Royce shot me a rueful glance. Didn’t fool you, then.

It was the forms. I’ve got to say, this isn’t a good look for you.

Not my choice. I get what my host has. He looked away as Leathergrip signalled towards him, and brought both hands up behind his neck to unclasp the small crucifix hanging around it.

“No sign of fear or pain,” the older woman said. “Consistent with demonic influence. Let’s begin.”

“Last chance, housemate,” I called out to Tru. “You’re going to bring a world of pain down on yourself if you keep going.”

“Do it,” he ordered the exorcists. “Hurry.”

Royce – Lucy – stepped forward with the crucifix, holding it aloft in one hand, stepping towards me. As he did, Leathergrip clasped her hands together and began chanting in Latin. No doubt it would have sounded impressive to the average person. In reality, it put me in mind of what Tru’s rap verse would have sounded like if he’d been born a citizen of the Roman Empire, just with less rhyming. ‘Get out, demon’, ‘go home, nobody likes you’, and other platitudes in desperate need of a rewrite. I imagined the pair of them starting a terrible acapella rock band together and couldn’t help rolling my eyes.

It all seemed a bit feeble.

Don’t you dare go easy on him, I instructed Lucy. If this doesn’t work, he’ll just try it again with someone else. You can’t be there every time.

“O demon,” Lucy intoned in a sonorous voice, “out we cast thee.” I need to protect my assets, he argued, leaning forward with the crucifix. It flared a little, leaking power around the edges. It was something, at least. Don’t distract me.

I waited, resisting the temptation to slide my arms out of their bonds as the two of them continued the ritual. A musical note entered Leathergrip’s utterances. From her wrist she unwound what I’d assumed was a bracelet, but turned out to be a string of rosary beads. With practiced movements, her fingers worked through the beads, turning each one by a precise amount, each turn altering the pitch of the chant. I could feel the energy in the apartment shifting somehow, and not all of it was centred around Lucy. Tru had managed to source legitimate practitioners.

I glanced over at him. He wasn’t looking so hot, beads of sweat forming on his brow. From the way he held himself, shifting from foot to foot with some discomfort, it was clear the procedure was having an effect. As I watched, his head listed to one side a bit as though he was having trouble holding it up, and he seemed too absorbed by his own difficulties to pay full attention to the main event. I wasn’t sure if he’d drawn a connection until he caught my eye and his expression hardened.

The hand he raised at me was an accusatory one. “It’s casting a spell on me,” he grunted, abandoning the cover of the kitchen island for the sake of catching Royce’s attention. “Protecting itself by draining my life force.”

“I’m not doing anything,” I explained. “I’ve had relaxing massages more threatening than this. Demon expulsion is only going to work on demons, and I’ve been telling you I’m not one. Ready to concede the point yet?”

Tru ignored me. “You’re the expert,” he petitioned the priest. “Can’t you do something to stop it?”

Lucy paused, and turned back to his client. “It shouldn’t be able to drain you,” he stated. “But if you’re convinced the spirit is causing you injury, perhaps we should investigate alternatives.”

“No!” Tru and I exclaimed in unison. Even Leathergrip cracked open her eyes and squinted at her partner in disapproval without breaking her chant.

“Look,” Tru continued. “Money isn’t an issue, and I trust your judgement. If it costs extra, I’ll cover it. Just get it out of my life.” He rubbed absently at the hand with the rune. “Make sure you keep going. I’m just going to lie down for a bit.”

Lucy watched him go and sighed. “Alright Neve, let’s ramp it up a bit.”

Leathergrip ceased chanting and made a terse sound of approval. “Good. Usual treatment doesn’t seem to be having an impact. Do you have a pair of scissors with you, by any chance?”

“What for? Oh, the beads. Pass them here.”

I eyed the exchange with some curiosity. You have access to his memories?

Some, he said, levering the metal crucifix in between the beads and pulling the chain sharply down on either side. He gave the implement a twist and the line snapped in half, sending a number of the highest beads spilling onto the floor; the others held in place by the fist curled around them. It’s more like muscle memory. Present the body with a familiar situation, and it knows what to do. If I wanted something specific, I’d have to try and replicate the relevant scenario. He dropped the broken rosary into Leathergrip’s waiting hands, which she upturned into her palm, beads sliding off into a pile in one hand.

Do you know what’s happening with those?

Lucy frowned. They’re weapons. Stronger the older they are, and these are antique. I don’t think they’ll do permanent damage, but they’ll pack a punch.

