Today's Exorcist Book One: Today's Exorcist, #1

By Odette C. Bell

Today's exorcist is tomorrow's dead meat.
Lily's an exorcist with a gift. An ancient wizard tied her soul to his victims. As they die, she becomes stronger. But it will cost her.
She's fought ghosts for fifteen years. Alone. She wanted to keep it that way, but then he comes along – the strapping, excessively attractive jock she last saw in high school. It turns out he's a detective. It also turns out she can't avoid him, no matter how hard she tries. When he's dragged into her world of ghosts, demons, and the damned, she'll have to accept him with open arms. It's that, or a punch to the jaw. She hasn't decided which Jerome Smith deserves yet.

….

Today's Exorcist follows a wisecracking exorcist and the cop who can't let her go fighting a serial killer. If you love your urban fantasies with action, wit, and a splash of romance, grab Today's Exorcist Book One today and soar free with an Odette C. Bell series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Odette C. Bell
• Release date: Aug 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393302070

Book preview

1

I ran across the street, my hands crammed into my pockets. I didn’t bother to snatch my fingers out and reach for one of the weapons holstered surreptitiously around my waist. This was going to be easy.

The spectral phenomenon I hunted weaved in and out of existence. Or should I say, it weaved in and out of the ordinary physical plane? Its warped features, snarling thin lips, and piercing gaze were invisible to those without the gift to see the dead. Or curse, not gift - it depended if you enjoyed the truly dark side of life or preferred fluffy bunny rabbits over ghouls and demons.

I picked up the pace. In my pocket, my phone vibrated. I clutched my fingers harder around it, drawing it tightly against my palm.

No doubt it was my contract asking if I’d finally done this. The answer was it was a work in progress. Like most of my missions.

I put on a burst of speed just as a puff of wind came rocketing down the street. It grabbed my hair, tugged it around my face, and whipped it against my pale cheeks. It framed the long scar down one side of my neck. A scar from an injury that, once upon a time, had almost killed me but now one that was nothing more than my lucky charm. I patted it now, letting my jagged, short nails trail over the indentation.

Then I shoved forward again, my boots pounding the pavement as I pushed up onto the curb.

The spectral phenomenon turned and screamed.

I was lucky that there was no one around. If anyone had heard that, they would know that a) something was up, and b) that whatever was up was not normal.

While there were a few people in this screwed-up town who understood that ghosts and magic existed, most of the ordinary populace had no clue.

Or at least, that was the story. I wasn’t entirely certain if I believed it. Really? No clue at all? Ghosts walked amongst us. As did many other phenomena from the grave – ghouls, demons even, you name it. Ordinary people must have some clue.

I shoved forward again. Tracking the ghost across the street, it weaved behind a dumpster.

Great, I muttered under my breath. I finally yanked both of my hands out of my pockets. I needed speed for this.

Shoving across the street, I reached the other side well before a taxi could come into view, its headlights bouncing up and down as it took to the uneven road.

I was out of sight long before its lights could slice across my form. Not that that would be a problem. It wouldn’t see anything untoward. I wasn’t covered in magic. Believe it or not, apart from a few choice spells, I didn’t have any otherworldly force. And nor did I have a strange, super-powerful body. I didn’t have claws or an extended face or a physical form capable of shifting through matter. I was just me.

Me with a certain added set of extra skills.

Shoving to the side, I finally reached the dumpster. I pushed into a roll and came up sharply behind it only to see that the ghost was no longer there. I could see the path it had taken right through the wall beside me, though. Seeping ectoplasm still dripped along the bricks.

Dammit, I stammered quickly. I shoved forward. That’s right – straight into the wall. You know how before I promised you that I wasn’t unusual? I’m wasn’t taking that back. But when a ghost created a path through some solid substance, for a few minutes afterward, ordinary humans could walk through that path, too – if they had the balls and stomach to try.

I’d done this over 100 times, so the discombobulating experience didn’t affect me. It wasn’t like my gut was being tied around my throat and my intestines were being shaken up in a blender. I ignored all of the distracting, crackling sensations then reached the other side. I fell to my knees on purpose and pushed into a tight roll. It was just in time. I heard a scream – one of those earsplitting, spine-cracking affairs that makes you think a whole legion of demons has somehow crammed its way into your head. It didn’t just make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I swear it made my heart want to pop out of my chest and just give up and walk away.

