Read Online Charm City (The Demon Whisperer Book 1) by Ash Krafton - Free Book Online
Authors: Ash Krafton
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swiveled its head toward her, like a cobra in sway. YOU THINK THIS ONE HAS ANY POWER? CHARLETAIN. SCHOOL BOY. WEAK.
Chiara circled the host, ignoring him. "Or...I suppose we can call my father, and he'll show you the error of your ways. And that will be the most excruciating choice of all. I guarantee it."
The demon-infested man huffed out a big breath, smoke curling out of his nose. ALL THIS TALK OF CHOICE. WE HAVE NO CHOICE. WE HAVE NO WILL OF OUR OWN.
"Speak for yourself," she said.
YOU ARE A DISAPPOINTMENT TO HIM.
"Don't presume to know him...or me. And insulting me really isn't the way to go." She raised her hands. No longer ticking choices off her fingers, she splayed both hands, which took on an eerie glow, as if flames rolled beneath the surface of her skin. "And I may have understated myself. The 'me option' is really going to hurt."
The demon stepped backwards. CHIARO—
"Shhhh," she hissed. "No more talking."
She lunged, grabbing the host by the shoulder and driving him back against the wall. She slapped her other hand onto his forehead. The sounds of searing flesh, a wet sizzle like a steak on a hot grill, made Simon's stomach quiver.
The demon screamed and fought, shaking, thrashing, convulsing. But it was no match for the lady, whose eyes blazed as fiercely as had the palms of her hands. The demon struggled but failed to shake loose from her grip.
Chiara grimaced and pushed the host to its knees.
The host threw back his head and wailed, a moan of a multitude of voices. A swirl of black fog slithered out of his open mouth, bellowing out into a swirling column of sullen heat and pitch-black smoke. It condensed into a dark, rumbling mass that tumbled into and upon itself until it disappeared with a thunderclap and a retina-searing flash.
The host collapsed. Clean. Exorcised.
Surprisingly, still alive.
Chiara picked up his baseball hat and tossed it down at him.
The kid pushed up on his hands, looking around, confused. "What happened?"
She squatted beside him, tin in hand. Without answering, she smeared the jelly on his head, then into his eyes, mouth, ears, everywhere.
He sputtered and pushed her hands away. "What the hell are you doing, lady?"
Standing, she glared down at him. "You were possessed, you fool, and it was your own damned fault. I suggest you find a church, confess your sins, and find the good in your heart before Hell takes you for good. And I promise, they'll do more than burn your face."
The jelly sizzled and smoked, smelling like burned hair and incense. He groaned and gingerly reached up to his face.
"Remember that pain," she said. "It's just a taste of what an eternity of Hell will feel like if you don't find the light." She coldly turned away and left the boy on the ground, and left Simon staring holes in her back as she walked away.
Stubborn fool.
Chiara busied herself with a handkerchief, wiping the last of the chrism from her fingers. If she wasn't careful, she'd accidentally rub her eyes or something and then it would really burn.
She scowled, thinking about that young man. It would only be a matter of time before he opened himself up to darkness again. All the chrism in the world wouldn't be enough to burn the stupidity out of him.
And for all the demons to break through—
Chiara couldn't make herself look at Simon. She knew that he knew. This one little possession just pushed the two of them through a doorway she knew she'd never find her way back through. She didn't want that with him.
She didn't want that for him.
It wouldn't do any good to walk away, not now. But there was nothing wrong with trying.
Simon followed silently behind her. She could sense his turmoil, sullen and brooding, a storm beneath the surface.
At least he waited until they were safely out of sight of the passersby before he closed the distance between them and spun her around to face him.
She didn't expect to see all that suspicion, heavy and accusing, glaring back at her from
Chiara circled the host, ignoring him. "Or...I suppose we can call my father, and he'll show you the error of your ways. And that will be the most excruciating choice of all. I guarantee it."
The demon-infested man huffed out a big breath, smoke curling out of his nose. ALL THIS TALK OF CHOICE. WE HAVE NO CHOICE. WE HAVE NO WILL OF OUR OWN.
"Speak for yourself," she said.
YOU ARE A DISAPPOINTMENT TO HIM.
"Don't presume to know him...or me. And insulting me really isn't the way to go." She raised her hands. No longer ticking choices off her fingers, she splayed both hands, which took on an eerie glow, as if flames rolled beneath the surface of her skin. "And I may have understated myself. The 'me option' is really going to hurt."
The demon stepped backwards. CHIARO—
"Shhhh," she hissed. "No more talking."
She lunged, grabbing the host by the shoulder and driving him back against the wall. She slapped her other hand onto his forehead. The sounds of searing flesh, a wet sizzle like a steak on a hot grill, made Simon's stomach quiver.
The demon screamed and fought, shaking, thrashing, convulsing. But it was no match for the lady, whose eyes blazed as fiercely as had the palms of her hands. The demon struggled but failed to shake loose from her grip.
Chiara grimaced and pushed the host to its knees.
The host threw back his head and wailed, a moan of a multitude of voices. A swirl of black fog slithered out of his open mouth, bellowing out into a swirling column of sullen heat and pitch-black smoke. It condensed into a dark, rumbling mass that tumbled into and upon itself until it disappeared with a thunderclap and a retina-searing flash.
The host collapsed. Clean. Exorcised.
Surprisingly, still alive.
Chiara picked up his baseball hat and tossed it down at him.
The kid pushed up on his hands, looking around, confused. "What happened?"
She squatted beside him, tin in hand. Without answering, she smeared the jelly on his head, then into his eyes, mouth, ears, everywhere.
He sputtered and pushed her hands away. "What the hell are you doing, lady?"
Standing, she glared down at him. "You were possessed, you fool, and it was your own damned fault. I suggest you find a church, confess your sins, and find the good in your heart before Hell takes you for good. And I promise, they'll do more than burn your face."
The jelly sizzled and smoked, smelling like burned hair and incense. He groaned and gingerly reached up to his face.
"Remember that pain," she said. "It's just a taste of what an eternity of Hell will feel like if you don't find the light." She coldly turned away and left the boy on the ground, and left Simon staring holes in her back as she walked away.
Stubborn fool.
Chiara busied herself with a handkerchief, wiping the last of the chrism from her fingers. If she wasn't careful, she'd accidentally rub her eyes or something and then it would really burn.
She scowled, thinking about that young man. It would only be a matter of time before he opened himself up to darkness again. All the chrism in the world wouldn't be enough to burn the stupidity out of him.
And for all the demons to break through—
Chiara couldn't make herself look at Simon. She knew that he knew. This one little possession just pushed the two of them through a doorway she knew she'd never find her way back through. She didn't want that with him.
She didn't want that for him.
It wouldn't do any good to walk away, not now. But there was nothing wrong with trying.
Simon followed silently behind her. She could sense his turmoil, sullen and brooding, a storm beneath the surface.
At least he waited until they were safely out of sight of the passersby before he closed the distance between them and spun her around to face him.
She didn't expect to see all that suspicion, heavy and accusing, glaring back at her from
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