Seeking To Exorcise The Demon

The beginning of a short story by Funwriter Seeking To Exorcise the Demon The pain was excruciating and the usual ache in my joints was there in spades. My mouth was dry and I was covered in a dark red almost black coppery crust. I rose painfully from the dais and stumbled to the mirror. My long black hair was full of burrs and encrusted with dark dried blood. I reeked of death. Stretching, my body cracked loudly and I noticed the scratches already beginning to heal. The full moon gone and I would now have just over three weeks to continue my research. The hot bath felt wonderful and I always wondered how something so simple could bring such pleasure. Scrubbing hard with an old volcanic stone the thick red crust became slime and washed away. Lying back, I tried to remember the last few days. It was never easy when the transformation took over; my mind reverted back to its animal basics. Over the centuries I was able to remember more and more and function better, now always able to return home. # I was bitten while on a Portuguese ship charting the new world. We had anchored at a lovely cove off what is now an Island South of Goa and made land to begin essaying the island. We were well into it when night came and that is when the demon attacked. We had eaten well, enjoyed a port too many and sleep came fast. The smell of the sea always makes a man sleep deep. I was young then only 22 and the lead essayer. Back then we achieved much early in life and lived short hard lives. My crew had done well and I saw no reason to worry for we had seen none of the unusual dragons and tigers we had heard tales of. I was wrong though, for what came was much worse than any giant lizard or tiger, it was a monster. # The screaming woke me with a start and I saw it, a flash of fur and gaping jaws. My faithful crew fell fast though hardened by travel and well trained. One got off a shot with his flint and another slashed well with his blade, but both were quickly taken down. I'd been sleeping next to the fire and was struggling to exit my thick cape. It came at me with lithe arrogant speed; I raised my arm in defense. I fell back over a log we had used to sit on and somehow the beast and I cart wheeled over with it landing in the middle of the coals and what was left of the fire. Emitting a strange preternatural howl the giant animal disappeared in a wash of thick hair and an odor of rotten flesh. # Vomiting, I gathered my senses and looked around, a throbbing pain in my forearm. Our camp was mess and my crew down and most half eaten. The monster had started silently and got its fill before the rest of us awoke. The rest was a blur; I gathered what I could of our provisions and headed back to our ship in the landing craft. The skeleton crew we had left on the ship was shocked at my tale and we hurriedly set sail for Lisbon. They eyed me strangely for the first few days but were back to normal after awhile. The captain who worked under my orders as head essayer was more than happy to make the voyage home. # Three and a half later weeks with Southern Europe not yet in sight, things began to change and I fell ill. I remember looking up and seeing a moon almost full and shuddering. # The Spanish found our ship afloat with me the lone survivor. I told a tale of Turkish raiders and of a battle lost to viscous pirates. Somehow the pirates had left me for dead. Somehow the Spanish believed me; maybe because the truth was simply more unbelievable. That is how I made my way back to the mainland and the rest is history. # So, here I was in the bath contemplating my next step. Over the centuries I have studied the phenomena that blighted me and came up with one solution. After reading one arcane book after another, I finally had a lead. ____________________________________________ Chapter two: I have a lead. I came up with something that cross-referenced possible cures for my dark illness. The problem is, the cure is a mystery it is a myth and one that everyone believes in but no one can prove. This could be the only chance I have of becoming mortal again of putting an end to my anguish. This cure, well, is the cup of Christ. Yes, I know it brings a smile to ones face but the fact is, I have to believe in something and this is surely my solution my repast. It is said in arcane writings that the cup, the chalice of Christ can cure. Here is the good part now, listen close; it is said the cup of Christ can exorcise the demon. Is that not what I am, what I became on that island long ago off the Indian coast? So, I am seeking the Grail and have been for nearly a hundred years, ninety eight to be exact. It started as a lucky find a small mention of the healing powers of the cup; the more I dug the more I found hope. According to legend, the cup Jesus Christ used at the Last Supper (when exhorting his apostles to vampirism) was saved by a certain Joseph of Arimathea. Joseph, for reasons incomprehensible to anyone but himself, used the cup to catch some stray blood dripping from