Julian burst out of Aisha's room. His heart pounded, and his head hurt. It was no longer the hangover that troubled him.
A demon! When was the last time he encountered one? The Vatican incident?
The biblical demon's cackle echoed in his ears. Ramirez hustled after Julian, his stocky frame struggling to keep up in the narrow corridor. Refugees peered from cracked doors with wide eyes. Uneasy whispers mingled with Arabic and Spanish followed them.
"Amadeus, stop!" Ramirez panted, grabbing Julian's sleeve. "You can't just run from this."
Julian was barely listening. His mind was a storm. Memories from this body had been triggered.
Julian Amadeus's past crashed in like a bad dream. He saw himself. Younger, smug, confident. He saw a young, innocent girl. Isabella…
She was the Pope's niece, and her possession was deemed to be caused by a non-Christian entity. It was because the Unified Church had already claimed to have closed the gates of hell. There was no way a demon could have taken hold of a human.
Julian wouldn't have it, convinced it was a biblical demon. He snuck Isabella to the Vatican Museum. Bramante staircase. Yes, that is where it happened.
Julian brought reluctant others, confident he could exercise the Pope's niece. Isabella writhed on the marble floor, eyes black as pitch.
The demon inside her laughed. "You can't save her, Amadeus. Heaven has forsaken you."
The exorcism failed. Isabella's body twisted, bones cracking, until she went still.
The Church blamed Julian for the illegal exorcism; the Pope himself did. Disgrace, excommunication. He was stripped of the Templar title, among others; his estates and riches were usurped, and the media hung him out to dry.
The rockstar of the exorcism world was suddenly the Antichrist. Then the spiral began for Julian—bottles of cheap booze, needles in dingy alleys, women whose names he forgot by morning.
He had lost his home, his faith, everything. Now, this priest had dragged him from rock bottom for one last job. With Aisha's possession, history was repeating itself.
Julian shook off Father Ramirez's hand. "I need air."
Rosa and Miguel spilled out of the room, their faces flushed. Rosa approached him with her rosary dangling. She blocked his path. "Please, Mr. Amadeus! You have to go back in. Exorcise whatever is in that girl! Aisha is so young and innocent. She doesn't deserve this."
Miguel chimed in. "Those boys were innocent, too. Now they're gone because of that monster. If the authorities find out that the shelter is cursed, they will shut us down. Where will the refugees go? Please, save us!"
Julian leaned against the wall. The cool concrete felt good against his feverish back. "Like I said, it is a biblical demon. I'm not licensed for that kind of exorcism. The Unified Church's law is clear. Only officially sanctioned exorcists can handle these cases."
Ramirez crossed himself and turned towards Miguel and Rosa. "He's right. The rules are ironclad. Biblical demons require Vatican approval and have special rites."
"What about you, Father?" Miguel demanded.
"I am myself unqualified, dear. I'm just a priest for confessions and masses. I'll do more harm than good to the girl."
Rosa's eyes filled with tears. "What does a license matter if lives are at stake?"
Julian rubbed his face, the hangover still lingering on him like a fog. "I hear you. But it's not that simple. The punishment for an illegal exorcism is death."
Miguel and Rosa looked dumbfounded. Julian sighed. It was the reaction he expected. The Church didn't pull its punches when it came to protecting secrets.
He paced the corridor. "Father Ramirez. Call the Church. Get a licensed team here. They have the tools and the backing to do something."
Ramirez shook his head, pulling out his phone but not dialing. "The paperwork itself will take weeks. And have you forgotten this is a migrant shelter? The Church would burn down this place if it could. They prioritize cathedrals and wealthy donors. Migrants aren't worthy in their eyes."
Rosa grabbed Julian's coat. "Think of Aisha. She's like my daughter. Please, do something!"
Julian bit his lip, racking Amadeus's memories for any solution. "I'm not licensed for exorcism," he said finally. "But maybe I can contain the demon and seal its power temporarily. But I don't have my tools. I need time to get them."
Ramirez wanted to protest, but looking at Rosa's tears, he nodded slowly. "Containment can be a start. It's better than nothing while I make grievances at the Church."
Julian and the priest moved outside after instructing them to chain down Aisha properly and keep her sedated all the time.
The evening air was cool, but heavy with suffocating city smog. To add to it, Julian lit a cigarette and took a long pull. Refugees milled in the yard, some praying, others whispering about leaving.
This was the edge of Salem City. Beyond the shelter, over half a mile away, was a fifty-foot-tall wall to keep away the refugees.
Ramirez, who had been fidgeting with his phone, suddenly paused, staring at Julian under a streetlamp. "Wait... So you are THE Julian Amadeus?"
He tapped his screen, bringing up an old article from the DOGMA. The headline read: "Templar Exorcists Seal Hell's Final Gate—Who Is Julian Amadeus, One Of The Seven Heroes Who Ended the Infernal Wars!"
A photo showed Julian at eighteen, in Templar armor, surrounded by glowing portals. The article praised him generously. "Amadeus, the youngest templar, mastered Solomonic magic when he was a child. A legend born."
Julian's face hardened. "Put that away."
Ramirez shook his head and scrolled further. "It's you, isn't it? The prodigy who helped close the gates three years ago. Then there was the Vatican tragedy."
Julian pocketed the phone for him. "Keep it to yourself. That was before everything fell apart. I am neither a templar nor an exorcist now. Just a drunk nobody."
Ramirez whispered, "But the powers, artifacts, and blessings you wielded back then… You are overqualified to be an exorcist."
Julian sighed, the weight pressing on him. "Forget that. I need to go back to the bar where you picked me up. BATSONG, right? I left something there."
He meant the transmigration, the stumbling fall from his old life into this body. The ritual Julian had done drunk, opening a crater to hell. Who or what brought him here?
The priest relented and walked away. Julian trudged briskly to the street, hailing a cab. The driver eyed his trench coat suspiciously. "BATSONG bar."
The ride was silent with the city lights streaking past. Julian's thoughts churned. What was so special about Amadeus, a fallen star?
The demon inside Aisha knew him and also hinted about the hole to hell. Were these events connected?
BATSONG appeared. Not betraying its telltale name, a neon bat sign flickered ominously. However, the scene was more chaotic than expected.
Yellow police tape cordoned the entrance. Cruisers were parked haphazardly. A crowd gathered with their phones out, murmuring and recording.
Paramedics wheeled out a gurney with a body bag. The zipper was half-open, revealing a twisted throat and a face without eyes. Something unnatural had happened after he left the bar.
Julian's gut twisted. "What went down here?"
He turned to slip into the shadows, but a voice cut through. "Hey! You in the coat! Freeze!"
Officers swarmed from all around, their hands twitching on holsters. Their crowd parted, and a young, classy woman burst out. She was in a crisp detective coat, with a badge hanging from the neck.
Julian knew who she was. Eva Grimes. His ex-girlfriend. With her hair pulled back tight, eyes sharp as knives, and a body to die for, she was as hot as ever.
"Julian Amadeus!" Eva said in an icy voice.
"Eva…"
The female detective paused for a second, but an officer grabbed Julian as she spoke. "You're under arrest for illegal exorcism, leading to manslaughter."
He stared at her, stunned. "Eva? Wait, what—"
"Save it for the Grand Church Jury," she snapped. "Upon conviction, you'll be put to death!"