In the Name of Evil | Chapter 5

Father Akkerman had only become a priest because of his mother. She became a nun sometime after his birth, but had always worried that he would turn out like her, in the sense that she hadn’t found any meaning in her life until she had “seen” Jesus Christ. According to her, the religious figure had given her, a single mother, the strength she needed to complete childbirth. From that moment onward she had a purpose: to dedicate her life to teaching children about God and His son. But when her own child started to harbor doubts about the holy man that had saved her life, she’d often weep. Kain hated to see his mother in such torment, but he wasn’t willing to throw his life away to a cause that he didn’t believe in.
           When his mother died of nephritis in 1942, he was almost eighteen. The degree to which her death shocked him had always been one he’d never been able to put into words. She’d been hiding her symptoms from everyone, but had suddenly lost her will to carry on.
           Perhaps, he thought during her funeral, she gave up because of me. Because I lack faith in God, God took her from me.
           He’d loved his mother more than anything in the world, so much so that his friends had taken to calling him “mama’s boy” in jest. He’d had a girlfriend, but after his mother’s death he drifted further and further away from her. It wasn’t long before he became a deacon. God was cruel; he didn’t want to lose anybody else. He had to make peace with his mother.
           Every day, at least once, Akkerman would silently pray for his mother’s soul, hoping that someday before he died he’d get some sort of heavenly sign that she forgave him. As he sat in front of the pedestal at the end of the aisle, he began to do just that. His lack of faith had taken now not only his mother, but the souls of Father de Witte and a teenaged girl. But this time it wasn’t God who was reaping. Wherever they were, God could not reach. The demon was in full control.
           He couldn’t remember where he and de Witte had left off in the exorcism. While the rite did seem to affect the demon, he still didn’t know if it would be possible to complete the ritual here. What if the demon was telling the truth? Was it possible that Els and Jasper would die if the exorcism did work?
           It doesn’t matter, he convinced himself. If he managed to exorcise them, at least their souls could be saved. Still, if they did die in the process, Akkerman wasn’t sure how he would feel. He’d probably, as the demon suggested, feel like a complete failure. How would he be able to face Chantel and Allard, knowing that he’d failed to save their daughter? How would he be able to face any of the holy men at the church? He didn’t belong in that small town. He should’ve stayed in New York.
           The old man began to wonder: if he hadn’t become a priest, would this still have happened? Would Els and Jasper be fine and well? He argued not; if he hadn’t been a priest, de Witte likely would’ve wound up performing the exorcism alone. Els still would’ve been possessed. The reason for this argument was the demon’s determination that Father de Witte was a fallen angel. The true target had been Jasper all along. Akkerman simply had the unfortunate luck of getting in the way.
           According to the legends, when angels gave up their wings, they left themselves wide open to demons. They were like catnip for the unholy creatures in the depths of Hell. But fallen angels�"or “Fallen”�"were considered to be creatures of fiction. No real scientific research had ever been put into them. In truth, only the extremely religious believed that they existed at all. Even so, Akkerman couldn’t help but believe in them now. Father de Witte being a Fallen tied up too many loose ends for him to think it not true. But the bigger concern on Akkerman’s mind was whether it was possible to save a Fallen’s soul once a demon embraced it. While it might still be possible to save Els, it might not be so simple for de Witte if he wasted anymore time. The longer he waited, the more the young man’s soul was devoured. He had to act fast.
           Akkerman stood up and turned to the bible on the pedestal. In one fluid movement he picked it up. De Witte still had the stole, so the ritual would have to continue without it. Next he needed to find holy water and a cross. There was a crucifix on the wall, but it was much too large and the figure of Jesus nailed to it was missing its head.
           He looked around the church’s main area, hoping that de Witte had left his cross somewhere. Relief washed over him when he found it lying on the ground near the base of the crucifix. After he picked it up, he searched the other rooms. There had to be holy water somewhere . . . or at least he hoped there was. It wasn’t necessary, but it would certainly make things easier for him.
           Lo and behold, though, there was no holy water. Akkerman sighed, defeated. He would have to resume the ritual without it, then. His only hope was that a cross and a bible would be enough for one man to exorcise a demon from two people. Something told him that it wouldn’t be, but what other choice did he have? It wasn’t just their lives at stake anymore; if he wasn’t able to exorcise the demon then he’d die too. Though he felt guilty about it, he wasn’t as selfless as de Witte; he wanted to keep on living. He wasn’t about to give his soul up to a demon without a fight. With the bible under his arm, he adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath.
