Sciaphobia

By Roy Dodd

Jacob and Shadow are renowned exorcists. But when they encounter the strange phenomenon of consensual possession, they may be forced to put aside their indiscriminate demon-slaying and team up with an unlikely group to take down a bloodthirsty, all-powerful demon Hell-bent on conquering the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 17, 2015
• ISBN: 9781329482029

Book preview

Sciaphobia

Sciaphobia:  Book one

By Roy Dodd

Publisher:  Lulu.com

Editor: Amanda Teeter

Cover Design: Jennifer Jones

978-1-329-40973-6

© 2015 By Roy Dodd

Editor’s Note:

The nature of the Possession genre can be confusing when it comes to characterization, since the genre requires regular body-switching, alias use and the like.  For this reason, we have included a character guide in the back of the book.

To Vanessa, Amanda, Logan, Sarah, and Justin

I've been very lucky to have met the people that I have and I'm very grateful for everything that they've done for me.  This work, like any other after, can only come from your continued support and admiration.

Van Go, you've changed my life in ways that I've never expected, and I am a better man for knowing you.  You make me want to strive to greater heights than I ever dreamed.  You taught me what it means to feel, as well as to embrace, my weaknesses and for that I owe you to no ends.  I love you for 5ever, I promise.

Amanda, you've helped me to become a much better writer, and I'm immensely grateful that you've been my editor.  I also want to thank you as well for our many great adventures.  There's no better person with whom to analyze which Disney princess, using her arsenal of sidekicks and abilities, would win in a fight and then categorically rank them.

Logan, I consider you my brother, and I think you're one of the most amazing people that I've ever met.  Your ability to reason is top notch, and you've earned every bit of my trust and respect.

Sarah, you've seen me at both my worst and my best, and treated me kindly at both.  You're brilliant in ways that even you miss, and you're destined for an awesome future.  Otherwise, Mama will be angry. :p

Justin, we've been through so much as a team, and you taught me what determination is.  I've never met anybody as driven or goofy as you, but both make me smile in admiration.

Sciaphobia

Chapter One: Shadow and Jacob

They arrive in a beaten up, powder blue pick up truck.  The driver is an elderly man in a green John Deere hat with denim overalls covering a white t-shirt bearing the confederate flag and a pair of muddy brown boots.  The clothes are loose on his skinny frame.  The sands of time have eroded his flesh, leaving his skin sun damaged with the appearance of sandpaper.  His beard is gray and patchy.

In his passenger seat is a male dressed in a black cloak with his hood raised, casting shadows onto his face.  The hooded man has both wrists bound by a pair of handcuffs worn tight enough to cut into the black fabric of his latex gloves, fraying the material.

Smoke is already pouring out of the hood of the truck and the engine is making sputtering noises by the time the old man throws the beaten truck into park in front of the church.

The old man exits the vehicle first.  He moves around in an uneven gait to open the door for his passenger.  There's a click as the door opens and a thud as the dense body of the hooded man drops to his feet on the pavement.  The old man waits merely a second before his hobbled steps take him back towards his side of the truck.

The hooded male pushes the door shut with a shift of his waist and a push of the bound wrists.  He clasps his hands at his chest, and shuffles to the side of the old man.  The old man barely glances in the direction of the hooded male.

The old man retrieves his rifle and slings the dusty brown strap over his left shoulder to let the weapon hang at his back.  He leads the way, with the hooded male keeping a measured pace to remain two to three feet behind.

The two enter the church.

The church is large but cluttered.  Against the far wall is a stage extending roughly half a foot up and five feet out.  The stage hardly has enough length to accommodate the antique brown pipe organ positioned against the right wall.  Seated on the edge of the stage now is a portly priest with reddened cheeks in black explaining to a red-headed young girl from his opened bible.  He stutters often, flustered, but without cause.  He should know what he is reading by heart.  He has known each verse, expanded each into a sermon even, but still he bites back anxiety at every spoken word.  The aisle, lined by a dirty maroon rug, is narrow enough that the old man and his partner have to nearly walk in line past the beaten and broken wooden pews.  Above, far above, two painted glass windows depicting biblical figures are on the left and right wall with one, the depiction of Virgin Mary, possessing only broken shards and cloudy skies where her face should be and the representation of an angelic male, scattered shards of brown encircled by a leafy green wreath.

The priest's gaze wanders upward to the visitors, finding its place there and lingering, with any thoughts of his lesson lost mid-sentence in newfound curiosity.  The jovial man bursts to his feet, breaking into a steady power walk to greet them.  The young girl, awed by the sudden change, her stare flickering like her imperfect strands of red bangs, follows after.

Howdy.  The priest shouts, lifting his hand up in a flat wave, You must be Jacob.

The old man neither confirms nor denies this.  He grumbles and spits on the floor.

The priest looks to him in confusion.  He clasps his hands in front of him and leans towards the older man, I'm sorry.  I didn't really catch that.

The old man speaks sternly, his voice full of the bitterness only achieved by suffering many miserable years before it. Money,  he shouts, where is my money? The priest reddens in embarrassment.  His voice is one or two pitches higher as he replies.

Oh yes, of course.  He looks to the girl, Anna, could you grab the Robinson fund?  The girl looks to him, bemused.

Is that in the cabinet in the back room?  She aks.

