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symphonyuntethered · 2 months

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Chapter 1 - Demon at the Door

Mark grooved to the music pumping from the speakers as he vacuumed the large red rug. The storm outside shook the old, lead lined, stained glass windows and a loud clap of thunder shook the large wooden door of the old, stone church. He shook his head. It was 3 am, he couldn’t sleep in this storm, so he might as well clean up the church a little.

The old Father, Father James was a little… lazy, when it came to the maintenance of the church. When Mark had first taken over, he had been shocked at the decades of dust, colouring the deep red rug on the main walkway between the pews a more dusty pink colour. But after a couple of years of tender love and care, Mark had managed to revive the old building, breathing new life into it…

A huge clap of thunder shook the building to its’ very foundations, perhaps even the earth itself. It even drowned out the music and vacuum, vibrating Mark to his very bones.

Bang, bang, bang!

Mark looked up, shocked at how loud that clap of thunder was, but he could have sworn he heard a knock on the door. He reached into his pocket, pausing the music, before switching off the vacuum. It groaned as it slowed, the sound of grit and grime spinning in the plastic collection depository. Leaning it against the wall, Mark listened intently, waiting for the knocking again. “Probably just the wind.” He muttered to himself as he reached for his phone to press play again.

Bang, bang, bang!

That one was definitely real. Mark sighed, walking to the large, wooden door. Undoing the giant, old fashioned locks, he pulled on the heavy door and peeked through. In the rain he could make out a figure, standing drenched in the downpour, head bowed as they swayed slightly.

“Good evening, friend. I do apologise, but I am not providing services at this hour. If you need a place to stay I can call the local shelter, or even a motel…” Mark trailed off, frowning. “Are you alright friend?”

The figure looked up slightly, before barely whispering two rasping words,

“Help… me…”

Mark’s eyes grew wide as he reached out for the person, grabbing their shoulders and guiding them into the church. The person was ice cold, but was only quivering slightly under Mark’s grip, strange, given that they should really be hypothermic, but perhaps they were so cold and tired their body just couldn’t find the energy to even shiver.

“Friend, come sit.” Mark guided the person to the nearest pew, helping them sit. They were dressed in what looked like a ragged, knee length tunic made of a rough, black hessian. It was barely held together, the fabric almost transparent in its’ wet state and coming apart at the seams. The figure was a man, or at least he looked like one, under the long, matted black hair falling to his waist.

“What are you doing out in this weather, brother?” Mark asked, pulling off his fleece jacket and wrapping it around the man’s shoulders. The man seemed to tense at the words. “I… am no brother… of yours…” His voice rasped again, almost snarling, sounding offended at the insinuation that he was religious. Mark almost marveled at how deep the man’s voice was, he imagined that it would sound quite pleasant if it were not so strained.

“Ah, I do not judge if you do not follow my faith. I will help you all the same. It is my duty as a servant of the Lord. Tell me, friend, do you have anywhere to stay? As I said, I can call a shelter, we have one in town. I can even drive you if you would so like.”

The man was silent, his hands pulling the jacket around his shoulders. Mark realised he wasn’t even wearing shoes. He seemed young, perhaps a man made homeless by the recent closure of the local mine. It had put a lot of people out of work and many had fallen on hard times. Perhaps this poor soul was the same?

“I… request… sanctuary…”

The man gasped in pain as he stood, pulling himself up on the pew in front of him, before gripping his side and grunting in pain. The jacket fell from his shoulders and Mark moved to grab it. “Friend, I assure you, the shelter is a much better and safe-” Mark began, picking up the jacket, only to turn when he heard a pained, shuddering moan.

The man’s dark, almost black eyes rolled back in his head and he fell heavily to the ground, landing on his side, unmoving. “Oh dear.” Mark exclaimed, rushing to the man’s side and rolling him onto his back. He was barely breathing, really, it was more of a gasp, desperately trying to suck air into his lungs. His body was ice cold, his skin shining with rain and probably sweat, grey, almost translucent skin, blue lips and black tendrils creeping across the skin of his neck like lace.

“What the…?” Mark stuttered, half in shock. He had never seen anything like this. Gingerly, he lifted the edge of the tunic up, revealing the man’s body. There was nothing underneath it, his entirety exposed in the low light, with a large, black wound on his left side, just under his ribs. It looked infected, as the spidery tendrils emerged from the blackened skin around it. The wound looked necrotic, perhaps even contagious.

The tendrils stretched across the man‘s chest, up over his left shoulder and down his arm, to about the elbow and up to the his jawline, a few little wisps even beginning to climb over it. The right shoulder was also starting to be invaded, as well as his stomach and groin, the tendrils not quite reaching the top of his thighs yet.

