Holy Scam

The streets had become almost impossible to cross.

People poured from shops and homes, filling the narrow road until carts were forced against the curb and merchants abandoned their stalls mid-sale. Children slipped between bodies while their parents shouted after them, and wooden shutters flew open overhead as curious faces appeared at every window.

"The Glory Priest is here!"

The cry traveled through the street faster than the crowd itself.

"They say he purified an entire village!"

"I heard he drove out ten demons by himself!"

Kah pulled his hood lower over his face. A crowd was the last thing he needed.

He had planned to be outside the town walls before the guards had time to reorganize. By now, someone had probably found the bodies he'd left behind, and soon his face—or whatever miserable version of it the local artist managed to produce—would be nailed to every post between here and the next town.

He should have kept walking.

Instead, someone shoved past him toward the commotion, followed quickly by another. Within moments, nearly the entire street seemed to be moving in the same direction.

"...Glory Priest?"

Kah watched them for a moment before following.

Just to look.

That was all.

The crowd eventually led him to a modest home at the end of the street, where people packed the front yard shoulder to shoulder. Children balanced precariously along a wooden fence for a better view while old women clasped their hands in prayer and whispered excitedly among themselves.

Kah stayed near the back until the crowd suddenly stirred. Whispers passed from one person to another, and a path slowly opened through the middle.

The priest arrived.

His white robes flowed behind him without a speck of dust despite the dirt road beneath his feet. Golden hair caught the afternoon sun, and a warm, effortless smile rested on his face—the kind that made people trust him before he'd even spoken. Several women near the front actually gasped.

Kah stared.

"...Pretty boy."

The priest approached a worried housewife standing near the entrance and bowed gently.

"My child," he said, his voice soft with concern. "Tell me everything."

The woman wrung her hands until her knuckles turned pale. "My husband has been coming home late from work. Every night, the front door locks by itself before he gets home, so he can't get inside."

The priest nodded solemnly.

"Money has been disappearing," she continued. "My children wake up crying. They keep saying someone is watching them."

The priest listened without interrupting, though his attention gradually shifted past her toward the husband standing several steps behind.

Late nights. Missing money. A man who wouldn't meet his wife's eyes.

The husband was sweating despite the mild afternoon. Every time his wife spoke, he found something else to look at—the ground, the crowd, the roof. Anywhere but her.

The priest almost sighed.

Your house isn't haunted. Your marriage is.

Instead, his smile became even warmer. "Fear not. I shall cleanse this house."

Relief washed across the woman's face. "Oh, thank—"

"There is, however..." His attention shifted toward her husband. "...the matter of the offering."

He leaned closer and whispered an amount.

The man's jaw dropped. "WHAT?! That's robbery!"

Half the crowd turned toward him, and his wife immediately grabbed his arm.

"Our family comes first!"

"But—"

The priest folded his hands peacefully inside his sleeves. "I'm sure..." He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only the husband could hear. "...your wife would appreciate knowing where all your money has been disappearing lately."

The color drained from the man's face.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then the husband's shoulders sagged.

"...I'll pay."

A heavy pouch dropped into the priest's waiting palm. Coins clinked inside as he weighed it once in his hand and smiled.

"Wonderful."

The crowd applauded.

The priest raised one hand with enough solemn authority to silence them. "No one must enter until I have driven the evil away."

People immediately backed away from the entrance, giving him room to approach. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

The smile vanished from his face.

Dust drifted lazily through shafts of afternoon light. Family portraits hung slightly crooked along the walls, and somewhere deeper inside the house, a grandfather clock ticked with slow, steady patience.

The priest stood quietly for a moment, listening.

Nothing growled. Nothing scratched inside the walls. No cursed symbols burned across the floor, and no demonic presence pressed against his senses.

His shoulders relaxed.

Then he noticed the couch.

It looked soft. Clean enough.

Perfect.

"...Finally."

