Psychic Company: Case 03 - Amon Pt.4
In the pit left behind were the unconscious bodies of Oliver and Emily as they held hands.
Oliver opened his eyes to a hellscape. The ground was covered in undulating, living black grass that poked through white sand and the sky was a deep black, broken only by the dimly lit horizon—a perpetual twilight. He couldn't shake off the feeling that he was spinning, as if the ground beneath him wasn't stable enough to support his weight. At his feet was a gravel path that led to a building in the distance, its lights piercing through the darkness. Surprised to see artificial light, he quickly took out his phone. Juice, but no signal. Something about this realisation made him relax a little, like maybe this wasn't such a weird place after all. He took a step down the path and fell through the ground.
Oliver's world turned upside down as he plunged into the same sky he had been gazing up at just moments before, only now it was adorned with twinkling stars. As he descended, galaxies swirled into view, pulsing and shimmering in front of him. It was divine. He was no longer soaring through an empty black sky; he was floating through space itself. He felt like the center of the universe until his descent came to an abrupt halt on a giant, dark blue palm. Standing before him was the immense figure of Amon, its entire body stretching out in front of him.
The god-demon chuckled as he drew closer to Oliver. "Ten years and we're down one, but... we finally meet."
Oliver scowled in confusion. He was about to ask what Amon meant but then realisation dawned on him. "You're the one mom's cult worshipped."
"Corrrrect!" Amon sang. "And, though late, the time of possession is upon you."
Oliver froze. He locked eyes with the god-demon, his gaze as fierce as he could make it to hide the fear that bit at his insides.
"Oh, well aren't you being incorrigible? You didn't really think you had escaped, did you?" Amon sighed. "My little vessel, this is what you were born to do. It's your fate. I must say, though, not having your brother here does make things more difficult for you."
"If being possessed by you is my fate, then let's make a deal."
Amon laughed like a thundering cackle. "You want to make a deal? How amusing. All right, consider my curiosity piqued. I'll humor you and listen to what you have in mind."
"I won't fight you when you take my body—if you free Emily."
Amon stared at the human. It blinked a few times before again bursting out in laughter. "Emily?" it screeched. "That clueless, stubborn girl? That's who you chose to be your lover?" It continued to laugh. "What a kick! Humans truly are stupid. And the family I've taken? Do you not care about them?"
"If caring about them compromises getting Emily back, then no."
"Consider me amazed," Amon said with a raised brow. "How fitting that my vessel should be so twisted."
"Not twisted," he corrected. "It's not that I don't care about the family; I just care that much more for Emily. They mean nothing in comparison."
"Ah, a plague not of unfeeling but of too much of it. I know the tale—seen it through the ages. The results can often haunt those who commit to them. If what you're proposing isn't twisted, I'm not sure what is. I understand that she's your lover, but why would you go so far for her? You can always find another, especially with my aid."
Oliver balled his fists and a slight breeze blew between them, chilling Amon's bare chest. "I don't need to explain to you."
Amon's face grew an elongated, razor sharp grin as its skin tingled. "Interesting. Interesting! You're more interesting than I thought. More fun. All right, I'll acquiesce to your request. From now on, we shall be partners." Amon conjured an ornate dagger and floated it over. Oliver grabbed it and, somehow already knowing what to do, sliced his palm. Amon immediately dissolved into a shimmering white mist and dove into the wound.
The night sky vanished, like a curtain falling away, leaving the baby blue of daytime. As the last of Amon's mist was absorbed, Oliver fell asleep.
Outside in the real world, the company agents left behind laid on the black dirt, their bodies battered but their spirits not yet beaten.
Jamie raised her wand and pointed it at Amon's body, her vision blurring and hand unsteady. "Just a bit... more..." She took a deep breath in, well aware it might be her last, and started to cast a spell.
Amon's proto-body imploded before she could finish. In the pit left behind were the unconscious bodies of Oliver and Emily as they held hands.