Mark withdrew his hands as the man’s head rolled to face him. He came to slowly, with a rattling breath, before looking up at Mark. His eyes were glazed, unfocused and sluggish. “Well… I guess you… figured it out…” He mumbled, sounding almost amused as the priest stared at his exposed form. “What happened to you? You need a hospital.” Mark insisted, leaning over the man’s face. “Heh… heh… I’d like to… see them… try and fix… me…” The man’s pupils seemed to grown bigger, consuming his iris completely. “What’s the point… You’ll… figure it out… soon enough…” He mumbled, half to himself. With a tired sigh, he seemed to relax a little.

Mark watched as the man's eyes were consumed by the blackness of his pupils and as the man gasped for more air, he saw his teeth, now replaced with fangs. Mark looked down at his knees as the man’s hand brushed against them, it had three fingers and a thumb. Looking at the man’s face, he saw his ears were now more pointed.

“What…?” Was the only thing Mark managed to gasp as he stared at what he had thought was a man at his knees. His mind was reeling at this occurrence. They hadn’t taught him about any of this when he was in Seminary.

“I am no… human…” The “man” replied, looking with his completely black eyes at Mark. “You may see… me as…” It gulped, fighting to stay conscious. “I am not… a threat… to you…” Its’ voice shuddered. “Cast me out… if you wish…” It gasped for breath again. “But if you do… You will.. seal… my fate…” The eyes of the creature, despite having no human features seemed to look pleading and scared.

“I am… a demon…” It whispered, gasping once more, before the movement of its’ eyes indicated they were rolling back, and it fell still on the ground.

Mark sat for a second, looking at the creature. He felt conflicted, on one hand it was a creature in need, and he had taken an oath to help all those who required it, regardless of race, religion or creed. But on the other hand, this was a demon. The most evil of all beings, torn from the Lord and allied with Satan himself. Did they even count as a race? Did demons have races? Or was that only applicable to humans? But animals counted, so why wouldn’t demons?

“What do I do here?” He asked something. He didn’t know who or what, perhaps the church itself, God if he was watching, maybe the air? He waited for a reply, but the only thing that came was the wind, shaking the door.

“I suppose it’s already too late.” He mumbled, feeling for a pulse on the demon’s neck. “You’re in the Lord’s house already and I guess if it was really a big deal, he would have struck it with lightning already.” He could feel a pulse, barely there and slow. “Perhaps he sent you to me? Is this a test?” He looked up at the statue of Jesus, crucified on the cross behind the altar.

He had never liked that particular statue, it freaked him out. Jesus’ eyes seemed to follow him as he worked, a sinister, pained stare watching his every move at Mass. Now, even from the other end of the church, he could feel the eyes of the statue locked onto him, glaring. “What would you do huh?” He asked it, half genuinely wanting it to jump off the cross and walk over, giving him an answer.

Instead, it stared silently at him, almost as if it was letting him decide. The demon shuddered slightly, before sighing, its’ breathing ceasing. “Fine, I guess I’ll help… it?” He looked at the Jesus statue again, an uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach, he was doing the right thing, right?

“Jesus helped the sick and damned all the time.” Mark muttered as he scooped the creature into his arms and over his shoulders into a fireman’s carry. It was tall and bulky, with strong, defined muscles, however it was remarkably light, weighing about as much as his 8 year old niece.

Mark continued to justify his choice to himself (and a tiny bit to Jesus behind him), as he locked the large entry doors, before walking to the altar. He grabbed all the holy items he could hold, oils, holy water, Eucharist. “What?” He asked, turning to the statue, “You are justifying yourself to a statue Mark. But then again, you hadn’t ever seen a demon until now either, so maybe it really can hear you.” He sighed, shoving what he could in his tight pockets, not really designed to carry anything more than a phone, before carrying the demon on his shoulders out of the side door, towards his rectory.

He stumbled along in the dark, lightning the only thing lighting up the sky and the grounds around him. He managed to get up the steps of his home, fumbling with the white, painted door and twisting the door handle, managing to get in without banging the demon around on the doorway or the door itself, at least too much.

Rushing to his large, plush sofa, he pulled the demon from his shoulders, placing it gently on the cushions. It seemed to take in a shallow breath as he did. “Good, you’re breathing again.” Mark muttered. He had been trained in CPR, but he had never actually had to do it before. Would that even work on a demon?

‘Do they even have the same anatomy as humans?’ He thought to himself as he dumped all the items he had brought with him on the expensive coffee table. He cringed at the thought of marking it a little, but that wasn’t important right now. He stood back up and walked to the nearest light switch, bathing the living area in a warm, yellow light.

