Sawyer looks at me. We haven’t spent much time together since the end of last year, but in this moment, we’re both thinking the same thing—is this guy for real?
I shrug and head up the steps to the front door. Close up, I can see the frescos were painted with yellow and orange, with some sort of blue figure in the foreground—probably Jesus or John the Baptist. I think most frescos are. I grab the door and tug it open. It creaks as it struggles to comply, thumping against its broken hinge, and Sawyer and I head inside.
The car’s headlights flood only the center of the vestibule with light. With the rest of the church cast in shadow, I pull out my flashlight and click it on.
The church is small. There’s only this vestibule and the chapel beyond—but every single wall is covered in more frescos and murals, their scenes still readable though covered in a layer of dust. Instead of pews like I’ve seen back home, the center of the chapel is nearly devoid of seating. The last remnants of use are the red-cushioned wooden chairs that line the perimeter, most of them in disrepair. I let my flashlight wander around the small room.
“Feel any demonic presence?” Sawyer asks.
“Not yet,” I say back, turning my light toward one of the frescos. A hideous demon glares back at me from inside. It looks to be terrorizing a human man while wearing a dress and a long wig. “Got a painting of one over here, though.”
Sawyer comes to stand beside me. “Looks like a succubus.” He points his flashlight on the opposite wall, where a similar demon is terrorizing a woman. “There’s an incubus over there. Incubi and succubi are actually really interesting. In a lot of folklore and religious lore, they’re just depicted as lustful demons that trick people into having sex with them—but they’re much more dangerous than that.”
I look over at him. His face is aglow as he looks on, enraptured, at the various scenes on the church walls. I have to resist a small smile. I’d almost forgotten he’s such a nerd about monsters and their hunters.
My eyes flit back over the paintings. “I dunno, I don’t think that thing would be much of a turn on.”
Sawyer glances back at me. “It’s not really an accurate depiction,” he says, looking back at the images. “But really, they feed on all negative emotions, not just lust. Anger, jealousy, greed—stuff like that is a feast for a succubus.”
“You know your stuff, kid.” David walks in, joining us in the chapel. A faint smell of cigarette smoke wafts around him. He walks past us to the back of the room and leans on the podium. “You ever met anyone possessed by a demon?”
“No,” Sawyer replies.
David grins. “How do ya know?” I glance at Sawyer uncertainly, and David laughs. He turns to look up at a faded stained-glass window behind him. “You know anything else about ’em?” he asks, his voice echoing in the small room.
“Not much,” Sawyer admits. “Aren’t they hard to study?”
I make my way to a chair that seems mostly intact and sit carefully on it.
“Yeah,” David says. “Real hard. They’re good at mimicking the person they’re possessing, you see. But the stronger a person is, the more they can resist, and the longer it takes for the demon to take hold. But if the succubus or incubus can start drawing that strength from the person they’ve possessed, they might be able to take their own form.”
“Take their own form?” I ask. “What do you mean?”
“They leave the host,” David says. He turns to look at me and shines his flashlight directly into my face. I blink and he turns it away, to the incubus on the opposite wall. “And when they leave their host, they kill it. Take all their life energy. And that’s just not enough for them. They gotta go and get more. An incubus like that one, with an actual form?” He laughs. “This scene ain’t of an incubus tricking a woman into fucking. This is a massacre.”
My stomach turns a little at the flippant way David is talking about a demon killing huge amounts of people, but I look at the painting with this new perspective in mind. Now the people lying on the ground behind the woman don’t look like they’re surrendering—they look like dead bodies. I shudder again.
“How do you know so much about them?” I ask as David walks back up the center of the chapel toward the vestibule.
“Demons are my specialty.” He shrugs again. “Ain’t none around here. But the villagers’ll get all mad if we leave after only a few minutes, so we’re stuck here for at least an hour, probably more. Y’all need me, I’ll be out in the graveyard. Brought some paper and charcoal.”
He walks out, and Sawyer and I glance at each other.
“Is he going to make tracings of the gravestones?” Sawyer asks incredulously.
“Probably. He’s a weird dude.”
“Yeah.” Sawyer continues walking around, looking at all the frescos. After a while, he pauses. “Um … Avery, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I do. About last year.”
I don’t reply. I stare intently at the image of the demon.
“I’m sorry. I really am. I … I’m an idiot.”
I nod a little, but I don’t know if he’s looking at me. At least that is one thing we can agree on.
“I guess that all I’m asking for, really, is a chance to make it up to you. A chance to prove I can be better.”
“Oh?” I look up at him. “Is that all you’re asking for?”