Confexo (Confession), Part II

“…I’m sorry?!”

Noe’s face flushed beet-red. The fact that a delinquent had approached her in the first place; his weird, er, sales pitch? (more like scam pitch); and the timing of mentioning curses when she had just complained about needing an exorcism—it felt like the stars had aligned perfectly for the sole purpose of humiliating her. Already she was almost on the verge of tears.

“Curses. Y’know, when someone don’t like you and puts a harmful spell on ya. Black magic, dark arts, hexes—call ‘em what you want.”

The boy drew back, shifting his weight to his haunches again. Then he tapped his phone.

“This phone’s got an app on it that makes it buzz when it picks up the source of a curse. An’ the closer it gets to a curse…”

The boy stuck his phone out, centimeters away from Noe’s face.

VVTVVTVVTVVTVVTVVT…

“…the faster it buzzes. Y’see? Oh, and check out the interface, too.”

He turned his phone so Noe could get a full view of the screen. Aside from her own stunned face in the reflection, what she saw was…strange. And very poorly designed.

Against a white background was a low-quality rendition of the indecipherable kanji written on those…what were they called, again? Tarisman? No, that didn’t sound Japanese enough. Fuda? That might’ve been it—those slips of paper the Japanese and Chinese had around their shrines and temples and such. Not that she’d ever been to either of those countries, but she’d seen them enough times on TV to recognize them. And on top of that design were a few simple words printed in black Helvetica type:

Maljisan Fatken:

(That is, “Curse Detected” in Satsuman.)

7.6 cm

As the boy moved the phone in and out, the number blinked up and down. Seemed accurate enough, but also how? Had he gotten some AI to write an app for him to do…uh…

Noe sighed.

“I’m really sorry,” she said, avoiding eye contact with the boy, “but I don’t have the money to buy…whatever you’re selling.”

“Hm? Oh, nah,” replied the boy insistently, “I just wanna help ya.”

“Help me with what?!” Noe finally lost her patience and glared right back at him.

“Your curse.”

Noe sighed, deeper and heavier this time. Then she lifted herself off of the bench.

“All right,” she said, not letting these words outstrip her sigh. “You got me. I’m possessed. Thanks for the offer, but I’m gonna go get an exorcism now.” She began to walk off, towards the side street.

“Wait, you’re what?” The boy had gotten to his feet as well.

“I said I’m POSSESSED!” she snapped at him now. “I’ve been having these crazy dreams almost every. SINGLE. NIGHT! I hear these voices saying something in some foreign language, and—and then they tell me to KILL PEOPLE! I see samurai, and commoners, and monks from old times, all cut up and gored out with swords! Sometimes I’m even holding the dang sword! I’ve never seen anything like it before when I’ve been awake. So yes, your guess is right. I’m getting attacked, by a demon! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go back to church and ask for an exorcism! Thank you, and good DAY!”

For some reason, it felt good to get all that off her chest. Carried on by that little burst of energy, she huffed and stomped off down the walkway, making her footsteps pronounced even in sneakers. Until she felt herself getting dragged back.

She turned around. The boy was grabbing her wrist, any trace of affability gone from his face.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you,” he said.

“Wha—”

Noe tried to say more, but her mouth was stuck, agape as if she had been struck dead by his touch. Somehow, his shadow stood taller over her even while they were both standing.

How did he—?! She thought. I didn’t even hear him coming up to me!

While she was frozen, the boy had grabbed her other wrist. He squeezed them both inhumanly tight, while casting just as powerful a stare into her eyes. Even with his shades on, she saw something in the back of his pupils glimmer. The suggestion of all these signs made its mark felt on Noe, who did not take them to be mere accidents.

Oh, God. This is it. If he’s not a demon himself, he’s definitely in league with them. One of those devil-worshippers…? No, a wizard? Is this a spell right now? Wait, I should be thinking of a way to get out of here! I’ve got…oh, right. The bear spray. The bear spray in my purse. That I can’t get right now ‘cause he’s got both of my hands. …Guess it’s time for Plan B.

O—O—Our Father, who art…uh…ohhh…

Her eyes went skyward, and her world went dark.

* * *

Om Bazara Taki Hum Sowaka…
Om Bazara Taki Hum Sowaka…
Om Bazara Taki Hum Sowaka…

Great, thought Noe. This again.

The voices said it so blindingly fast, but after a few go-arounds she had finally figured out a crude approximation of the words to their weird little chant. Her world was still black, but she could see a faint column of crimson, twinkling in the distance, no beginning and no end. Unable to control herself, she was brought towards it, until it grew clearer and clearer. The red was flowing. Blood. Her hand was thrust out into it. It felt heavy, first and foremost. Then warm and sticky. As if the blood had opened a new channel to her, another voice joined the chorus, audible well above the rest.

Coroxey.
“Kill them.”

Coroxey!

COROXEY!

A pair of eyes opened up in the distance, well above her head. Then another to their left, and another to their right. This continued until the eyes fully encircled her, every which way she looked. Slowly, white shadows spread out behind these eyes, making their bearers’ shapes known. They were human—featureless, but human, many times her size. They cast their gaze down on her, and once they were fixed, the blood turned to fire. It hurt; her arm felt like it was about to come apart, and her chest like it was about to burst open. Her flesh smoldered; the fumes reached up to her nose and made her eyes water. Noe wanted to scream, or pull her hand out, or both, but she could do neither. Only listen as the voices grew louder, louder, unbearably louder…

Om Bazara Taki Hum Sowaka…
COROXEY!
Om Bazara Taki Hum Sowaka!
COROXEY!
OM BAZARA TAKI HUM SOWAKA!
COROXEY!

The breaking point of all senses.

* * *

Noe’s eyes rolled up into their sockets. Her knees began to buckle. The boy, whom we shall call Justo out of convenience, for that was his name, was genuinely surprised. Sure, it was a bad habit of his to deaden the surfaces beneath his feet while he walked, but he hadn’t expected this girl to be so scare-prone that she’d faint out of shock from it. Still, he had to take responsibility.

Dropping the hold he had on her right wrist, he raised it to her quickly-paling cheek, first rubbing it and then tapping it lightly.

“Hey! Hey! Donzera! C’mon, snap out of it! Don—”

CRAK!

The brief, brutal sound of bone against bone. Something, a fist most likely, had collided with Justo’s face so hard it shattered his shades and knocked them off his face. The impact made him reel backwards a few steps. While cradling his own cheek now, he raised his eyes to meet his new threat.

Noe’s skin was now much like her eyes and her sweatshirt, in that all three were as white as a sheet. And yet, for such a lifeless countenance, she was doubled over, and her breathing was loud and strained. Finally, she too raised her face and met Justo’s gaze.

“Kill you…”

Her voice was guttural and full of pain, as if a knife were being twisted in her chest.

“Kill you…I’ll kill you…”

Justo blinked. She had traveled five meters, and still had more to her lunge. Her arms were held above her head, and behind her something glimmered all the way down to her back. Her mouth curled into a sneer, and then opened wide.

CHESUTOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

The scream left Justo’s ears ringing. Were his reflexes not well-honed, he would not have been able to jump back as three feet of steel came crashing down in a swift, sharp arc, rending the bricks of the walkway to dust.