Cast In Blood: Revelations Series Book 1: (17 page)

D
rew wandered through the pews
, her confidence inflated by the djinn energy still flowing through her spirit. She felt the part of the trickster, capable of outsmarting anyone there who might suspect she didn't belong. She almost felt as though she could disguise herself accordingly, like a shifter or similar creature, although she knew logically that there was a big difference between stealing life force and stealing physical abilities.

Lenny, on the other hand, was perfectly capable of taking on the physical appearance of whomever she wanted. According to Polly, she currently roamed the church grounds in the disguise of one of Hershel's Faithful, a djinn who'd hidden his identity by posing as a man named Joshua. Not even the other djinn there could tell the difference.

Lenny's job was to keep the Faithful occupied long enough for Drew to extract whatever information she could from Hershel. The plan had been a hasty one, but Lucifer, certain that time was running short, had felt it necessary to send them out sooner rather than later. Lenny had been adamant against her return, but something Polly had told her privately had convinced her to go.

Drew had no idea what she'd said, but she didn't really care. She would have been agreeable to just about anything the demon had suggested, her mood far too elevated for her to object. She still felt some residual nausea from the djinn's toxic soul, but she'd expelled the darkness—or at least most of it. The dizziness hadn't yet abated, but now it felt more like the buzz that came with a couple of beers.

She didn't want to admit she was still a little high from the exchange; she didn't want to think about it. That would mean admitting she now teetered on the wagon's edge, a place she'd prided herself for having avoided slipping back into for a long time.
This is different
, she rationalized.
This is for purely unselfish reasons. This might help save the world.

The thought of it made her giggle. Who'd have thought a prostitute thief would have anything to offer, let alone something so important? Did it matter if she enjoyed herself a little in the process?

Just this one last time….

Polly had sent her to syphon off just enough to draw a clearer picture of Hershel's part in the larger plan, similar to what she'd done to the djinn, but Drew had other plans. She'd take all she could from the man. She wanted him.

To hell with abstinence.

Tomorrow would be a new day.

The anticipation roused her dormant hunger, and her body went warm and flush with desire. She licked her lips as she reached the hall. Trembling and nearly panting, Drew went to the closed office door and knocked.

"Yes?" Hershel called out.

"Do you have a minute … Father?"

He came to the door and opened it just wide enough to peer out. "Yes? What is it?"

Drew could smell the deception—
burning leaves
—but chalked it up to the lie of his total being. The false prophet. He was there to deceive, there to divide humanity's souls from the ether and deprive them from their rightful place in the afterlife. If anyone deserved to lose what she was capable of taking, it was this guy.

"Can I talk to you?" She struggled to remain focused. "Alone?"

"Of course, my child." He invited her in and shut the door, offering her a seat.

She remained standing.

"I must say I'm glad to see you again. The way you left the other day made me think you were lost to us for good."

She smiled sweetly, doing her best to hide the sudden trepidation that came with his recognition. Was she that memorable? Did he know more than he was letting on? "I was just a little overwhelmed."

He smiled back. "That's understandable. God's love is a powerful thing. I'm just glad you came back, gave the church another chance."

She moved closer, close enough to feel the energy radiating from him. The darkness weaved throughout put a bad taste in her mouth, and she considered walking away one more time.

His eyes scanned up and down Drew's slim body. Her clothing left little to the imagination, and she could smell a hint of arousal breaking through. Still, he kept his hands to his sides. He glanced away from her, to the darkest corner in the room.

What did he see? Was the darkness speaking to him?

He walked around to the seat behind the desk. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

"I just…" She sauntered a little closer. "I'm so lonely. I feel so empty, you know? I was hoping you could help me. That's what you do, right? Help people?"

"It is."

The room got darker, the one corner appearing as though shaded in the darkest night. Something was there, something that was trying to hide from her. She struggled to hide her panic, the realization that she'd stepped into a trap both sudden and sobering.

"Why don't you sit?" Hershel gestured again.

"I'd rather stand."

"It's really best you sit," said the dark creature materializing behind her right before it hit her in the back of the head with enough force to make her see stars—and then total darkness followed.

"
M
y Faithful
…." Hershel's voice was dim and distorted, and Drew's first thought was that she had to be partially submerged in water.

Her head throbbed, and her thoughts were every bit as muddled as the words coming at her from more than one direction. She opened her eyes, wincing at the light shining down on her. Everything was blurry, so she had a hard time discerning her location. It seemed she was not underwater, but in a different room somewhere in the church.

When she tried to move, she realized she'd been secured to a sturdy, wooden chair with lengths of twine. Her wrists were fastened to the armrests, and her body was held fast against the chair's back. She tried to pull away, not yet fully registering the situation.

"Joshua had a lead on the security breech. He and the other Faithful should be here shortly," said Kevin.

The one who'd initially tried to bring me in….

"She's awake," Hershel said. "Stand guard at the door. Make sure only the Faithful are allowed to pass."

"Yes, Father."

Drew heard footsteps, then the sound of the door creaking open. It closed with a massive slam. She struggled to focus her eyes. Whatever kind of head injury she'd sustained, it had done a number on her senses.

"Drew, can you hear me, child?"

She turned to the sound of Hershel's voice.

"The demon you harbor has made a mess of your life. I understand now why you've resorted to selling your body. You had no choice; the evil drove you to do the things you've done. Today is your lucky day. Today, everything is going to change."

She squinted, just making out the shape of his face. "Demon?"

"I know you have no choice but to deny it, but we'll remedy that. It's going to be okay. I have the power to save your eternal soul."

She tried again to get up. "You're crazy!"

"Just relax. We'll be ready to begin soon."

She watched while he sprinkled water from a shallow dish onto the ground around her, muttering some kind of prayer. He finished by pouring the remaining water over her head. The room itself was cold, but the water made her shiver. Her teeth chattered.