Never before had the clock in Office 3 annoyed Willoughby as much as it did now. He glanced up at it and then back at his computer screen. Up at the clock, back to the screen. Clock, screen. Clock, screen.
"Think it's time for a break?" Jules said.
"Am I bothering you?" Willoughby asked, trying to hid his fidgeting.
"A little."
"Hmph. Maybe you should scrub somewhere else, then."
"And leave you all alone? Never," Jules replied playfully.
Willoughby sat in silence for a while, staring blankly at his computer screen. "I'm just so worried. There's been no word from them since Team Cropduster went in. That was two days ago. Something must have happened. Oh, and your brother! Oliver has so little field experience, I regret sending him along. What if something happened to him?"
Jules laughed. "I can't believe you're coming to me to vent."
Willoughby turned a little pink. "Oh, I apologize. I didn't mean to."
"You remember that time you sent Oliver and I out to PEI? We were supposed to just investigate a merman sighting but it turned out it was a raijuu. Weren't you worried then?"
"Of course I was."
"But you still couldn't send anyone in?"
Willoughby sighed. "My hands were tied. That mission was low priority. I was confident in your abilities."
"Someone died."
"I know. I'm not downplaying what happened. I'm just saying this is different. You and your brother are susceptible to demonic possession, and yet I willingly decided to send him along anyway."
"Oliver wouldn't let just any demon possess him. And even if one managed to, he'd fight like hell against it." Jules fiddled with a trinket on his desk with one hand and scrubbed with the other. Feeds of various social media websites filled his screens as post after post was deleted. "Besides, our team plus Cropduster? There's nothing to worry about."
Willoughby's desk phone rang and he scrambled to answer it. Jules looked up after a few seconds of silence to see Willoughby's face pale. It was like the life had been drained out of him. "I understand. We'll fly there shortly."
"What happened?" Jules asked after Willoughby hung up.
"That was CAMUS head office." He took one shaky breath in and said, "Something happened."
"What?! Are they all right?"
Willoughby frowned, his expression solemn. "Emily is in critical condition but they think she'll make a full recovery."
"And Oliver?"
Willoughby's eyes darkened. Quietly, he said, "He's been possessed."
The first thing Emily heard when she woke up was the hustle and bustle of the ICU. She cracked her eyes open and groaned when she was blinded by the white ceiling as it caught the sun's rays. With great effort, she propped herself up on her elbows and scanned the room. Empty, minimalist, sterile. Willoughby slept in a chair on the other side of the room, next to the window. She thought he looked uncomfortable so she called out to him. "Willoughby?" He didn't move. She called his name louder and he jolted awake.
"You're awake?" he mumbled groggily.
"Could say the same to you," she replied. She picked up on his nervousness and asked, "Where is this? What happened? Is everyone okay?"
Willoughby shifted in his seat. "This is a CAMUS owned hospital in Seattle. Don't worry, you're safe here. As for the team, they're a little beaten up, exhausted, but they're fine. A US team was called in after you went missing, Team Cropduster, and they're okay, too."
"And the mission?"
He averted his eyes. "Technically a success. Amon was captured."
"How long was I out for?"
Willoughby shrugged. "Nine days?"
"And Oliver?"
Willoughby's expression dropped.
"Where is he?" The tone in her voice had shifted. "Willoughby, what happened to my boyfriend?"
"Oliver was possessed by Amon."
Emily was outraged. "I need to see him. Where is he?" She threw the blankets off, ripped out her IV, and stormed into the ICU hallway.
Willoughby clamored to his feet, distressed, and chased after her. He grabbed her by the shoulder and said, "Don't worry about him right now. You need to focus on healing. Look at yourself, you're still full of corruption!"
Emily shrugged him off and looked down at her exposed legs, covered in huge swaths of dark purple blotches. She couldn't feel her legs—or her arms, now that she thought about it. She looked down her gown and saw more blotches covering her torso, reaching up toward her face.
