After The Gods Have Died Chapter 3

Salt + Water

The last minute interaction was still on Callum's mind when he got home. Clearly there was still kindness in the world, even if was overshadowed by indifference. He hoped that she would be safe from the vampire's hunger, guilt riding along with the though and making itself at home in the pit of his stomach. This was why friendship and acquaintances were something he tried to avoid, there was a helplessness and an obligation he felt to protect those he knew. When his sister nearly died he vowed to steer clear of those emotions for good. Someday his loneliness felt as though it might crush him beneath it.

It was that same shackling feeling that made him check his phone when it buzzed to life with a text, making his fingers type up a response. He should be like the waitress, wary of a man who would see him merely as cattle but he wasn't good at letting his sense of fear win. Self preservation was a concept that didn't always make itself known to him. Apparently the vampire suffered the same because he was willingly chatting with an exorcist. Maybe he'd never meant Callum any harm and therefore assumed he was no threat. Maybe he was just willing to go to the limit to get a meal.

Callum had no clue and he didn't waste time thinking about it, couldn't waste time. When the dawn was starting to cast her colours across the sky the young man couldn't fight off sleep any longer, slipping into a dreamless darkness. He never wanted to dream.

Along with the sunbeams that insisted on pouring into the dingy apartment, the afternoon brought Callum his consciousness. The exorcist was honestly surprised to find himself waking up but he wasn't going to dispute it, dying wasn't exactly on his to-do list. Especially not with a job left undone. It was later in the day than Callum wanted and he barely had time to work through a yogurt before e needed to get himself moving. Today was a day for more piercings, both eyebrows, two in his lips, his septum, and a line of stones along the shell of his ear. It was probably overkill for a simple closet possession but he wasn't going to let himself get caught off guard again, especially not when he was still aching from the accident.

He skipped the bus today. His route would have been different but he was feeling wary and he tended to trust his gut instinct. Instead he took a cab partway, planning to walk the last bit. Even if he'd been taking public transit he still would have walked some of the way. The walk would give him the chance to make sure there weren't any environmental factors in a haunting or infestation. Sometimes a nearby ward or fading curse would draw weaker spirits to the area, seeking to gain the power that had been left behind. The ring through his septum would help him sniff out if that was a factor, those types of issues always smelled like sour meat or something else that was just as rotten or putrid. This walk however smelled of fresh grass and recent rains. That was good. Banishing the unwanted was always easier than undoing someone else's runes. He was only a few streets away before his positive attitude about the job was rudely interrupted by a sinking in his stomach.

“Are you serious? The bus wasn't enough of a sign?”

Callum had only heard the voice once but he recognized it immediately. Spinning on his heel he found himself face to face with the demon from yesterday. With his piercings in Callum saw him for what he truly was, horns tall and arching into the sky, cut that marred his face in the crash already starting to scar across his nose. The exorcist was at least more prepared this time, fingers starting to trace a ruin into the air, chant murmured under his breath, given power by the jewelry in his lip. His opponent just sneered at him, moving faster than his eyes could follow when he darted forward. The demon's hand caught the redhead's wrist, stopping him mid-rune, making it fizzle and dispense like carbonation in soda. The chant became a curse under Callum's breath as he tried, unsuccessfully, to free himself.

“What do you need, three old hags telling you not to take the job, would you listen then?” The demon sounded entirely fed up with the man he was currently holding captive, not that it was clear where the annoyance stemmed from.

“I don't know what the fuck you're on about. Let me go.” Callum didn't really think demand would work but it was worth a shot, causing a scene wasn't really what he wanted.

“This job, don't go.” The reply was snapped, short and sweet to keep it simple in the expectation it would make the cryptic message more clear. It didn't. All it succeed in doing was making the exorcist laugh humourlessly.

“Right. How about fuck off. If you're fucking with some girl's closet I'm going to-”

“I'm not doing anything but trying to help you.” Callum's threat was interrupted, the demon didn't give a shit what he thought he could do to him. “If you care to keep alive, you won't take this job.”

That was the end of it, the grip on Callum's wrist disappearing with the conversation. The demon didn't stick around, the back of his horned head vanishing down a side street before a rune or incantation could be remembered and thrown his way. The only sound that passed through the redhead's lips was from be jostled. Somehow he'd been caught off guard again, despite his preparations. Next time, for he was starting to suspect there would be a next time, he couldn't underestimate the demon, not again. Perhaps it would be but to start wearing more of the metal in his face at all times was probably smart, he could put up with the stares. After all he'd rather be gawked at than dead.

All his mental planning was just a cover to soothe nerves that were rattled by something more sinister than being interrupted mid-rune. He'd not felt the demon coming.

Usually he would have picked up on something, a tingling in his nose, a shimmer in his eyes, a mumbled whisper on the winds but this demon had brought none of those signs before he'd stepped into Callum's line of sight. The exorcist didn't need that kind of danger in his life, he was already running from his family. How in the hell was he supposed to hide from someone he couldn't sense and knew noting about? A sick part of the human felt like this was it, his end was coming and he might as well face it. Even worse he wasn't sure that the demon wasn't working with his family, he wouldn't put it past them to be this kind of sneaky, plus they knew his weaknesses. This was more than he could afford to think about at the moment, he couldn't have his head swimming with ifs and possibilities when a little girl's world was waiting for his help. These worries needed to be pushed now and away, forgotten until tomorrow.