Sacrifice would also be an element there, I guessed. Yahweh’s pantheon was big on that sort of thing. There weren’t many tools mortals could use to hurt their more endurable brethren, especially since Providence had rounded up every divine artifact they could get their hands on, but there was still some old knowledge floating around which benefitted the tyrant’s agenda. The destruction of something old and valuable was exactly the sort of event I could see lending power to the ritual.

Leathergrip stepped forward as Lucy ceded the prime ground, bending forward into my personal space again.

I pulled an uncomfortable face as she spoke to me in Latin. “You’re listening, aren’t you, infernal one? Which circle of Hell do you hail from?”

“Just because I can understand you doesn’t make me a demon,” I replied in English. “It’s called linguistics, and there’s a certain hypocrisy – no, you know what? Circle nine hundred and forty-one. It’s where they keep the people who forgot the names of all the saints during Sunday school. The punishment is having to sit through Sunday school forever with everything displayed on misaligned overhead projectors.”

Rather than getting annoyed, the elder exorcist smiled. Kneeling at the side of the chair, she found one of my hands and pressed a bead into it, curling my fingers around it and holding it there. On the other side, Lucy was doing the same, with just a hint of bemusement.

Tru had not come back out of the bedroom, and I sharpened my hearing to see if I could catch a hint of what he was doing. I could hear belaboured breathing, an occasional low groan, and an odd crackling sound I couldn’t identify.

More beads were pushed into my palms, and Leathergrip’s expression was starting to betray a crisis of confidence as her ritual failed to have the desired impact. Nails pressed into my fingers, she launched into a new chant, so informal and unembellished it was almost guttural. Leave. Out. Begone. Lucy hesitated for a moment, then joined in, the pair repeating the phrase in unison.

The sounds from Tru’s room intensified until I was sure the exorcists could hear them too. The crackling sound was becoming more frequent and developing an edge that sounded almost like glass scraping along something.

What is that? I asked Lucy, and received a sense of uncertainty in return. He didn’t know.

I checked on the runes, which was a mistake. I almost lost hold an instant later as the sudden feedback threatened to overwhelm my senses. Grace’s naudhiz rune was almost invisible, drowned out by a roiling sea of fehu. It filled the penthouse and spilled out around it in a swollen purple corona, sick like a spreading infection. At its epicentre was something glass-like, the source of the crackling noise.

Judging by the state of it, it was a wonder my housemate was only acting like he had a bad headcold. I found this notion disproven a moment later when he reappeared, staggering, at the door of his room, leaning against the frame as if he might topple over any moment. He was clutching the rune hand. Violet light poured from it like a floodlight, obvious even in the midday sun, shining through the skin.

For a moment he looked like he might say something, but instead a great cry issued forth from his mouth. When he tried to move the arm, it crackled with the sound of fracturing glass. He took a few steps across the room towards the kitchen and continued to howl. Glowing cracks spidered up his arm and through his clothes, spreading past the shoulder, neck and torso, until they criss-crossed most of his body.

Leathergrip stopped chanting and gawked at the scene. Most of the beads dropped from her fingers onto the carpet, and she didn’t appear to notice.

Okay, that’s more than enough, said Lucy. The point’s been made. He stopped chanting and displaced his portion of the beads out of the vicinity, presumably somewhere they couldn’t do any harm, then did the same with the crucifix. The cracks of light began to dim. I’ll come back when I’m not possessing someone, and he and I will have a productive chat.

He’s not going to trust you – I began, then broke off, as I watched the train wreck in front of me unfold in slow motion. Tru, still screaming, had stopped cradling his hand and had instead reared it back in preparation for a wild swing, aiming for the kitchen counter. Loud splintering noises filled the air and he howled in response.

“Oh, shit -” said Lucy, and then the hand came down.

It shattered on impact with a sound like glass breaking, pieces scattering across the benchtop and onto the carpet at high speed, Leathergrip already diving for cover behind me as the shards rained down. I squirmed my limbs out of the ties, but not fast enough to avoid being hit. They collected in my lap and on the floor around the room, a pile of shimmering violet fragments bearing little resemblance to what they’d been only moments ago.

Violet light poured out of the brittle shell that had been Tru’s wrist. His screams became louder, if that was at all possible, and he stared in horror at his own forearm as it continued to crumble away, the disintegration progressing steadily up the limb.

Lucy didn’t waste any time. He ripped the crucifix off his neck, infused it with energy, and lobbed it at the demon. It hit Tru in the centre of the chest and seemed to stick there for a moment, before being flung back across the room with dozens of other projectiles as my housemate exploded in a violent purple burst.

The screams stopped.