July 4th 2014 - Elizabeth Whilhite age 14

[madnessarrow]

Julian check the text on his cellphone, the address matched so he pushed the call button on the apartment complex.

Bzzzzzzzzr.

A few seconds passed into a minute before a voice came over the speaker.

“H-hello?” it was a mans voice, a man who had probably been crying.

“I'm looking for Mr. Whilhite? My name is Julian Weiss, we have a mutual friend who sent me. Jim Marshall.” Julian waited a moment no doubt while the man thought over his choices.

There was another loud buzzer signaling the door was open. Julian grabbed it and walked in. The cooler apartment air was a relief from the warm Salem day. And though his suit was made of a light weight material he could feel the shirt sticking to his back. As he walked he tried to adjust the tie, but the strap from his bag kept it from being straight. He rode the elevator to the third floor then walked to the apartment door. He knocked.

Mr. Whilhite was about average in most regards. The kind of man who probably played football in high school but as he aged gained the weight one gets from eating well prepared home meals then going to bed early. He was a few inches taller then Julian and a bit wider in the shoulder as well. He had black hair, that had begun to show small amounts of white around the temple and ear. It was probably just as thick as it was when he was 16. He wore a white cotton shirt with jeans and sneakers, and had a rather large crucifix around his neck. His blue eyes had a kind of paleness to them and dark circles had begun to form, most likely he'd been up for the majority of the night.

There was a moment of hesitation in the mans eyes before he said, “Come in.” When people thought about wizards, witches, or sorcerers, they had certain presumptions about how you should look. Old men with beards, robes, and staffs. Or hippies with dreadlocks and an almost perpetual kind of unwashed mold about you.

Julian did not look that part. The twenty three year old with black hair and green eyes was young, first and foremost and that rarely settled well with most people. You had to be at least thirty to know something about anything. Julian was also dressed in a black suit, with a white shirt, and red tie. He had a black denim messengers bag over his shoulder which did a really good job of creasing his jacket and tie. Julian entered into the apartment with a nod and a smile.

“I expected you to be older. Amongst other things.” The man closed the door behind Julian. There was a heavy smell of sweat, candle smoke, and church incense about the air. Catholics had a way of making a room very unpleasant for non-Catholics. But Julian did not show his discomfort. Julian glanced about the room before making eye contact with the man and smiling in a warm, yet condescending manner.

“Well I assure you. Appearances a side. I wouldn't be here if someone didn't think I should be.” He adjusted the strap over his chest. “Please, lead the way.”

For a moment Mr. Whilhite appeared to be deciding whether to throw Julian out or show him to the room. Before he could make a decision one way or the other his wife entered the room through a small hallway. She quietly shut the door behind her and walked into entry room.

“Are you Jimmy's friend?” She was a quiet woman, several inches shorter then Julian. Her hair was a soft brown about shoulders length. She had it pulled back into a pony tail but it was in need of being tightened. She swore a loose white cotton shirt with tan pants and had a cross around her neck that appeared identical to the one her husband wore.

Julian looked to the woman and offered light smile with a bit of a head nod. “I am, he felt you might need an outside consult.” He looked from the woman to the man. He did not seem pleased with Julian's presence. “But if not. I can go.”

Mr. Whilhite's wife moved forward and placed an soft hand on the mans forearm. She squeezed it for a moment then as she let go he seemed to relax a bit.

“No, please. We need your help.” His voice had an air of defeat to it. “Our daughter, she.” He closed his eyes. Julian nodded in understanding even though Mr. Whilhite could not see him do so.

“Please, I'm only here to help.” Julian slipped his right thumb under the strap of his bag and placed his left hand along its top. Looking from the wife back to the husband.

“Okay,” Said Mr. Whilhite. He opened his eyes and began moving towards the door at the end of the hall way. “She's in here.” And almost as a precaution he added. “With Father Caffrey.”