He dusted one cushion with his sleeve, kicked off his shoes and collapsed into it with a satisfied sigh. An apple emerged from somewhere inside his robes, and he took a large bite.

Crunch.

He chewed slowly while staring at the ceiling, then drew in a deep breath.

"BEGONE, VILE DEMON!"

His voice thundered through the house.

Outside, several people gasped.

The priest took another bite.

"LEAVE THIS HUMBLE FAMILY ALONE!"

Crunch.

"I COMMAND THEE!"

The back door creaked open.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The priest nearly launched himself off the couch. "What the—?!"

The apple slipped from his hand and rolled across the floor as Kah stepped through the doorway with his arms crossed.

"...You scam all your customers like this?"

The priest pressed a hand dramatically against his chest. "Scam? I'm offended. I'm a priest."

Kah glanced at the half-eaten apple lying near his feet, then slowly looked around the perfectly ordinary room.

"...Yeah? How's the exorcism going?"

The priest pointed toward the apple. "I'm working on it."

Kah stared at him.

A knock sounded beneath the floor.

Both men looked down.

The priest's hand slowly lowered as another knock came from directly beneath the couch.

The grandfather clock stopped ticking.

Kah noticed immediately. The sudden absence of sound changed the room; a moment earlier, it had been an ordinary house filled with dust and afternoon sunlight. Now it felt as though something were listening.

The couch shifted barely an inch.

The priest looked down.

"...That's new."

Wood groaned beneath them as something scraped along the underside of the floorboards, moving slowly and deliberately through the darkness below.

Kah's hand moved to his sword.

A floorboard cracked, and a long skeletal arm unfolded from beneath the couch.

The priest froze.

Another arm followed. Long fingers curled against the wood, digging into the boards before the entire couch suddenly lifted.

"...Oh."

It flew across the room.

The priest ducked as it smashed into the wall behind him, exploding into splintered wood and torn fabric.

Something began dragging itself out from beneath the floor. Its arms appeared first, followed by shoulders far too wide for the thin body attached to them. Its spine unfolded one vertebra at a time, each movement accompanied by a wet crack, until two twisted horns nearly scraped the ceiling.

Then the smell reached them.

Rot, damp earth, and something old enough that it should have stopped breathing a long time ago.

The creature opened its mouth and roared so violently that the windows rattled in their frames.

Outside, the crowd erupted.

"The Glory Priest has begun the cleansing!"

"What incredible holy power!"

Inside, the priest pinched the bridge of his nose.

"...Right on schedule."

Kah slowly drew his sword, steel whispering from its sheath, but the priest immediately stepped in front of him.

"Relax. I've got this."

Kah looked at him.

"...You?"

Ignoring him, the priest straightened his robes, smoothed his golden hair and cleared his throat before turning toward the towering creature.

"My good demon..."

The demon stopped.

Its eyes narrowed.

The priest's confidence faltered.

He leaned forward slightly. "...Have we met?"

The creature's face twisted with rage.

"YOU!"

The priest blinked. "I'm afraid I meet many demons."

"You still owe me twenty gold!"

Kah slowly turned his head toward him.

"...You borrow money from demons?"

The priest looked genuinely offended. "Borrow? I prefer the term... temporary financial assistance."

The demon's roar shook dust from the ceiling.

"THREE YEARS! You said you'd pay me back next week!"

"I've had a very busy schedule."

"You've said that EVERY MONTH!"

Outside, people clasped their hands in prayer.

"Listen!"

"The demon is screaming!"

"The priest is overpowering it!"

"What incredible faith!"

The priest sighed. "Would you keep your voice down? You're ruining my reputation."

The demon charged, and whatever confidence the priest had been pretending to possess disappeared with it. He immediately ducked behind Kah as the creature barreled toward them.

"Okay. I may require a little assistance."

Kah didn't even look at him. "I thought you had this."

"I was optimistic."

The demon crashed through the dining table. Wood snapped beneath its weight, plates shattered against the walls, and a cabinet toppled sideways as dust poured from the ceiling.

