Page 29 of Exorcise Me
“Good afternoon,” I said, my voice stronger than I expected. “Thank you all for coming. Today, I want to challenge some fundamental assumptions about how we categorize and understand entities from beyond our dimensional reality…”
As I spoke, I watched the audience reactions—skepticism from some, intrigue from others, and from Lucien, a pride that warmed me more than any academic approval ever could. I was speaking truths that had never been voiced in these halls before, bridging worlds that had been separated by fear and misunderstanding for millennia.
The questions afterward were thoughtful, challenging, occasionally hostile—exactly what I’d expected. I answered each with the confidence of someone who knew his subject not just from books but from lived experience.
When it was over, a small crowd gathered around the podium, eager to continue the discussion. From the corner of my eye, I saw Lucien slip out, giving me a subtle nod that I interpreted as “I’ll see you at home.” He understood that this moment—my first real acceptance in the academic community—was important for me to navigate on my own.
Hours later, intellectually stimulated but socially exhausted, I finally headed home. The sun was setting as I climbed the stairs to our apartment, casting long shadows through the hallway windows.
I opened our door to darkness, which was unusual—Lucien typically kept lights on, claiming that “humans need illumination, unlike superior beings who can see perfectly well in the dark.”
“Lucien?” I called, setting down my bag and reaching for the light switch.
Before I could find it, a soft glow appeared—candles, dozens of them, placed throughout the living room, creating pools of golden light that transformed our familiar space into something almost magical.
Lucien stood in the center of the room, still in the same clothes from this morning but now holding a small box in his hands. The candlelight caught the planes of his face, the amber of his eyes, making him look more otherworldly than usual—a beautiful contradiction of familiar and strange.
“What is all this?” I asked, heart suddenly racing as I stepped into the room.
“A celebration,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “Of your success today. Of our year together. Of… us.”
He moved closer, and I noticed something I’d never seen before—a nervousness in his usually confident demeanor, a slight uncertainty in his movements.
“Noah Callahan,” he began, stopping just before me. “When I followed you home from that ridiculous exorcism a year ago, I was simply curious. Intrigued by an exorcist who doubted, who questioned, who hesitated where others charged forward with blind certainty.”
He took my hand, his touch warm and familiar. “I never expected to find my home. My purpose. My heart.” He looked down at our joined hands, then back to my face. “In seven centuries, I’ve never belonged anywhere or to anyone. Until you.”
My throat tightened with emotion. “Lucien—”
“Let me finish,” he said gently. “I know our situation is… unprecedented. A former exorcist and a demon, building a life together, challenging centuries of division between our kinds. I know there will always be those who oppose us, who don’t understand what we’ve found in each other.”
He opened the small box, revealing two rings—simple bands of what appeared to be silver, but with an internal glow that suggested something more than earthly metal.
“I can’t offer you a traditional human marriage,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “But I can offer you this—a binding from my realm, adapted for our unique circumstances. These rings are forged from star-metal, blessed by entities older than either of our traditions. They symbolize a connection that transcends dimensions, that persists beyond physical presence.”
He took one ring from the box. “If you accept, this would make us partners in the deepest sense—bound not just by emotion or choice, but by something more fundamental. It would… well, it would make us family, by the standards of my kind.”
I stared at the ring, then at Lucien’s face—vulnerable and hopeful and so deeply loved that it made my chest ache.
“Are you proposing to me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
His smile was tentative. “In a manner of speaking. Though it goes beyond what humans typically mean by marriage. This would be a recognition that our souls—yes, demons have them too—are complementary parts of a whole.”
I thought about what he was offering—not just commitment, but acknowledgment of what I’d felt almost from the beginning: that meeting him wasn’t coincidence but convergence, two paths meant to intertwine.
“Yes,” I said, the word coming easily, naturally. “Yes, I accept.”
Joy bloomed across his face, brighter than the candlelight surrounding us. “You’re sure? This isn’t a decision to make lightly—”
I silenced him with a kiss, pouring every ounce of certainty I felt into it. When we broke apart, both breathless, I smiled against his lips. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
With reverence, he slipped the ring onto my finger. It settled there as if it had always belonged, a pleasant warmth emanating from the metal, connecting to something deep within me.
I took the second ring from the box and placed it on his finger, watching as his breath caught at the completion of the circuit between us. For a moment, the air around us seemed to shimmer, reality itself acknowledging what had just transpired.
“What happens now?” I asked softly, our hands still joined.
Lucien’s smile was radiant. “Now we continue what we’ve started—building bridges, challenging assumptions, loving each other through whatever comes next.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “And tonight, specifically, I show you one of the benefits of being bound to a being with supernatural stamina.”