Turning back to the creature, splayed limply on the sofa, he decided to grab some blankets to warm it up. Going to the nearby closet, he pulled out the warmest one he could find, before going to his bathroom and grabbing his basic first aid kit. He didn’t think it would do much, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

Returning to the poor wretch, he decided to just rip the tunic off. He could get it some actual clothes later. Grasping the rough fabric in his hands, he pulled it in two, the loud rip causing Mark to scrunch his face. “Not my favourite sound.” He muttered to the demon, deciding that talking to it, even if it couldn’t hear, was the best way to keep himself sane.

Examining the creature’s naked body from head to toe, he realised it was actually quite badly injured. Perhaps the spell it had been using had masked the injuries, but as he examined the creature, he found more and more bruises, cuts and wounds, the worst of which was the one he had already seen, that one seemed to be the source of the problems. Pulling on some gloves, Mark gently prodded the blackened wound. It was huge and black, but the actual cut was small, no bigger than a Tic Tac. The skin was red hot, angry and raised. Upon the gentle prodding, a thick, black liquid probably some kind of blood, oozed out of it. The creature’s rattling breath shuddered, as it tensed slightly.

“Did that hurt, huh?” Mark mused, examining the black substance on his fingers. “Well I doubt antiseptic will do anything for this, but hey, might as well try, eh?” He patted the demon on the shoulder. Mark grabbed the old bottle and opened the lid. The sound of the ancient plastic grinding away at old antiseptic residue was also an unpleasant sound. “Okay, demon. Let’s see what we can do for you.” Gently pouring some antiseptic onto the old gauze, staining it orange, he started gently dabbing it onto the demon’s blackened wound.

After a couple of dabs, the gauze was covered in a thick black sludge. Casting it aside, Mark eyed the crystal bottle containing holy water. “Would that hurt you, you know cause it’s holy?” The unconscious demon didn’t respond, looking greyer than ever. “Screw it.’ Mark said, pouring a little of the water from the crystal bottle onto some new gauze. He leaned over the demon, gently placing a hand on its’ chest, half to hold it down, just in case.

He touched the gauze to the wound.

For a second, nothing happened, so Mark lifted it and dabbed it again, then a third time. The gauze was now saturated in the black liquid. On the fourth dab, the demon gasped in pain, shooting up into a sitting position, panting heavily. It gulped down an agonised moan, blinking a couple of times, before glaring at the priest. “What… are you… doing?” It choked out through clenched teeth.

“Cleaning your wounds. That one looks nasty.” The the priest could see the slight movement of the eyes, as if the creature was rolling them. “Of course it is…” It panted breathlessly, “I was hit with a cursed arrow…” It grimaced, gripping its’ side. The colour seemed to be returning to its’ skin, a gentle tan colour. Honestly, without the whole eye thing and the fangs, it could have passed as a regular guy.

“Okay, well how do I fix it? You weren’t exactly being very helpful.” Mark replied, the snark in his tone clear. The demon sighed, laying back down and staring at the ceiling. “The water should do it… just… warn me next time…”

Mark looked at the creature, who was gripping the edge of the seat cushion. It‘s hand was holding on with such force it could have pierced it with it‘s fingernails, if they weren’t short and filed down. It had its’ jaw clenched so tight, Mark could see the muscles straining, before it looked over at him, mumbling through its’ raspy, cracking voice. “What are you waiting for? Just do it…”

The demon’s abdominal muscles seemed to tense as Mark leaned over it. It drew in a ragged breath, holding it. “It’ll hurt less if you breathe.” Mark said quietly, looking at the creature, who swallowed, letting out a shaky breath and then nodding once. Mark watched the chest of the wretch rise, then placed the gauze on the wound. The creature’s muscles jerked as its’ body spasmed, the breath it had taken in leaving it as it made a strange, strangled sound, holding back a scream.

As the gauze left its’ side, a quiet, almost thankful moan escaped the creature before it could stop it. “This is hurting you.” Mark noted, looking at the creature. “Yeah, n-no sh-shit.” It stammered, gulping. “It’s holy water. It’ll hurt… anything that…is…” The creature gulped again. “The cursed wound… makes it even… more painful…” It shuddered.

Mark glanced at the wound, which already looked better. The black, wispy tendrils that had reached the jawline of the demon now seemed to be receding a little. His right shoulder seemed to also be a little better and the lines near the left elbow were now about half way down the creature’s bicep. “It’s working, I think.” He looked at the creature, who closed its’ eyes, its’ face washed with relief. The muscles in its’ body seemed to relax as it sighed.

