THIRTY-FOUR
“Christ,” Tiff said as the living room door closed behind the priest. “That was a little dark, even for this show!”
“Stay on the door,” Miller said. “This is gonna be the best show ever. That priest’s a fucking rock star.”
“Hmm,” Davis uttered. He turned to Nico Gorodetsky, who was now sitting off to one side watching proceedings with this usual detached professionalism.
“Your guy searched him, when he picked him up. He didn’t have anything, unusual on him, right?”
All the Russian did in way of response was look at him and raise an eyebrow.
“Yeah, course,” Davis answered for him. Stupid question.
The producer silently chided himself. Mention of the German’s name had him paranoid.
As if anticipating his mood, Tiff handed him her IPad. “Chief, take a look at the numbers for tonight.”
Davis took the IPad and looked over the figures. “Jesus, these right?”
“Yep,” Tiff replied with no little pride. “Those are live numbers. Word of mouth is huge on this thing. We’ve gained five thousand new subscribers since the priest went inside. And that’s just from the last update of our Facebook page.”
As usual, the Euro sign flashed cartoon like before his eyes. That never ceased to lift his mood.
“I’m gonna stick with the priest,” Miller said softly as he guided one of the remote cameras. “Don’t want to linger too long on Minx. Besides, I’ve just eaten and the ugly fuck always makes me sick.”
Davis handed the IPad back to Tiff and looked once more at the live feed. One of the remote cameras slowly zoomed into a close up of Ross as he glanced furtively around the room. The chill in his stomach warmed a little seeing the fear in his eyes. That was not a man with some secret weapon tucked away somewhere, he told himself. That was a man in fear for his life, and that was ratings gold. He just hoped Minx wouldn’t tire of torturing him too soon.
Back in the dank smelling room, Ross glanced around. He could see three cameras in here, all whirring, panning and tilting for the best shot of proceedings.
“Why don’t you smash those?” He asked still unable to look at the thing in the corner full on. It was bad enough skulking around his peripheral vision.
“Charms,” the creature replied. “Like those on the door and windows. I did try once, but the pain was terrible.” Minx paused for a moment and Ross could feel the demons eyes on him. “You could though?” It finally said with an expectant edge to its awful voice.
From where he was standing Minx was little more than a shadow in the large room to the priest. Off in the corner, crouched with an old arm chair between them. But still Ross couldn’t bring himself to actually look over at the demon, not yet at least. He just made sure he had it in sight, just in case it decided to leap at him.
“I saw a creature, one like you. It was dead though,” Ross said whilst examining a dark stain in the floor by his feet.
“Hauser.” Minx said plainly.
“He’s quite something,”
“He sent you here, didn’t he? Sent you to finish me off?” Minx sounded almost excited now at the prospect of its imminent demise. Perhaps even hopeful.
It was a surprise and a notion Ross didn’t want to discourage so soon. “He’s a man of great power, great knowledge of your kind.”
“Yes, yes he is that, isn’t he? That and so much more?” Yes there was definitely something akin to hope in the creature’s awful voice. Strange that.
Minx moved close to the chair now and Ross caught a glimpse of its bony fingers as they grasped the top of the cushioned head rest.
“Come on,” the demon said. “You have been bluffing, waiting for the right moment. You can tell me, Hauser gave you means to end me. To end this whole debacle.”
“Maybe,” Ross answered cautiously.
“That must be why you are here. I’m sure your Vatican loathes this show. They sent you here to bring the whole sorry mess down. How you say? ‘Shut this shit down?’”
“Is that what you want?” Ross asked guardedly.
That was when Minx’s bald head appeared above the back of the chair. Although it was almost completely in silhouette, its bright cat-like eyes shone in the gloom.
“More than anything,” Minx replied.
The remark caught Ross off guard. Was this all part of its act? To play the victim in an effort to lure him into a false sense of security before it began messing with his mind again?
He inadvertently glanced up to the room’s high ceiling but there were no dangling syringes overhead.
“Wouldn’t that mean Davis gets away?”
“Well,” Minx relented after a little thought. “Perhaps not more than anything.”
Ross could tell by the demon’s eyes that it was smiling at this and he was damned glad he couldn’t see its twisted grin which was still obscured by the chair.
He suddenly felt his head swim for a moment and had to look away. If Minx’s physical appearance was deteriorating from show to show, its eyes still had an undeniable power in them. He was quite sure a man would go mad if he stared into those twin pools of hate for too long.
Then those terrible eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Or did the old German give you nothing. Are you just like those other pious bastards? So self-righteous in there absolute conviction they could exorcize me?”
Minx’s talon tipped thin fingers gripped the upholstery of the chair. The material shredded under its touch. “Are you a liar, priest?”
