CHAPTER SEVEN
After the smoke dissipated, Jake saw the demon lying on the ground beside the cross. His heart sped up and he felt a moment of joy until he saw the demon moving.
Jake started reloading the shotgun for another attempt, but as he was putting in the second shell, the demon jumped up and took long strides toward Jake. The look on its face told Jake it was no longer amused. It got to within a few feet of Jake and swung its’ massively muscled arm at his head.
As the demon loomed closer, Jake’s combat instincts and the reflexes of the young Marine’s body kicked in. He dove to his left and rolled twice, to put as much distance as he could between him and the now enraged demon.
When Jake came out of the second somersault, he straightened his left leg and rapidly stood up. When he was standing all the way up, he pivoted, turning one-hundred eighty degrees until he was facing the demon again, which was rapidly turning his way.
Jake lifted up the shotgun and fired the shell he’d placed in it, then dropped it, letting the combat sling catch it and hang it across his chest.
As soon as Jake dropped the shotgun, he reached behind his back and pulled the Glock pistol from his waistband and started firing it at the approaching demon.
The first three shots hit right above the collarbone area, making a larger hole as they hit almost exactly where the buckshot had, but the demon leaped forward, knocked the pistol out of Jake’s hand, and then shoved him backward.
Jake staggered backward about four steps, trying to keep his balance, then, fell when his foot hit something. He landed hard on his back and hit his head on the unforgiving ground. All of the air rushed out of his lungs. He saw flashes of light in front of his eyes and struggled to breathe.
In between the flashes in his eyes, he saw the demon approaching, moving leisurely now, as a cat would after it had finished playing with the mouse. It’s bloody teeth gleamed in the moonlight and it’s many eyes seemed to glow with an otherworldly light. The hole in its’ neck closed and sealed as it stopped a few feet away and loomed over Jake. It stared at Jake for a moment and Jake felt a pressure in his head. He moaned as intense pain exploded in his head. After a few moments that seemed like an eternity, the pain stopped. A look of surprise appeared on the demon’s face and it spoke.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” The demon leaned over Jake and sniffed a few times, as if it was trying to identify Jake’s scent. Jake finally drew in a ragged breath and started gagging as he inhaled. The smell of putrid, rotting flesh, burned skin and a charcoal smell that he assumed was brimstone overwhelmed him. His lungs spasmed and he started coughing. The demon ripped the shotgun off of his chest then struck Jake in the chest with its’ left hand, holding him down and knocking the wind out of Jake again.
“So, I have a Stalker in my hands, eh? Interesting.” It looked over at the priest, who was only about five or six feet away.
“So, priest,” it said. Its’ voice rumbled deeply and Jake could feel the vibrations from it in his bones.
“Is this the best your group can do? A small town priest and a has-been soldier who doesn’t even know how to fight my kind?” Crocell laughed, then looked at Jake again, this time using half of its’ eyes. The other eyes were evenly split between watching McLanahan bleed to death and scanning the area for any more threats.
Jake turned his head to the side and drew in a shaky breath through his mouth, trying to ignore the stench coming from the demon.
After a few breaths, Jake’s vision cleared and he saw something that made him quickly turn his back toward the demon.
“What makes you think I don’t know how to fight your kind, Crocell,” Jake asked through gritted teeth. He needed to keep the demon from invading his thoughts again.
The demon snorted and leaned into Jake’s chest a little more. Jake groaned and the air left his lungs again. He felt his ribs creaking, on the verge of breaking.
Jake struggled to breathe, reaching up with both hands in an effort to move the demon’s hand, but he may as well have been trying to move a tree trunk. It was immovable. His vision started to get dim and his hearing faded as the blood pounded in his ears. He felt one of the ribs on his left side crack a little. He felt not only physical anguish, but the mental anguish of failing to keep this man, this Marine officer whose body he was inhabiting, from dying, from ever seeing his wife, friends, and family again. Jake was full of grief, and he felt his spirit start to slip out of the Marine Captain’s body. Before he was all the way gone, he had one last look at the priest. Jake saw the small blood stained silver and black cross still hanging on the man’s chest, and he finally shouted out, “Oh, God; please help me!”
Everything went quiet and dark, then an explosion of brilliant white light, brighter than the sun, engulfed him. The demon, Crocell, was thrown over a hundred yards away, tumbling out of control through the air until it crash landed into a large oak tree at the edge of the small forest. The impact knocked the tree down and sent broken branches and pieces of wood shrapnel flying away from the sudden crater created by Crocell’s body.
