Click here to read "Part 1: Haunted"
Chapter 1- The First Meeting
Of all the memories, good and bad, that were swimming in John Wesson’s chattering mind there was only one that he was sure would never leave him. He would forget about his friends from high school, the smell of summer vacation, and the feel of tearing wrapping paper between his fingers on Christmas Day before forgetting this particular memory. He was in college when it happened.
The smells of dilapidated binding and old pages hung in the stale library air so vividly. All he had to do was close his eyes and he was there again. The feel of the cheap carpeting pressing against the soles of his shoes was almost comforting. It was early February. It had to be, John told himself. It was much too cold and he was much lonelier than usual for it to be any other time of year. John’s shoulders slumped over like they always do, like they always have, his face buried in a book that wasn’t about to be read anytime soon.
Whenever the elevator doors would open there was always that split second, that sweet delusion that whoever was coming off was there to see him. There was always a rush of even colder air, perhaps sneaking in from the elevator shaft when those heavy metallic doors slid open. The delicate whooshing sound always made John’s spine quiver nervously. That hopeless romantic that lay hidden within John always stirred as the elevator arrived as if that special someone would come out of it.
But as luck would have it, fate was on John’s side that day. Her golden hair fell softly on her shoulders and time halted when John caught sight of her. Her smile was as sweet as her perfume but one would be hard pressed to convince him that she was wearing any at all. The butterflies fluttered about in John’s stomach as, for a fraction of a second, her shimmering blue eyes met his and it seemed the world melted away from either of them. John wanted to say something, anything. “Hi” or “I’m in your history class,” would have sufficed but the words were stuck, fluttering with the butterflies as she walked passed him.
He went home later that day, his head still in the clouds, his heart still heavy with the strain of regret, of hesitation. The phone rang and no one else was around to answer it so he lifted the receiver to his ear. It was his brother Paul who was inviting him to the local bar. The same Paul who had moved out of the house just two years prior and never bothered to write or call. Paul told him that it was important, that there was something he needed to tell him.
John was exhausted when he arrived to the bar. Paul, on the other hand, had a large smile on his face when he saw his brother enter. With his free hand, the other holding what was obviously not his first beer, Paul grabbed his brother by arm and laughed jovially.
“What’s wrong with you? I didn’t know you were in the neighborhood.”
“I wanted to surprise you. I was actually around campus today.” Paul kept watching the door.
“Why?” John’s eyes were unconsciously looking towards the door as well for no particular reason.
“I wanted to surprise you during one of your classes.”
“You never came to any of my classes today.”
“Ah, well that’s part of the big news,” Paul replied. All his attention turned towards the door, his smile growing even wider. “I kind of bailed on that plan. You, see I was trying to find my way around when I met a girl. She’s beautiful and… Well, she’s just incredible and I wanted you to meet her!”
“What’s her name?” John’s voice trailed as he saw that golden hair, that sweet smile, those shimmering blue eyes walking towards him again. His heart tied itself into knots as Paul wrapped his large arms around her and they kissed each other.
“Helen,” Paul said, “This is my brother, John Wesson. He’s good people. John, this is Helen Summers.”
The world melted away from John as he sank into a shadow of himself. The sounds of the world were finding it difficult to reach his ears. Blood rushed from his face and he felt sick and all he could smell in the air was the bitterness of the beer mixing with the stench of cigarette smoke. As the evening progressed, John was finding it increasingly difficult to nod and smile at their conversations. John had to excuse himself after his eighth beer which made it difficult to hold back his tears.
A year later, Paul and Helen were still seeing each other on the weekends. Their relationship carried over long distances during the week with the main line of communication between them being John. Usually, it would take a month or two to get over something like this, but being the messenger boy for both parties only exacerbated the problem.
Being the optimist that he was, John took the opportunity to get to know Helen better and they became close friends, practically family. Helen’s father was always busy at work, and her brother, Edmund would be away on hunting trips almost every weekend. Since their mother passed away during Edmund’s birth, that left John to be Helen’s closest confidant. One day, she called
“John?” Helen’s voice quivered over the phone, “Has Paul left yet?”
“Paul’s still here but he stepped out for a few minutes. What’s wrong, Helen?”
“Oh.” Her voice seemed to unknowingly settle into a shaky whisper floating between apprehension and elation. “Then can I tell you something? I really need to talk to someone right now.”