The building his directions brought him to looked out of place amongst short, squat one story houses surrounded by green lawns in various stages of tending. It was only a few floors higher than everything else in the neighbourhood but even with all the trees it seemed too big. Parts of the brick looked in dire need of attention but the windows and steps were clean enough that it didn't look neglected. In all honesty it was nicer than the wreck Callum was paying for, the neighbourhood looked a good deal safer at least. It seemed so welcoming the redhead almost wished he could settle down, stop his running. Maybe one day but now was not the time for it, now was the time for work. He fought with the intercom for a moment before he was buzzed in, directed to the third floor. In general the place felt pretty clean of negative auras, this should be a fairly straightforward cleansing.

The third floor opened its elevator doors to a much gloomier atmosphere than the lobby had hosted and Callum didn't even need to check the paper in his hand for the apartment number. Translucent shadows wiggled and squirmed, like living pests under the crack of one particular door, searching for more places to infest. Boogyman for sure, he was surprised the father wasn't affected by it yet. Then again he was probably so exhausted from working two jobs that he didn't dream when he slept.

That was how it always started with them, nightmares that slowly started to creep into reality. They fed off of fear. It was why they usually picked children as their victims, active imaginations could make a small creek into tiptoeing feet or a thump into a monster emerging from shadows. Children were all you could eat buffets for a boogyman. He'd been tested on them once, a practical test. He and his sister's closets had become forceful homes for the supernatural parasites and they'd been left to figure it all out on their own. He was only eight at the time, it had been his first unsupervised exorcism.

Painted fingernails curled into a fist so Callum could lightly knock on the door His client, a Mr. Arthur Powell answered nearly immediately, face as haggard as it had been the day before.

“I saw that accident you mentioned on the news, looked awful.” The father looked nervous, anxious over the day as he struggled for small talk. Callum didn't blame him, usually the people in need of exorcisms were at the end of their rope. “You have any trouble today?”

“No, it was an easy trip. If you don't mind me asking, is your daughter home?” Callum would make it easy on him, walk him through the process. Plus he didn't want to bring up the odd encounter he'd had with the demon outside, it wouldn't do a thing but make matters worse when it came to the man's nerves.

“Yeah, is that a bad thing? Her grandmother couldn't watch her tonight.”

“No it's good. I'd like to talk to her then you two should bunker down in your room while I work.” It was best to find out what the girl knew, to hear where scared her the most in the apartment, just to be certain and make the job faster. It would get scary once he was working but he couldn't help that, hopefully her father would be able to keep her relatively calm.

“Yeah, of course. She's just watching TV. Jack honey?” The exhausted father turned to call for his daughter. Callum could guess how close she was with the flickering light on one wall, giving away the television's location.

A small face peeked around the corner, hair tamed into pigtail puffs on either side of her head. She looked so tired, like an old woman shrunk down to a child's size. Callum's heart ached for her, he knew how bad the nightmares could be, how they could drain a person to empty, leave them running on fumes. Her eyes were wary as he approached her, withdrawing a little. The only good thin boogyman did was reinforce the lessons about talking to strangers, so many of the fears they created involved shadows that brought pain. He paused, she was dealing with enough already, he wasn't going to freak her out anymore, at least not intentionally and not until he'd started the job he'd come here to do.

“It's okay honey. He's my friend. The one I asked to help you, remember?” Her father rested a hand on Callum's shoulder, trying to put his little girl at ease.

“The ghostbuster?” She perked up a bit, staring hard at the redhead before she frowned. “No he isn't, where's his pack?”

Leave it to a child to remember that much. It was alright though, Callum could work with being a 'ghostbuster' especially if it would help make Jack more comfortable. “You know, those packs were really heavy. We shrunk it down so it fits into one of those old phones. Can you tell me about the ghost in your closet?”

The girl's expression said that she was still skeptical of his story but that was alright, Callum just needed her to tell him her story and she looked like she needed to tell it. “It's really big, bigger than daddy, bigger than my closet. It's huge. It's made of shadows and smells really gross, like the garbage outside and it wants to eat me. Its mouth is blacker than black.”

No way it was just her imagination, though he could see why parents could easily shrug off a boogyman as nothing more than a made up fear. Callum new better. Everything she'd described matched the demons to a t, she'd definitely seen a boogyman in her closet. “That sounds like a class two shadow ghost.”

Callum didn't use its real name, making something up. Jack was just the right age to reject the boogyman name as a baby's monster and decide he was a liar for even suggesting it. At least the made up name seemed to satisfy her. “A class two? That sounds bad.”

“It is so your daddy and you are gonna hide in his room while I work, okay?” Jack found her father's hand and nodded with a serious expression that just made her tired face look even more ancient. Callum needed to get ride of this thing so she could go back to being a kid. “Actually, you think you could help me out? You look like you'd be a natural.”

“Um...”

“You still gotta sit with your dad but when you close the door put a line of this salt at the door.” The container he held out for her had already been purified for the task at hand. “And on the window sill, wall to wall, no breaks or holes. Can you do that or do you want me to show you what I mean?”

“I can do it.” She snatched the salt from him, holding it in both. Clearly her will to fight hadn't been broken, good. She would need that fight even after the boogyman was banished from her closet. Their nightmares held on for years after their death, resurfacing from time to time as an unexpected reminder. Even now Callum sometimes found himself up before his alarm, sweating over fears he'd long since defeated. Fifteen years down the line and it would be Jack fighting off those dreams just after they'd been forgotten last. The exorcist would leave her wit the little charm he wore to ward off the worst of it, he could always make himself another.

Callum ushered them into Mr. Powell's room, watching Jack lay out the salt for the window slowly but carefully. She did a good job and the redhead told her as much before he recommended that the small family read something together and advised them against listening too closely to anything outside the room. Callum would return once the job was done. He closed the door as she started pouring the second salt line, confident that it would be just as perfect as the first. Her father's eyes had been so full of fear and hope it had been painful to be the object of his gaze. Now he really couldn't fuck this up.