Page 24 of Exorcise Me
“Independent study not approved by your mentor or this Council,” Father Yarrow clarified from the center of the table. He was generally the most reasonable of the group, which made his disapproval harder to bear.
“Yes,” I admitted. “I found the seminary materials… limited in certain respects.”
This caused more than murmurs—outright exclamations of surprise and disapproval echoed in the high-ceilinged room.
“Limited?” Father Oxley repeated, his face flushing. “The collected wisdom of centuries of exorcists, limited?”
“Incomplete,” I amended, choosing my words carefully. “The seminary presents a singular view of demonic entities as universally malevolent. My research suggests a more nuanced reality.”
The room fell silent, all eyes fixed on me with various degrees of shock and concern.
“And what sources have led you to this… nuanced view?” Father Finnegan finally asked, his tone carefully neutral.
This was the moment of truth. I could dissemble, mention only the academic texts I’d consulted. Or I could be honest.
Lucien’s words echoed in my mind:Tell them what you believe to be true. I trust your judgment.
I took a deep breath. “Academic sources, historical accounts predating the Church’s standardized demonology, and… personal experience.”
“Personal experience?” Father Yarrow leaned forward, his interest clearly piqued. “You’ve encountered entities that don’t match our understanding?”
“Yes,” I said simply.
Father Finnegan’s gaze sharpened. “Would this personal experience have a name, Noah? Perhaps… Lucien?”
The direct question sent a jolt through me. I’d known this was coming, but facing it in this formal setting, under the scrutinizing eyes of men who had taught me everything I knew about my calling, was more intimidating than I’d anticipated.
“Yes,” I admitted, my voice steady despite my racing heart. “I’ve been in contact with a demon who calls himself Lucien.”
The reaction was immediate—Father Oxley crossed himself, Father Yarrow’s eyes widened, and the other Council members exchanged alarmed glances. Only Father Finnegan remained composed, watching me with an unreadable expression.
“Contact,” Father Finnegan repeated. “An interesting choice of word. Would ‘harboring’ be more accurate? Or perhaps ‘consorting with’?”
Heat crept up my neck, but I refused to be shamed. “I have been in a relationship with him,” I clarified, the words feeling both terrifying and liberating to speak aloud in this place. “And in that relationship, I’ve learned that much of what we teach about demons is simplistic at best, and prejudiced at worst.”
“Prejudiced?” Father Oxley nearly shouted, rising halfway from his seat. “These are creatures of darkness, tempters and corruptors—”
“Some are,” I interrupted, surprising myself with my boldness. “Just as some humans are cruel and destructive. But to condemn an entire class of beings based on the actions of some is the definition of prejudice, is it not?”
“You have been corrupted,” Father Oxley declared, fully standing now. “This demon has twisted your mind, poisoned your faith—”
“Lucien has done nothing but show me kindness, patience, and love,” I countered, my own voice rising. “He has challenged me to think more deeply, to question more thoroughly, to seek truth more diligently than any teacher in this seminary ever encouraged me to do.”
“Love?” Father Finnegan interjected, his voice cutting through the tension. “You believe this demon loves you?”
I met his gaze directly. “Yes. And I love him.”
The confession hung in the air like a thunderclap. Father Oxley collapsed back into his seat, crossing himself again. Father Yarrow studied me with a combination of fascination and concern. The other Council members whispered among themselves, their expressions ranging from disgust to pity.
Father Finnegan simply looked sad. “Noah,” he said quietly. “You must see how this appears to us. A promising young exorcist, one with questions, yes, but dedicated to his calling, suddenly abandons his duties and declares love for the very type of entity he was trained to combat. From our perspective, this can only be the result of manipulation and corruption.”
His reasonable tone was almost harder to face than Father Oxley’s outrage. I leaned forward, trying to make them understand.
“I know how it looks,” I acknowledged. “If our positions were reversed, I might think the same. But I ask you to consider another possibility—that our understanding of demons has been limited by fear and ancient prejudice. That perhaps, just ashumans can choose between good and evil actions, so too can demons.”
“A convenient theology for one who has given himself to a demon,” Father Oxley muttered.
I ignored the jab, keeping my focus on Father Finnegan, the one person who might actually hear me. “You taught me to seek truth above all else,” I reminded him. “To question, to dig deeper, to not accept simple answers to complex questions. That’s all I’m doing now.”