           He was nervous. It was one hundred percent certain in his mind that he was about to walk into his final showdown. Someone was going to die, whether him or not. He only hoped that his premonition was wrong. Silently he prayed that he could at least save one of them. Jasper would want Els safe. So he prayed to God to help him at least be able to exorcise Els. If he was able to do that much before the demon decided to drag him into Hell with de Witte, then so be it. At least the girl would be safe.
           There was no more time to waste. Akkerman raised his head and kissed the cross before finally leaving the church.
           The sky was overcast now. It looked like it might storm soon.
           Fitting, thought Akkerman.
           Slicking his gray hair back with the hand he held the cross in, Akkerman stared up at the dark clouds. He tried to find where the sun had hidden, but the gray mists were too thick for even a ray of light to beam through. A snapping noise from somewhere in front of him made him look down. Sure enough, near the main road stood Els. She glared at him with black, soulless eyes.
           “So, you’ve decided to waste your time, then,” observed the demon.
           “You could say that.” Akkerman didn’t argue. It likely would be a waste of time, but it was either mope and die or fight and die. What Kain lacked in faith, he made up for in courage. This demon had tormented him. God be damned if he wasn’t going to at least try to get vengeance.
           Els snapped her neck from side to side. “What a shame,” she groaned. “I was going to give you a painless death.”
           “How thoughtful.” Akkerman paid little attention to Els, instead opening the bible. He had to figure out where he and de Witte had left off. “Where’s Father Jasper?” he asked to keep the demon talking, trying to buy himself some time. “Shouldn’t you be controlling him instead of Els?”
           “He’ll be joining us shortly.”
           “Funny, I would’ve expected you to brag.”
           “I decided to use Els because I know she reminds you of your mother, Father.”
           Akkerman paused for a moment, staring at the print on the page but not reading it. The demon was right, but he shook it off and continued flipping through the holy book. He wasn’t about to let it be known that he felt protective of Els because she vaguely resembled his mother.
           “It seemed like the better option,” the demon admitted. “But don’t you worry. I’ll bring Jasper around as soon as I finish with him.”
           The old man decided not to question what that meant. What mattered was figuring out where to continue from. Once he found it, he looked up at the demon, who made Els tilt her head.
           “I’m going to continue the exorcism now,” he warned.
           “You won’t succeed.”
           “Then you shouldn’t mind if I try.” Akkerman’s casually-spoken words made the demon snarl. The angry reaction gave the priest some semblance of hope; it suggested that the exorcism could still harm it. Clearing his throat, Akkerman began.
           “Save your servants, who trust in you, my God.”
           “Why do you keep trying?” Els questioned. “It hasn’t worked before. What do you get out of this?”
           “Let them find in you, Lord, a fortified tower in the face of the enemy. Let the enemy have no power over them, and the son of iniquity be powerless to harm them.”
           “I’ve got your mother with me, Father.”
           “Lord, send them aid from your holy place, and watch over them from Sion.”
           “Kain.”
           “Lord, heed my prayer, and let my cry be heard by you.”
           “Kain.”
           It wasn’t until he heard his mother say his name a second time that Akkerman stopped. He knew the demon was toying with him, but he wanted to see her again, so it was with hesitance that he looked up. His mother, dressed in her habit with a rosary in her hands, stood where Els had. Her black veil was on her head, covering her hair, and she looked so sad.
           “My dearest Kain,” she cried, “why do you torture me so? All these years you’ve been lying to yourself�"to me. You pretend to love God . . . but you don’t, do you?”
           “Mother,” he responded, managing to keep his cool. “I’m sorry. I swear I will make peace with you one day.”
           She shook her head. “I’ll never forgive you, Kain. God will never forgive you.”
           “I’ll still try.” Done playing along, Akkerman looked back down at the bible. “The Lord be with you,” he continued. “May He also be with you. Let me pray.”
           “Kain, stop pretending!” his mother shrilled. “People who lie to their mothers rot in the depths of Hell!”
           “God, whose nature is ever merciful and forgiving, accept my prayer that these servants of yours, bound by the fetters of sin, may be pardoned by your loving kindness.”
           “Father!”
           Akkerman raised his eyes again. Standing beside his mother was Father de Witte, panting. The old priest said nothing, unsure if it was another trick. The demon, still masquerading as his mother, turned her eyes onto de Witte in a similar fashion. As the young priest stumbled closer to Akkerman, he looked at the old man with a desperate, pale face.
           “Father, keep going!” he insisted. “Don’t let the demon distract”�"a spasm of pain cut him off. His eyes rolled back into his head before clouding over with black. The demon spoke to him through his own mouth these words: “I’m relieved that you’re not done yet, Jasper. If you hadn’t spoken up, I wouldn’t have been able to hurt you anymore.”