“Sure, Helen, of course. What’s up?”
“I think I’m pregnant.”
John was silent for a beat until he managed to muster up a congratulations from his hesitant mouth.
Chapter 2- Little Help
Helen and John were showered with the cold pale moonlight in the middle of the empty street. Her cheeks were sticky with dried tears as no more would fall. His eyes were cold as stone looking around the neighborhood, suspicious of how quiet it was. How could no one hear the screams? It slowly grew darker as the inconstant moon was engulfed by the ravenous clouds. There was much moisture in the air but no rain dared to fall. A flash of lightning streaked across the gray clouds as John squeezed Helen’s shoulders and gathered her to her feet and walked her back in the house.
“Father O’Quinn?” These were the only words that could find their way out of Helen’s mouth. “Why? I don’t understand what’s going on. How are you alive, John? Why did he take the baby?”
“I don’t know. I’m just as much in the dark as you are,” John carried Edmund’s unconscious body into the warm den and dropped it besides the still crackling fireplace. Almost as if by instinct, he knelt in front of the fire and held out his right hand in front of it. Some mysterious language was uttered by his lips. He stood up and repeated the ritual on each wall of the room.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m blessing the fire and the room.”
“How do you know how to do that? You’ve never struck me as a religious person.”
“It’s just here,” he pointed to his head, “It’s almost as if some sort of switch was flipped when I was… killed. Was I dead?” All Helen could do was nod.
“Why would Father O’Quinn of all people do this? I mean, he just disappeared into thin air. It was almost like he was a ghost or something.”
“That wasn’t Father O’Quinn,” John responded looking through the cardboard boxes, “It’s hard to explain but when he waved at us, I saw something different in him. He wasn’t that kind old priest that you introduced me to this afternoon.” He pulled out some rope, a few rags, and a small plastic tub and ran into the den. He took the rope and waved it over the top of the flames which licked at the twine, burning it but not consuming it. John then unraveled a few feet and bound the unconscious possessed Edmund by his hands and feet.
“Does that mean Ed isn’t Ed?” Helen stood back unsure of what to make of it all.
“Yes, but this rope should be able to hold him if he wakes up. It should be able to keep whatever has taken control of him and keep him in trapped in Ed’s body until we can get some answers. Stay here and call me if he begins to wake up.” John darted to the kitchen with the plastic tub and began filling it with water.
“I don’t understand any of this, John.” Helen stood at the doorway of the den watching the shadow of Edmund’s body dance about on the floor. She turned her head to peek at what John was doing in the kitchen and failed to notice that her possessed brother had regained consciousness. John laid his hand over the tub of water and blessed it as he did the fire.
Helen let out a piercing scream as she fell to the floor clutching at her eyes. John ran to the freezer and pulled out the rolled up newspaper containing Abe’s housewarming trout, still not fully frozen. She twitched on the floor violently in agony as bursts of black smoke exploded in her eye sockets. There were two patches of melting sizzled skin where her eyes used to be. Her cries for help sent chills up John’s spine. She passed out on the floor in shock.
“So it was you who knocked me out,” Asmodeus muttered as he looked up at John. “I must be getting rusty. I’m not used to killing people in this form. I’ll try and kill you properly next time.”
“Where’s the baby?” John demanded.
“The baby? Oh, you mean the cambion. A friend of mine took him. It’s a very important ceremony, you know, which reminds me: Helen and I need to get going if we’re going to be there in time.” Asmodeus struggled, confused as to why he could not break out of the rope he was tied in. “Why can’t I get out of this? What did you do to it?”
“What’s a cambion? What are you talking about?”
“I asked first,” the creature turned towards the fireplace and saw something different about it, “Is that holy fire?”
“Where did you take Reuben?” John asked sternly. “Answer me!” John threw one of the rags into the tub of water and threw it over Asmodeus’ face, which instantly began to smoke and sizzle. The possessed Edmund cried out in pain unable to shake the cloth from his face. “It’s not coming off until you tell me where you took the baby!”
John took the crumpled ball of newspaper and hastily took out the trout, laying it gently on the floor. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a Swiss Army knife and cut open the fish’s belly. Asmodeus continued to writhe in pain. John slowly approached Helen who was softly breathing, soundly asleep. He brushed her hair to the side, out of the way of her eyes. John took out the innards of the trout and laid them messily on the floor, poking his finger around to find the gallbladder. The small brown slimy organ wriggled in his hand as he hurriedly ground it into a wet paste in his palms.
