The Impending Possession of Scarlet Wakebridge-Rosé

By Samantha L. Strong

A demon.
A past life bargain.
One week to stop a possession.

Some mistakes last a lifetime. Others last two.

Scarlet Wakebridge-Rosé, busy executive and less-than-stellar mother and wife, has a problem that only an exorcist can solve. Except she’s not precisely a devout Catholic parishioner any longer, and to gain assistance from the Church means telling a whopping lie of omission.

Fortunately, she discovers Father Angelo Ambrosio, whose commitment to helping the afflicted means he’s willing to overlook the things Scarlet prefers to keep hidden. Unfortunately, his sordid past keeps him under a microscope with the bishop, who’s not so liberal in his views.

But the demon harassing Scarlet is relentless. It makes its motives clear: in a previous life, she struck a bargain, promising it her body on her fiftieth birthday. Now, she and Angelo must unravel the mystery surrounding her forgotten past in order to stop the possession by next week or risk losing her to the depths of Hell forever.

This stand-alone novel set in the Fallen Redemption universe extends the series to modern day. Enter a world where humans reincarnate, demons interfere in daily life, and the currents of fate carry us all to our destinies.

Reviews

“Difficult to put down...”

“I devoured this book...”

“I could not put this book down...”

“The fast pace, plot twists, and character interactions make it very hard to put down...”

“This book kept me up all night...”

“Full of twists and turns that will keep you flipping the pages...”

“Terrifying, scary as hell and emotionally frighteningly journey into Hell...”

“Twists throughout...”

“Might be considered a classic horror novel...”

“More terrifying and soul-searing than anything I've read in years...”

“Ultimately about faith, human strength against the dark and about trusting the Divine and oneself...”

“Scarlet is one of the best realized heroines I've met in a long while...”

“The author is truly talented at writing stories that draw you in...”

Fans of The Exorcist, The Amityville Horror, and Rosemary’s Baby will love this gripping novel by science fiction and fantasy author Samantha L. Strong.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Samantha L. Strong
• Release date: Apr 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781777668662

Samantha L. Strong

Samantha L. Strong (formerly S. L. Saboviec) writes dark and beautiful sci-fi and fantasy stories about complicated characters. Like many Elder Millenials, she’d like to become an herbalist and live in an abandoned (and probably haunted) nunnery somewhere far away from people. She loves drawing sigils on everything, growing plants, and playing with her three adorable daughters. You can find her on Twitter @SamanthaLStrong, on Instagram @SamanthaLStrong, and on Facebook @AuthorSamanthaLStrong.Samantha’s short fiction has appeared in Amazing Stories, AE, and elsewhere. She has three novels out about angels and demons: the first two and a companion novel in her Fallen Redemption trilogy. She’s also the Reprint Editor and has been a slush reader since 2016 at Flash Fiction Online.Beating the odds against metastatic breast cancer since 2017.

Book preview

Demons

THE IMPENDING POSSESSION OF SCARLET WAKEBRIDGE-ROSÉ

A FALLEN REDEMPTION COMPANION NOVEL

Samantha L. Strong

Copyright © 2016 by Samantha Sabovitch

Cover Design by: Clarissa Yeo of YoclaDesigns.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at the address below.

Strong Lane Publishing

1231 Astra Ave.

Oshawa, ON

L1K 1H3

Canada

www.samanthalstrong.com

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

The Impending Possession of Scarlet Wakebridge-Rosé / Samantha L. Strong — 2nd edition

Kindle/mobi ISBN 978-1-7776686-7-9

epub ISBN 978-1-7776686-6-2

To Kevin.

This book would not exist without you. Thank you.

A collection of SFF stories by Samantha L. Strong

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Join my mailing list to get news, a behind-the-scenes look at my writing, and the real dirt on my three-year breast cancer hiatus.

In exchange, you’ll receive a FREE copy of my short story collection, Floating in Blue. Be swept into a beauty pageant for sentient flowers, the East Neptune Space Station, a town suddenly taken over by the forest, and other interesting locales. This collection of twelve spectacular fantasy and sci-fi short stories includes two that were previously unpublished.

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Demons

Chapter 1

Scarlet

Scarlet would have killed for a glass of merlot.

