SNAFU: Survival of the Fittest

He gently picked up the trinket. The moment he touched it, the gloves began to give off a tinge of smoke. Made from one of the habits of Mother Theresa, the gloves were one of the only things in our inventory that allowed us to touch evil without being burned by it. He pulled the lid free. Beneath it was a pentagram of summoning, similar to the one I’d used, but this one had been adapted and changed by Aleister Crowley, which told me that the user probably had a background in Golden Dawn occultism. The inside was empty but the wood looked as though it was lined with bone.

“Bone demon?” Gomer asked.

I nodded. “I think so. It’s probably why the Cerberus is having such a hard time. I’ve only come across one once before and there was a lot of blood before we were able to rid ourselves of it.” To Burgess I said, “Get the salt.”

When he returned with the salt, I poured a little on everyone’s head. Then I approached Everett, who sat in the middle of the heptagram on the floor. When I poured salt on his head, it immediately began to smoke.

I then had Gomer and Burgess move a stepladder so it was directly above Everett. Burgess held it steady, while Gomer climbed to the top. Using a hammer and a nail he affixed the box upside down to the center of the heptagram on the ceiling.

Burgess removed the ladder and Gomer placed the box cover with the symbol of summoning on Everett’s head. I added salt to it and immediately an intense, foot-high flame shot from the box top.

A growling sound began to emanate from the Cerberus. This was joined by the sound of teeth grinding together.

I motioned for Donka to stand back, but she was an old champ at this. She found a spot behind Patterson and stayed there. If any havoc was going to occur in the room as a result of her singing, it would have to get through him to her. Mark, for all of his previous misery, didn’t seem to mind at all.

I turned to the Cerberus and raised my hands. I’d drawn the Eye of Horus on my right palm. On my left I’d drawn the Norse rune of bondage. I began to chant in German, casting a summoning spell that would be difficult for any demon to ignore.

The growling became louder and louder, until it was a scream. Everett opened his mouth and smoke began to pour out in the shape of a being. Hands gripped the insides of his mouth and pulled the rest of the body out, only to have it caught in an invisible whirlwind that drew it into the flame atop the box top. The color of scorched bone, the figure swirled in the air for a brief moment before it was snatched into the box. Once inside, the top flew from Everett’s head and snapped into place on the box on the ceiling and remained there.

I ceased my chanting in the same moment that Everett opened his eyes.

He looked at me for a long moment. “You from Seventy-Seven?” he asked with a gravelly voice.

I nodded.

“Thanks for the help.”

“Is that all there was or should we be worried about something more.”

“Isn’t that enough?” he said, then fell over, his eyes rolling up into his head.

MONTE RIO

July 9, 1970

Morning

Mr. Everett Duncan sat at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee and eating his sixth piece of toast. His eyes were bleary, but the color had returned to his skin and he was as hale and healthy as a man recently possessed by a bone demon could be.

I’d had Patterson take Donka back last night with my promise to her that we’d help her get another gig at The Filmore. Gomer Pyle hadn’t approved. He tended to see only black and white and she’d been arrested for her involvement with the Russian mob a year ago. Gomer didn’t care that the mob had been holding the lives of her family back in Romania over her head. He didn’t care that she was of great use to us. He felt that she’d committed the crime of espionage and should be treated like a criminal. Only it wasn’t really espionage. We just told her that to keep her in line. In fact, going into antique stores to sing and find magical artifacts wasn’t against the law. We just didn’t want her doing it for the Russians. We wanted her to do it for us. We allowed her to keep her links to the mob because of the safety of her family, and she consistently reported her contacts to 77. It was a win-win situation, regardless of what Gomer thought.

I poured Everett a second cup of coffee.

He was halfway through it before he finally spoke. “I first noticed something wrong when I came home and my wards were gone.”

“Gone you say? When was this?”

He turned to me. “What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

“Gods. It was Monday.” He pulled out a pocket knife and began to cut an apple into slices. He offered me one, but I declined. He ate a slice, then continued. “I was ready to confront whoever did it, or at least I thought I was.”

“Who could have shattered your wards? I didn’t even detect any when I arrived. There was certainly nothing to stop us from entering.”