He cupped his hand and collected most of the paste into a single hand using the other hand to spread it over Helen’s eyes. Immediately, Helen’s breathing started to calm down once the cold gallbladder paste hit her skin. She slowly started to revive and pushed herself up feeling the cold paste pressing against her eyes. Her skinny fingers floated, shivering, to her eyes to wipe it off but John held her hands back. His large fingers startled Helen, but she recognized the warmth of his palms. John took another rag and soaked it in the holy water, using it to wipe off the paste from Helen’s eyes which were magically restored. Her eyelids slowly flickered back to life and the fuzzy image slowly settled into the familiar face of John.
“This really hurts!” Asmodeus interrupted sarcastically. John walked over to the possessed Edmund and yanked the wet cloth from his face. Clinching his fist tightly, John swung at the impostor’s chin. The punch was responded with a cackling laugh. “You’re not getting anything out of me! I live in Hell, Johnny Boy! You’re going to have to do a whole lot better than holy water to piss me off!”
“Have it your way,” John went to the scattered guts of the trout and picked up two pieces and showed them to Asmodeus. “One fish heart and liver, extra crispy! Coming right up!” He tossed the two small organs into the holy fire and the smoke whorled into the air seductively. For the first time, Asmodeus’ eyes were saturated with genuine worry.
“Where did you learn that?” his eyes darted to John. Asmodeus squinted as if to inspect John’s appearance more closely. “I did kill you, didn’t I? That means you’re a… No, it can’t be. I haven’t seen one of you in a few millennia. What are you doing here? Who sent you? There’s no way you could’ve known!”
The smoke hung in the air and as it reached Asmodeus’ ears, he began to cough violently. Beams of brilliant light burst through his eyes and mouth as Asmodeus screamed in frustration and excruciating pain. The room shook and rumbled as if a bolt of lightning was struck from within Edmund’s frail body. Edmund’s chest heaved back and forth in a sickened rhythm. His lungs beat breath hurriedly from his exhausted body. John bent over to untie him.
“Are you sure it’s him now?” Helen was still apprehensive.
“He’s worn out, but I’m sure it’s him this time.”
“What happened to that- that-,” she couldn’t find the words.
“I still don’t know how I know this,” John attempted to answer, “but I think I just sent it to Upper Egypt. I thought I could get more information out of him. Little help that turned out to be.”
Edmund groaned softly and his sister rushed to his side comforting him. She looked at the cut up fish on the floor as she rubs Ed’s back, slowly motioning her hand in small circles. Her eyes follow the trail of guts and go back and forth to the fire. She swallows hard and holds her brother’s hand but notices something off with the newspaper that the trout was wrapped in.
“What’s that?” She points to the newspaper. “There’s some sort of writing in the paper, but I can’t make out what it says.”
John walks towards it and picks it up. Laying it flat on the floor, Helen sees that the writing is in some sort of foreign language. Edmund’s eyes slowly peel open as he sees the strange symbols.
“Enochian,” Edmund said. “I’m not very good at it without a key to help me transcribe it, but that last word. It says--”
“It says ‘-Abe,’” John completed Edmund’s thought.
“That’s right,” Edmund was astounded, “Thanks for getting rid of Asmodeus, by the way. That’s some heavy duty stuff you pulled back there.”
“I’m still trying to figure all this out,” John explained.
“Do you know what the rest of it says, John?” Helen asked.
“Yeah,” John answered, “It says, ‘If you used this fish for anything other than eating, then in all likelihood you can read this. My journal should provide most of the answers if I am not around. –Abe.’ My best bet is that this journal is in Father O’Quinn’s place.”
“I’ll get it,” Edmund struggled to get up but was clearly in pain.
“No, Ed. You need your rest. I’ll go get it,” John offered.
“Neither of you are getting that damn journal!” Helen demanded. “For all we know, there could be a trap in Father O’Quinn’s house. More of those things could be waiting for us inside!”
“I know Abe really well, sis,” Edmund added. “If he was prepared to get this note to us, then he would have been able to anticipate any attacks on his house.”
“Besides, Helen,” John said, “We have no other choice. There’s no other way to find out where they took Reuben.”