Hershel stood in solemn prayer. "Yes … yes, I see."

Who's he talking to?

"The holy water agitates the demon inside," he continued. "It knows we're ready to fight for this soul."

The smell of dirt and oil grew pungent.
Something else is in here with him … that thing, the darkness tainting the people here. What does it want with me?

My soul?

"There's something evil in here," she tried. "It's stained your spirit. Whatever it's telling you, it's lying."

He paused for a few seconds then said, "Yes, I know."

"Then let me go!"

"Yes, she's in heavy denial," Hershel continued. "No, of course I didn't expect any different. This might be my first exorcism, but it's not my first interaction with evil."

"Exorcism?"

Hershel chuckled. "That got her attention."

She pulled and jerked against the twine, cringing at the pain in her head intensifying with her rising blood pressure. "You've got it all wrong. This is a mistake. You need to let me go!"

"You know I can't do that." He glanced past her. "We should get started. The others can assist when they get here."

"Please—"

Hershel whispered another prayer, his words so quick and hushed she couldn't make out what he was saying. Then, as if with a violent jolt, he turned to her and stared directly into her eyes as hers fell into focus. His was filled with anger and … sadness?

She flinched when his hand went gently to her cheek.

"Don't be afraid, my child. Salvation is at hand."

"I'm not your child."

He inched forward to get a closer look. "Who's in there? Asmodeus? Beelzebub? Legion?"

"I'm not possessed. Listen, whatever you think you're—"

His open hand connected with her face before she even saw it coming. As unexpected as the blow was, it was nothing she hadn't endured before. The smack might have been abrupt enough to cut her off mid-sentence, but she kept her emotions in check. The shock of pain gave way to the numbness that came with a swelling lip, a sensation she'd become well acquainted with over the years. She hated that feeling, a fat lip. It could have been worse—a black eye, a box to the ear, a cracked jaw—and it could always get worse. She needed to size this man up, see what he was capable of, before she said a whole lot more.

He began to pace around her, long strings of gibberish coming out in feverish growls.

Speaking in tongues….

What was he saying—or, more specifically, what did he think he was saying? Whatever it was, his words were filled with emotion. He turned to the dark corner.

She followed his line of sight, finding the shadow. Was it trying to mask itself? Did it think it could hide its spirit from her? What did he see when he looked at it? There was no way he saw what she did.

What was it? She'd never seen a demon take that kind of form before.

A djinn.

Would there be any convincing the man that this creature was tricking him? Was there any possible way to make him see it for what it was?

Hershel stopped in front of her again and leaned in to view her at eye level. "I'm going to ask you again: What is your name?"

She held her tongue.

"Tell me!"

She turned away.

He turned back to the shadow. "No, I don't—" He sighed then said, his voice deeper and sterner, "I'm only going to ask you once more: What's your name, demon?"

She held her silence.

With an angry cry, he punched her squarely in the sternum, knocking the wind out of her. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, get out of her!"

She gasped in an attempt to catch her breath.

"Get out of her, Asmodeus!"

When she didn't respond, he punched her again in the gut. "Get out of her, Beelzebub!"

Another pause.

"Get out of her, Legion!" Another punch. "Get out of her, Coller!" And again. "Get out of her, Mormo!" And again. "Get out of her, Azazel!"

She coughed, heavy spasms freezing her lungs.

"Tell me your name!" he screamed.

She shook her head, straining to take in a decent breath.

He grabbed her by the face, forcing her to look at him. "Don't make me keep guessing! I don't want to hurt this poor girl. I know you're hurting with her. Please don't make me start breaking bones."

Drew cried out, forcing in a strained gasp.

"Please don't make me," he tried again, his grip tightening and his fingers pressing into her cheeks.

She closed her eyes, doing her best to concentrate. She felt the darkness in his soul reaching for hers, and she used that as a bridge between them. Her lungs relaxed and she breathed in, pulling at his life force.

Very little came.

Concentrate….

A little more. She could feel the light buzz that came with swallowing a small piece of his energy. In her mind, she saw his congregation, the soup kitchen, and the Faithful. Little was as he perceived it. He truly believed he was the Messiah, and these creatures—these djinn—were, for some reason, reinforcing that belief. To what end? What could he possibly contribute to their selfish cause?

He backed away, confused, before anymore images came to her. She glanced at the dark shadow, suddenly seeing a blinding light, instead. Is that what he saw? Did he think it was an angel guiding him?

He turned to it, staggering when he lost his balance for just a second.
"What just happened? What did she do?"

"The demon inside her is attempting to use your strength against you, my Lord. It wants to kill you."

Drew shook her head, now able to hear every misguiding word.

"You have no choice. You must beat it out of her," the djinn continued.

"No—it's lying!"

"Punch her in the head. Punch her until there's nothing left for the demon to cling to. Do it now, my Lord!"

"No, please—"

She saw stars again when his fist hit her temple, disorienting her but not knocking her back out. The second blow made her hang her head, clinging to consciousness.

"Kill her. Exorcize the demon. Send it back to Hell."

She saw the next punch coming out of the corner of her eye, and she cringed back with a scream. "Okay—I give up! I'm done!"

He held his punch. "Tell me your name."

She fought to compose her thoughts, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. Her breaths became shaky and weak. What were the names he'd listed before? Aziel? Crawler? Beelzebub?

"Your name!"

"Beelzebub, it's Beelzebub! But I'm leaving. I'm done."

"She's not being truthful, my Lord. The demon has no intentions of leaving. You have no choice but to kill the vessel."

"No!" she screamed. She looked up at the djinn. "Why are you doing this? Why do you want me dead? I'm nothing to you! I'm nobody!"

"You are the enemy," replied the djinn.