I
glance around the room. The miasma redoubles in strength. The Lums' spirit
guides are fleeing to different realms for cover. But there is no overt sign of
the evil spirit.
I’d
have to flush it out.
“Vanessa,
please let me see your hand,” I say.
She
holds out her arm. Examining the streaks, I peer beyond the material realm.
Every black line is a deep cut in her aura, filled with dark festering energy,
consuming her life energy.
“Do
the marks feel odd? Are they warm, cold, numb…?”
“A
bit cold, actually.”
The
curse was devouring her life force to fuel itself.
“Have
you washed the marks?”
“Yes.
With soap and water. I keep scrubbing them, but no matter what, they don’t go
away.”
The
boy snorts. I ignore him, listening instead to Leonhard and Lupin. The spirit
guides whisper into my mind’s ear, and I repeat them.
“This
is a powerful curse,” I say. “It is eating away at your life energy and your
luck. I think there is a negative spirit possessing the man you described, and
you were unfortunate enough to run into it. But don’t worry: I can handle
this.”
“What
do you need to do?”
“Are
you ready to be healed?” I ask formally.
No
healing, magic or other working can be performed without a patient’s consent.
It was an ironclad rule in this business, one to be broken at your peril.
“Yes.”
“Excellent.
Please wait here a moment. I’m going to cleanse your home.”
“‘Cleanse’?”
the boy asks.
“Yes,”
I reply. “I will cleanse the home of negative energies and create a sacred
space. It is the first step of the working.”
The
black ball of negativity whirls round and round his head. “It’s really going to
work meh?”
This
is how negs work their will in the real world, through pawns and useful idiots.
John’s trying to provoke me into an outburst, or to convince the family to
throw me out. The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was to convince the
world he doesn’t exist.
“I
won’t guarantee results,” I say slowly, “only that I will do my best.”
“So
you can’t do anything lah!”
“John!”
the mother snaps. “Don’t talk to Mr Chang like that!”
“Aiyah, what can he do?” he says. “He’s
not a doctor, he’s not some sort of priest or what, he’s just a quack lah. Why you even listen to him?”
Leonhard
chuckles and whispers a single sentence into my mind.
“How
is your ankle?” I ask.
“My
what?”
I
point. “Your left ankle. It’s an old injury. Does it still hurt?”
There
is a throbbing brown ball in his ankle. Electric streaks of red pain radiate
through his foot and leg. He’s leaning against the wall because his injured
foot can’t take his weight. The neg orbiting his head is probably interfering
with the healing process too.
He
blinks. “How did you… Someone must have told you, right? Who?”
“I
never told him anything about you,” Vanessa insisted.
“Then?
How did you know?” John demanded.
I
smile.
“John,
as I said, I will do my best. You may observe, but do not interrupt.”
Lupin
growls at the neg dancing about John’s face. It shrinks away and melts into the
miasma.
“Can
you help him?” Vanessa asks.
I
turn to John. “Do you want to be healed?”
He
crosses his arms. “We’ll see how first.”
I
unzip my bag and lay it flat on the floor, revealing several smaller ziploc
bags. I retrieve the one containing a bundle of white sage smudge sticks and
grab a lighter.
Igniting
a smudge stick, I hold it high and let the purifying smoke rise into the
ceiling.
“The
smell is pretty powerful,” I say. “If you have breathing difficulties, please
stay clear.”
With
even, measured steps, I walk throughout the house, filling it with smoke. The
scent is thick and herbal, like burning tobacco but brighter and cleaner. The
miasma retreats before it, pouring out of the doors and windows.
Smudging
is a Native American practice, but most Singaporeans are familiar with burning
incense or other offerings. They are conceptually similar enough that people
don’t ask me questions about it. I swirl the smoke in the corners of every
room, letting it clear out the miasma.
There
is a tiny altar mounted in the kitchen near the ceiling. It is the only overt
sign of religiosity in the household. John’s bedroom is humming with tense,
conflicted energies. The energies of a teenager undergoing puberty. The
parents’ room is flat and empty, mostly devoid of life.