The priest nods hurriedly.  She heads off in the direction of the stage.  The priest's eyes settle in on the hooded man.  His stare is an unfocused scan at first, grasping the whole, but eventually tightening and holding at the cuffs that bind the hooded man's wrists.  He chuckles nervously as he turns to the old man.

Is there a reason your friend here is cuffed?

The old man frowns and looks to the splotch that his spat saliva has left on the already dirtied church rug.

None of your business.

Right.  The priest says, nodding.  He softens as he returns to their purpose, Mister Jacob?

The old man lifts his head.

How're the odds on this kind of thing?

Depends, grunts Jacob.

On what exactly?  The old man exhales.

How far along it is.  That it?  The irritation is present in his tone and even more so in the veins surfacing at the dry skin at his forehead, tunneling under the sandpaper.The priest attempts to shake his head, but decides against it, switching the motion awkwardly into a nod.

Yeah.  Absolutely.

The hooded man looks up to the broken Virgin Mary.  The window had to have been broken by force, the cracks spread from the hole like spiderwebs.  The window was much too high to climb for the sake of mischief.  Someone must have thrown something at it.  Why one would chose to do so is a mystery.

The girl returns in hurried steps, clutching an envelope in hand.  She gives it to the priest who holds it for only a moment before placing it into the old man's open hand.  Jacob takes his time counting and recounting the money.  At the third or fourth count, he smiles and pockets it.  He looks to the priest, his smile melting in the process.

We going?

Yes, sir, stammers the priest,  do you have the address?  The girl looks to him blankly.

If not, I have it saved.  She reaches into her back pocket for her phone.  She pauses to elaborate, Jenny and I were pretty close before all this.  Jacob starts.

I don't give a da...

The priest interrupts the old man before he can speak the word. We could take the van.  He tries, it'd save you the gas.

The old man gestures to the door, twice successively, urging the priest to lead the way.  He and the hooded man step aside to allow the priest access and the girl alongside him.  Jacob looks to the priest with his upper lip raised. She coming?

The girl nears tears as she meets his stare.  It is not meant for her, but cast in her direction. Anna stares back, her gaze pleads and her words follow suit. We were like sisters.  She pauses as though for effect before trying once more. Please.

The old man makes the urging gesture once more.  The girl attempts a smile, but cannot seem to manage it fully.

Thank you.

He grumbles, shooing her with both hands. Go.

The van is white with alternating purple and green lettering on the side reading There's something about Jesus.  It was the priest's doing.  An inspiration that struck him during a trawl through the local Family Video.  He had never watched the film he’d based it on.

The priest drives with the old man in his passenger seat, leaving the hooded male and Anna in the backseat separated by a row the average adult would struggle to get through.

The priest leans forward in the seat to adjust the rearview mirror, compressing the material and causing it to lurch at the weight.

Are you ready to roll?

Jacob responds by narrowing his eyes at the priest.  The priest nods and coughs.

Rolling.

The girl observes the hooded man.  She studies him silently.  If he is aware of her observation, he does not show it.  He remains still.  The old man watches the girl in the rearview mirror.

Do you need a bible? Interjects the priest.  I always carry one just in case.  The priest pats his pants leg. Never know when you're going to need the Lord.  That’s what I always say.

Got what I need,  the old man says as he taps the strap of his weapon.  The priest chuckles nervously.

Well, lets hope it doesn't come to that.  The old man rolls down his window with his right hand, cranking it open.  He spits out the window.

Hope in one hand... He says, trailing off.  The priest smiles fully.  He raises his index in the direction of the ceiling.

Hope in both hands. He says. The old man scoffs.

And shit where? The priest hesitates, and then turns his attention to the road.

The girl leans closer to the hooded man.

Hi there. She says it with a grin intended to put him at ease.  He does not move.  The old man does.  He whips around in his seat to shout at her.

Leave him alone!

She looks to the floorboards like a scolded child. Sorry I just...

Don't.

The priest watches it unfold in his periphery.  He swallows nervously and attempts to make conversation. So, um... have you been at this long?  Exorcisms?  The old man leans into his seat folding his arms over his chest.

Long as I can remember.

Got any stories?  The priest asks nervously.

Bout demons?  The old man eyes him hard, What kind of sick fuck are you?

The priest fumbles for a response, trying to defuse the situation in stammered speech.

Just trying to pass the time.

Pass it with your mouth shut.  Jacob grumbles.  The priest lowers his head in embarrassment.

Yes, sir.

They arrive at the house within ten minutes.  The house looks normal to an outsider.  It is a plain white two-story suburban, brown roof, the second to last before the loop of the cul-de-sac on the right side.  The recently neglected flowers in the clay pots under the windows and in the small stone encircled garden speak more of newfound irresponsibility than of supernatural interference.  The small jockey statue with the empty expression and the black lamp speaks of a boring normality, not of bodies lacking humanity.  To an outsider it looks like the house of someone lazy.  Lazy, but normal.

The hooded man lifts his head up as they arrive.  The motion does not appear human.  The sudden jerk at the base of the neck and the forward lean are more akin to a panther than a man.  Jacob looks to him and shakes his head.

The hooded man nods.  He leans back in his seat stiffly.

The girl watches the event unfold with an increasing curiosity.  Her fascination is building in the mysterious man.

They exit the vehicle.  The