Jesus during the Crucifixion. Subsequent to this, Joseph took off for parts unknown, where he eventually deposited this cup in a weirdly unreachable location for safekeeping... Against whomever. * Over the centuries I have accumulated and spent many a fortune. Now I will use my vast wealth and experience to mount a search, the most incredible search of all time; the search for the Holy Grail. I will find the chalice and when I do, I will rescue my soul! *** Pin-ping, a sound wakes me from a red nightmare that is the bitter reflection of my life. The Captain turned off the seat belt warning and now we can move around on my private jet; it’s of medium size and full of leather, polished wood and luxury. I never took to flying and hate being in the air. I am afraid this is the result of my ancient sensibilities at play. I have a good crew who I’ve come to trust and of course Sahmir, my faithful assistant. I found Sahmir in the dusty ghettos of Marrakech. A young Berber waif who was living off pick pocketing tourists and the sale of anything he could get his hands on. He was only eleven then and had mastered four languages. His savvy streetwise toughness and quick honest smile made me give him a chance. I took him in and honed his talents and offered only friendship, education and respect. He took to honest work and research fast. He truly enjoyed reading scrolls and manuscripts and became a proper student. Soon he was doing translations at an amazing rate and became an invaluable resource to my cause. I got him into Oxford and over the years he has aged and become a companion of sorts. Now he is greyed and in good shape for a man in his early sixties. Long, lean and dark, there is wisdom in his lined face and onyx eyes. He is perhaps the only human alive who knows my secret. Sahmir would assist in all my affairs and sadly gave up the life of a scholar to help me with my search. He never had time for a wife though there were women. He somehow remained stalwart and true in his promise to help cure me and give me back my mortality. I got up and stretched noticing Sahmir still sleeping snoring a bit more than I remembered. I went to the bar and poured cold water and squeezed a lemon into the glass, seeds flying. Ninety eight sears of research and finally the beginning. Our first stop would be Israel, Palestine to be exact. * Landing in Tel Aviv was like dropping into a shoddy dust bowl, with a bump and a screech we were safely on the ground. The tower had given us clear orders and had set a hangar aside for us to disembark in. Coming out the door and onto the steps I was hit by a blanket of dry heat. At the bottom of the stairs the customs folks were there and the crew were already handing over papers. I rarely ever had any interaction with officials. The sun reflected off the tinted glass of the low slung armoured limousine and I looked out at the wash of humanity seeing nothing. I broke from my daydream surprised by a huge wall and gate system, the driver bickering, Sahmir was offering cash to the guard. We were now moving away from the West Bank and into the Palestinian zone, the kingdom of Judea, in my day Canaan. * Our meeting was with an Imam named El Hasar Bamihr, he was to double check an ancient codex we obtained with we hoped a clue. It was written in old Arabic and there were only a handful of freelancers that could translate it properly for us. There were many scholars who could do this but they tended to be curious and jaded. The old Imam was stooped with Rheumatism and had an odd limp. He looked to be over a hundred but the hard life and potent sun here made one age fast. He stooped over his marble table shakily holding a magnifying glass. He muttered something. Though good with Arabic I could not understand him. Sahmir leaned in close and whispered back, “What holy one, what did you say?” The ancient little Imam turned and said in clear modern Arabic “in Petra lies the cornerstone, when Allah shines be supine and the way to redemption is clear.” He smiled a toothless grin and placed a shaking hand on my shoulder. With shocking speed he withdrew his hand from my shoulder as if being burnt. His face went ashen and he turned as if to run then collapsed to the stone floor. I quickly reached down to examine the Imam and felt a slow but steady pulse. The door opened with a crash and a group of clerics stormed in “What has happened here?” they demanded quickly surrounding Sahmir and me. Sahmir spoke quickly in Arabic explaining how the elderly Imam had simply collapsed, but I knew different, I knew exactly what had happened for it had happened to me before. Some mortals, very few indeed, are mediums and with a touch they see what I truly am, what I became those many centuries ago. They see a demon. The Imam is very old and he simply fainted from the fear of what he saw. I was afraid I have to use my preternatural powers to assist in our escape when the Old man stirred and began to mumble in Arabic about modern monsters. We carefully and diplomatically made a quick retreat