The Prof Croft Series: Books 0-4 (Prof Croft Box Sets Book 1) by Brad Magnarella (best business books of all time txt) 📕

The demon was preparing an alchemy spell, taking the potent faith of the bishop and warping it into a black wrath that would empower him and enable his escape from the cathedral’s weakening hold.

“I know you’re in there, Father,” I said to his back. I reached into my right jacket pocket and loosened the screw-on cap to the bottle of holy water. “I know you can hear me. The night the demon murdered the rector, you wrote the message on Father Richard’s back. You couldn’t name the demon. He wouldn’t let you. So you did the next best thing. You named a druid group, Black Earth, whose beliefs revolve around the imminent return of Sathanas, demon lord of Wrath.” The esoteric Latin had likely come from an old prayer book. “You were trying to warn us.”

The garbled incanting rose in pitch and urgency. I could feel Sathanas’s rage now, could feel how badly he wanted to tear me apart. But to turn from the spell would be to sever his connection to the bishop.

I followed the dark, twisting umbilicus of energy from the demon’s head down to the aging woman’s heart. I would have to be careful. At this stage, any violent disruption—such as driving my sword through the demon or dousing him in holy water—could kill her.

I needed Father Vick to work against Sathanas. And to do that, I needed to call him forth. Problem was, Father Vick’s hold, which had already begun to fail during the daytime, would be all but absent after dark. Demons ruled the night. And with a demon moon nearing its zenith?

But Father Vick had wrested back enough control once to leave the “Black Earth” message. I hoped that walking him through what had happened would spur him to rebel again.

“Yes, you’re possessed, Father,” I said. “The fifth rector of St. Martin’s took in the remains of thousands, to enrich himself, but he succumbed to the demon Sathanas in the process. The Church executed the rector and performed an exorcism. Malachi found the account in the archives and shared it with you and Father Richard. You weren’t convinced the exorcism had been done properly, though. You may even have sensed a shadow around his tomb. When Father Richard forbade you from performing a second exorcism, you attempted the rites at night, in secret.”

I thought about the robed figure Effie’s ghost friend had seen muttering around Reverend Higham’s tomb. I was sure now that had been Father Vick. And that had been his mistake—attempting the exorcism at night.

“The demon was more powerful than you anticipated,” I continued. “He overcame you and put you under his control. He had you retrieve Higham’s scrying mirror from the heritage room so he could contact those you sensed dabbled in magic.” It was the same mirror Father Vick had kept covered with the handkerchief. A mirror that would have shown the image of Reverend Higham to those on the receiving end. “Clifford, Chin, Flash, the others,” I said. “Sathanas dictated to them the spells to summon the shriekers. The night the demon contacted Clifford, Father Richard must have seen a light on in your room or overheard you. Not understanding your possessed state, he chastised you for practicing magic. In wrathful response, Sathanas followed Father Richard to the sacristy and murdered him.”

He’d also had Father Vick leak the murder to the press later.

Sathanas’s breaths gurgled in Father Vick’s throat. Was the struggle beginning?

“I can only imagine your horror,” I said. “But you fought, Father. You named a demon who didn’t want to be named. And as long as there’s any will left in there, you have to fight again.”

“Go away,” the figure garbled in an inhuman voice.

Sathanas? Father Vick? I couldn’t tell.

“Father, listen to me—”

With a final eruption of words, something appeared above his head. A dagger. He was going to finish the spell by driving it into the bishop’s heart, releasing the last of her energy. I dropped everything and scrambled forward. With bones rolling underfoot, it felt as though I was running in a dream. But the space separating us collapsed, and my lowered shoulder struck his ribs in the back. His incantation broke off in a wet roar that shook the grotto.

I wrapped my aching arms around his waist and continued to drive with my legs. He was larger than Malachi, more solidly built, but I managed to topple him. We crashed down into the bones that edged the casting circle.

When he rotated his head, I delivered a bone-crunching right to his jaw.

He fell limp, the dagger tumbling from his outstretched hands. I turned quickly to the bishop. She’d fallen into quiet repose, but I couldn’t tell whether she was breathing or not. In either case, I could no longer sense the warping energies of the spell. What that meant, I wasn’t sure.

“Father Vick,” I whispered, shaking his shoulder.

He stirred, and I helped him onto his back. When his face rotated into the candlelight, I recoiled in horror. In addition to his ears and nose, blood had been pouring from his eyes. He hadn’t just been fighting to maintain the faith of the cathedral these past days. Father Vick had been fighting to maintain himself. How he’d lasted this long, I had no idea.

“Everson?” he mumbled. He blinked, then stared in a way that told me he couldn’t see through the red skein that coated his eyeballs and gummed up lashes.

“It’s me, Father,” I said. “But we have work to do.” I left him to retrieve the holy items I’d dropped. When I returned, I arranged them quickly beside him. Remembering I’d loosened the cap to the holy water, I pulled the bottle from my jacket pocket, relieved to find only a little of the water had dribbled out.

Father Vick pawed for me. “Are you still here?”

“Yes.” I clasped the back of his hand and squeezed it. “You’re under the possession of a demon lord, Father. We need to exorcise him. I