“I have to bandage it, to keep it clean.” Mark murmured. The creature gave a single nod again, before opening its’ eyes. Mark was rustling around in the first aid kit, looking for a bandage. Finding one he looked over at the creature as it pushed up onto its’ elbows, breathing harshly with the effort. It dropped its’ head back, gasping in more air as it waited. “You’ll have to sit I’m afraid.” Mark said, looking at the creature as he stood.

He watched as it seemed to deflate a little, groaning quietly in annoyance. Mark grasped its' arm tightly as he pulled it up, helping it swing its’ legs around to sit properly. It hunched forward, back arched as it sat with its’ elbows on its’ knees, hair hanging limply around its’ face and shoulders. Mark could see every vertebrae in its’ spine as it leaned forward, scowling.

Sitting beside it, Mark touched the end of the bandage to the demon’s side, noticing the slight twitch it made. Deciding to let his hand rest on the creature’s side, just near the wound as he leaned around him, so that it knew where he was. He gently began wrapping the bandage around the creature’s abdomen, watching as it winced.

Every time he reached the wounded area, the creature would let out a shaky exhale, broken into two parts, a short pained breath, then a longer, slightly stronger one, riding through the pain. Soon they were wrapped up, still ice cold, but at least it seemed slightly healthier. Mark leaned forward, trying to catch the demon’s eyes, through their half lidded state. “You with me?” He asked, as he waved his hand in front of the demon’s eyes.

At that moment, the creature tipped forward, only being caught at the last second by Mark, who had accidentally grabbed the demon with his palm pressing directly on the wound. The demon hissed, throwing its’ head back and seizing in pain as Mark lowered it back against the sofa. “Sorry.” He said sympathetically, touching the demon’s shoulder.

The creature jumped, glancing at him, before taking another breath in and out. “What did you do that for?” It whispered, voice less gravely now. “I think you passed out on me there, try and stay awake for me, uh…” Mark looked at him awkwardly, making a confused face. “Do you have a name, or…?” He shook his head, shrugging slightly.

The demon gave an exasperated sigh, looking at the priest and blinking slowly, face flashing with annoyance. “Course, you know nothing of my kind…” It shuddered, wrapping its’ arms around its’ waist in an effort to keep warm. The priest leaned over, pulling the blankets he had taken and placing one over the creature's front. He then helped it lean forwards, wrapping the other behind it. The creature seemed to appreciate this gesture, and the slight amount of dignity the blankets restored.

They both sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, staring at the wall in front of them. A large flat screen TV was placed in front of the coffee table, on a nice, also expensive TV stand. The old Father must have had expensive taste. Mark wondered how much of the church’s funds went into the rectory furnishings and how much had actually gone back to the people of his church. A grunt of pain broke Mark’s train of thought and he glanced at the demon, who had drawn its’ legs up and under the blanket. They returned to sitting in silence and right as Mark was about to get up to leave, the creature spoke, barely a whisper.

“Keh-yah.”

“Sorry?” Mark looked at the demon, its’ eyes glistening as rain smashed against the glass of the house. “My name… is Keh-yah.” The demon’s face continued the steady scowl as it stared, unblinking at the wall directly in front of it. It almost seemed to spit out the words, through its’ sharp fangs.

“Oh, alright.” Mark said in surprise. He had been expecting a more, sinister sounding name, like Lucifer or something. Keh-yah seemed… a bit tame, or just not as menacing as some of the strange names he had read in his studies.

Perhaps it was his bias, maybe all demons weren’t sinister creatures with ill intent, but the holy water had hurt it… so maybe it was evil? Mark felt the pit of anxiety settle in his stomach again, as he stood from the sofa. “Well, I’m Father Mark, but you can just call me Mark.” He smiled, holding out his hand for the creature to shake, only for it to glare at the outstretched hand instead.

“Okay then... Well, I’ll make us some food, how about that? Something that will warm you up. I’m afraid I still eat like a bachelor. Nearly 40 years on this earth and I till haven’t figured out how to cook, Lord have mercy.” The demon remained unresponsive.

Fearing it had passed out again, Mark took a step forward, the floorboard creaking as he did. The creature’s eyes moved, looking at him with its’ shining voids, scowl still stretched on its’ face. Mark smiled nervously, half afraid it would leap up and tear his throat out, but the demon nodded once more, before snuggling into the blankets around its’ body.

~next~

~masterlist~

#A demon seeks refuge at a church <- like delightful fucking concept already and SO well written #damn (pun intended ig)#religious whump

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