Julian had worked with, around, and under the supervision of many different church officials. He rarely enjoyed it but in the spirit of fairness he'd never asked anyone to leave. He was here because the Father had all ready tired and failed. And because of that there was almost a certain amount of animosity towards Julian and what he did. Many felt he worked outside of the church and therefor outside of God. However, he'd made a few friends over the years, even catholic ones.

When Mr, Whilhite opened the door to the girls room Julian had been prepared for what no doubt was waiting for him. A scene he'd seen many times before but it never failed to break his heart. The girls room was as one might expect. Dolls, pink lace, soft light, a dresser with vanity, and a few posters of overly cute boys. There where two things out of place in such a setting. The man in black sitting in a chair next to the girls bed with a bible and rosary softly praying as he rotated beads. And the girl, bound in leather restraints at the wrists and legs, who slept in pajamas that depicted flying toasters with waffles in them.

When Julian entered the room the preacher stopped praying and looked up at him. The man was older than Julian by a good many years. Probably older than Mr. Whilhite by a few on top of that. He had faded blond hair and blue gray eyes that had seen enough turmoil to last a few life times. He wore traditional black clothes with a purple sash over his shoulders and an oversized crucifix at his neck. While he did not scowl or glare at the present of Julian, there was a certain amount of disdain present.

“Father,” Julian said with a nod. “This must be Elizabeth.” He looked towards the girl who appeared to be at rest. Julian's first reaction was of course to peer into the veil, but people in this situation where all ready on edge, purple eyed suit men generally did not receive warm welcomes. He didn't really need to anyways. Catholics had strict policies when it came to exorcisms. If the priest was there then this wasn't just a trouble child acting out.

The priest stood, resting the rosary on the open pages of the bible, placing the bible on the bed next to the girl. Mr. Whilhite entered into the room after Julian and stood at his side. The priest and him exchanged glances before the priest spoke.

“Samuel, this is not the way. God will deliver Beth to us. Not this child.” He gestured towards Julian with a little more than just contempt. Sam dropped his head almost in shame before speaking.

“Alex, understand. I have to do everything I can. Jim said this guy could help. I have too.” His eyes were heavy with pain and sorrow. It took a lot for him to let Julian stand there and even more for him to meet the eyes of a life long friend. The priest nodded with understanding his arm dropping to his side.

“Very well, but I insist that I remain to insure her safety.” The priest said this more to Julian then to Sam. And in return Julian nodded his acceptance of the terms.

“I would expect no less. But I will have to ask that you do not interfere.” He removed the bag from his shoulder adjust his tie slightly before walking over to Elizabeth. He sat his bag down next to her bed and sat on the edge. He reached out towards her face with his right hand. And as he did the Priest moved to stop him.

“I wouldn't.” He said, stopping inches from Julian's shoulder, decided against actually touching him. In protest.

Julian looked over his shoulder at the priest and offered him a warm smile. “Are you worried about me or her?” The Priest did not appreciate Julian jest and as such recoiled back slowly.

Julian turned back to Elizabeth and placed his thumb along her chin. He moved her head back and forth a few times before sliding his index finger along her neck to check her pulse. He pulled his hand back and touching it to his face took a slow breath. He nodded then stood up looking at the priest.

“I'm assuming she didn't respond to the cross, but when you cast the holy water she recoiled. Also, judging by the lack of burns it wasn't painful just jarring for her. You've been at this most of the night? And she no doubt fell asleep around sunrise?” He watched the Priest's face for a reaction. The priest seemed as shocked as he was perplexed by Julian's accurate assumptions. Sam was the first so speak.

“How could you know that?” His voice carried just as much surprise as the priests face. “I didn't tell Jimmy any of that.” Julian turned toward Sam, rubbing his hand absentmindedly against the pocket of his coat.

“Demons are one of many different kind of entities that can posses a person. But is just to happens there are the only one recognized by the church. If he's here,” Julian motions towards Father Caffrey. “Then she had met the criteria for demonic possession. Speaking in tongues, supernatural strength, spontaneity telekinetic activity, and displaying knowledge of hidden things. However, when one takes into account NOT being replied by religious icons but a repulsion to holy water. It then stops being Demonic possession. And becomes a completely different kind.”

