Page 5 of Exorcise Me
I lowered my menu. “What does that mean? ‘Not in this form’?”
“It means—” he leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially “—I don’t always look like sex incarnate. Sometimes I’m more subtle.”
I nearly choked on my water. “You’re not—that’s not—”
“I’m teasing, Noah.” His smile softened. “Though your reaction is delightful. You blush all the way down your neck, did you know that? I wonder how far it goes…”
I raised my menu higher, using it as a shield. “Can we talk about something other than my physiological responses to your inappropriate comments?”
“Of course.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “What would you like to discuss? The metaphysical implications of demonic existence? The flawed dogma of your seminary training? The fact that your blue shirt does indeed make your eyes look remarkable?”
I lowered the menu just enough to glare at him over the top. “Let’s start with why you’re really here. The truth this time.”
Lucien’s playful expression faltered, and for a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of something else—something ancient and perhaps a little sad—behind his eyes.
“The truth?” He traced a pattern on the tablecloth. “The truth is, Noah Callahan, that you interest me. You’re an exorcist who hesitates before condemning. You carry doubt with your devotion. You see nuance where others see only absolutes.” He looked up, meeting my gaze directly. “Do you know how rare that is? To find a human who might actually look at me and see something beyond ‘demon’?”
I didn’t know what to say to that. It felt too honest, too raw for the strange day we’d had.
Thankfully, the waiter arrived to take our order. Lucien ordered for both of us—presumptuous, but I had no idea what was good here anyway—along with a bottle of wine that made the waiter’s eyebrows rise appreciatively.
“I don’t drink much,” I said after the waiter left.
“Tonight you do.” Lucien leaned back in his chair, studying me. “Tell me something, Noah. Have you always wanted to be anexorcist, or did you fall into it like most humans fall into their professions—through expectation and limited options?”
I fidgeted with my napkin. “My family has served the church for generations. My father, his father before him…”
“So expectation, then.”
“No,” I said defensively, then sighed. “Maybe a little. But I do believe in what I do. There is real darkness out there.”
“Yes,” Lucien agreed, surprising me. “There is. But darkness isn’t the same as evil, Noah. Sometimes darkness is just… different. Misunderstood.”
The waiter returned with our wine, pouring a small amount for Lucien to taste. He nodded approval, and soon our glasses were filled with deep ruby liquid.
“To new perspectives,” Lucien said, raising his glass.
I hesitated, then raised mine to meet his. “To… challenging assumptions.”
His smile was worth the small concession. We clinked glasses, and I took a sip, surprised by the rich complexity of the wine.
“Good, isn’t it?” Lucien asked, watching me with those unnerving eyes. “Humans create such beautiful things when they’re not busy destroying each other.”
“Do demons create beautiful things too?” I found myself asking.
Something flashed across his face—surprise, perhaps even pleasure at the question. “We do. Music, mostly. The kind that makes you feel things you can’t explain. Dreams, sometimes. And certain types of desire.” His gaze held mine. “The kind that burns but doesn’t consume.”
I took another, larger sip of wine.
Over the next two hours, we talked. Really talked, in a way I hadn’t talked to anyone in years. Lucien asked about my childhood, my training, my doubts. He listened with genuineinterest, occasionally challenging my assumptions but never dismissing them outright.
In return, he told me about the demon realm—not the fire and brimstone version I’d been taught, but a place of ancient beauty and complex politics. He described music that could change the color of the air, gardens that grew emotions instead of flowers, and the lonely isolation of being caught between worlds.
“Most of us don’t actually want to harm humans,” he explained as we worked our way through truly incredible pasta. “That’s propaganda spread by both sides. Most demons just want to experience the human world—your art, your food, your ridiculous reality television shows.”
I laughed, surprising myself. “You watch reality TV?”
“‘The Bachelor’ is a guilty pleasure,” he admitted, eyes twinkling. “The drama is delicious.”