           While he wanted to scream at the demon to stop tormenting the fallen angel, Akkerman couldn’t be sure about the legitimacy of what he was seeing. It was possible that de Witte breaking free was only part of an act meant to distract him. Either way, the only rational choice Akkerman had that would get him anywhere was to keep praying.
           “Holy Lord,” he began, “almighty Father, everlasting God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who once and for all consigned that fallen and apostate tyrant to the flames of Hell, who sent your only begotten Son into the world to crush that roaring lion. Hasten to our call for help and snatch from ruination and from the clutches of this noonday devil these human beings made in your image and likeness.”
           “I am no ‘noonday devil’, Father,” the demon hissed. “I have a purpose.”
           “Strike terror, Lord, into the beast now laying waste to your vineyard. Fill your servants with courage to fight manfully against this reprobate dragon, lest he despise those who put their trust in you, and say with Pharaoh of old: ‘I know not God, nor will I set Israel free.’ Let your mighty hand cast him out of your servants, Els Giese and Jasper de Witte, so he may no longer hold captive these persons whom it so pleased you to make in your image, and to redeem through your Son, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, forever and ever.”
           “Amen,” Father de Witte choked out before emitting a loud, demented scream. Akkerman knew then that the previous scene was no act; de Witte was still present. There was little time, then. Determined, Akkerman drew the sign of the cross over himself before extending de Witte’s cross forward and stepping closer to the demon and de Witte.
           “I command you, unclean spirit, whoever you are, along with all of your minions attacking these servants of God, by the mysteries of the incarnation, passion, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ, by the descent of the Holy Spirit, by the coming of our Lord for judgment, that you tell me by some sign your name and the day and hour of your departure.”
           “F**k you, heathen!”
           “I command you, moreover, to obey me to the letter, I who am a minister of God despite my unworthiness. Nor shall you be emboldened to harm in any way these creatures of God, or the bystanders, or any of their possessions.”
           His mother turned back into Els, back in her pajamas, before hissing at him. Jasper was hunched over, moaning in agony. Still holding the bible and cross, Akkerman placed his full hands on their foreheads, his left on Els’ and his right on Father de Witte’s.
           “They shall lay their hands upon the sick and all will be well with them. May Jesus, son of Mary, Lord and Savior of the world, through the merits and intercession of His holy apostles Peter and Paul and all his Saints, show you favor and mercy.”
           Els began to back away, somehow both snarling and screaming. Her primal noises did little to distract Akkerman, who looked down at de Witte. The possessed priest looked up at him with his teeth bared. He didn’t speak.
           “Amen,” Akkerman said.
           De Witte roared and lunged at him. Holding the cross out and pressing it against the young man’s forehead earned a yell from the demon, who pulled Jasper back. It seemed weak. Akkerman felt that he finally had the upper hand. Could he bring the exorcism to a close?
           The rest of de Witte’s blond hair gradually shifted to black, starting at the roots. Akkerman had to end it now, or else he was going to be in serious trouble.
           “God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, I appeal to your holy name, humbly begging your kindness, that you graciously grant me help against this and every unclean spirit now tormenting these creatures of yours, through Christ our Lord.”
           De Witte and Els both responded with something, but it certainly wasn’t “Amen”. Whatever it was, Akkerman could not make it out�"it sounded like it was something in reverse�"so he ignored it. Laying his eyes on both of them, the old man began the final part of the exorcism.
           “Therefore, I adjure you every unclean spirit, every specter from Hell, every satanic power, in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, who was led into the desert after His baptism by John to vanquish you in your citadel, to cease your assaults against the creatures whom He has formed from the slime of the Earth for His own honor and glory; to quail before wretched man, seeing in him the image of almighty God rather than his state of human frailty.”
           Els pulled at her own hair as Jasper cried out. With darkened hands, the young priest tried to reach around himself, tugging at the fabric of his cassock as if he wanted to tear it away.
           “It burns,” he moaned. “My back burns. O Lord, it hurts.” Then the demon spoke again: “Silence, you pathetic waste of oxygen. You know nothing of pain yet.”
           Akkerman resumed, repeatedly drawing the sign of the cross over them. “Yield then to God, who by His servant, Moses, cast you and your malice, in the person of Pharaoh and his army, into the depths of the sea! Yield to God, who by the singing of holy canticles on the part of David, His faithful servant, banished you from the heart of King Saul!