Jake saw all of this and even felt the Earth tremble beneath him from the impact. He stood in front of the cross where Father McLanahan’s torn and broken body was being crucified. The priest’s body was limp and his head hung down his chest. Jake looked carefully and noticed that the man wasn’t breathing. Anguish filled Jake once again and he felt hot tears washing down his cheeks. He started to move toward the priest to help him somehow when he heard a rumbling noise in the distance. He turned to look that way and saw Crocell rising from the crater. The demon brushed off some debris from its’ shoulders and looked in Jake’s direction. Jake could hear the rage in its’ voice and feel the ground trembling again as each of the beast’s feet struck the Earth.
Jake stood there for a moment, wondering what to do. He didn’t feel any fear at all; as a matter of fact, he felt completely calm and he realized all of his injuries and the pain he’d felt was gone. He even felt strong. It was a strength he’d never felt before. Not just physical, but mental and spiritual too. He suddenly felt a presence surrounding him; a warm, comforting presence that filled Jake with a peacefulness and love. A love that was so deep and total that it defied description. He knew he was in the presence of God.
Jake felt other presences too. He turned to look over his shoulder and saw a shimmering light there, then for a brief moment, he saw four very large men with wings on their backs and holding bright shining swords. Angels, he thought to himself.
When Jake turned back around, he saw the demon standing about ten yards away. He also noticed the sword he’d seen earlier on the ground was now standing point down and leaning against the stone cross about two feet away. He noticed that it looked like a plain old sword—nothing fancy or with any engraving on the blade. It was about four feet long from point to pommel and the hilt was wrapped in plain, worn leather. Jake reached out and grasped the hilt.
As soon as he touched the sword, the weapon which he’d rightly assumed was Father McLanahan’s, burst into brilliant white light, as brilliant as the light that had surrounded him just moments before. Although the light was bright, it didn’t hurt Jake’s eyes at all. In fact, he felt his eyesight might even have improved.
Jake looked at Crocell and saw a red and black mist surrounding the demon. Inside the mist, he could see what looked like disembodied faces floating around. He counted at least three dozen, all of them with expressions ranging from pain to pure terror in their eyes. As soon as he saw them, Jake realized that these were the souls of the people that Crocell had devoured and that there were many more than three dozen in that mist, perhaps hundreds.
Jake’s jaw clenched in anger as he gripped the sword tightly. He felt a sudden confidence fill him. A confidence similar to what he had always felt before when going into combat, due to his extensive training and the fact that he could rely on the world’s most powerful military to back him up. Only this confidence was deeper and fuller. Jake knew in his heart that this confidence was from God, and he knew without doubt that he was going to defeat Crocell and send the demon back to Hell.
Jake lifted the sword and held it in front of him with both hands on the hilt. The weapon felt light and perfectly balanced, without the cumbersome heaviness he expected from a sword of this size. He looked at Crocell, who had been standing motionless since Jake had touched the sword, and spoke.
“Demon, you can either go back to Hell willingly or by force. Either way, you WILL be going back!” Jake’s voice rang out forcefully in the tombstone filled valley, and all of the background sounds Jake had been hearing suddenly ceased. Everything was perfectly quiet, until Crocell’s laughter broke the silence.
“Human,” the demon said after it stopped laughing. “I’ve been alive since before the universe was formed, and I’ve defeated armies by myself. I am a King of Hell! What makes you think that you, all by yourself, can beat me?” The demon pointed a long, clawed finger to its’ chest and laughed again, then pointed at Jake and continued.
“That weapon will not give you the power to defeat me either, so I will give you a choice.” Crocell stared at Jake with its’ many eyes and paused for a moment to let the words sink in.
“You can put the sword down and I will kill you quickly,” Crocell grinned and its’ sharp teeth gleamed in the moonlight.
Or you can attempt to fight me and I will tear you apart slowly, making sure that it takes many painful hours for you to die. What do you think of that?”
Jake paused for a moment before speaking, “You’re overlooking something very important, Demon.” His gaze went to Crocell’s face and he waited.
Crocell looked puzzled for a moment before a sneer came to its’ face. “And what is that, human?”
Jake grinned humourlessly and prepared himself for what was about to happen.
“I’m not alone.” And with that, he jumped forward, wielding the sword and beseeching God to give him the strength to defeat the demon.
As Jake came within reach of Crocell, the demon swung a massive clawed hand at Jake’s head, but instead of the incredible swiftness Crocell had shown at their previous encounter, the demon now moved very slowly; in fact, Jake noticed that everything around him was moving slowly, and conversely, he was moving pretty quickly.
