Fair Balance
an excerpt

The scream seemed far off, as if in another world, a world of nightmares and dreams. Eight-year-old E.C. opened his eyes as the scream trailed off and then started again. It was from his brother Absalom in the bed next to his and E.C. jolted up and faced his borther, who was wrestling with the covers. E.C.’s eyes narrowed, he wasn’t wrestling with the covers.
The black form grappled to get the oldest of the Hayes’ children. In the bed above him, Gray began to scream and cry, his six-year-old self in a frenzy. E.C. kicked the covers off, ignoring the chill of the room and the vapors that flowed from his mouth with each breath. They were everywhere. Red eyes, green eyes and eery gold eyes glared at the children from every space of the tiny bedroom. Fear and panic danced around him like a gang of bullies. He ran his hands over his long curly hair and studied the eyes for a moment.
Absolom continued to struggle, his cries becoming more desparate and E.C. walked to his corner of the bed. He stared at the demon attacking his brother.
“Leave, now,” E.C. said.
His voice was calm and held none of the childishness that it should have. He was somber, serious and the demon fixated it’s green eyes on him. E.C. could make out the form of something like a dog or bear, the square head and strong jaw. The back humped over with the spine sticking out, covered by two wings that looked like a large vulture.
“You can’t make us, you are but a child,” it growled. Then it laughed, cold and sadistic, like an evil hyena enjoying the kill.
The putrid stench of it’s breath hit E.C., making him think of the dead skunk on the road he saw a few days ago and the awful scent that hit him a few hundred yards away.
“I have the faith of a child and you must go,” he said simply. “You have no power here.”
A demon pounced from someplace unseen and E.C.’s body hit the floor with a resounding thump. Fear didn’t not attack him and he rolled over on his back to stare into angry red eyes. It had the same build as the other demon, but snarling and showing glistening gray fangs like knives waiting for meat to sink in to. His mouth rushed toward E.C.’s neck and although the boy was certain fear should have strangled him by now, he only felt surety and confidence. A flash of white so quick that E.C. thought it was just from the grip of the demons claws around his neck sped by and the demon fell off of him, yelping in pain.
“In the name of Christ, leave.”
The howls of pain started before he finished. He could feel warmth invading the room like an army of heat attacking. He looked around and could sense the battle taking place somewhere unseen. The demons lashed out, but the commotion quieted as they evaporated, back to whatever pit they had come from. E.C. looked at his brothers, but didn’t speak. He didn’t really see them, although his huge green eyes were on them, now huddled together.
“How did you do that?” Gray asked.
Their bedroom door flew open and E.C. turned slowly to see his parents standing there. He felt trapped somewhere between reality and fantasy, unsure which direction to go.
“What happened?” his dad asked, rushing to his two sons.
Absolom tried to speak, but his mouth opened and closed, looking at E.C.
“Dad, there were all these demons, there must have been a hundred of them and they jumped on me and Ab, but they didn’t bother E.C. cuz he just got up and chased them all away and one of them was about to bite his throat and this angel just appeared and tossed him to the ground and, and, and,” the little boy was gasping for air. “It was so cool, Dad.”
“It was not cool,” Absolom snapped. “I thought they were going to kill us.”
E.C. let them talk as he approached his bed and climbed in, feeling numb and a pain starting in the base of his skull.
“Is that what happened, son?” his dad walked to him.
His fathers’ hand stroking his hair felt good and E.C. only nodded, wishing his dad could stroke away the pain that was now spiderwebbing through his small skull. His vision blurred and he squeezed his eyes shut before opening them. The room shook a little bit, waving slightly so that everyone appeared blurry and in motion. The pain of the light became too much and he closed his eyes again, but the light seemed even brighter.
“He’s exhausted,” his mother whispered.
He wanted to tell them aobut the incredible pain, but the words were being tossed around in his stomach along with his dinner. He couldn’t get the words out without bringing the chicken, peas, carrots and rice with them. He opened his mouth to try wrenching away from his father’s hold and vomiting onto the floor.
“Boys, go to our room and get in our bed,” he heard his mother say.
He threw up again, oblivious ot someone’s hand rubbing his back tenderly. He thought he heard the sound of plastic hitting his night stand and whne the next round of words nad food came up, he heard it land in the trashcan with an echoeing thud.
“Do you believe them?” his mother was asking.
“Yes,” his father said simply.
E.C. tried not to think of Santa Cruz, the new house, the new church and the creepy new town. He tried not to think of the sacrificed animals they had found in their churches courtyard and the threats from witches, warlocks and occultists. He knew about them. His friend made sure he was ready and he kenw more than his eight-years needed too. But they had been ready. He had been ready for tonight, except this part.