For the past two months, the presence followed everywhere she went. Standing over her bed in the middle of the night? Yep. Sitting in the passenger seat of her Mercedes while she drove to her office into downtown Toronto? Absolutely. At her side while she ordered a venti half-caff no whipped cream at Starbucks? Always.

Her psychologist had said the pills would make it go away. But a month later, it was still there, watching, waiting, following. Sometimes she even thought it was mocking her for lying to her wife, Eve. Scarlet was claiming to be taking a pottery class—the most cliché of excuses ever invented—while sneaking out on Wednesday nights to spend an hour at the therapist’s.

Tonight, she was pointedly ignoring it while working in her office. As usual, she refused to acknowledge it, typing out emails in tight-lipped silence. Everyone who wasn’t avoiding their families had hurried home for the weekend hours ago. Everyone except Scarlet—and the presence.

Heaving a sigh of relief that a long week was finally over, Scarlet shut down her email program and gathered her Louis Vuitton purse from the cabinet. When she turned back to her computer, her email program had re-started, a new email window was open, and words appeared inside:

Guten Tag, mein Schatz. Es ist fast Zeit.

A chill ran through her.

Scarlet swallowed and gripped the mouse. Stilling her trembles, she opened up her internet browser and found an online translator.

It was German: Hello, my treasure. It’s almost time.

She stared at the words, her thoughts whirling, breathing deeply to quell the rising panic. She might have thought the message was a prank if she didn’t know better. But she did know better. As a vice president of the large IT company Halco and Gilkes, with stringent security procedures and a no-nonsense attitude toward her staff, Scarlet Wakebridge-Rosé did not get pranked.

But more than that, she was sure this meant something, and understanding hovered just outside her grasp.

Ever since she was a little girl, she had known three things.

First, she had something incredibly important to do with her life.

Second, she was deathly afraid of being possessed by a demon.

And third, she had vivid nightmares of a dim room, an angry man with cobalt blue eyes, and a demon living inside him. In the dream, the man leered at every inch of her while she stood watching, waiting, anticipating something that never happened.

That was it. The whole dream.

She was terrified by its simplicity, and when she got older, terrified that the dream was her earliest memory. How could a child invent such an intense, yearning gaze?

Neither she—nor her psychologist—had any explanation for those three things. In fact, he’d pronounced her completely sane, admonishing her not to watch television after eight p.m. and to "lay off The X-Files." The pills were at Scarlet’s insistence. He’d given her a reluctant referral.

The cursor blinked at her in a slow rhythm that matched her breathing. The words did not disappear, nor did the presence.

The pills weren’t working.

The therapist wasn’t working.

She needed to do something different.

She needed to take this seriously.

Section break

A couple weeks later, Scarlet was sitting in a pew. She’d found what she needed in a Catholic Church located on the outskirts of the Toronto suburb where she lived. This was the second week she was attending, and she was only now starting to relax.

The presence hovered outside the building. She was relieved and apprehensive at the same time—figments of her imagination did not stop at church doors.

Lord have mercy, intoned the priest.

Lord have mercy, echoed the congregation.

Christ have mercy.

Christ have mercy. Scarlet mouthed the words.

Three rows up, a man looked back at her, and then looked back at her again. His eyes were cobalt blue, like the man in her dreams, and it made her all the more apprehensive. He’d been glancing back at her since the service began, and she did not like it. She glared back, clenching her teeth to push aside the fear that churned inside her.

He seemed about forty-something, with skin the bronze that belonged to white men who golfed. Was he staring because she was Black? A woman? Clearly uncomfortable being in church? The tattoo she had of two entwined female symbols was well-hidden below her waistline, so he had no hint as to how much she didn’t belong.

She scratched her forehead, brandishing the silver band on her left ring finger, in the hopes of dissuading any amorous intentions. She waited, unflinching, until he bowed his head and closed those disturbing eyes.

As the Mass ended, a parishioner stood to make announcements. The blue eyes were on Scarlet again, but she refused to meet them. Her heart beat faster.

… potluck next Saturday. And, as always, Father Angelo welcomes all newcomers and returning guests alike. He’s giving a lecture next month on the exorcisms he performs, and a pamphlet is available near the door.…

With Mass over and announcements finished, the other parishioners filed from the building, speaking in whispers. Scarlet decided to stay—she wanted to make sure that man left first or, at the very least, didn’t follow her to her car. A woman’s laugh pierced the air and died as the crowd moved into the entryway.