Jake came to a halt about two feet in front of the demon, raised the sword over his right shoulder, took a step forward with his right foot and twisted his body while swinging the glowing weapon at the demon’s neck.
Crocell saw the approaching blade and somehow moved back far enough to avoid being decapitated, but not far enough to avoid being struck altogether. The point of the sanctified blade hit the demon’s jaw, slicing open the skin and easily cleaving through the bone in the lower jaw.
Blood, thick and dark, spewed from the wound and Crocell staggered back a few steps. It raised a clawed hand to the wound. When it saw the blood on its’ hand, the demon raised its’ head to the sky and bellowed in rage, then lowered its’ head toward Jake and leaped to attack.
Jake felt a force move him to the side and watched Crocell land where he had just been standing and rake its’ clawed hand still moving slowly, where Jake’s head had been.
As he saw this, Jake felt his body twist and his arms move without his conscious direction. The sword arced through the air, glowing brighter as it got closer to the demon, then exploding into incandescent brilliance as it connected with the back of Crocell’s neck and separated its’ head from the shoulders.
The demon’s head fell to the ground, where it landed with a thump. As it did, everything around Jake returned to normal speed. The head rolled a few feet away, leaking blood, and the massive body stood there for a few moments, the thick blood spewing from its’ severed neck. All of the many eyes around the body widened and stared directly at Jake, as if surprised that this mere human killed it.
The mist surrounding the demon grew dark for a moment and Jake could see the disembodied souls still swirling around the body, but no longer wearing looks of pain and horror. Instead, they were all showing expressions of relief and gladness.
Jake watched them for a moment and noticed that one was looking directly at him and mouthing words. He stepped forward and peered closely at the spirit. He exclaimed in surprise when he realized that the words coming from its’ mouth were ‘release us.’
Jake stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what to do, when he felt a warmth coming from the sword, which he now held down by his right side. Moving by instinct, Jake raised the sword and pushed the point into the mist.
The sword burst into brilliance again and the light caused the mist to dissipate. The spirits all moved toward the sword and were swallowed by the brightness. When all of the spirits were gone, Jake lowered the sword and looked at Crocell’s body, which had shrunk from almost ten feet tall to a little bit shorter than Jake’s six feet. Jake grimaced as he saw the demon’s eyes grow blood red, then close. The body then tipped over and fell to the ground, where it lay for a moment, then suddenly burst into flames. Jake looked at the head and saw that it was burning too. The flames were bright white and it only took about a minute for the remains to disintegrate into ashes. A breeze blew the ashes into the air and they spread throughout the valley.
Jake stood there for a moment, then turned to his left and saw Father McLanahan’s battered and bloody body hanging on the cross. He walked over to the priest, intending to pull the body from its’ cruel repose. When he touched it, something miraculous happened.
The sword brightened again and Jake felt a surge of warmth and love surround him. He stared in amazement as Father McLanahan changed from the pale colour of death to the healthy pink of the living. The bloody gouges and tears in his skin healed almost instantly and his legs straightened with a small popping noise as the bones became realigned and set into place where they belonged. McLanahan gasped as he started breathing, then groaned in pain as the spikes keeping his hands attached to the cross moved and slid out of his palms.
Jake dropped the sword and caught the priest as he fell off the cross. Jake staggered as McLanahan’s full weight landed on his arms. He stepped back from the grave and gently laid the man on the ground, then kneeled beside him. After only a few moments, McLanahan’s eyes opened. He stared blankly at Jake, then focused.
“Who?” His voice was hoarse. He coughed violently, sat up, and spit bloody phlegm on the ground beside him. He looked at that for a moment, then, at his bloody and shredded clothes. He ran his hands over his chest, where the demon’s claws had ripped his skin and muscles. Jake heard the priest gasp as he moved his legs, then looked over at the blood stained cross where he’d been crucified and tortured for hours. He silently stared at the cross, and Jake couldn’t even begin to contemplate what was going on in the man’s mind, the horrors he was reliving.
After a minute or two, McLanahan turned to Jake.
“W-what happened?” His voice was still hoarse and a little shaky.
“What do you remember,” Jake asked.
The priest looked at Jake for a moment, then Jake’s eyes followed his as he turned his head to the cross. His body shuddered and his breath caught as he looked from the cross down to his hands. Jake noticed the scars there and was so surprised as McLanahan apparently was; these were the only scars visible, even though the demon had torn him up pretty well.
