Reign of Evil

YaYa felt exposed beneath the light on the front stoop. He’d have much rather they’d turned off the power and CQBd inside, instead of this awkward Jehovah’s Witness waiting on the front stoop nonsense.

They heard the sound of footsteps on hardwood, then the sound of several locks disengaging.

The door opened and the same woman from earlier stood there. But instead of screaming or showing fear, she looked nonplussed at the three scary men with weapons. “I’m sorry, it’s too late to call on Mr. Van Dyke.”

“Back door. Move,” said Holmes into his MBITR.

He pushed past her into the home. YaYa grabbed her by the arm and pushed her against a wall, knocking a picture to the ground. Quickly and efficiently he frisked her. Seeing Laws and Yank come in from the kitchen, he pointed upstairs. They hurried up and began to clear rooms.

YaYa put zip ties around the woman’s hands, then lowered her to the floor. “Sit here. Don’t move.” Then he joined Holmes and Hoover in the drawing room.

Van Dyke was sitting in his chair staring straight ahead. He didn’t appear to be moving. He didn’t even appear to be alive. Whatever his condition, it wasn’t anything Hoover appreciated. The dog stood ready to attack, a low growl coming from deep in her throat.

Holmes finished scanning the room, then grabbed a picture from the wall. He held it at an angle, which provided a perfect reflection of the man. Holmes set the picture aside, then checked for a pulse. He waved his hand before the man’s eyes, then prodded him in the chest. No response.

“No sign of smudging. Laws, report.”

The second in command came loud and clear over the MBITR. “Second floor clear. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Check the basement. We’ll stand by.” To YaYa he said, “You and Hoover clear the rest of this level.”

YaYa turned and motioned for Hoover to follow. Then, with his rifle at low ready, he pushed into the dining room, then to a library, then back around to the kitchen. He peeked into the sole bathroom on this level and opened the closets. All the while, he was aware of the nature spirit somewhere in the home. He didn’t know how he knew it, but it felt like a line of fear tickling his spine. He had to gulp several times as it felt as if it came closer. He wasn’t used to the fear. But then again, he also had never been possessed before. What the obour had done to him, at least what he could remember, had been so terrible it haunted most of his waking and sleeping moments more than any number of deaths or visions of dead bodies.

As he was moving back to the front of the house, Genie spoke breathlessly. “There’s something moving outside.”

“Define ‘something,’” Holmes said.

“Small tree with legs. Hell. Walking. Fuck me.”

“Easy, SEAL. Give us location.”

“Right outside your fucking window.”

YaYa entered the room in time to see Holmes run to the window to look outside. Then he raised his rifle as if to fire.

“Careful,” whispered Genie. “What the hell? It just fell to pieces.”

Then YaYa watched as the man in the chair turned to him and smiled. Then he stood and turned to Holmes, who was at the window three feet from him.

“Behind you!” YaYa fired a single round into the man’s lower leg.

Holmes spun, in time to catch the man as he fell forward. He held Van Dyke by the collar of his shirt and lowered him to the ground.

Laws and Yank burst into the room.

Holmes pulled Van Dyke into the middle of the room and laid him on his back. He was conscious and evinced both anger and pain.

Holmes pulled his mask free. “Ask the woman if there’s a medkit.”

“What woman?” Laws said. “She’s gone.”

“Genie?”

“Nothing here.”

“Fuck.” Holmes turned to Laws. “Find her. Take Hoover.” To YaYa he said, “Watch my six.”

Holmes removed the man’s shoes, then the blood-soaked sock on the left leg. Then he ripped the pants, exposing the lower leg. He had Van Dyke raise his knee, to allow for the bend to compress the vessels delivering blood to the affected areas. He glanced around, then grabbed the man’s shirt and ripped it, revealing a pale and white-haired torso. He balled a doily he found on a nearby table, pressed it into the wound, then wrapped it.

“What were you thinking?” he said to the man.

Van Dyke replied with gritted teeth, “That I wouldn’t be shot in my own home.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you in the head,” YaYa said. He could feel the thing inside the man. “It’s back in him, Boss. Whatever the fuck it is feels like greasy nightmare shit.”

“Be easy, SEAL, and plug him if he moves.” Holmes finished tying the field bandage. “What the fuck was that out there?” Then he saw the tattoo over the man’s left breast. Holmes pointed to it. “Triple goddess. Tuatha Dé Dannan.”

YaYa noticed the surprise in the man’s eyes. He leaned in and saw the tattoo. It was three crescent moons, interlocked. And whatever it was lived inside of it. As he watched, the tattoo seemed to pulse and grow larger. He felt its pull and took one uncontrolled step toward it.