Soon Scarlet was alone except for an altar boy snuffing candles and the blue-eyed man approaching her slowly. She smoothed a hand over imagined wrinkles on her skirt and steeled herself.

Time to meet her human stalker. Don’t out yourself as a lesbian, Scar, or they won’t let you back.

He wore a cheap but tailored button shirt, dark slacks, and a bronze belt buckle with the letters KB engraved upon it. Scarlet’s heels clicked against the floor as she stood. He wasn’t short, but she was still a couple inches taller than he.

The man held out a hand, and she took it.

My name’s Kelton Buswell.

Scarlet Wakebridge-Rosé. Plenty of hetero women had hyphenated names.

Please, have a seat. Kelton gestured and moved into the pew in front of Scarlet. They sat, and a whiff of incense breezed by. What brings you here?

She wasn’t about to share her real purpose with this prying stranger. I’ve decided to attend church once in a while. I fell away from it, and I miss the community.

It’s a real nice community we have here, Scarlet. He gave her an odd look. You seem nervous.

I’m not nervous. Stop acting nervous!

We don’t bite. I’m not a demon. He laughed. Have you ever witnessed an exorcism?

Scarlet held her gaze steady and her back straight. No.

You’re aware that Father Angelo is the designated exorcist for this diocese.

Yes, I heard. The words echoed, launching from the walls. Goosebumps prickled, and she rubbed a hand over her arm. Why?

Are you interested in the preternatural?

Her heart hammered. She’d misjudged his interest, then, but what could he possibly want from her? These are strange questions for someone who just met me. Scarlet reached for her purse. This was a mistake.

I’m sorry. Sometimes I come on strong. Kelton kept staring at her. It was a technique she used on her subordinates to keep them guessing at what she was thinking. She didn’t like it wielded against her. You have faith.

No, I don’t have faith. The vaulted ceiling pressed down on her. This was starting to feel like an inquisition.

Yes, Scarlet. You have faith. That’s why you’re here.

I need to get going. She looped her purse over her shoulder, stood, and started down the aisle.

Scarlet, you have a gift.

She had many gifts—the gift of persuasion, of negotiation, of intelligence. She had keen business sense and incredible logic. She defied cultural expectation by being competent while both Black and gay. But he was talking about something else. She stopped. What kind of gift?

I don’t know. I can only tell that you have one. Kelton took a step forward, and she tipped her head up, refusing to retreat. God brought you here for a purpose. We have need of someone with your ability.

What is he talking about? If you don’t know what ability I have, how do you know you need it?

Kelton’s eyebrows rose. Because we have a need and you’re here.

Who’s on first? What need is that?

He ran a hand over the back of his neck. I’ve said too much already. Father Angelo told me to make you feel welcome. I’m not making you feel welcome, am I?

Scarlet laughed with the sudden realization of what was happening, and tension eased from her shoulders. The uncomfortable feeling she’d gotten from him wasn’t intimidation but social awkwardness.

Kelton had no clue.

Father Angelo sent you to talk to me?

Yes. He told me to wait, to see if you were really interested in the church. It’s just that— He stopped.

Scarlet settled back on her heels. Why is Father Angelo interested in me?

Like I said, you have a gift. He has need of another assistant to help with blessings—exorcisms.

Very little astonished Scarlet into silence, but several heartbeats passed before she answered. All right. I’m listening.

Uh, well. Kelton gripped his belt buckle. Scarlet kept herself from snorting a laugh. Men. That’s all, really. You have a gift and we need another assistant.

Back in control, she nodded crisply. Let me think on it. Can I see a, um, blessing before I decide?

Yes, yes, of course. Kelton stepped forward. We’ve cut down on the number lately, but I’m sure I can arrange it so that you can see one soon. I’ll go tell Father Angelo right now that you’re interested. Can I get your phone number?

Somehow she wasn’t surprised that he’d ended up asking for her number. She was surprised that she ended up reaching into her purse and pulling out a business card.

Thanks, he said, staring at it like he was memorizing it. He’ll call you.

I look forward to it. She gave him a strained smile. See you later.