He stared at his hands for quite some time, then looked up at Jake, his eyes wide and a look of wonder on his face.
“I remember everything,” he said, then his eyes grew worried. “Where is the demon?” He reached for the sword that was at the foot of the cross. His face tightened and he started to stand. The sword brightened in his hand.
Jake put his hands on the priest’s shoulder.
“Don’t sorry, Father,” he said. “I killed Crocell.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Well, actually, God killed him. I just picked up your sword and he guided me.” Jake nodded at the sword and McLanahan lowered it back to the ground. The light dissipated. The priest’s face registered shock. He glanced at the ring on his finger, then stared at Jake for a long time.
“Who are you,” he asked.
“Well Father, my name is Jake Steele, and who I am is a lot more complicated. I don’t think I have much time left, so I’ll give you the short version.” He took a deep breath, then told the priest a very condensed version of what had happened, starting with his death during the armoured car robbery, ending with the death of Crocell and McLanahan’s miraculous healing. When he finished, Jake sat back on his heels and waited for the priest to digest everything.
He didn’t have to wait long.
“You’re a Demon Stalker,” he exclaimed.
“That’s the same thing Crocell said. I’m assuming that there have been others over the years? I’m also assuming you know a lot more than what you told me when we spoke at the church earlier,” Jake said. He looked at the priest inquiringly.
“Yes, Mr. Steele,” McLanahan nodded his head. “I know very much more, and in the interests of time, I will give you a condensed version also.” McLanahan took a deep breath and continued, talking quickly.
“I’m a member of the group called the Sons of Solomon. We have existed since the reign of King Solomon, almost three thousand years ago, and all of the members can trace their lineage directly back to Solomon himself. Our purpose is to hunt demons and send them back to Hell. Once we do that, we erase all signs that they were here. I won’t go into our history or our other duties, but I will say that there have been other brothers around the world who have reported demon sightings or suspect that may have been more here than normal.”
“Wait,” Jake interrupted, holding up his hand. “You mean to tell me that demons running around are normal? Why haven’t I heard more about this, why haven’t there been any pictures or….” He trailed off as McLanahan started shaking his head.
“Mr. Steele,” he said. “You said when you first saw the demon, it looked and spoke like a normal man, correct?”
Jake nodded.
“Well, that’s the way they appear to almost everyone. The reason you saw the true form is because God, through his Holy Spirit has granted you certain gifts. One of them is that of discernment. The other would appear to be that of healing.” He looked at the scars on his hands again, then back to Jake. “But, I’m not sure of that. That may have been a special case. Regardless, you have been chosen to hunt the foul beasts down and kill them, so I will offer the help of the Sons of Solomon to you. There are several instances in our records of Sons and Demon Stalkers joining forces to rid the world of Satan’s minions. If you agree to work with us, I’ll give you my contact information and you can get in touch with me whenever you need to and I will direct you to the other Sons who can help you. Is this acceptable to you?” The question sounded formal to Jake, as if it were part of a ritual.
“I accept your offer, Father, and before I go to my next destination, you should know that the man in Purgatory or being, or whatever he was, told me that the reason I was needed was to track down seventy-two Demon Kings. I hope that doesn’t make things too difficult.”
McLanahan gasped and looked sharply at Jake.
“Did this being say anything about the seals being broken,” he asked.
Jake shook his head. “No. The only thing he said was the name of the demon we just fought.
“Crocell,” the priest replied. “I recognize it now.” He rubbed his temples and sighed.
“Help me up.” He reached out his hand. Jake clasped it and pulled him up. The priest looked at his shredded and bloody clothes and shook his head. “We need to get out of here.” He looked around and picked up the sheath for his sword where it was lying next to the bloody cross. Jake walked over to the area where the demon had almost crushed him and looked around for a moment until he found the pistol he’d dropped earlier.
He put it in his waistband and returned to the priest’s side. As he joined the priest, he suddenly felt a strange sensation, a disconnection. He told the priest about it.
“You’re going to be leaving to your next body shortly. Can you remember a phone number and email account?”
“Yes, I don’t think I’ll have any problems with that,” Jake replied.
McLanahan told him the contact information. Jake repeated it to himself several times to commit it to memory. He felt himself getting lighter, then thought of something.
“Father, before I leave I want to make sure you get this man back to his home.” He reached into his back pocket, pulled out the man’s wallet, and gave it to McLanahan.
The priest accepted it. “Of course,” he said.
Jake started to say something more to the priest but he got dizzy and sat down, then everything faded away.