Julian staggered back a step from Aisha's bed. "What did you say?"
"You took your time climbing out of the hole, didn't you?" Aisha, a sixteen-year-old girl, was speaking with the voice of a middle-aged man.
However, that was not the surprising part. As a veteran exorcist, Julian had heard hundreds of tongues, dialects, pitches, and tones emerge from the most unlikely mouths.
The hole was what he had mentally referred to as that endless fall towards hell before transmigration rescued him. His heart hammered, and he looked around the room, panicking. Ramirez, Miguel, and Rosa stared at him in confusion.
"Are you okay, Mr. Amadeus?" Rosa asked. "Aisha has been speaking in that odd voice since dawn. Please don't be shaken."
Julian shook his head and pressed his temples. How could this thing inside the girl know about his descent to hell? Could it read minds, or did it have access to universal transmigrations?
Alternatively, the entity inside Aisha might have been bluffing, trying to elicit a reaction. He couldn't let it rattle him. "Miguel," he said sharply, trying to keep his voice steady. "Gag the girl. She's going to try to derail my tests through manipulation."
Miguel looked uneasy, scratching his thick beard as he glanced between Julian and Father Ramirez. The latter nodded, giving him permission.
He grabbed another strip of cloth from a nearby shelf cluttered with medical supplies and approached Aisha cautiously. She snarled through her teeth as Miguel tied the gag, muffling her.
In the end, the entity's voice was cut off, but the low, guttural sounds from her throat still persisted. The room felt colder now for some reason.
Father Ramirez stepped closer, fiddling with his priest's collar. Perhaps it was a bit too tight around his neck. Beads of sweat had developed on his forehead despite the chill. Did he know something that Julian hadn't noticed?
"Amadeus, we can't waste time. This foreign entity, whatever foul spirit from her place of birth has taken hold of her, needs to be exorcised now. You're the expert, or so your ad claimed. Proceed with the ritual."
Julian rubbed his temples, the hangover still lingering like a fog in his brain. Was he really an expert? He was barely piecing together something meaningful from borrowed memories. Fragments of Julian Amadeus's life flashing in and out.
The young man cleared his throat. "Hold on, Father. I'm not jumping into an exorcism blindly. We don't even know what is inside her. A mismatched ritual could kill her."
"That is not your decision," the old priest said with finality. "Exorcise her now!"
Julian clenched his jaw. "No, I will not. Not until I have finished my tests."
Father Ramirez's face reddened, and his eyes narrowed. "Tell me something. Why did you lose your exorcist license?"
"That is none of your business."
The priest crossed his arms. "Whatever mistake or error led you to your license getting revoked, don't repeat it here. The Church may have cast you out, but I brought you here to do a job. Innocent boys died! These people are suffering!"
Julian met his gaze, but remained unflinching. "Exactly. I won't repeat my past mistakes. No ritual will be done until I test what we're dealing with. Her life matters more than your rush. Unless you have another EXPERT lined up, let me do my job."
Ramirez balled his fists at his sides, and his breath came in short huffs. He looked ready to explode, but then he exhaled slowly, crossing himself and muttering a prayer. "Fine. Test whatever you must. But if this drags on and more harm comes to innocents... It's on you."
Julian nodded, grateful for the breathing room. He glanced around the dim chamber, at the peeling wallpaper, and a single bulb swinging faintly overhead. He could hear the murmurs of the refugees through the door. They waited patiently, putting their faith in him.
Turning to Miguel and Rosa, he said, "You two, stay by the door inside. Guard it so that no one comes in unless I yell for help. And if things go south, be ready to restrain Aisha again."
Miguel positioned himself by the door with his arms crossed, looking solid as a rock. However, he was sweating just like the priest. Rosa fidgeted with her rosary and nodded nervously. "I'll pray for you," she whispered.
Father Ramirez stayed where he was, watching Julian's every move. The latter took a deep breath, steadying his mind. The solution was right there within reach. The memories surged in again.
Julian Amadeus once featured as the most versatile exorcist in the world in the Church's monthly magazine—DOGMA.
His instincts began kicking in. The young man patted down his heavy trench coat. The fabric was worn and stained from years of this grim work. Moreover, he didn't remember the last time he washed the piece of clothing.
His pockets were mostly empty except for coins, lint, and condoms.
After a thorough check, Julian's fingers closed around something cool and polished. It was still there! He pulled it out slowly.
The Denisova bracelet. It was an ancient artifact, split into two halves. Popularly believed to have been crafted in the Paleolithic era, over fifty thousand years ago, the bracelet was one of the first exorcist tools.
The Denisova was broken into two pieces, and that was its normal state. Julian placed the halves on a rickety table a few feet from the bed, spacing them apart like poles of a magnet.