Julian picked up his bag and looked around the room. Spotting the dresser with vanity he walked towards it. He set the bag down in front of it then turned around so he could see both the Priest and Sam.

“I'll need a few things from your kitchen.” He looked at Sam then to the priest. “And any holy water you have left.”

“Of course,” Sam's eyes still seemed pained, but there was a glimmer of hope. “What do you need?” The priest remained silent.

“I'll need a large glass bowl, two clean hand towels or paper towels if you have them. And boil some water. I'll also need a black sharpie, rubbing alcohol and a sharp knife.” As Julian spoke Sam's wife entered into the room, concerned at the last item she spoke up with a little more volume then before.

“What do you need the knife for?” Any perceived threat to her daughter would trigger maternal instincts. Of which Julian was not surprised.

“It's not for Elizabeth I assure you. I will not harm a hair on her head. I swear.” Julian gave her one of his best. I-wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly smiles. Which seemed to calm her down a bit. Julian turned towards the Priest and put on his best left be friends smile. “Can you help me clear off this dresser?” He began putting things in random drawers. The priest took a moment to think over, then simply began to help him.

Within minutes the dresser top was cleared and Julian removed several glass containers from the bag. Each one was unlabeled but Julian knew was each one contained by memory. As he finished Sam returned with the towels over his shoulder carrying a sauce pan of hot water. His wife carried the glass bowl that had the knife, rubbing alcohol, and sharpie in it.

Julian pointed to the night stand next to her bed. “Place the glass bowl there.” He moved towards Sam's wife and removed the contents of the bowl setting everything on the dresser. “If you don't mind, holding onto the water for me.” He looked to Sam who nodded in response. Julian turned back towards the dresser and picked up the sharpie. He drew a large circle in the center of the mirror followed by a series of symbols both around it and inside of it. It took him a few minutes but no one ask him any questions.

When Julian finished he picked up three of the containers and walked over to the bowl. He opened the first one. The priest broke the silence.

“What is that?” He was holding back righteous fury.

“Salt. Rock salt to be specific. It's a purifying substance and the reason she recoiled when you cast the holy water at her.” Julian looked back over his shoulder at the Priest. “Sorry to say, but the church wasn't the first to use salt in making holy water.” He turned back to the bowl. “The second is ash from a white oak tree. And the third is powdered iron. I could take the time to explain each one to you. But I think everyone has suffered long enough that we should just get this over with.” Julian poured the rest of the containers into the bowl then motioned for Sam to pour the hot water into the bowl. When he finished Julian placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Now just as much cold water. So I can stick my hands in there.” Sam nodded then walked out of the room. His wife entered as he left.

“You can help her right?” Her eyes did little to hold back her tears, not that she had many left. Her eyes were red from the nights trials and there appeared to be very little strength left in here. Julian just nodded.

“I will.” Is all he said. He didn't have to see the look on the Priests face to know that holes were being drilled into his back. He did what he could to remain professional in these moments. Though sometimes all he wanted to do was rub it in their faces when they failed. Sam returned with the sauce pan filled with cold tap water.

“In the bowl. Then I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the room.” Julian knew this would not be well received, but it was for their own protection. Whether they understood or not, they both nodded. And after Sam poured the water he set the towels on the night stand next to them.

“Please. She's all we've got.” Julian nodded in complete understanding. Then Sam and his wife left the room. The door closed and he looked a the Priest.

“No matter what you see. Do not waiver in your faith.” Julian removed his jacket and tie. Placing both on the floor in front of the girls closet. He walked to her side and carefully brushed a strand of hair from her face. He then turned to the bowl of hot water and closed his eyes.

