Authors: Enrique Laso
"I must go. I'm flying first thing tomorrow morning, and I also want to prepare my meeting in the Vatican. I know I'll find some answers there," stated Father Salas, standing up.
Elena threw her arms around the Mexican priest, seeking in his warmth the calm his words seemed to convey.
"I need you. I need you more than ever."
"I know that." We all need each other, and together we will succeed," the priest whispered, although he himself harboured as many or more doubts as the young woman.
Esteban saw Father Salas to the door, and shook his hand in farewell. No words were needed. When the priest turned around, in a regrettable oversight, he could see his reflection in the mirror that was hung at the entrance, which he always avoided. The image he saw, for just a fraction of a second, was etched in his retina for hours: it was the head of a creature not unlike a large fly, its eyes glowing like embers, set on the torso of a beast held by dozens of thick, vile, insect-like legs.
A
ndrés had just received his
toys
. Finally he had the state-of-the-art equipment sent by the production team of the American TV channel. He felt like a child on Christmas morning.
One by one, and with the utmost care, he took out each of the devices from their packaging. Even though some of them had never been in his hands before, he could recognise them all. He knew how to use them, he knew their specifications and their manuals. But only now could he actually touch them. He couldn't wait to start, although Elena wasn't there with him.
As soon as he'd finished, he looked at the marvellous display: in Carlos's living room there was now a spectrometer, a highly sensitive infrared thermometer, a camera with a nightscope and motion detector, several microphones of various sensitivities, an electromagnetic meter and the jewel in the crown, an infrared camera with cryogenically cooled detectors. He couldn't have hoped for better equipment.
«Now it's time to have some fun», said the technician to himself, while he powered up the devices. He worked unhurriedly, savouring each moment as he adjusted and calibrated the machines. When he told his work colleagues about this the next day, they'd all be drooling, since most of them were also very much into the paranormal.
He decided to start with the infrared thermometer, since he thought it was a good idea to detect anything out of the ordinary before moving on to the
really
serious kit, and he carefully checked out each corner of the living room. Nothing interesting, as he'd expected.
He went to the corridor and then he went into every room in the large flat. There were no significant temperature variations. And then, he thought to himself, the show begins here: he stopped before the door of what had been Laura's room and opened it. With the help of the laser pointer in the thermometer, he pointed at every nook and cranny in the room. He then realised, much to his disappointment, that the values were within what could be considered
normal
, like the rest of the flat. It was a shame: he was convinced that in the girl's room there had to be
something
. But, for the time being, that wasn't the case. He knew, of course, that spirits and other similar entities were not always present, so he thought he must be patient. Nevertheless, he'd remove his obsolete devices from the flat, and substitute them with the newly arrived ones.
He returned to the corridor, somewhat downcast, and told himself there was only one last place to check. Despite what had happened before in that sort of junk room, he had little hope of finding anything. Slowly, he opened the door of the room where Carlos had
buried
all of Alicia's stuff and mementoes. He pointed his device first towards the wardrobe. That was an ideal place for an entity such as that to take shelter. But, once again, the values were normal. With extreme level-headedness, he pointed at the piles of boxes, the books, the photographs, even the roof. He'd left the place where the
soul
or the
essence
could be, for last. He'd been aware of it when he'd first gone in to the flat, without the need of any device: the cracked wall on which a warning could now be read. Startled, he stepped back. The temperature had suddenly gone down 30 degrees! That could mean only one thing: there was
someone
there with him.
Without missing a beat, he went back to the living room and picked up the infrared camera with cryogenically cooled detectors. This was the first time in his life he'd handled such an expensive, delicate device, so he took a couple of minutes to make sure he didn't make any mistakes. As he prepared the equipment, he thought that it was possible that the
entity
would've gone by the time he got back. Or that there was a perfectly logical explanation for the strange change in temperature. In any case, that thing wasn't about to leave the flat, and he'd have plenty of time to catch it with his sophisticated gadgets.
«C'mon, Andrés, this is the chance of a lifetime», he thought, while he checked for the umpteenth time that the machine was ready to record and that no detail would go unregistered.
Very carefully, as if any noise could scare the
thing
away, he went back to the room, holding his breath. Not a single noise could be heard in the entire flat: all the technician could hear was his own heart, beating like crazy. He noticed his forehead and his hands were sweating. He was really excited. He held the camera firmly and pointed it at the cracked wall, his eyes bolted to the monitor. Nothing. But he could feel the cold. The temperature in the room was much lower, entirely different from the rest of the house. He hadn't felt this earlier. Suddenly, he got goosepimples. One remote possibility had crossed his mind like a flash, and there was only one way to see how true it could be. As calmly as he could, he stretched one arm, pulling the camera away from himself, and turned it around, so he was recording himself. After several seconds, he stopped the recording and went back to the living room. Once there, he rewound the recorded tape in the infrared camera about half a minute. For a short moment, all that could be seen was a shot of the cracked wall, which meant there was nothing strange there. Then the image turned around brusquely and he could see his own face: a solid, red and yellow blob, the colours varying in intensity in the different areas of his face. And then, unexpectedly, behind his back, there appeared a grey
figure
: which meant a really low temperature. Its arms were outstretched, its mouth open, as if it were about to jump on him. Andrés screamed in terror, unable to stop himself. He put the camera down on the floor, as carefully as his frayed nerves would allow him, and scrambled out of the place. He would not go back in there without someone else. Now he knew that there really
was
something in that room. And what's worse: he was certain that it was an extremely dangerous being.