Aisha's gaze flicked to the bracelet, her body tensing slightly. Was that a reaction? Julian watched closely. "Alright," he muttered. "It's time for some fun."
Julian addressed the group at the door. He needed to explain the process to avoid confusion or misunderstandings later. "I'm going to speak to Aisha in different tongues from scriptures all over the world. Let's see what triggers the entity. Miguel, if you can…"
Miguel quickly removed the gag from Aisha's mouth. She glanced at Julian with narrowed eyes. Apart from the middle-aged man's voice, the girl looked as pretty and as feminine as the original. Something was off.
Julian cleared his throat. "Aisha has been muttering Arabic, so let's start there."
Strangely, Julian Amadeus was quite thorough in the language. "Allahu laaa ilaaha illaa huwal haiyul qai-yoom."
It meant Allah—there is no deity except Him, the Ever-Living, the Sustainer of all existence. It was a verse from the Holy Quran, meant to invoke peace and protection.
Aisha wriggled against her restraints, but there was no other unnatural response—just the same restless twitching, like a caged animal bored with its captor.
Julian frowned, moving on. "Okay, Sanskrit next. It has roots in the Hindu pantheon. Let's see if that might stir something."
"Om Tryambakam Yajamahe Sugandhim Pushtivardhanam Urvarukamiva Bandhanan-Mrityor Mukshiya maamritat." It was a mantra invoking the destroyer of the universe, Lord Shiva, pleading for release from the grip of death.
Again, nothing. Aisha's eyes narrowed this time, but her body stayed slack, bringing no convulsions or eerie voices.
Undeterred, Julian pressed forward. "Let's try Aztec. Something from the old Mesoamerican ways."
He recalled a cleansing chant to Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent god. "Ehecatl, xochitl in cuicatl, tlalticpac in tonatiuh."
Aisha barely blinked. This time, the reaction was more bland than the last time. The only changes in the room were Father Ramirez, Miguel, and Rosa being impressed by the young man's knowledge. He wasn't lying on the ads at all.
Julian tried a Buddhist chant, an Aboriginal Dreamtime call, and a Celtic ward. Nothing.
Aisha's lips curved into a thin smile, but apart from that, there was no reaction. Frustration built in Julian's chest. What was he missing? He had covered all the major systems—Islamic, Hindu, Aztec, Buddhist, Aboriginal, Celtic.
The Denisova bracelet sat inert on the table, its pieces as broken as ever.
Julia paced about, thinking. Even the priest and the caretakers were impatient, starting to lose faith in their hired exorcist.
Suddenly, Julia stopped and stared at Aisha. Her eyes mocked him, as if daring him to keep guessing. Then it clicked! The obvious one he had avoided, thinking it was impossible.
"Father," he called out. "Could you help us with a Latin Christian verse?"
Ramirez snorted from the door, shaking his head. "Why? This isn't a Christian exorcism. Let's not take the Lord's name in vain."
"Just try," Julian insisted, leaning against the table. "We've got nothing to lose. Humor me for once."
Ramirez sighed heavily, his reluctance clear with what was asked. He stepped a bit closer, clearing his throat like he was about to deliver a sermon. "In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti."
Miguel and Rosa followed up. "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."
The change was sudden and instant. Aisha's body arched off the bed, her restraints creaking as if they might snap. She posed like a feral animal, exchanging beastly glances with everyone else.
"Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum," she continued in flawless Latin.
"Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris."
Aisha, the sixteen-year-old girl, who had never read the Bible or heard a Christian prayer, ended one efficiently, but mockingly. "Et ne nos inducas in tentationem: sed libera nos a malo. AMEN!"
It was a perfect recitation of the Lord's Prayer. But then she cackled, churning out a deep, monstrous rumble that made the bulb overhead explode. Miguel and Rosa, frightened beyond their wits, quickly lit candles to light up the room.
Aisha was not done. She mocked the Trinity with grotesque gestures. Crossing herself backward, spitting at the air, her eyes rolling white before snapping back. "Your Lord and father is not listening, exorcist. But I am."
The Denisova bracelet on the table began to hum faintly, its pieces inching closer together. Slam! They pieced together and became whole.
Julian, all of a sudden had a vision of the words, ""Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."
What was that? The room fell silent, save for Rosa's gasp. Julian relaxed himself and his eyes met Father Ramirez's. Their eyes were both wide with the same horrifying realization. The priest's face drained of color, and his hand trembled as he clutched his cross.
Miguel, unable to handle the tension, stepped forward. "What... What just happened? What are you not telling us?"
Father Ramirez swallowed. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. "It means Aisha has been possessed by a..."
"Biblical demon," Julian finished for him. "Something that hasn't happened in three years after the Church sealed the last gate to hell."