The priest cautiously peeked around Kah's shoulder.

"What if... we renegotiate?"

The demon answered by slamming both fists into the floor.

The entire house jumped. Windows shattered outward, and family portraits crashed from the walls as people outside exploded into applause.

"Did you hear that?!"

"He's purifying the whole house!"

"A miracle!"

The priest stared at the broken windows.

"...They always think the loud parts are impressive."

The demon charged again.

Kah stepped forward and swung, but the creature caught the blade between its claws. Metal screamed as Kah's sword stopped inches from its throat.

The demon smiled.

"So... the little boy grew up."

Kah's fingers tightened around the hilt.

"I remember your father."

The room disappeared.

For one terrible instant, Kah was a child again.

Heat pressed against his skin. Dust coated his tongue, and the stink of sweat and blood filled his nose. Above the screaming crowd stood a wooden platform.

His father was on his knees.

Blood ran from his face and disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt. Then those familiar eyes searched through the crowd until they found Kah.

Don't look away.

The demon pressed harder against his blade.

"He was stronger. He still died."

The shouting outside the house disappeared beneath another sound—a crowd from twenty years ago, cheering and laughing and begging for blood.

"I remember his face," the demon continued.

Kah could see it.

His father's bruised features. Stones striking his body. The executioner's shadow stretching across the platform.

"It looked just like yours."

Kah's breathing changed.

"When he realized..." The demon's grin widened. "...he couldn't save them."

Something inside Kah broke.

He moved before thought could stop him.

The floor cracked beneath his feet as he drove his sword into the demon with enough force to send them both through the living room wall. Wood exploded around them, and plaster rained from the ceiling as the creature hit the floor.

Kah gave it no time to recover.

His sword came down once, then again and again. There was no rhythm to the attacks, no patience and no attempt to read his opponent.

Only rage.

The demon blocked another strike and laughed.

"There he is. I was wondering when you'd stop pretending to be him."

A claw flashed across Kah's shoulder.

Pain tore through him, splattering blood against the wall, but he barely reacted before swinging again. The demon slipped beneath the blade and opened another wound across his ribs.

Kah staggered.

A foot slammed into his chest, sending him backward through what remained of the dining table.

For several seconds, the only sound was falling debris.

The priest stared at Kah, then at the demon, and finally at the enormous hole where part of the house used to be.

"...Well."

A piece of ceiling crashed down beside him.

He calmly stepped away from it. "...This is going considerably worse than I expected."

Kah pushed himself upright. Pain burned across his ribs with every breath, and blood soaked through the fabric at his shoulder before running warm along his fingertips.

Across the room, the demon spread its claws.

"You fight exactly like your father. Strong... but angry."

Kah's sword trembled in his hand.

The creature shifted its weight, its smile widening. "And angry people always make mistakes."

Kah stared at it while his pulse hammered against his skull. The execution platform was still there in his mind—his father's blood, the screaming crowd, the stones.

Don't look away.

He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly.

Pain answered.

He breathed again.

The shouting faded.

The square disappeared.

His grip loosened.

When Kah opened his eyes, he was no longer looking at the past. The ruined room came back into focus around him: the collapsed wall, splintered furniture and dust drifting through shafts of afternoon light.

And the demon.

This time, Kah didn't see his father.

He saw what was actually in front of him.

The creature favored its left side. Its breathing hitched whenever it raised one claw, and its right shoulder hung slightly lower than the other.

Across the room, the priest blinked.

"...Oh. He's back."

Kah adjusted his grip.

The demon smiled. "There you are. I was beginning to think your father never taught you."

It lunged.

Kah moved before its claws reached him, turning just enough for the first strike to cut through empty air. The second came from the left, and he ducked as the creature's jaws snapped shut where his throat had been a heartbeat earlier.

Right. Left. Bite.

The demon came again with the same pattern.

Kah didn't attack.

He watched.

