Page 143 - Hunter - The Vigil

O’Malley kicks the thing through the bay window. It lands amid the glass, and it

scrambles to get up, but Dottie’s already out there, pistol-whipping the thing back to

the sidewalk.
Its head rolls around on bony shoulders. Cuts form and heal upon its face. Its

tongue, a serpent’s tongue, whips out and lashes at the air.

“Eviction notice, ” the Padre says — not that he’s really a priest, but he likes the
garb and claims his family was somehow related by cousin of a cousin to Pope John
Paul — and together he and Dottie drag the spitting lunatic into the trunk of the

Caddy.
“Did I mention that the Power of Christ compels you?” Dottie says with a mad

laugh, then slams the trunk shut.
O’Malley comes out — stepping right through the broken window, because, hell,
why not? — already dabbing at a rough gash across his head so the blood doesn’t run
into his eyes. He sees the looks from his cellmates. “I’ve had worse, relax. ”

“Explain to me why we can’t exorcise the thing again?” Dottie says, bouncing on
the balls of her feet (she always gets so excited during a raid). “We’re believers. We’re
part of the Witch’s Hammer. We go to confession. Let’s give it a shot, man. ”

“Don’t be retarded, ” Padre says. “A real priest has to do this. A real exorcist. It
isn’t about faith, it’s about the work. It’s about following the formula, about getting it
right. We’re Catholics, fi ne, but we’re not trained freaking exorcists over here. We have

our Benedictions. They have theirs. Everybody wins. ”

“The Padre has it right, ” O’Malley says, and he’s about to say something else
when the trunk starts thumping and the thing inside it starts screaming at them in Ara-
maic. O’Malley just sighs, and adds, “We’d better go. The sooner we free this host

from its demonic possessor, the better. ”

“Amen, ” Dottie says. “I’m driving. ”

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