Helen hung her head and paused for a beat, eventually relenting. “Okay,” she whispered, “Be careful, John. Please, be careful.” John knelt beside her and kissed her on the cheek and slapped Edmund on the shoulder.
“Wait, John,” Edmund strained to get to his knees and look at Abe’s house across the street. His lips curled into a smile as he stared at the newly planted garden. “Abe’s journal is most likely in a worn out leather satchel. Bring the whole satchel here and a leaf of each of those plants that he planted on the front lawn.”
“Why?” John asked.
“I might be able to find out what’s going on.”
“How do you know this stuff, Ed?” Helen asked.
“Those hunting trips that Abe took me on,” Edmund explained, “weren’t exactly deer hunting trips. Speaking of which, John, how is it that you’ve come to be fluent in Enochian? Abe has studied it all his life and he still needs a key to cipher it from one language to the other.”
“What is Enochian?” Helen asked.
“It’s the language of angels,” Edmund answered. “Would you know anything about angels, John?”
“I’m going to get that satchel,” John responded. The question weighed heavy on his mind. He wasn’t sure if he knew the answer.
Chapter 3- Answered Prayers
It was a whirlwind marriage but Paul Wesson and Helen Summers were in love and there was a baby on the way. Paul had surprised her at her apartment nervously clutching to the velvet lined box in his pocket that carried the ring. When the proposal was made, Helen’s cheeks grew warm and pink as she threw herself into his arms screaming an excited yes. His heart swelled as she held his head in her hands and smiled at him and told him the news of a new arrival.
The ceremony was lavish and extravagant with all the pomp and circumstance of a royal wedding. Behind the church was a small courtyard strewn with white statues of saints and angels donated by promising members of the community. It was lush with greenery and cool no matter what time of the year it was. The garden was built as a meditative spot for retired clergy and those wishing to take a retreat from the hardships of everyday life. John walked about it hoping to clear what weighed heavily on his mind. A year should have been enough to get over an unrequited love. It should have been more than enough time, John thought to himself.
“Helen deserves to be happy,” John’s thoughts wandered restlessly in his mind. “I’d just be complicating things needlessly. I love her, but she can never know that.”
“Are you ready, John?” Paul asked smiling, nervousness in his eyes.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” John said adjusting his brother’s tie, “But I hope I shouldn’t be asking you the same questiong.”
“I love her,” Paul replied, “It’s just… Well, you know how I am with big crowds. I didn’t even know we had that much family.”
“Well, I said there was a buffet at the reception and random people started showing up.” The two shared a laugh. Paul took a deep breath and took his position by the altar. John nodded and flashed him a reassuring smile, hurting inside when Helen came to the entry way at the back of the church. It will never last; they’re rushing into things, some whispered. It’s true love, others would say.
The wedding ceremony proceeded without a hiccup save for some few stutters during the exchange of vows and a sweaty brow, both products of Paul. Everyone, including John, enjoyed themselves and lived in the moment that was supposed to be the first day of the rest of Helen and Paul’s happy life together. Even the priest who performed the ceremony, Father O’Quinn, was spotted at the celebration albeit for only a few moments. He disappeared with Edmund just shortly after the festivities began. By the end of the night all the guests went home fattened and drunk, the happily wed couple floated away to start a family, and John walked off quietly convincing himself that he was content to forever hold his peace.
The next day John decided that he needed more time alone away from work and civilization. He packed up his pickup truck and went camping buried in wilderness to hide away from the concrete jungle he called home. The air was sweet and fresh and invigorating. It was enough that a touch of sunlight was enough to energize him for the day. He slept better those first two nights than he had in almost two years. However, his subconscious was rudely interrupted on the third night of his trip.
John was sitting on the edge of a cliff staring out at the trees carpeting the expanse beneath him. The beams of light that showered from the sun massaged his shoulders and his face with a warmth so delicate he nearly wept. The feel of dried leaves and spongy moss beneath his feet comforted him. He could smell the pine and the wildflowers twirling around him. His smile slowly widened his face and it ached his cheeks. He had not had much practice in genuine smiles for some time.
There was a rustle in the bushes behind him. John looked and saw nothing, nobody. The rustle became a commotion and John looked again, still nothing. Probably some birds or maybe even a chipmunk, he told himself. But he sensed a presence behind him, a distinct presence of someone standing there as if he were in someone’s shadow. The only shadows on the ground were his and the trees.