           “Yield to God, who condemned you in the person of Judas Iscariot, the traitor! For He now flails you with His divine scourges, He in whose sight you and your legions once cried out: ‘What have we to do with you, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? Have you come to torture us before the time?’ Now He is driving you back into the everlasting fire, He who at the end of time will say to the wicked: ‘Depart from me, you accursed, into the everlasting fire which has been prepared for the devil and his angels!’”
           “Indeed, his angels! Fitting, for I now possess one of my own!”
           Akkerman watched in awe as two angel wings, coated with black feathers, burst outward from de Witte’s back, ripping through his cassock. With black hair and two large, equally dark wings, Father de Witte was quite the sight to behold. The demonic angel then extended a sharp finger that dripped with black ichor, pointing it at Father Akkerman.
           “You’ll never escape me,” he declared. “There is no undoing the damage I have done to this angel. I will get you in the end. You will follow me into the depths of Hell!”
           Sensing that the demon was pulling its trump card in a desperate attempt to intimidate him, Akkerman only continued the exorcism.
           “Depart, then, impious one. Depart, accursed one�"depart with all of your deceits, for God has willed those two should be His temple! Why do you still linger here? Give honor to God the Father Almighty, before whom every knee must bow! Give place to the Lord Jesus Christ, who shed His most precious blood for man! Give place to the Holy Spirit, who by His blessed apostle Peter openly struck you down in the person of Simon Magus�"who cursed your lies in Annas and Saphira�"who smote you in King Herod because he had not given honor to God�"who by his apostle Paul afflicted you with the night of blindness in the magician Elyma, and by the mouth of the same apostle bade you to go out of Pythonissa, the soothsayer!”
           “I will stab you to death with the cross you hold!” the demon bellowed in rage, using the throat of Jasper de Witte to make the threat. “Then I’ll bathe in the blood of Els Giese before slitting the throat of this forsaken angel! All three of you will join me in the everlasting fires of Hell!”
           “Begone, now!” Akkerman hollered back. “Begone, seducer! Your place is in solitude. Your abode is in the nest of the serpents; get down and crawl with them! This matter brooks no delay, for, see, the Lord�"the ruler�"comes quickly, kindling fire before him, and it will run on ahead of Him and encompass His enemies in flames! You might delude man, but God you cannot mock! It is He who casts you out, He from whose sight nothing is hidden! It is He who repels you, He to whose might all things are subject! It is He who expels you, He who has prepared everlasting hellfire for you and your angels, from whose mouth shall come a sharp sword, who is coming to judge the living, the dead, and the world by fire!”
           The demonic angel then leapt forward. He grabbed Akkerman by the collar, floating above him and tugging him up off of the ground. After getting straight in his face, it was with a jet black tongue and sharp teeth that the demon, strangely enough, gave the response:
           “Amen.”
           In an instant, everything went black. Akkerman was alone again in the darkness of the pit he’d been thrust into. He looked down into the abyss to find Jasper de Witte, unconscious. The young man was again wearing his surplice; his hair returned to its original platinum color.
           Discovering he could swim through the darkness, the older man started to breaststroke deeper in. He wrapped his arm around Father de Witte’s waist, pulling him close before looking up. Above, he could see the ceiling of Els’ room, with a beam of light spilling in. The door was open, it seemed, as the lights had to be coming from the upstairs hallway. What had happened in reality while he and de Witte were in Hell?
           “Father Jasper,” he said reassuringly to the unconscious priest. “Don’t worry. We’re getting out of here now.”
           But as he started to swim up, he realized that something was holding them back. He looked down at de Witte. That was how he noticed it: the long black tendril wrapped around de Witte’s ankle. It tethered him to something in the depths of the abyss. The demon wasn’t letting go so easily.
           Determined, though, Akkerman looked again at de Witte’s midsection. From one of the priest’s pockets, he pulled the cross. Holding it up with one hand, he kissed it before reaching down. Then he roughly pressed it against the dark tendril. That was when the screams of a thousand dead souls filled the space around him. He feared he may go deaf, but refused to stop until the tendril pulled back and released Father de Witte’s leg.
           Fueled by a final burst of adrenaline, Akkerman headed for the light, pulling de Witte with him. He only hoped that he would find the exorcism completed in reality as well, and that he could even get back.
           As he approached the portal, his vision grew brighter. He could finally rest on the other side. Crawling out of the pit like he would a swimming pool, Akkerman proceeded to drag de Witte up into Els’ room. Then he collapsed to the floor, lying on his back and panting. Was it finally over?
           When he looked over at Els’ bed, he froze. Whatever foolish hope he’d felt melted away all at once. The bed was empty.
           Els was gone.