Ross couldn’t help but feel stung by the naked accusation in the creature’s horrible voice.
“I came here to end you and end this show,” he replied with conviction.
“Then do it!” Minx shouted. “Fuck my mission, and fuck Michael Davis! If you have it in you, end me!”
Before Ross had chance to react, Minx leapt out from behind the chair with surprising speed. The thing was a blur of movement in the darkness and was on him in a moment.
Ross cried out in pain as Minx slammed into his chest knocking him backwards. The creature clung to him like an infant clinging to its mother, its thin needle like claws dug into the flesh of his shoulders instantly drawing blood. Ross lost his footing and stumbled backwards.
Then there was a split second when both priest and demon hung in the air, and then Ross fell hard onto his back, knocking the wind out of him with Minx still on his chest.
Minx pressed its reptilian like face close to his and for a horrific moment Ross thought it was actually going to kiss him. Its scaly forehead touched his and the priest closed his eyes so he didn’t have to look into Minx’s.
“Kill me,” Minx hissed. “Say the words, draw a symbol in blood or shit, I don’t care. Do whatever Hauser taught you to do and just fucking KILL ME!”
“I, I...” Ross fumbled for the words.
“Kill me or I will torture you to the very brink of insanity,” Minx taunted. “Then I will drag you over that edge and I promise you, if you don’t then kill yourself first, you will be lost to madness forever!”
Even in his growing terror, Ross was aware of a camera whirring close by. Zooming in for a close up no doubt. It was easy to forget with a demon perched on your chest that all this madness was playing out live on the internet.
Although Minx didn’t look like it weighed much, the thing was radiating a cold harsh aura that was threatening to freeze the breath in Ross’ lungs. He had to force himself just to take the shallowest of breaths and wasn’t the least bit surprised to see that hard won breath misted the air.
Kill Me. The two unspoken words tore themselves into Ross’ brain like twin bullet hits making him gasp out loud.
Then although it didn’t seem possible, the creature’s face softened slightly as it looked down on him. It seemed to be studying his intentions desperately searching for any sign of its destruction within his face.
Oh, God. Ross thought. It wasn’t a prayer just a cold hard realisation. As he looked up into the creature’s face looming over his, he was hit by Minx’s true motivation.
This thing just wanted to die. Not to torture, not to maim, but to be free of its pathetic pain filled existence. He had bargained the monster would be cowed by the mention of Hauser’s name. The one man you had defeated it. But this wasn’t fear. This was a desperate hope of release.
‘Kill me or I will torture you to the very brink of insanity,’ Minx had said. And Ross had nothing.
Minx waited for a coup de grace that would never come. After a long pause a flash of confusion crossed its nightmare of a face. Its misshapen head tilted to one side as it studied Ross.
The demon screwed its eyes tight shut forcing blood red tears to stream down the ragged scales on its cheeks, as it seemed to realise this was not the final encounter it sought.
“I’m sorry,” Ross choked out. It was all he could think to say.
Minx didn’t move for the longest time then it let out a heart-wrenching sob. It was so raw Ross feared his own heart would break.
“Why didn’t he kill me when he had the chance?” Minx asked and Ross could hear genuine emotion in its grating voice.
“I don’t know,” the priest replied.
The demon shook its head and more crimson tears came. “Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve such suffering,” Minx said as it stifled another sob.
Taking his chance with the demon distracted by its own woeful existence, Ross twisted under it and freed his left shoulder from its grasp. Then before Minx could react he punched it as hard as he could in the side of its head.
The whole right side of its face seemed to crumple under the impact of the blow, as if the bones in it were made of nothing more than glass and Minx was sent sprawling to the floor.
Ross gasped and gratefully sucked in lungful after lungful of air as the heat returned to his chest. He frantically scrambled backwards away from the prone creature until he was sitting facing it with his back against the wall.
Then he did his best to ready himself for the onslaught to come. But it soon became apparent Minx was no longer a threat as it laid in the foetal position with its chin tucked into its sunken shuddering chest. At first he thought it was unconscious, or dead even, but as he watched sobs began to wrack its emaciated body.
All Ross could do was look on in disbelief at the pathetic sight. This was no act, Minx was a defeated creature. Not from his blow, but because it had hoped, as perhaps it had always hoped every time a new priest had entered the house, that this time would be the last. This time it would be defeated and put out of its misery.
No wonder it had been so cruel to the others. It had taken out its frustration on them for their failure to end it all.
Clearly it had let itself truly believed this time would be the last, no doubt due to the mention of Hauser. So this latest failure had been too much for it to bear. It was finally crushed under the sheer weight of it all. But worse still, despite Ross’ physical assault. It could not die.
Not whilst Michael Davis lived.