She turned and strode from the church. When the presence met her at the door, it was still and silent. She slid smoothly into her Mercedes and slammed the door.

Demons

Chapter 2

Angelo

An hour after Mass, Angelo was cleaning the room he used to conduct exorcisms when Kelton came through the door. Angelo’s knees creaked as he sat back from scrubbing the tile.

Why don’t you have one of the altar boys do that? Kelton believed in division of responsibilities. He assisted Angelo in conducting exorcisms, the altar boys scrubbed the floor, and Angelo’s secretary answered phones. Angelo had long ago ceased arguing against that mindset.

Labor frees the mind. Besides, Angelo had a secret he’d been keeping for years: he was a fraud in priest’s clothes, unworthy of asking others to do dirty work on his behalf.

Avoiding the chair sitting alone in the middle of the room, Kelton slid into a wooden seat along the wall. I spoke to the charismatic woman. Her name is Scarlet, and she wants to watch a blessing.

Angelo stopped squeezing the sponge over the soapy water. Kelton! I asked you not to discuss exorcisms with her for a month. It’s been a week.

Kelton blinked twice and then blinked twice again. I told her you would call to arrange it. He pulled a business card out of his pocket.

Go sit in my office. I’ll be there in a minute. Angelo rinsed his hands in the bucket as Kelton’s footsteps faded into the thick green carpet.

Angelo relaxed as he crossed from the gray walls of the exorcism room to the dark wood paneling of his office. Forcing himself to work in the bare, sparse room was another of his self-punishments, along with pausing to vividly recall the scent of charred human flesh every time he passed over the threshold.

Someday, you’ll complete your penance, old man, but today is not that day.

Kelton sat askance in a chair in front of his desk, one ankle over the other knee.

What did I say to you last week? said Angelo. I said to keep an eye on her. See if she comes back. Try to judge how strong her faith and her gift are. He purposefully put the two in that order.

I felt her gift. It’s strong.

Do you know what it is?

No, but the Lord provides to those in need. We’re in need. His eyes sagged. He needed rest.

Angelo liked to keep a rotation of three assistants, but two had moved away last month, leaving Kelton to support the entire ministry. The man was a volunteer, receiving no compensation for the time he spent praying over the afflicted, and he’d had little time off to spend with his wife and children, including a newborn son.

Still. We can’t rush into things. We know nothing about her.

I think she’s going to work out. I have a feeling about her.

Angelo’s email dinged. Probably Bishop Polski. Angelo had neither the time or patience to deal with him now. He slid into his desk chair and leaned forward. I need to know those who come to use are spiritually equipped for our needs.

I told her you’d call. Kelton held out a business card.

Angelo plucked it from his fingers. The layout was sleek and corporate. She was a vice president of Halco and Gilkes, a job that likely consumed a lot of her time and focus. That opened up a whole new set of concerns. I’ll consider it.

Kelton nodded, blinked, and pushed himself up to leave.

Wait. Angelo tucked the card into his desk. Might as well plunge into it. He hadn’t figured out a gentle way to break the news. Your wife came to see me earlier this week.

She didn’t tell me that. She’s hiding things from me now?

This had not started well. She loves her sister, and this feud is tearing her apart.

Kelton’s wife Beth was clearly exhausted, which was probably why Angelo had caved. When his secretary had summoned him to the sanctuary, Beth was clutching the newborn, and her two small children played in the aisle next to her. She burst into tears when he initially refused to get involved.

I told you, Father, her sister-in-law is living in sin. And she was rude!

Lord help me. Angelo had little choice in where he’d been placed as a priest if he wanted to be an exorcist, and the regressive social beliefs in this particular church wore on him. It was all the more frustrating because most Canadians, especially those in the Greater Toronto Area, were liberal in their beliefs. But this church seemed to cling to one another in its backwardness, no matter what he’d preached. Though it seemed yet another fitting punishment for his past transgressions.

He needed to focus on Kelton’s behavior rather than open an argument he couldn’t win. Marriage is about two equals coming together in—

"I’m the man. It’s my duty to provide for my family, and it’s her duty to follow what I say. I’m not asking for something unimportant. It’s my children’s eternal lives at stake. I’m the man."

This was straying far too close to the heart of the marital discord that had been going on for years. Angelo shouldn’t have agreed. He usually just lent a sympathetic ear for Kelton’s problems.

