Damon looked utterly exhausted as he slumped into the soft chair in the office of St. Teresa's Psychiatric Hospital. Beside him stood Sister Gabrielle Rossetti, who had refused to leave his side. Although Anna had been aware of her presence, seeing the nun still there when she entered the room made her lose her temper.
"Why do you ordinary people always insist on meddling in matters that don't concern you!" The daughter of a demon crossed her arms as she flopped onto the sofa in the visitor's lounge. "We already found the place where the nurse died. It's been dealt with—though at quite a cost. My partner might very well end up as a drooling idiot. Sister Rossetti, Dr. Hastings, are you seeing this? You can't do anything, yet you still push Damon to go out and exorcise drunks, gamblers, and deadbeat parents. Do you see him as a tool to spread your faith?"
"We see him as family, Anna," Dr. Hastings replied, his thick, moist lips trembling as he spoke. "Damon has been tirelessly caring for her. She hasn't woken up yet, but don't you think you should bear some responsibility?"
Anna shrugged and averted her gaze. "Why should I be responsible for that woman?" She raised her eyebrows, her tone nonchalant. This wasn't just her attitude toward Dr. Hastings, Damon, and the nun—it was also how she regarded herself. "Do we even have any beautiful memories to talk about?"
"She loves you, Anna," Damon said, struggling to his feet, his voice weak and unsteady. Over the past few weeks, he had been trying to exorcise their mother using old methods, convinced that Solomon hadn't finished the job. Every day, after his college lectures, he would come to St. Teresa's to sit beside his unconscious mother, reminiscing about the happy times they'd shared.
But it was all in vain. His mother remained trapped in a deep sleep, her soul's presence a mystery. During this time, however, he had experienced the warmth and care of Sister Rossetti—something he had rarely felt in his life.
Damon stood shakily, clutching his head. His vision was speckled with flashes of bright blue and yellow, and dizziness hammered his brain. It felt as though something was gripping his mind, twisting it with pain and vertigo. Whispered voices, faint and foreign, seeped into his thoughts. If the nun hadn't caught him in time, he would have collapsed back into the chair. Anna watched her brother's condition with a fleeting look of concern, but she quickly suppressed it, remaining seated on the gray fabric sofa with her usual aloof demeanor.
Damon sniffled—though he couldn't tell if he had actually made the motion. The pain and dizziness consumed all his attention, leaving his nose and lips feeling numb. The symptoms were similar to a severe flu, but the cause was entirely different: Damon had been recklessly overusing his latent magical energy. Still largely human, his capacity for magic was minimal. Dr. Hastings had even sought medical opinions and had Damon take several injections, all to no avail. Only when he paused his exorcism attempts did his condition slightly improve.
"Maybe you should say something to her," Damon said, half-opening his eyes to look at his sister. "You know she loves you."
"Not me, and don't bring her up to me." Anna pulled a piece of parchment filled with tiny writing from her handbag. "My purpose here isn't her—it's you. I need you to sign this contract. Yes, him. Don't bother arguing; we both know what the consequences of that would be. He banished that thing you couldn't handle—that says it all."
"And where is he now?"
"Who knows?" Anna shrugged. "Probably off handling his own business; otherwise, why would he have run all the way from the East Coast to the West Coast? Just sign the contract, Damon. It's a standard one—no drawbacks. I don't want to see you dead."
"Are you working for him now?" Damon took the contract from the nun's hands and gave it a brief glance. He slumped back into the chair, preparing to sign his name with the pen in his hand. However, the nun stopped him, and Damon complied without resistance—after all, the contract was written in Latin, a language in which Sister Rossetti had aced her coursework alongside ancient Greek.
"I thought you were still dealing in antiques," Damon said, pausing his pen to glance at his sister.
"I'm not working for Solomon Damonet. This is just a partnership. I find demons, and he destroys them. Although it's only happened once so far, his performance… well, your god might just be him."
"Whatever. Just don't say that here," Damon said, holding up the parchment. "Tell him that if he wants me to sign this contract, he needs to bring our mother—"
Anna tilted her head back, letting out a long sigh. She could never understand why her brother was so childish and foolish, so blind to reality. "You don't have any leverage, Damon." The demon's daughter closed her eyes, feeling an ache forming in the corners of her eyes. Interacting with Damon was always so draining, especially with Dr. Hastings nearby, someone Anna despised. In a resigned tone, she tried to reason with him. "When I didn't sign the contract, he pointed a big-caliber handgun at me. Do you really think he'd show you any leniency? Listen, I know Solomon. When it comes to dealing with demons, he has an overwhelming need for control—"
"He can't kill anyone here," Dr. Hastings interrupted. "This place is full of cameras."
"You think he cares about cameras? He can create an airtight alibi!" Anna rolled her eyes at Dr. Hastings. "He wants to kill me—I've always known that. And he'd kill you too. The only reason he hasn't acted yet is because he needs us to deal with that demon. Our demonic blood ties us to it, and he sees us as tools. He'd throw personal feelings aside for the sake of his duties… and as for this nun," she shot a glance at the tense Sister Rossetti, "I wouldn't be surprised if he shipped her straight back to the Vatican."
"He can't. I won't allow it!" Damon shouted, his emotions flaring. His fists shook as his nostrils flared like a bull ready to charge. If he were wearing glasses, they would've fogged up completely.
"Our mother… you've seen her. She can't talk, can't eat—her soul is barely hanging on! And all he does is keep slapping us with one contract after another, binding us…." As Damon's voice rose, so did the room's temperature. The change was barely noticeable, but Dr. Hastings had been watching the newly installed thermometer and hygrometer on his desk.
Dr. Hastings was deeply concerned about Damon's condition worsening. The last time this happened, Damon had been performing an exorcism on his mother when his eyes suddenly ignited with flames, his emotions spiraling out of control. It had been Sister Rossetti who managed to calm him down—a key reason the doctor insisted on her presence.
"So you're blaming the one person who's helping you? Wake up, Damon. No one owes you anything. Solomon's help comes with conditions—conditions I agreed to! You've contributed far less than I have, so you have no right to complain. And by the way, Solomon has already done his best. Do you really think there's anything left of her soul in that body? When will you let go of your childhood and face reality?"
"I'm angry at his arrogance…."
"But he has the power to back it up. I've come to terms with my nature, Damon. Whether you like it or not, I'm going after that thing for revenge."
[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! Only $5 per novel or $15 for all!!] [[email protected]/Mutter]
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]