By the third sequence, he wasn't fighting anymore. He was learning.

Every attack exposed the same side for less than a heartbeat.

Not enough time.

Not yet.

His eyes moved across the ruined floor while he dodged another strike, taking in broken wood, shattered plates and a fallen chair.

Something red lay beneath it.

The apple.

Kah moved toward it.

The demon hesitated, perhaps expecting another attack, but instead Kah bent and picked up the fruit.

The priest stared.

"...My apple?"

Kah threw it.

The demon caught it without thinking, its eyes dropping instinctively toward the object in its hand.

Confusion crossed its face.

"...?"

There.

Kah moved.

Steel flashed.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. The demon remained standing, staring at Kah as a thin red line slowly appeared across its chest.

"You..."

Its body separated.

Both halves crashed to the floor as ash lifted from the remains and drifted through the ruined room like black snow.

The priest stared as one severed hand remained solid for a moment longer than the rest, the apple still clutched between its fingers.

Then the hand crumbled too.

The priest's face fell.

"...I was saving that."

Kah wiped the blood from his blade before sliding it back into its sheath.

"I guess you're not a total scammer."

The priest looked at him. "You really can see them."

"Of course."

He lifted the heavy coin pouch and gave it a satisfied shake. "It's how I make a living."

"...Pathetic."

The priest laughed. "And you're the most wanted man every town seems to be looking for. I'd call that pathetic."

Kah turned toward the ruined doorway, but the priest continued watching him.

Outside, the crowd was still chanting.

Not Kah's name.

His.

"They hate you," the priest said.

Kah stopped.

"They'd celebrate your execution, yet you still save them."

The words settled differently than the demon's had.

Kah said nothing.

For once, there was no joke in the priest's voice. When Kah glanced back, the usual smug smile had softened into something almost genuine.

"I honestly can't decide whether I admire you..." The priest tilted his head. "...or think you're the biggest fool I've ever met."

"I'm leaving."

"Excellent. I'm ready to receive my applause."

The priest brushed ash from his white robes and stepped through what remained of the doorway. The crowd erupted the instant they saw him.

"The Glory Priest!"

"Our savior!"

"Our hero!"

He raised both hands as though accepting their praise were another sacred duty, and the cheers only grew louder. Apparently, no one was particularly concerned that half the house had collapsed.

Kah slipped quietly toward the edge of the gathering.

He had almost reached the street when two town guards pushed their way through the cheering people.

"Father! We need your help!"

Something in the guard's voice quieted those nearest him.

The priest lowered his hands.

"The old hospital..." The guard hesitated, and whatever excitement remained in his face disappeared. "A group of ghost hunters entered three weeks ago. They never came back."

Murmurs spread through the crowd.

"Their families begged us to find them, so we sent six guards."

The guard swallowed.

"They disappeared too."

The murmuring stopped.

"The church sent two priests. They never returned."

A woman near the front covered her mouth. Around her, the entire street gradually fell silent until even the children had stopped whispering.

"We've sealed the hospital," the guard continued. "No one is willing to go inside anymore."

The priest nodded slowly, maintaining the same calm, reassuring expression everyone expected from the Glory Priest.

"I see."

Inside, however, there was considerably less holiness.

A hospital? Absolutely not.

If ghost hunters, armed guards and two actual priests had gone inside without coming back, whatever waited there was far beyond the sort of demon he preferred dealing with.

The sort that owed him money was much safer.

His gaze drifted toward the end of the street, where Kah was already disappearing around the corner.

The priest watched him go.

A swordsman who could see demons. A wanted man strong enough to kill one. An idiot willing to risk his life for people who would cheer at his execution.

Slowly, an idea began to form.

If Kah went with him, his chances of surviving improved considerably. And when they returned, everyone would assume the Glory Priest had cleansed the hospital himself.

Every town would know his name.

He could practically hear the applause already.

Kah disappeared around the corner.

The priest sighed.

"...I'm going to hate working with him."