In Julian's mind purple fire covered his hands and as he exhaled a deep breath. The ambient level of magic slowly rose around him. He dipped his hands into the hot water and slowly moved his fingers. He pushed out all the impurities in the water and pulled the iron, ash, and salt to his hands. Bound in the water he lifted his hands from the bowl and turned towards the girl. He opened his eyes, took one last look at the priest. Then knelt with just his right knee on Elizabeth's bed. Leaning over her he placed his hands at the girls neck, pressing up against her jaw as if to lift her from the bed by her head.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Just as a sense of arrogance was about to come across the priests face.

Elizabeth screamed.

Julian's grip got tighter.

As Julian leaned back he appeared to pull with him white smoke which mirrored Elizabeth's face in screaming protest. As Julian pulled further the face changed into that of a man. With one firm jerk Julian was at his feet. Holding aloft the spectral form of a man who lashed at Julian's hands trying to wrest himself free. Elizabeth collapsed back down onto her bed her body slack and unmoving. If he could Julian would have checked for a pulse but his hands where occupied.

Julian locked eyes with the apparition suddenly become unaware of anything else around him. He walked towards the mirror and in a slow deliberate fashion pushed the ghost into the glass, which upon contact seemed to turn liquid in order to receive the disembodied spirit. When he finished the glass became solid once more and the man looked out at Julian beating his fist against the glass in an attempt to break out.

Julian turned and retrieved the knife from the night stand pausing only to take note of the Priest who had back up against the wall, clutching the bible and rosary to his chest in defense. There was a small, almost indistinct smirk on Julian's face. But he had serious work to finish. He moved to stand in front of the mirror holding the knife in his left hand he cut a line just under his thumb, just enough to get a good palm full of blood. He put the knife down and locked eyes with the ghost in the mirror.

“What once was, now is none. By blood begun, by blood undone.” Then slammed his palm into the center of the circle drawn on the mirror. There was a great light that issued forth. Julian closed his eyes, knowing better then to peer into the white life of oblivion. Even behind his eye lids, the light was unbearably bright. Within seconds it receded and Julian opened his eyes to see his own reflection staring back at him, a small trail of blood running down the surface of the mirror.

The light had been bright enough to draw the attention of Sam and his wife. But they had listen. The door remained shut and Julian worked quickly. He took the rubbing alcohol and splashed it over his hand and one of the clean towels. He used that one to wipe the blood and sharpie from the mirror. Then the other the press against the cut on his hand. He leaned against the dresser looking from the priest to the girl.
“You can come in.” He looked down at his hand, removing the towel to check to see if he had started clotting yet. In seconds the door opened and Sam and his wife entered into the room. There was a moment of quiet reserve. Then Elizabeth spoke.

“M-mom? D-dad?” She slowly began to sit up in bed, only to be rushed by her concerned parents. While this was the part most people lived for. Julian just kept checking his hand. He really needed a cigarette and doubt they'd let him light up in their apartment. When he was certain his hand had stopped bleeding he stood up. He placed the towel on the dresser then retrieved his containers and put them in his bag. He gathered up his coat and tie. Draping the latter around his neck he put on his coat on then shoulder his bag. He moved to the door. Pausing when Sam spoke.

“Thank you.” Sam's voice was shaky. But there was true sincerity in it. “Whatever you did. Thank you.”

Julian didn't look back. He didn't need to, nor want to see the look on their faces. He stepped out of the room and walked down the hall way. He let himself out and rode the elevator down. As he exited the apartment into the hot Salem night he fished around for his cigarette and lighter. He was half a block away before the Priest had made it to the stairs outside the apartment.

“What you did in there.” He called out to Julian.

Julian stopped and took a long drag from his cigarette. He turned back and looked at the priest. Then exhaled.

“There are many things between heaven and hell. Some you know about. Others you don't. It doesn't make your faith any less true. What I did in there is what -I- do.” Julian took another drag off his cigarette then turned back around and headed off.

As he walked away he waved with two fingers from his left hand.

“Keep up the good fight Padre, but call me when you can't.”