Vanessa’s
room swam with a toxic brew. Most of the energy here was hers, but there was
much stagnant foreign energy too, no doubt the traces of strange men. The
miasma was thickest here, and I spent extra time clearing it out.
The
Lums weren’t particularly religious, much less spiritual. They would have been
easy targets for a malevolent entity.
Returning
to the kitchen, I extinguish the stick and settle in my chair. Half-closing my
eyes, I take a series of deep, full breaths. On the inhale, I direct a
glittering golden stream of life energy into my second chakra, two fingers
below the navel. On the exhale, I discharge a cloud of waste energy into the
universe to be renewed.
Opening
my eyes, I see.
A
swarm of beings crawl all over her. Some are as tiny as gnats, others are the
size of my fist. Some are parasites, others are lost souls swept up in their
wake. Underneath the mass of creatures, I see something larger swimming through
her aura, like a shark among a school of lesser fish.
The chief of the negs.
“Archangel
Michael, please come to us in our hour of need. Bless this space and open a
gate to the Light.”
Above
our heads, an astral gate opens. White light, pure and holy, floods the dining
room, burning off the last of the miasma. The world brightens immediately.
Framed in the portal, I see a man in sky-blue armour with a blazing sword in his right
hand. My namesake.
Swooping
down, he lands next to me. My spirit guides bow to him, and he bows also. I nod,
and continue the ritual.
“We
are now in the presence of the Light. Beings who wish to pass on, you are free
to leave. Michael, please watch over them.”
A gentle warmth radiates from the burning blade. A
rainbow stream of souls unwind from her, ascending into the Light. As they
depart, they flash through human forms—an elderly man, a little girl, a young
woman—and vanish from sight.
“Do
you see sparkling?” Mr Lum asks.
“Where?”
John asks.
I
ignore them.
“Beings
who wish to harm Vanessa, know that your time here is done. You are free to
pass into the Light. You are also free to leave. But you cannot stay.”
Smaller
entities leap off her and join the souls heading up. The horde thins out
immediately, and in that gap something dark and ugly surfaces in her aura. It
glares at me. I stare back.
‘This
one is tough,’ Lupin says. ‘You gotta burn out its attachments.’
“Here
we go,” I say.
I
take her arm. It is smooth and cool and springy. A strange feeling passes
through my kin, like the sensation of rubbing milk with your fingers crossed
with clutching a lightning bolt. Cream white flashes across my eyes.
Breathing
through the sensory intrusion, I touch the fingers of my right hand to the
black thumb-sized streak and channel energy from the Universe. A river of hot,
clean energy surges through me, down my crown, through my arm and fingers, and
into her wound.
“Tell
me if you feel anything,” I say.
The
cosmic energy floods into the auric wound, transmuting into White Light,
burning away the festering energy, leaving a gap behind. The energy turns into
a golden liquid, filling up the hole and sealing it off. The being growls.
“It’s
getting hot,” she whispers.
“It’s
working,” I say.
More
energy. More power. More heat. I step out of the way and allow the Universe
work through me. First comes a stream of Light, burning away the last of the
curse. Then a stream of life energy, filling out and sewing up the wound.
The
creature shrieks.
“I
think… I hear a voice,” Vanessa says.
The
neg is now perched over her face, resembling an overlay of an ugly old man
scowling at me.
“I
want you to take a deep breath.”
She
does.
“That
is the being who cursed you,” I say.
“What?
Really? I—”
“Shh.
Breathe.”
She
does. The deep breaths keep her from panicking.
“Can
you hear what the being is saying?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“I’m
going to talk to him now, but I want you to tell me what he says. Can you do
that?”
By
listening and speaking, she will regain control of her sovereign body.
“I…
I don’t know…”
Smiling,
Michael steps behind her and lays his hand on her shoulder. Her expression
relaxes immediately.
“There
is nothing to be afraid of,” I say reassuringly. “We are in the presence of the
divine. It cannot hurt you.”
She
nods. “I’ll try.”
“Okay.
What is your name?”
“I
don’t have a name.”
I
shake my head. “All sentient beings have a name. What is yours?”
“I
won’t tell you.”
“I
ask you for your name, that I may address you with respect.”
“I’m
not going to tell you.”
Michael
looks at me. ‘His name is Reshazak.’