"Gabriel's horn is purifying you, but it's very slow. Oliver is consumed wholly by Amon's corruption so you can't be near him right now."
Emily looked him right in the eyes and said, "I don't care. I've read the files. The Company is going to run a bunch of tests on him and then kill him. I can't let that happen. I have to—" She slipped on her gown and fell forward, smacking her nose. Willoughby grabbed her upper arm and tried to help her up but she brushed him off. Looking up at him with a bloody nose and tears in her eyes, she pleaded with him. "I need to see him."
Willoughby shivered, for a moment reminded of his daughter. "He's... in a secure bunker under the medical facility."
Without missing a beat, Emily shoved Willoughby away from her and booked it to the nearest elevator.
"Jules already went to see him!" he shouted after her. "You don't want to see him!"
Emily froze, letting him catch up. "How is he?"
"Not good." His forehead wrinkled as he remembered the look on Jules' face. "Oliver wouldn't want you to see him like this."
She turned back to him. "I don't care," she said as she reached for the elevator's call button.Â
"You won't be able to get in. You don't have access."
"But you do," she said, eyeing him. "Come with me."
"We shouldn't..."
"Have you seen him?"
Willoughby shook his head. "I... don't want to see what Oliver has become."
"Coward," she spat. "You're someone who Oliver likens to a father, did you know that?"
Willoughby looked troubled. "I assumed as much."
"Don't you see him like your son, too? Don't you think you owe it to him? To go see him? Are you really going to hang back while those boys suffer?"
The CAMUS research facility under the hospital was windowless and dimly lit. After exiting the elevator, Willoughby led Emily left down a long hallway, then a right, then through several security checks, complete with both organic and inorganic scanners, as well as a decontamination chamber. To Emily's surprise, Jules and Jamie sat across from each other in the containment cell's antechamber, both staring solemnly down at the ground.
Jules noticed them first, leaping to his feet to greet them and halfheartedly introduced Jamie and Emily. Dark bags hung under his bloodshot eyes. It was clear to her that he'd been crying recently, which shocked Emily because she wouldn't have thought him to be a cryer. She grew more unsettled.
"Thanks for coming," Jules choked out, his voice hoarse. "But should you be here, Emily?"
"We won't be here long. I've allowed it for now," Willoughby said.
Jamie came over to shake Emily's hand, her expression sorrowful. "I'm so sorry," she said. "The whole thing was my plan. I had no idea Oliver had a history with demonic possession. If I'd known, I wouldn't have—"
Emily squeezed Jamie's hand and looked the witch directly in the eyes. "It shouldn't be your fault alone. On the way down, Willoughby told me how you guys came up with the plan in order to save me and the family. I deserve some of the weight you're putting on yourself. I think we all do."
"No, if I knew—if I knew he was primed especially for Amon then maybe I—"
Willoughby raised his hand, halting Jamie's word vomit as she began to tear up. "Jamie, you had no idea. This isn't your fault. Oliver should have known better."
Emily looked past them to the doors to the containment cell. "Is he in there?"
"Yeah," Jules said.
"Can I see him?" She didn't even wait for a reply as she walked past everyone to push open the first set of doors, revealing an enchanted steel lined dark room with a magically sealed glass cube in the middle. Talismans of various styles, schools, and cultures almost completely covered the cube, making it difficult to see inside. Nonetheless, Emily knew. She approached the glass cube and found an opening to look through. A hunched over figure sat in the middle of the cube looking as if it were engulfed in pitch black flame. A dark miasma seeped out of it, obscuring any finer details and practically consuming the light around it. Tears welled at the corners of Emily's eyes as the image sank in. This was Oliver. "H-hello?" she ventured and a viscous, velvety black tendril erupted from the figure toward Emily but the second it touched the glass it sizzled, causing it to cry out in pain. Emily took a step back and examined the talismans. Anti-corruption, she thought. Or anti-demonic. A gentle warmness spread through chest, easing the unnerving pain that had started to chill her there. She clasped her pendant and focused her gaze on what had become of her lover.