T
he flight to Rome had been quite peaceful. Father Salas had had time to reflect in depth during the trip. He felt nervous and he was hoping that this audience would help him face the future with more confidence and with the hope that there was a solution on the horizon. But there was always the possibility that the trip would be a complete waste of time.
As the taxi driver raced down Via Gregorio VII, deep in the centre of the capital of Italy, where the Vatican city is, Salas reviewed his notes for the last time. He wouldn't have much time and he needed to get straight to the point.
After the required security checks, an employee of the Foreign Relations service led the Mexican priest to a small room, where Father Gabriele was waiting for him. Salas had met him before, on previous trips to the Holy See, when he had been on training courses. He found Gabriele had aged considerably, although his eyes still had the look of a man as solid as a rock.
"Father Salas, it is a pleasure to meet you again after so many years."
Both men of God greeted each other warmly, as if their friendship was deeper than it really should've been.
"Father Gabriele, I'm so glad to see you remember me. It's been so long since I was last here..."
"The passing of time has left its mark on my body, but not on my memory."
"It is an honour to be received by you."
The Italian priest waved a hand, as if to dismiss the importance of the audience, which was in fact quite unusual.
"As soon as I received the call from the Archdiocese of Madrid, and they said it was about you, I didn't hesitate for a second. You can count on my support, whatever it is you've got yourself into."
Father Salas devoted a few minutes to tell the most important, best known exorcist in the world, this strange case.
"Really peculiar..."
"Yes. Which is why I need you to tell me what course of action I should follow. I am at a loss with this. I've never had to face anything like this before."
"Believe me, these things are very unusual. As you know well, I've personally performed thousands of exorcisms in the thirty years I have been devoted to this hard mission. I have also heard of many more. What you just told me, although uncommon, has happened before."
Father Salas gave a deep sigh: those words had lifted a weight off his shoulders.
"Is there any hope, then?"
Father Gabriele avoided the Mexican's begging eyes, and took a sip of water from his glass. Then he patted his right hand lightly before speaking.
"Performing an exorcism means removing something from inside. Generally, demons possess people, animals or even objects. Our mission then, is to cast off those demons. But it is also possible, albeit infrequent, that the Evil One possesses the soul of an innocent being."
"How can that happen?"
"This often happens at the time of the death, when the innocent soul should go to Heaven to meet our Lord. That innocent being can be confounded then, by one of the thousand servants of the Evil One, and be dragged to Hell. It is also possible that their parents had sold their children's souls, or their own, to the Devil, in exchange for some favour or privilege in his earthly life. Lastly, a soul can also get lost in the Underworld by a state of confusion of the acts and/or the wishes of the innocent soul at its last breath."
"But, Father Gabriele, is there any way to save the souls of those innocent beings?"
"It's a long, complex process, which requires an enormous amount of energy and faith in God. It's an exorcism, like the others we've performed, but in this case the purpose is to remove something from the Evil One's own territory, and therefore it's not as simple as expelling a demon from a person, an animal or an object."
"I'm willing to face this challenge."
Father Salas thought he probably didn't have enough strength nor that his faith was as fierce as the situation required, but now the most important thing was trying to bring Carlos and Laura back.
"I know, my son, I know. But you must take some details into account."
"Please, tell me everything about this."
"I will explain the whole process to you, but before, there's something you need to understand."
"I'm listening..."
The Italian priest took his glass again and drained it. His movements were slow, elegant, the movements of a man who is no longer attached to life and merely awaits the moment when God decides it's time for him to leave this world.
"You may take those souls from the Underworld, or you may fail. There's no guarantee of success."
"I understand..."
"You may save those souls, but we don't know whether they'll go to purgatory, or straight to Heaven, or even if they'll be trapped indefinitely in limbo, awaiting God's final decision."
"In any case, Father Gabriele, that'd be better than being in Hell."
"Certainly. But you could be condemning those souls to an endless wait!" exclaimed the Italian priest.
"That's a risk I'm willing to take."
"My son, that is precisely what I wanted to talk to you about, before going into the process for the exorcism."
"About the risks?"
"Yes. You will be exposed to grave dangers. The Evil One may snatch the soul of one innocent person in exchange for the soul of other innocents."
"The soul?"
"Do you remember that Christ was the first exorcist?"
"Of course," replied the Mexican, somewhat offended by the question.
"Do you remember the episode of the possessed of Gerasa?"
Father Salas was getting impatient, but he knew he should be cautious. The questions the wise Italian exorcist was asking were almost insulting. He reminded himself that the priest speaking to him was also a very old man.
"How could I not remember, Father Gabriele."
"I need you to understand..."
"I'm sorry. I appreciate your patience with me, and the fact that you're lending me a hand," Father Salas mused, scolding himself for his unforgivable anxiety.
"Demons, thousands of them, asked Jesus to allow them to possess a herd of swine before they left the body of their victim."
"That's right..."
Father Gabriele held a long, significant silence. His eyes, veiled by incipient cataracts, were motionless, stuck on the Mexican priest's.
"Do you mean that, in this case, I will be the pig?" asked Father Salas, doubtfully.
The Italian gave a slight nod.
"I'm saying that the Evil One could offer you such a deal, and that you may feel tempted to accept it."
"But, Father Gabriele, you said yourself that you have performed this sort of exorcism at some point in the past, and your soul is obviously not condemned."
"Can you see inside me?"
"No, of course not..."
"I too believe that my soul is not condemned. I have carried out these exorcisms, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. But there were not the dangers over me that loom over you."
Father Salas felt his whole body shake spontaneously, independently. A stifling heat rose from his gut to his cheeks.
"You can see inside me?"
"Yes," replied the old exorcist, sharply.