The
archangel’s voice is a deep, commanding blue, rounded off with a melodic
gentleness.
‘Thanks,’
I reply. Out loud, I say, “I hear your name is Reshazak. It shall be so.
Reshazak, your time here is done. You are free to go—”
“No!
The girl is mine!” Vanessa blinks and shivers. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s
okay,” I say, feeding her more energy. “We know who said it. We’ll carry on.
Reshazak, you may leave with our respect and gratitude.”
“No!
She will always be a part of me!”
Michael rests his sword on her crowd. An agonised shriek fills my mind.
“Reshazak,
it hurts, doesn’t it?” I say.
“Huh?”
“You
are in the presence of Michael the archangel. You stand now exposed to the
Light. You are suffering, aren’t you?”
“So?”
“Reshazak,
if you stay and continue to harm Vanessa, you will suffer even more. But you
can end it. All you have to do is leave.”
Her
voice grows harsh. “You leave! You
are a fake! You cannot do this—”
“No.
I am staying. So is Archangel Michael. Your time in Vanessa’s body is done. If
you continue to stay, you will suffer even more and receive even greater
punishment.”
“Fuck
off you piece of shit!”
The
Lums recoil. Vanessa
quickly shakes her head. “No, I didn’t
mean to—”
“It’s
fine. You’re just the messenger,” I say soothingly.
Ethereal flame leaps off the sword, pouring through her aura.
“He’s
screaming,” she says. “He’s screaming and telling you to… well, you know.”
I
nod. “Reshazak, you can stop the pain. All you have to do is leave.”
Vanessa
tilts her head back and opens her mouth. An unearthly sigh fills the world. A male sigh.
And
Reshazak is gone.
She
slumps over. Releasing Vanessa, I take a deep breath and recharge myself. The
portal closes. The miasma is gone. Michael steps aside, grins, and gives me a
thumbs-up.
“Did
you hear that?” John asks.
“That
was the being departing,” I reply. “It won’t harm anyone again.”
Vanessa
looks up at me. Her aura is free of negs. “Thank you.”
I
dispense my usual post-exorcism advice. For the next seven days, shower with
salt, preferably sea salt. Scatter more salt on the corners and at the windows
and door. If the being comes back, if something else happens, let me know.
Vanessa
shakes my hand. “Thank you so much.”
Her
touch lingers longer than expected, her warmth burning and corrosive. Her eyes
widen, a pair of black holes threatening to swallow me whole. It was the same
behaviour that got her into this mess.
I slide my hand away as politely as I can. “You’re
welcome.”
Her
aura is still a mess, still polluted with the remains of who knew how many men.
I honestly don’t know if I can clear them out, but I’m not going to compound
the problem.
‘You
did what you could,’ Leonhard says.
‘Now
she must save herself,’ Michael adds.
You
can’t win them all, I suppose.
Mrs
Lum presents me with a red packet. I don’t charge a fee for higher-end magical
services, but I do request a donation. I slide it into my breast pocket and
pick up my backpack.
“Um,
can you help me with my injury?” John asks.
“I
could, but I have a policy of treating one client at a time,” I say. “Drop me
an email and we can arrange for another appointment.”
“Okay,”
he says.
At
my feet, Lupin and the rabbit converse earnestly, no doubt plotting how to nudge
John to contact me later.
I
leave the flat. At the lift, I open the red packet and find two fifty-dollar
notes. Not too bad for an hour’s work. I’d been paid much more before, but I’ve
also received much less. Looking up, I see the archangel staring intensely at
me.
‘Michael,
this job isn’t over,’ he says.
‘What
do you mean?’ I ask.
‘You’ve
only dealt with a small portion of Reshazak. It was not taken into the Light; it
fled to reintegrate itself with the whole. He knows now what you are capable of.
He is a being of immense malevolence, and beings like that are not the
forgiving type. You are his next target.’
Stand
against the dwellers of the dark long enough and they will start hunting you. It’s
the nature of the game.
Still,
I grin.
‘I’ll
be his last.’
--
Part 1 can be found here.
For more fiction by yours truly, check out the Dragon Award nominated novel No Gods, Only Daimons.
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