“John,” a voice whispered in his ear, “John Wesson.” The sun grew warm behind him as if a fire gently tickled the back of his neck. He turned around and was bathed in a brilliant light.
“Who is that? Who’s there?”
“John. You’re dreaming,” the voice was gentle but intimidating. John looked around and somehow knew that he was indeed in a dream. “I am an Angel of the Lord, John. My name is Raphael.”
“Am I dying?”
“No, but I fear that someone close to you is dying already.”
“Who?”
“Your brother, Paul Wesson.”
“Bullshit. What are you doing here? Why don’t you go save him?”
“Because it’s already done. By the time you wake up, you have to turn on your phone.” Raphael knew that John kept one close by in case of an emergency. “The baby will be born in a few months, and something is coming for him.”
“Him? Not even the doctor can tell the gender of the baby; it’s too early. What the hell do you want from me?”
“I need your permission. I need to use your body as a vessel to protect that unborn child from the coming evil.”
“You need my permission?”
“An angel of heaven can only take control with consent. You will be completely prescient, I assure you. But I will be the one entirely in control.”
“Then, I’m going to say, ‘No!’”
“It is the only way to protect Helen and the baby. Only an angel will be equipped and strong enough for what’s to come.”
“I said, no.”
“We hear you, you know,” Raphael’s voice softened, “We know how much you cared for Helen Summers. We know how much you cared for your brother, Paul. Ideally, I should be the one protecting the child and his mother, using you as a vessel.”
“Isn’t there another way?”
“There is one option,” Raphael was hesitant to elaborate but continued anyway. “We can make you an angel.”
“Why don’t we do that?” John’s excitement couldn’t be contained. “I’ll have your abilities and I’ll still be me. That’s a good deal.”
“There is one catch,” Raphael added. “In order for you to become an angel I will have to wipe your memory of this conversation once you have awoken. And--”
“I don’t mind that at all!” John interjected.
“And! You will only receive the abilities that are necessary for the moment. They will come to you like flashes of a distant memory or some repressed instinctual reflex.”
“So, I won’t technically be an angel?”
“You will have the knowledge and abilities like anyone else in the Heavenly Hosts, but you’ll only be aware of certain ones that certain moments demand. I don’t have the ability to bestow full celestial grace on you until you make a great sacrifice. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“Good. When you wake up, as we discussed, you won’t remember any of this. That is, unless, we meet again.”
“I understand.”
“Well, you will remember to do one thing.”
“What?”
“Turn on your cell phone, John.”
There was a flash of brilliant light like a bolt of lightning that left no burned scar of electricity nor made a crack of thunder. But it blew John’s body back away from it as his feet left the ground. He looked back and saw that he was falling off the cliff. The instant that gravity failed him, John awoke suddenly. He was in the middle of the woods cuddled warmly in his sleeping bag in the middle of the night. Something urged him to reach into his pack and turn on his cell phone. As the light flashed on, the phone chirped and vibrated in his hand.
“Hello?” he answered the phone.
“John?” a familiar voice responded.
“Helen, is that you?”
“Yeah,” her voice quivered, “I need you to come home. It’s about Paul.”
Chapter 4- A Break
The doorknob rattled in John’s hand. Rust made the hinges scream in as the door swung slowly open. John’s heavy boot dropped with a hollow thud onto the creaking hardwood floor of Abe’s house. The house, for the most part, was empty causing each footfall to echo throughout the stale air of the living room. Dust clung to the air floating in suspended limbo until it found its way onto the floor or the few sticks of furniture sprinkled around the place.
John reached to the wall closest to him in the hopes of finding a light switch. He flicked the witch on and a naked bulb struggled to emit what little light it could. The wall was covered with news clippings and messily scribbled notes, presumably Abe’s. In the corner was a worn out chair tucked besides a rickety old desk. John walked towards the desk and a loose floorboard rattled beneath his heel.
Bending down he pried open the loose plank and cautiously reached down into the darkness. The air beneath was cold and it felt as if John had dipped his hands into a puddle of ice. The corner of the leather satchel hit the heel of John’s hand as he waved around the cobwebs and dust. He yanked out the bag which was much heavier than it looked. Curiosity overwhelmed John’s usually steady hand and he attempted to take a peek inside the bag.