He threw up again, tears, not of pain, or fear, but fromt eh sheer force of the act stung his eyes.
“Have you thought about leaving this church?”
“I’ve been praying about, Marietta,” his father said.
“My mother said we could come back to South Carolina and live with her. My borther has rental property we could get into.”
“We’re staying.”
E.C. slumped back against the pillow, it’s cool, cushiony form felt good against his pounding, aching head. He wanted to sink his whole body into the pillow and get lost in it unti lthe pain stopped.
“Demons attacked our sons tonight,” his mother protested. Her voice wasn’t as angry as it was terrified. E.C. needed to tell her not to be afraid, but again the words were too hard to form.
“and E.C. cast them out,” his father was saying. “I didn’t teach him this. He did this on his own.”
His mother was quiet. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s exhausted, Marietta. He just came in from battle.”
It turned out to be his first migraine and it’s memory was burned into the blinding white pain that accompanied every migraine that struck him. He could only lay there. He tried to pray, but the words only hurt him more and turned his stomach like a cast of yarn in a tornado.
He thought about those first demons now, in his dark bedroom. He wanted to grasp his head between his hands, rip it off and toss it like a basketball, but the thought of moving sent a tsunami of nausuea through him again. For years, he thought the headaches were brought on by disgruntled demons, their way of getting back at him. The migraines started after those first demons and he would suffer from them after any depossession. He asked for a new calling – he hadn’t asked for this as much as he stumbled into it. He didn’t know it would cause this kind of pain. If he could leave the other world alone, he could just play ball, hang out with his friends and be normal. Then he had one after the state championship game.
He made it through the on-court celebration when he sank the winning goal, but the final buzzer seemed to issue the familiar and dreaded feeling that the back of his skull was being crushed. He allowed his body to be tossed up and manhandled simply because he hadn’t the strength to move or to stop it. His body swayed on the tops of shoulders and somehow, their rhythm matched the churning in his stomach, keeping his customary pre-game meal of chicken alfredo down. He didn’t make it to the toilets in the locker room, but he did find the towel basket before he threw up. His brothers, and Ty, got him home and put him to bed.
And now, the funeral was over, the visitors were gone and his autopilot shut off. He had kept a straight face despite the fact he couldn’t see when he walked in the door. But his brothers, parents, and Ty were not fooled. He didn’t know who helped him to the bedroom, but he was grateful. The room was cool, the bed warm. He forced air into his lungs and out again, each breath he fought for seemed to drain more from him, but oddly, he knew he needed to breath and to focus on breathing, or it might stop. But would that be a bad thing? Even under the covers, he couldn’t stop trembling, each tremor laced with a pain.
You can kill me now. Really, I don’t want to live this badly.
Somewhere behind the glaring pain, he heard the laughter of demons and one that reminded him of a hyena. He was surprised it didn’t start after Celisa’s hasty depossession. She looked so helpless struggling against whatever was attacking her. Zuri said she saw a war being fought in her eyes. That was it, it was a spiritual battle. Despite the pain, he couldn’t tear his thoughts away from the strange girl his wife had befriended. His prayers were jumbled, confused, but he let them go anyway, hoping God could make sense of them.
She needs to be okay. Zuri cared about her. The demons need to be gone. What’s going on with her?
“She’s gotta be okay,” he mumbled.
The pain was gone, but he was tired, numb. The sound of his voice woke him and he stared at the ceiling, knowing he was in his room, but couldn’t figure out why or why it mattered. He was still cold and pulled the covers up closer.
“You done talking to yourself?” Ty emerged from the shadows.
“I do that when I want an intelligent conversation,” He looked under the covers. He was still dressed in the khakis he wore.
“Yeah, well, you have me, what else do you need?”
E.C. sighed. Most coherent thoughts bounced around but he couldn’t quite figure out which one he wanted to voice. Finally, he just looked up at Ty. “I need some water.”
Ty picked up the glass on the nightstand and handed it to him. Outside, rain pelted the window, which shook from the clapping thunder. E.C. studied the window as if it were a new concept.
“It was a beautiful day. I remember thinking Zuri picked this day for her funeral because it was as perfect as our wedding day. Where did the rain come from?”
He read more than he wanted in Ty’s face. Ty’s smile faded and his eyes filled with pain. The bed sank beneath his weight but E.C. felt like sinking more beneath the weight of his stare.
“E. You were out for two full days. This is going on day three.”