My quick roll brought me behind a stack of cases. I came up sharply, shoved my back into the wall, then inched up it. I stared past the largest crate. The ghost was now on the other side of the room. That didn’t mean it couldn’t reach me. It had many ways to attack. As it spied me once more, it shoved forward, swiping one of its elongated fleshy arms my way. Once upon a time, I’d been scared of dead bodies. I’d been scared of a lot of things. But over the years, I’d had to get over every single fear – or they would’ve been used to strangle me.

Now, just for a fleeting second, I remembered the first time I’d seen a dead body – the ghost’s drawn white skin yanking the memory right out of me. It’d been dumped in a cell. A young woman – just like me. But unlike me, she hadn’t been lucky enough to survive.

Shaking my head now, I quickly chased that thought from my mind. I also quickly dodged. I shoved into the crate and pushed it forward at the same time, using it as a sacrifice.

The ghost’s attack smashed into the crate and ripped it in half. I don’t mean that lightly. The power of the attack was more like 100 lions that had set upon a fragile carcass. There was nothing the wood could do as it exploded across the room.

The ghost didn’t need to reach me and swipe those deadly white claws across my face to hammer home his anger at the fact I was chasing him. He could use spectral blasts of air and energy. And that’s what had just torn apart that crate as easily as lightning smashing into an unprotected tree trunk.

Shards of crackling, magic-encased wood dashed against my feet. I ignored them and pushed forward once more.

Hunting ghosts was a risky business, but it was the only one I had.

Plus, my client had already paid down half of the fee.

My phone rang. I ignored it.

It would be said client, eager to find out whether I’d done it already.

Yeah, yeah, I was on my way.

I shoved forward again.

This time I let out a little roar, but I also pushed my hand down my top. I hope you weren’t stupid enough to think I was about to pull out a glittering gold cross to scare the ghost’s ethereal socks off. Ghosts don’t care about the symbols of religion. If they were religious themselves, then the symbol of their faith could actually give them power, momentarily realigning them to who they once were.

That’s not what was crammed down my top.

It was a small, powerful flashlight. It was only the size of a thumb. But within it were seriously powerful bulbs. It wasn’t something I’d bought off the shelf. I’d created it specifically for this purpose.

I locked a hand over my eyes then flicked the top of the torch on. A blast of illumination threw itself through the room. It was so much that, had I not covered my eyes, I would’ve momentarily been blinded.

The ghost screeched. It was the worst cry it had given yet. It sounded as if I had just hammered a hole through its head.

Yeah, that’s right, buddy. I’m not about to give up yet. Now, succumb already. They say that endless rest really is better than endless fighting. I spat that with a bitter note to my voice. It was all twisted. I usually didn’t let raw emotion like that affect my work, but sometimes it was hard to hold it back. Sometimes, little details jogged my memory. And once it was jogged, I was back there, back in that cell, back surrounded by the corpses who were less lucky than me. Back there waiting to die at the hands of that monster.

I shook my head once more. The power of chasing away that thought gave me an added burst of energy, and I intended to use it. Quickly turning off the torch and shoving it back down my top, I ran as fast as I could.

Once upon a time, I’d been the worst at sports. Everyone at school had laughed at me. I’d barely been good at anything. I’d only ever been a bundle of nerves.

But then I’d acquired the power to run. I… failed to protect someone, but I got rewarded with the skills they’d spent their whole life honing.

It was a long story. One I didn’t want to go into right now. But I still used my powerful legs. I channeled that speed until I made it across the other side of the room. I skidded down onto my knees, rolled, and punched up.

The ghost now shrieked. I fancied that there was fear in its tone, not just hatred. It was clearly recognizing that I was capable of winning this. So it became even more erratic. It shoved forward. It now moved like a random bolt of lightning. It zigzagged this way and that.

I had no idea what kind of building we’d arrived in, but the ghost clearly realized it was a good time to skedaddle. It made it over to the wall and shot right through it. It was quite a sight to see as energy blasted all around it and it used its powers to dig straight through the wall.

