and turning to innocence to find peace. But seeing Emily, he realized that her finger might just be the thing.

He opened the glass, took the finger, waved in the sign of the cross, and approached Emily.

"God, whose nature is ever merciful and forgiving accept our prayer that I this servant of yours, bound by the fetters of sin and doubt, may be pardoned by your loving kindness. God consign this fallen and apostate tyrant to the flames of hell. Lord strike terror into the beast defying your child. Highest Lord set Emily free from this strife. See the cross of the Lord and be gone you hostile power. See the cross of the Lord and be gone you hostile power."

He touched the bone of St. Margareta's finger on Emily's forehead and made the cross. In that instant her eyes rolled into the back of her skull, the walls burst into into a flash of orange flame, the books all fell to the ground, and her body jerked. In a quick swing she went completely horizontal pivoting from her head and rigid and lifted three feet from the bed. She levitated. Her hair and sleeping gown draped off her body.

Father Tony commanded, "In the name of the Lord I command you to be gone."

"Tony," Barbara said and pointed. "Look it's trying to tell us something."

He looked at and then looked at what she was pointing. The flames surrounding them at first ignited in flash of orange light as the pages burst into flame, but then the flame quickly died into soft blue and continuously burned (like a fireplace set on low).. The flame had been controlled and the pages didn't entirely burn. From each page one single solitary letter remained. The letters were grouped and when read from left to right collectively spelled a single word.

"What does it mean," Michael asked.

"Littera, and it literally means message or a letter?"

"What does that mean?" Barbara asked.

"I don't know, but I am guessing it wants to send a letter."

"Through the post?" Michael blurted.

Father Tony turned to the levitating teenager, "Who are you? I command you, in the name of God to tell me who are and why have you taken over this girl."

She twisted so that she was on her side and the wail again sounded but it was different. The wail modulated and changed tonation.

"It's trying to speak," Michael said.

"Don't listen," Father Tony said covering his ears. They all held their ears but Father Tony bobbed his head telling Barbara to keep recording and rolled his finger. Barbara placed the video camera on a table and covered her ears.

The attempt to speak stopped. Father Tony quickly considered his options, continue the Exorcism, fight with the relic, give up and run away, or try to communicate. Things had gotten out of his control. He didn't know what to do, but he did know that it was his job to fight for this girl..

"In the name of Jesus I command you to see the power of the cross and be gone with you hostile power," holding the bone of the finger in front of him Father Tony repeated this sentence over and over. Michael joined in the chant.

Emily continued to levitate.

They chanted for fifteen minutes. In that time Barbara picked up some of the books and noted their titles. Nancy Drew, the Phantom Tollbooth, Twilight, City of Bones, Harry Potter, the Karma Sutra in pictures,,all things that she expected in a fourteen year old's bedroom. Then while bending down to pick up Nora Robert's The Last Boyfriend she noticed a spiral notebook with butterfly drawn in blue ink over the pink cardboard cover. She assumed one of Emily's school notebooks. She picked it up and flipped through the pages. It was her diary. HEAT AND SWEAT FROM THE FIRE

"Father," Barbara said. "I think I might have found the message."

Father Tony stopped chanting and took the notebook from Barbara. The first half of the notebook was obviously that of a fourteen year old girl. It was full of pictures of butterflies and hearts and the letters were written in flowy bubble hand and the I's were dotted with hearts, and the colors varied from pink and green to blue and orange. The last pages looked like the handwriting of a serial killer. The letters were small, two rows per line, and compacted. It was only in blue pen and the writer pressed hard on the paper causing it to perforate under it's pressure. The writing filled two pages and ended.

"It's Latin. It begins,, 'carus cupitus' which translates roughly to dear dear or dear love? I am not sure it would take me a few hours to translate it and even then and I am not that good. But the Vatican could do it in minutes."

"It is a letter?" Barbara said.

"What does it say the day before the handwriting changed?" Michael asked.

"Nothing. It's just the 'I went to school. It sucks. Peter sat next...' nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Who's it from, the letter?"Barbara asked.

"Menoch."

As Father Tony said the name, everything stopped. The fire went dead. The sulfur cleared and Emily fell three feet from levitating and bounced on the springs over her bed.

"Is it over," Michael asked.

"No, I didn't do anything. I beseech you in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, see the cross of the Lord and begone, Menoch, back to the fires of hell."

Emily gasped.

"Emily? Child?" Barbara asked.

The scream of a girl and tears spewed out of Emily. Her voice quivered in fright as she said, "Help. You have to help it's still there. I don't know it just let go. It's like it's waiting for something but it's still there. O don't know what. Help. Please help."

"Sweetheart we are here for you," Barbara said rushing to the girl and running her palm over her sweat drenched and oily hair.

"Menoch, why do you hide? I, in the name of the Lord, command you be gone back to the fires of hell!"

"It's not you. It's not me. It's here for some one. It let go because it though you were him but you're not. But it's still inside me. I hear his's voice in my head."

"It's the letter," Barbara said.

Father Tony picked up the notebook and flipped to the oddly handwritten.

"Can the two of stay with her. I am going to see what I can do."

13