Perhaps another tactic, one that skirted the true issue. She’s exhausted, Kelton. Have you seen her lately? She needs the help her sister can provide.

Kelton squeezed his belt buckle. Her mother visits.

Her mother is aging. She can’t take care of a newborn effectively.

My men’s group agrees with me.

The email dinged again. The bishop could be so demanding when he had a mind to be. Angelo would need to deal with it shortly, or next the phone would be ringing.

Angelo rubbed a hand over his goatee. One of your duties as a husband is to listen to your wife and meet her needs. Beth has only one sister, and God would not want her to break ties over this simple disagreement.

It’s not a simple disagreement!

I know she’s living with a woman—

They claim to be married! These people are stealing our sacred institution!

—but Fiona is still Beth’s sister, Angelo finished. He should give his assistant some scripture to meditate on. Perhaps the psalm about God-fearing women? No, that would send him down the wrong path. The love chapter in first Corinthians. That would have to do. He pulled out his pocket-sized Bible. Kelton, this isn’t about your sister-in-law. You need to look deep into your marriage and mend what’s broken. If that was even possible.

Mend what’s broken in my marriage. Yes. Okay. I see what you’re saying.

The phone rang again, but Angelo averted his eyes from the caller ID. As he read the chapter, Kelton sat in silence.

That would have to be enough.

I will think on it, Father. I don’t like that she came to see you without my permission.

Permission. Kelton’s notions of what marriage should be were not only antiquated, they were miles from reality. But that was not Angelo’s battle to fight. He decided on parting words, a reiteration of the chapter he’d finished. Love is patient and kind.

Kelton stood. Thank you for your wisdom. That, at least, sounded sincere. For all of his faults, he was at least earnest.

The phone rang again.

I have to take this, said Angelo.

I’ll let myself out.

As the phone shrilled, Angelo touched his chest over top of the pocket he’d sewn into all his garments. The one that contained a tattered corner of a woman’s silk scarf, the only memento of his younger sister, Therese, he hadn’t locked away.

Bishop Polski was the only person in his life as a priest who knew why Angelo kept her scarf next to his heart—and he regretted ever telling the man. Polski would never trust him, never, since he knew what had happened all those years ago.

Angelo picked up the handset. Good afternoon. Father Ambrosio speaking.

He clenched his fingers around the secret pocket as his superior’s tirade began.

Demons

Chapter 3

Zoe

Zoe stirred the eggs, humming.

Mother was waiting for her breakfast.

Blast, it was hot. She wanted to open a window, but even if she could get a window open, the candle would go out. Mother insisted that the candle never go out.

Sometimes Zoe thought the candle mattered a lot, but sometimes she wondered if it didn’t matter at all. Mother liked her to do things that she didn’t understand, even though she tried to. Maybe the candle was important after all. So she couldn’t let it go out.

She stirred the eggs again.

I wish we could live like other people.

Zoe’s voice cracked. When was the last time she’d spoken aloud? It was lonely here, even with Mother in the back room.

I am a grown woman now.

Sometimes she said that just to remind herself.

"We don’t have to live this way."

But for now, she had no choice.

She hated squatting in this abandoned apartment building. She hated the way people looked at her when she sat on the street corner, begging for spare loonies. Most people just flinched if they accidentally looked at her on their morning march to and from their offices, which made her feel like worms crawled inside her.

Had she asked Mother lately when they were going to move? She couldn’t remember. She’d have to remember on a day when Mother was in a good mood. Mother didn’t seem to be in a good mood today.

She examined the eggs.

You look done.

Today was a talking day. She hadn’t had one in a while. She nodded, humming the lively tune again.

Where did that song come from?

She scratched her scalp. Possibly some sort of infestation again. Not much she could do. She hadn’t bathed in… Well, she didn’t remember. There was no running water in abandoned apartment buildings.

But the plates were clean. She’d cleaned them yesterday in a bucket of water she’d hauled from a water fountain at the park. She pulled a plate from the cupboard and dumped the gray eggs onto it. They were harder than chicken eggs, more rubbery. She’d picked them up from the snake egg supplier yesterday, ignoring how he cringed away from her.

I probably smell bad.

The important thing was that