I wasted no time. I skidded over and pushed through the hole.

We arrived out in a laneway between buildings.

The ghost darted forward. Rather than shoot through the building in front of us, it wafted to the side and darted further down the laneway.

Now where are you going? I muttered quickly.

Wait. No. I knew exactly where it was heading – back to where it got its grudge.

I sped up now. It wasn’t like I was wasting time before, but I didn’t have the luxury of remaining on the back foot for long now.

My client was currently back at his business. And the worst thing I could possibly do was let a ghost with a mortal grudge head back to the person it wanted to kill.

No more Mrs Nice Guy, I muttered quickly. There was a real sarcastic punch to my words. It was not, believe it or not, mine. Back in high school, I hadn’t even known what sarcasm was.

I’d received this attitude – with its devil-may-care wit and charm – when I’d failed to protect the third victim.

Again, I had to shove that thought out of my mind. Stop thinking about it, you idiot, I chided harshly as I channeled my power into thrusting forward as fast as I could.

There was only one thing I had to do now.

I shoved onward, using my legendary speed. Okay, it wasn’t legendary. But the woman I acquired the skill from had been an Olympic potential.

My legs pumped hard, my arms blasting by my sides, practically looking like flashes of comets powering across the sky.

I reached the end of the laneway, skidded, actually turned up small puddles of water from the rain yesterday, then threw myself forward again. I would’ve looked like quite a sight. Here I was, dressed completely in black, with sturdy black chunky boots, black jeans, and a black jacket. My hair was this tarnished brown as it whipped over my shoulder in a no-nonsense ponytail. I didn’t know why I mentioned the tarnished bit. It was told to me once. Some kid at school – one of the handsome sporty types who’d always been out of my league – had muttered that to me one day. The saying had stuck.

And, ironically, my hair was about one of the only things that hadn’t changed about me over the years. My attitude had morphed into something wholly different since high school. And hell, there was the notable fact that I could now run 100 meters in 12 seconds.

Don’t think about that now, I muttered. Damn, sometimes I just couldn’t focus on missions like this.

I reached the end of the laneway, twisted, and headed toward some kind of clothing store. It was the location of the ghost’s grudge. The guy, when alive, had been stricken with financial woes. He’d failed to get enough money after his shifts had been canceled suddenly, and he’d run into a spot of terminal trouble with a gang of loan sharks.

The rest should have been history. But he’d been foolish enough to hold on to a grudge.

And now he was back.

But not for long.

I pushed into an even faster sprint. I could finally see the store.

According to the last text I got before I started on this hunt, my contractor was waiting out the back of the store.

Maybe the ghost hadn’t figured it out yet, and he was only going back to the scene of his grudge because the location had a powerful pull on his psyche. Or maybe he’d sensed the fact his ex-employer was near like a shark detecting a cut swimmer a kilometer away.

Damn it all to hell, I spluttered.

I put on another burst of speed. There was a time when I couldn’t even run 10 meters. Now it didn’t matter how much energy I used. Okay, it did, but compared to my old days, I was now pretty much an Olympic team crammed into one normal-sized, slightly sarcastic exorcist.

I didn’t just have a runner in me. I had a gymnast too. I also had a triple black belt in judo, tae kwon do, and krav maga. I’d picked up those particularly useful skills from an ex-police officer.

The ghost gave another scream. This one was truly earsplitting. It made my back shake. I wondered if the contractor heard it. If he had, the guy would hopefully be running to his car right now. Then again, when he’d contacted me and booked an exorcism, he hadn’t seemed like the sharpest guy out there.

The ghost reached the side of the shop and shoved right through.

I heard a crash from within.

Damn it all to hell, I hissed again. That right there was my mantra. I spent most of my days saying it. It was appropriate, considering my line of work.

I reached yet another ectoplasm hole and threw myself through. I moved so quickly, I could feel the tingles of the magic breaking around my back and face like a fracturing shield.

I didn’t duck down to my knees fast enough this time. A rush of air met me. It smashed into my chest, picked me up, and slammed me back down, but before I could be winded, I rolled to take the force of