mentioning I had another appointment, at first I thought they would attempt to hold us captive but a young cleric looked me in the eyes searching and delegated in loud clear Arabic, “they may go: get our brother some cold water.” * Cruising at a decent speed through the ghettos, the sleek limousine filtered the cacophony of sounds and smells. I was lost in thought when the wall and gates appeared, we were moving back into the west bank now and towards the airport. Our next destination was Petra in the country of Jordon. ___________________________ Chapter 3 Darkness and the howl of my pack, I must join them for their call is instinctive and indelible. Rushing through the forest I am closer, picking up their scent. The cold wind rattles through the trees and I run with it, almost soundless. There is another scent now one fearsome and strong, bittersweet, I feel my blood rush a female; finally I have found her and she will be mine, I put on more speed. I woke from my haunting dream, Sahmir softly touching my shoulder. “Old one, we’ll arrive soon.” I nodded rubbing my eyes. “The dream again?” he asked. “Yes, I was close this time and her scent was so strong.” “Old one, do you really believe there is a female, one of your kind out there somewhere?” “Sahmir, I know there is, and like the chalice, I will find her!” ** Lithe and elegant, she glided across the room with shocking speed, not walking but floating, in a blur she was there; her skin was light brown and her hair full, dark as a stormy night. In the old language she spoke and it sounded like haunting music coming from her mouth. She held him above her, one thin beautiful hand around his bullish neck. His feet kicking and eyes bulging with fear; “If we are not in Petra on time, I’ll squeeze the miserable life out of you, you mortal dog,” she whispered in Armenian. With a flick of her delicate wrist the large man went flying across the room hitting a wall and crumbling to the floor. A brush of wind she was back at the table reading a leather bound book. The book was ancient and worn. On one side it was ideograms and symbols on the other is looked to be Hebrew or Farsi. “Is the airplane ready Mahit?” “Yes mistress,” a soft answer came from a shadow in the corner. "Then get the things ready and have us in the air within an hour or I’ll flay your hide." Mahit stood and quickly left the room heading towards the exit of her mistress’s luxurious offices in Dubai. She too had dark lovely hair but there were streaks of grey now. She moved towards the elevator with sure solid steps, fit and graceful. Only when you looked into her sad onyx eyes did you see her true age and suffering. She had been a slave since childhood and obeyed her mistress with an accuracy none could approach. For this discipline and attention to detail had kept her alive where many had fallen. She stepped out of the air-conditioned lobby, soft leather shoes making no sound on the polished granite floor. The heat hit her hard and she ducked quickly into a wide Bentley, “the airport please,” the driver nodded and drove the shining shuttle forward. Mahit always was respectful to those around her and through this had a loyal team, something her mistress never understood. * The sleek Lear jet was fueled and ready. Mahit turned from the cockpit and her mistress was standing behind her a marble statue, not breathing or blinking. She could never get used to her speed and soundless movement. She informed her that the plane was ready and the doors open. They could take off at her command. “Let it be done.” Mahit leaned in and kindly informed the pilot he could exit the hanger and begin take off procedures. She turned around to see her leader’s response but she was no longer there, she had already retired to her private chamber in the rear of the plane. Sitting down and clicking her seatbelt shut Mahit took a deep breath and relaxed. She closed her eyes and was soon dreaming of freedom. The flight to Jordon would be quick. *** Kahlandra felt the mist creep up around her limbs. The smell of the male was getting stronger. With the graceful lunge of her hind legs she leapt and attained the cliff top. Closing her eyes she sensed him and she felt warmth flood her body. She was older than him that she knew for sure. She saw what he saw now and felt him fighting the power, he had not accepted what he was, the fool. His thoughts hers now she knew he was seeking her and wanted contact. A chill struck her; he was searching for more than just her, he was looking for the cup, the chalice. He mustn’t get it, it was her destiny not his. At that moment the decision was made. This Demon, this one like her was an enemy and must be removed from this world, nothing could stand in Kahlandra’s way, nothing. ** A bump of turbulence woke her up, the pilot would pay for this insolence she thought. The thought of him begging for mercy made her smile. She went back to sleep, and again she was beautiful, truly beautiful. ________________- Fw : I hope you like the start, if you do I'll finish it up