* * *
Later that day I sat on my bed and stared at the bottle of painkillers in my hand. The pain in my shoulder was only faintly present, and I knew that practicing my place of calm should have been a top priority, but the pills held an allure I could not deny. A peaceful uninterrupted night was as simple as popping two pills and letting the euphoria take me. Wasn’t I allowed this, with all the other anxiety and stress in my life? Wasn’t I owed, if not anything else, a restful night’s sleep?
The hesitation went on for longer than I care to mention. Finally, I shoved the pills into my pocket and settled in for a bit of practice.
About an hour into the session a sound came from the direction of my door, something like a small dog trying to get an owners attention. The sort of sound that represented no real intention of opening the door but more a want for the door to be opened.
“Mom?” I muttered hopefully. “Clinton?”
As expected; no response. The pawing continued louder and more persistent.
Then came the vibrating in my head, making doubly sure I knew who had come to the party; “Danger, danger! Demon at the door!”
I bowed my head and closed my eyes, amazed at how quickly I had become at ease with the situation.
Across the room, the pawing increased in effort, rising to a point where the entire door rattled on its hinges.
Rattle, rattle, rattle, rattle…
This continued for perhaps thirty seconds.
I maintained focus. The rattling stopped.
Over so quickly?
No. A new sound, this time in the ceiling; a thumping, shuffling noise, as though something vaguely human sized was crawling in the roof. Loud, blatant and clumsy, the sound moved from the area above door, slowly in my direction.
Thump, shuffle-shuffle, thump, bump.
Gradually it drew closer, the buzzing in my head intensifying as the proximity of the sound approached. Soon the unseen entity would be directly over my head.
I flinched. This attack was on a new level. When the sounds had been from areas of the room that I associated with being natural barriers, windows and doors, I could handle them. In the ceiling was having a different effect.
Still, I maintained my focus and my place of calm held.
Thump, thump, shuffle, bump, thump, shuffle.
The sound moved into place directly above me and stopped. Silence. The buzzing in my head screamed.
Unintentionally my body tensed, waiting for something to drop through the ceiling. Nothing did. The silence drew on.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…
I jumped. This was from the window. A fingernail was being tapped rapidly against the glass.
Tap, tap, tap, tap…tap, tap, tap, tap…
Louder, demanding attention.
My focus wavered, eyes wanting to open. But I resisted, took a deep breath and sank back into my place of calm. In response the tapping stopped.
More silence, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Rattle, rattle, rattle…! Rattle, rattle!
The door again. Violent, angry and frustrated. There was the sound of wood starting to splinter under strain. The key went flying from the lock and clattered to the floor
I squinted my eyes, desperate to keep them closed. Sweat was starting to bead on my forehead. Stay focused, stay focused.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap! Tap, tap, tap!
The window joined in with the door, louder, the two together making a sort of unconventional, rhythm-less song. My breath was starting to quicken and heart pick up its pace. I was losing focus. The buzzing in my head was now virtually rattling my teeth.
Thump, thump! Shuffle! Thump!
The body in the ceiling joined the symphony of noise, moving in a circle above my head. Together the sounds were becoming overwhelming. My body began to twitch and flinch with each jarring new noise. Stay focus, stay focused!
The symphony continued, assaulting me from all angles; more frantic, angrier. The door was creaking and cracking, the window sounded as if it would shatter. Above me, the unseen weight circled, thumping the ceiling like a drum.
All at once, eyes still closed, my place of calm shattered. “Oh God! Leave me alone!” The words burst from my mouth before I could bite them back. Around me, the sounds stopped and there was again silence.
I sat with eyes tightly shut, body shaking, breath panting and sweat dripping from my face.
The sounds did not return.
I opened my eyes, curious to see if my door would show any signs of damage. If I had been paying attention, I would have noticed that the warning buzz had not ceased.
Five feet above me, crouched on the ceiling in some mad act of gravity defiance, the demon was looking down with its red eyes. It shrieked, the sound of nails being dragged across a blackboard, and came tumbling down on top of me.
Then I was screaming. Harder and louder than I ever had before. The demon responded with its own piercing shriek; a sound that went on and on, no gap for breath or break in the note.
I stared up into its face and despite the unrelenting horror, managed to take in bizarre details. The creatures’ clenched teeth were a mild shade of yellow, apparently from a smoking habit. The eyes, blood red, were not as completely red as they first appeared. Upon closer examination it was possible to see that the eyes were indeed white, only riddled with thousands of delicately thin red veins.
A warm hand clamped around my neck and choked me. The endless shriek continued.
I was aware, distantly, that my Spirit had once again ignited, coming to my defence and eagerly waiting to be used. But with liquid panic pumping through my veins I could not even begin to conceive of how to use it. Instead I fought back the old fashioned way, clawing at the blue face and attempting to wriggle from under its body. Results were not encouraging.
The world began to go dark as I coughed and gurgled, helplessly trying to draw in breath through a restricted throat. My arms were suddenly numb and useless. I was losing consciousness. Then, once again defying what I knew to be possible, the demon reached into my chest. There was a suffocating pressure where the hand first made contact with my body, then passed through skin, muscle and bone. After a second a sharp pain shot through my left arm.
Even in a state of blinding panic I realised what was happening. My heart. Its hand had taken hold of my heart and I was experiencing cardiac arrest.
Defeated and hovering on the brink of consciousness, I realised that the demon was feeding on my Spirit. The horror and anxiety seemed to be acting as a doorway, lowering my natural defences and offering access to my energy reserves. I could feel, like water down a drain, my Spirit flowing up into the demon.