Back in the antechamber, Jamie continued to apologize and feel sorry for herself until Jules said he didn't want to hear it anymore. An uneasy silence filled the room until Willoughby said, "With Emily out of earshot, how about we discuss how to move forward with Oliver's condition? What do you guys think?"
"Exorcism is the first thing that comes to mind," Jamie said, trying to cheer herself up by switching gears.
Willoughby nodded, saying, "I agree. Exorcism is the first thing we should try, but Amon's grip on Oliver is incredibly strong. I'm worried a serious attempt might damage his body."
"An exorcism might not be the best option," Guinness said as he walked into the room, his expensive leather shoes clacking along the polished granite flooring. Fabian followed behind looking expressionless as usual.
"Why not?" Jamie asked.
"I've communed with some experts on the matter—"
"You mean dead demonologists?" Jamie said.
Guinness glared at the witch, annoyed at being cut off. "Yes," he replied. "And they all agreed that the process the cult likely used to prime the Jones brothers would have essentially poked Amon-shaped holes in their souls, allowing demons—especially aspects of Amon—to invade and take control rather easily."
"So Amon possessing my brother is like a triangle block going into a triangle hole."
"Essentially," Guinness said, nodding. "To add to that, considering the fact both of you were primed for this exact aspect means the strength of this Amon alone is likely too much for one person to tolerate. Two bodies are required to hold it properly. This is a cause for concern, if true, because it implies that—"
"Oliver's body is breaking down as we speak," Willoughby muttered.
"Yes. We can't observe it due to the corruption and miasma, but it's likely his body has already begun to rot. Soon, the vessel will be inadequate and Amon will need to find another one." He eyed Jules. "I suggest you—and anyone else susceptible to possession—leave this facility immediately."
Jules' nostrils flared. He didn't appreciate Guinness' flat tone of voice. It was like he didn't care at all about his brother.
Willoughby rubbed his jaw. "How sure are these experts about the holes in the soul concept?"
Guinness turned back to Jules. "Ever since you were young, for as long as you can remember, you've felt empty. Like there was his hole inside you that nothing can fill? Absolutely nothing. Am I right?"
Jules remained silent, balling his fists.
"Holes in the soul can be man made, but they can occur naturally, too."
"I've never felt an emptiness that couldn't be resolved," Jules finally said, though he wasn't sure if he was telling the truth or not.
Guinness raised his brow. "Truly? I'm surprised. Glad, even. But, how certain are you that Oliver can say the same? I'll choose to believe in this theory until proven otherwise."
"Wait," Jamie said, "what does any of this have to do with exorcism? Why would it be a bad idea?"
"Simply? It wouldn't work. We would be inflicting immense stress on Oliver's body without getting any results."
"And the long answer," Willoughby said.
Guinness sighed, looking bored. "Because of the priming. To exorcise someone who has been primed—without properly preparing, at least—would be irresponsible."
"What do you suggest, then?" Willoughby continued.
"Not any priest will do. We'll need a heaven-touched one. I'm going to contact Office 5 and see if we can get Javier Sanchez. Until he arrives, I don't think we should do anything."
"What about the Horn of Gabriel?" Jules asked. "It purified a mad goddess. Can we use it on Oliver?"
Guinness smiled smugly. "That would be nice, wouldn't it? But the horn hasn't finished charging. To use it now would only do half the job. Who knows what kind of incomplete effect it would have?" He turned to leave but stopped suddenly as a muffled scream came from the containment chamber. A cold chill washed over him. He turned back toward the cell doors with wide eyes, horror contorting his face like never before. "No..."
Then the containment breach alarms went off, screeching into everyone's ears, nailing into their brains. Willoughby realised Emily had been gone a while now and as he put two and two together he couldn't help but feel dread. He couldn't tell which was worse: Emily being tempted into freeing Oliver or letting him go on purpose.