Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

THE KINGDOM :: 221
from her gaping jaws, much longer and more prehensile than
a human tongue had any right to be.
But that was because, it was obvious to the friars, this
creature was not human.
“I knew there was something about her,” Richard
breathed. He quickly but gently lowered Mikael to the floor.
“Terry, the Rite. Dylan, something cruciform, quick!”
Instantly, Terry began to recite from the Rite of Exorcism,
pausing only briefly to allow his memory to fill in the gaps:
“Holy Lord! All powerful! Eternal God! Father of Our Lord
Jesus Christ! You who destined that recalcitrant and apostate
Tyrant to the fires of Hell; you who sent your only Son
into this world in order that He might crush this Roaring
Lion. Throw your terror, Lord, over this Beast. Give faith to
your servants against this most Evil Serpent, to fight most
bravely—”
Dylan had a harder time of it, finally grabbing at Richard’s
belt, tying it to his own to form a makeshift equilateral cross.
Once he had it crudely assembled he stepped in front of his
colleagues, holding the talisman before them like a shield.
Richard fumbled at the fanny pack beneath his cassock and
withdrew a vial of holy water, blessed at the last vigil of
Easter.
The demon was noticeably subdued by the recitation, and
at the sight of the cross, she shrank back a couple of steps,
turning her fiery gaze away.
Richard stepped forward, flicking holy water at her, and
the sound of water crackling against a hot frying pan echoed
off the stones.
In the dim and failing light of her flailing palms they could
see smoke rising from where the water had struck her. The
friars moved in on her as one.
She retreated a couple of steps, but was not undone.
Screaming with fury, she lashed out at them with the scimi-