John found a small heavy box, two bottles, a small empty nylon bag, and a worn out leather bound notebook that he suspected to be Abe’s journal. He took out the notebook and found an insignia burned onto the front cover that resembled the Vatican Seal. Along the thick hard spine were the words, “Ordo Sphaerae Tertius.” The light flickered to a second life, burning just a bit brighter revealing the large corkboard on the wall immediately in front of John. Scattered about were pictures of various places that John and Helen had frequented since finding the house.
It became apparent that the snapshots tacked on the wall proved that Abe had been expecting Helen and John to move into the neighborhood for quite some time. On the top corner was a picture of Abe and Edmund smiling with exhausted eyes, both of them dressed in traditional cassocks. Behind the picture, Abe had written, “Where is Edmund?” John took this photo and stuffed in the journal along with a note with the names Asmodeus, Leviathan, and Berith written with question marks beside each name.
He packed the journal back into the satchel and pulled out the empty nylon bag with one hand, taking his Swiss Army knife with the other. He quietly closed the front door and knelt at the young garden in front cutting away a piece of each plant as Edmund requested. Neatly putting everything away, John took a deep breath and marched austerely back to the house.
“It was horrible,” Edmund was explaining how it felt to be possessed to Helen when John came in through the front door. “Imagine being tied down to the back seat of a car heading against oncoming traffic. I was totally aware of everything Asmodeus was doing, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I was totally helpless.”
“How long was that thing inside you?” John asked as he handed Edmund the leather satchel.
“I think it was about the time that Paul died. Its name is Asmodeus: an angel who was cast down from Heaven,” Edmund replied, averting eye contact. He emptied the contents onto the floor next to the fire. “Did you get those plants?” John handed him the small nylon bag and Edmund meticulously arranged everything in front of him. He picked up the journal and handed it to John. “Leaf through the pages of that and see if Abe found anything in that could help us.”
“From the looks of his place it looks like he’s been following Helen and me for a while,” John started superficially reading the first page of the journal. “You, on the other hand, he lost completely. He had no idea where you were until we got here yesterday.” He took out the photo of Edmund and Abe and tossed it to in front of Edmund’s face who paused to look at it nostalgically.
“What about this? Maybe this is the break we need,” John said as he pressed his finger on the page, “It’s about demonic and angelic possessions. According to this, demons can force themselves into the consciousness of humans while angels need the consent of the vessel.” John paused and reflected a moment as if the words had been spoken to him before. “That’s probably what happened to the neighbors.”
“What are you talking about?” Edmund asked.
“I was just joking, but it is a little strange that with all the screaming and struggling that no one’s come to our aid. Especially since we’re the new kids in town.”
“That is a little strange,” Edmund said with a degree of worry in his voice, “But I’d let it go for now. If everyone was possessed, they would have made their move by now.” John continued reading.
“It says here that there are exceptions to the rule that says humans have to give consent. ‘There have been cases in which angels resurrected a corpse and restored it to its original form for the sole purpose of possessing it.’ I guess, if the person’s dead, the whole consent deal gets thrown in a loophole. The other way involves a ritual with a blood sacrifice using the blood of someone with a close spiritual connection with the vessel.” John was amazed to see the organized detail in the journal.
“That’s what Asmodeus needed me alive for,” Edmund added. “I guess he can kill me now if he wanted to, now that I’m useless to him.”
“Maybe an angel raised me from the dead?” John wondered.
“Asmodeus was shocked to see you because you’re a new angel, not an old one in your body. That’s the only way to explain why you know what you know,” Edmund replied matter-of-factly. “The only problem is I have no idea which angel has Abe possessed and that could be a big problem.”
John continued to read and paused. He pretended to scan the pages when he realized that Edmund had avoided going into the details of his possession by Asmodeus. Edmund handed him the photo and asked him to tuck it back into the journal for Abe. John slid the photo inside the back cover and noticed Enochian writing on it. He read it to himself.
“A friend in the coroner’s office confirms Paul was poisoned which means it couldn’t be a demon,” it read. “I have performed all the precautionary tests and as much as I refuse to believe it, he was not possessed when the crime was committed. I knew he had his weaknesses but I would have never guessed that Edmund was capable of killing Paul Wesson.”
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