The Devil Inside Me

1

Hocus Pocus

Folks put a lot of stock in the ritual and hocus pocus of it all. The smoke, mirrors, and pig blood that dumb newbies, and rich eccentrics think is gonna sway favor with a devil. All those stones, charms, and symbols that you think is somehow gonna help. The rules you think are going to protect you from the things you're trying to screw over and make no mistake you are trying to screw them, or at least you better be. And if you aren't you're a fool because they ARE going to screw you.

Crying passed through Cass’s ears like a siren for the fifth time this morning, in truth, it was beginning to weigh on his hangover and his patience. They sat in the center of a small one-room setup. Shelves of messily placed books and strange stone bookends lined one wall. Filing cabinets, half-open and lazily stuffed with papers covered in strange symbols. Where the walls weren’t being completely covered in various methods of paper storage there were crudely made charms, and even more bizarre symbols drawn in black. One big window-lined the front of the shop leading out into a strip mall parking lot. The vinyl window printing read Cassidy: Paranormal Detective Agency

Thomas Cassidy sat across from his latest client setting down two cups of coffee as they spoke. He was an average man by all accounts, average height, average build, square face. He looked to be somewhere in his mid-thirties but his posture and demeanor betrayed that fairly quickly. In fact, the only strange thing about him physically was his deep ginger hair and his seeming need to always dress nicely in a suit and tie. He walked around today in a simple off-white collared shirt with a lazily hung tie loosely draped around his neck. His sleeves rolled up just enough to catch glimpses of the strange runes and symbols tattooed on his upper arms.

“Please Mr. Cassidy I don’t know what else to do, I’ve taken him to doctors and priests and I just don’t know what....” The girl said stuttering into tears as she tried to speak.

 She was wiry with shoulder-length fire red hair that would scare off even the most ravenous of vengeful spirits. She wore nice, if not a little tattered, clothing. A simple skirt and top with ripped fishnet leggings all overlayed with a leather jacket emblazoned with patches and emblems for bands Cass had a passing knowledge of. Cass suspected this to be a popular fashion trend of the times, although his sense of fashion died in the late fifties, so he could never be too sure.

Two cups of coffee sat on the desk in between them, Cass picked up one and took a sip as he began to speak. “Ok just breath, slow down for a second. Here try this.” Cass hunched forward in his chair and pushed the girl's coffee along the desk toward her. It slid along with a soft rustling coming to rest in front of her.

“You said your name was Anna, right?”

The girl nodded, her hair falling and covering her face slightly. She picked up the mug of coffee and held it in place not drinking any of it. Cass sensed something in her, a tense awkwardness. Something told him she'd want to give as little information as she could, maybe just so she didn't have to remember any of it either.

“And he must be Victor...” Cass nodded to the man sitting motionless in the chair next to the door. The lumpy figure sat hunched in front of the big window, his mass casting a long shadow into the room. A single look at this man would evoke the word “Punk” in a multitude of different variances and meanings. He wore even simpler clothing and a similar jacket to Anna. He slumped down in his chair, staring at the floor, neon green mohawk droopping to his knees.

The girl nodded again, sniffled, and wiped her nose with the wadded-up tissue she’d been holding for a while. Cass looked over to the tissue box sitting neatly on the corner of his desk. He pulled out a new one and handed it to the girl who thankfully snatched it up and blew her nose sobbing softly all the while.

“I am a little confused,” Cass said leaning back in his chair, taking another quick sip of coffee. “When you called you said he was going wild, you didn’t think he could control himself anymore. But now....” Cass motioned again to the slumped figure and looked back at the girl.

“He was.” Anna finally said, wringing her hands together and staring into her lap. “He-- He was going crazy. He did something to the priest I tried to take him to. That’s why our agent canceled the tour. Once the tour was canceled it was like he didn't have anything to live for anymore."

“Took him to a priest instead of a psych ward. That says a lot. Oftentimes, when one makes a deal with the devil, it doesn't end well when the object of their deal is taken away.” Cass motioned to the lifeless figure.

Anna looked down in shame staring into the cup of dark black liquid in her hands. The two sat in silence for a moment. Cass knew what was coming, the depression, the grief, the shame. All fairly typical when you realize that you’ve made a huge mistake. 

“I-- I don’t know why we're here.” Anna said puttering off at the last moment. She looked to the side almost over her shoulder at the shadowed slumped figure in the corner of the room. 

“You’re touring musicians right?” Cass asked, hoping to get her talking about something.

“Yeah-- Kinda-- It all happened so fast I don’t know.” Anna trailed off again looking down.

“I looked you up,” Cassidy said as he stood up and walked over to a second desk in the corner of the room. Piles of books and strewn about paper lined the desktop to the point where the small laptop was barely able to fit on it. Cass had never much-liked technology but Valerie, his assistant, had insisted on dragging him into the twenty-first-century kicking and screaming if she had to.

He tapped the trackpad and the screen lit up, the image on screen going from a dark muddied mess to a bright picture. A picture of Anna and Victor, backed up by the rest of their band, playing a stadium of thousands. Cass shot a glance back to Anna and Victor a stark contrast to the happy couple he saw on his computer. Although even without otherworldly help he had no illusions that most happy pictures weren’t always as they appeared.

“Two years?” Cass asked raising an eyebrow.” and you two go from small-town kids to national superstars. You never found that odd?”

“No--- I mean I yes,---I mean I don’t know.” 

“Did you two ever have any interaction with strange individuals? People that you got uncomfortable just by looking at em?”

“It’s the music business, there’s a lot of guys like that.” Anna blew her nose and finally took a trembling sip of coffee.

“Alright, then tell me about the priest Anna.” 

She looked down into her coffee, took a big gulp this time and let out a big sigh. She shot sad eyes over to Cass, the kind of eyes that said Don’t make me think about that again. She sighed and started, still staring deeply into the mug, the coffee moving and sloshing about in her trembling hands. She grimaced as if seeing it replayed in the dancing dark liquid.