THE UNDYING | TWILIGHT

25. Exorcism

"Am I supposed to look at the camera?" asked Old Lady Parrilla as she stared deeply into the lens. Christopher had mounted the camera onto a tripod and positioned it directly across from the old woman. "It's awfully unsettling, having that thing pointed right at me," she said, trembling beneath its fixed black eye. "I feel like it's watching me."

"If it bothers you," replied Christopher as he paged through his notes, "feel free to change seats. Your presence on camera is not required. You can leave the room if that would make you more comfortable."

"No, I'll stay, thank you. My granddaughter's story must be told, and I fear my daughter may not be completely truthful in her account of the matter. She has a habit of distorting facts, you see, for the sake of her own heart. You have to put pressure on her. Only then will you get the truth."

"And where is your daughter? The sun is about to set, and your priest has yet to arrive. Honestly, I'm beginning to think you were duped."

The old woman gasped. "By the church?"

"You speak as though that never happens."

"You're a man of little faith, I see. Tell me, how can you can believe in monsters and demons but disregard Christianity as some fantasy? Don't you find that a bit hypocritical?"

Christopher slammed his notebook closed and stood up. "Where is your daughter? We should get started."

"In her bedroom," answered the old woman, but when Christopher tried to pass, she clutched onto his jacket with her strongest hand. "Never disturb a praying woman," she warned. "I don't care how important you think you are."

Smiling, Christopher slowly pried each one of her bony fingers off his jacket. "I have a job to do, signora. I'll do whatever it takes to get my story." After freeing his jacket, he took her hand and gave it a gentle pat. "Even if it means angering your god."

The old woman's eyes widened. "How dare you?"

Christopher released her then and started toward the bedroom. Along the way, he passed a closed door, a rickety old thing that was covered in scratches. It was all that stood between him and the little girl who was resting inside. He'd peeked in on her once before, early in the afternoon while she was fast asleep. She seemed so innocent then, so peaceful. It was hard to believe there was something evil stirring inside her, waiting to be awakened. Now that moment was almost upon them.

A shiver rippled down Christopher's spine, and he forced himself to press on.

Quietly, he approached Signora Parrilla's bedroom and knocked on the door. "Signora, I'm sorry to bother you, but the sun is setting. We need to get started."

"Oh, just a minute," replied the woman; then she whispered something Christopher couldn't understand (another prayer, he guessed) and opened the door. Her eyes glistened with fresh tears, but her face was full of determination. "I'm ready to begin."

Together, they walked into the kitchen. Signora Parrilla settled into the seat next to her mother while Christopher took his place behind the camera. As soon as the woman noticed the camera, she asked, "Am I supposed to look at the camera?"

Christopher suppressed a sigh. "Look wherever you'd like."

"Is it recording now?"

"Not yet. I won't start until you're ready."

The woman took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm ready."

"Excellent," replied Christopher, and then he pressed RECORD. "Tonight, I'm sitting down with Signora Parrilla and her mother, who reached out to me a few days ago. She believes that her granddaughter, Malise, is possessed by an evil entity—a demon, you could say—who appears only at night. Later this evening, a local priest will be joining us, and he will assess the child's condition. Until then, I'd like to get some background information from her mother. So, Signora Parrilla, when did this start?"