In a very distant world my bedroom door slammed open.
“Jet! Oh God, Jet!”
It was Clinton. From the corner of my dimming eye I saw him stumbling into the room, eyes bulging. He hesitated, then grabbed the chair near the foot of my bed, hoisted it up over his head and smashed it down onto the demon. There was a loud THUNK. The demon flinched and the ceaseless shrieking stopped.
The creature shifted to look over its shoulder, easing its grip on my neck. It regarded Clinton with mild annoyance, then came a sharp contraction in my chest and my heart fired back up in a thundering frenzy. The intruding hand was withdrawn.
I knew this was a window of opportunity that would not be presenting itself again, and all at once, enraged by feelings of violation and unprovoked assault, I reached for my Spirit, drawing it up by simple process of determined thought. In an instant Spirit rushed like living liquid to obey my mental commands, filling the space before my eyes with a shimmering orb of popping electrified air. Like a finger pulling an invisible trigger, I willed the orb to be released and it obeyed.
At once the demon’s head was snapping back on its shoulders, as if receiving an upper cut from the strongest boxer on Earth. The bolt proceeded upwards, went ploughing into the ceiling and out through the roof, creating an instant DIY skylight. Rubb
le and debris rained down around me.
Eager to capitalise on my sudden advantage I reached up and grabbed either side of the still swaying head, then twisted and pulled, dragging the demon off my body. It toppled off the bed and hit the floor with a thump.
“Oh shit! Shit! Jet, what should I do?!”
I ignored Clinton’s screams, sure that there was nothing more he could do.
A glance revealed that the demon was still stunned and I swung myself off the bed and leapt on top of it, letting instinct take over. One of my hands balled into a fist and smashed down into the blue face. But the effect was underwhelming, something like smacking a fist into a frozen steak.
Again, instinct led my actions.
I raised my fist for a second punch and drew again from the well of energy by simple action of thought. The crackling power flowed through me, originating via my chest, then zipping up my arm and collecting around my hand.
I descended the fist and made contact. A jolt went through me as the energy was released in a miniature burst, materialising as an explosion of sizzling air. The escaping force sent a thundering boom through the house, rattling windows and shaking further debris from the improvised skylight. Behind me Clinton was knocked from his feet and went staggering to floor.
I withdrew the fist, pleased to see the demon’s head had splintered wooden floor planks.
Without hesitation I raised my fist for a second blow and gathered energy, adding an extra dose for good measure. The punch fell, BOOM, my clothing fluttered and the demon’s head disappeared into the floor. Then my bedroom window exploded from the expanding shockwave.
I raised my fist a third time, but the creature went limp, its arms flopping to the floor on either side of my legs.
I waited, but it made no further movement and I stepped back.
A shuffle from behind indicated Clinton was once again standing. I turned and saw him creeping forward, his glasses sitting askew on his face.
“Is it… dead?” he whispered, leaning forward.
“No,” I replied grimly, “It doesn’t die that way.”
“What is it?”
“Long story, Clinton. Thanks for the help.”
“Sure.” He paused. “What happens now?”
“I don’t really know…”
There was a crunch and the demon was back on its feet in one fluid motion, extracting its head from the splintered floor.
“Run, Clinton!”
He did as I said. The demon crouched into an attacking position.
I drew up every ounce of Spirit I had left and released it in a massive, thundering burst. My hopes were that the force would be enough to have the creature disintegrating into sparkling particles, as it had done in the fight with Selena. But, as roughly one whole corner of my room disappeared and was blown back into the outside world, I guessed I had used much more than was needed. After a beat there came the screeching of tires from outside; a car struggling to keep control as it was showered with bricks and debris.
The display had been impressive. The downside was that the demon remained where it had been, untouched. I had blown a hole in the wall roughly a foot above its head. Aim, it seemed, was something upon which I would have to work.
A second later my legs began to feel weak and fatigue rushed in to occupy my body. The reserves were empty; I had spent everything. My knees buckled and I went to the floor.
The demon watched as if appreciating the magnitude of the blunder, then stepped forward to finish what it had started.
I scrambled backwards across the floor, managing to evade the first clutching grasp of its hands. But it was an act in pure futility. The fatigue was deepening.
In a last ditch effort I crawled for the door, hoping against hope that the demon was confined to my room.
But no, I managed a few feet before a hand clamped around my ankle and I was dragged back towards the bed, fingernails clawing at the floor.
The demon reached down, grabbed the front of my shirt and dumped me onto the bed, manipulating my mass like I weighed no more than a sack of feathers.
There was once again a feeling of pressure as the hand reached into my chest, and again pain shot through my arm as my heart ceased to beat. I tried to scream, but the world was slipping away. Distantly I knew I should be fighting back. But the effort was more than I could handle. I wanted to sleep.
The next thing I was aware of was looking up at my mother.
It seemed like an age had passed. But since she was holding the demon off its feet, her hands clamped on either side of its blue head, I guessed it had been only seconds. The demon flailed. In response she twisted and there was a crack as a neck vertebrae fractured. The demon was gone, replaced by a shower of sparkling dust particles.
My mother stared at me; then moved to sit on the bed and caress my cheek.
“You’re safe now,” she said softly. But the buzzing remained in my head, even with the demon temporarily defeated.
“No I’m not,” I responded, fighting to keep my eyes open.
“I’m here to protect you now.”
“Who will protect me from you?”
Darkness closed in and I slept.