Halloween Special - Toby Cole, Teenage Exorcist

This is a short story featuring the lead character from my YA novel Toby Cole Teenage Exorcist (unpublished, open to offers).

The novel does exactly what it says on the tin. Toby is a teenage exorcist who sees possessions and has to do something about them. He is aided by his side kick Mel.

I don't think you need to know anything else really. Enjoy.

Mwah ha ha haaaa!

Toby Cole - "Backwords Thinking"

Terrence wandered around the church rooms, mop in hand. The ceiling had been leaking again, he noted, dully and nice as she was, neither that woman nor any of the other people who had been here tonight had had the forethought – or actually thought after or even during the event – to respond. 

 

Sighing, he found the buckets he needed and mopped up for five minutes tops.

He put the mop back in the ladies toilets, went outside, locked the door to the church rooms and sighed again, his balloon of self-starting goodwill finally deflated. Any more cancellations like this and he knew it would be only months before the parish council would vote decisively to sell the building and site, allowing the new owner to raise it to the ground and build flats.

———

Three minutes earlier

Holding the infant to her, Nadia had very little memory of anything that had happened that evening, even less of an idea of how to piece together the elements she could recall. But she knew she needed to close up the hall. That was part of the hiring regulations – closing the place up – meeting the caretaker and seeing that everything was in its place.

“I’m really sorry,” she began when Terrence met her at the door, “But I don’t think we’re going to be meeting next week – or indeed again, soon, perhaps not ever… I’m really not certain we want to do this…. Again.”

“Well, it’s always here if you need it,” said Terrence, smiling encouragingly.

“Maybe,” said the mother. “Perhaps we’ll try knitting. I’ll send a round robin.”

She smiled, convincing not even herself. 

————

Half an hour before

“It’s ridiculous!” said Mel, crouching behind the blackberry bush in the graveyard, a place she thought relatively safe, all things considered. “Why on earth would anyone do this?”

“It’s a buzz,” Toby retorted between ragged breaths. “They’re getting high on it – or something – experience what it’s like to be someone else, getting high on someone else’s emotions. Their own everyday existence isn’t enough.”

“But it’s a possession,” said Mel. “You can’t toy with a possession.”

“True,” said Toby. “But they were just channelling to start with, I don’t know how exactly. They weren’t fully possessed.”

“You sure of that?” asked Mel. 

“No.” admitted Toby.

“You’d think…”

“Ouija boards,” broke in Toby. “Seances, trances, cocaine, alcohol, coffee, Xboxes, mobile phones – people will try anything.”

“But they’re messing with dead people,” Mel pointed out. 

“Sure are.”

“They’re local people - they must know, right? They might even know the dead people or -”

“Stop. Have you seen a moral compass lying around here anywhere? – Look out!”

Nadia, a mass of blond hair, clutching her baby, was heading directly for their blackberry bush.

“I can see you, you know!” she screamed. “I know what you’re up to! How dare you do that to my son!”

“What did you..?” asked Mel.

“I don’t know. It’s a bit of a blur.”

“He took him somewhere he wasn’t mean to go!”

“Toby?!”

“She’s talking about the ladies toilets.”

“What?”

“He was possessed. Probably still is. Very possessed.”

“The baby?”

“Fifteen minutes ago he was dragging his mother across that church hall floor and threatening to take up permanent residence in her head so don’t get all ‘it’s just a cute baby coochie-coo’ with me."

“I’m calling the police!” hollered Nadia.

“But of course who remembers that now, hey?” sang Toby under his breath. “Not his mother, that’s for sure. Not the one who exposed him to the spirit in the first place, oh no, because they never remember do they? Not when you really want them to…”

“Toby!” snarled Mel, to silence him as soon as possible. “We need to do something. Now!”

“Do something?” Toby considered. “Run. Just run.”

“Where?”

“Doesn’t matter. Anywhere.”

“That’s really helpful.”

“Look, I’m the exorcist here. You’re not. You run I’ll sort this out. Just do it and I’ll catch up with you.”

“Wish that didn’t sound like a threat,” muttered Mel. She painfully lifted one of the blackberry branches out of her way and shot off across the lawn, feet struggling for grip across the rain soaked grass.

Toby took a deep breath and broke cover. He stood still, calmly where Nadia could see him.

“Is there anyone left in there?" he asked.

Nadia turned round – just her head. In the normal way a head would turn, thankfully.

“No. Everyone’s gone.”

“Do you know what I mean?” asked Toby, slowly, directly. “Is there anyone left. In there?”

The woman hesitated slightly. It was all Toby needed. He took the final Tangent out of his pocket and threw it in the air. It hovered. The woman stared at it, surprised. But it wasn’t her Toby was drawn to. The babe in her arms pretty much stood to attention as the Tangent hung there, and with a degree of co-ordination not associated with one so young, the baby outstretched an arm to reach it. 

To be honest, the baby’s actions would have been enough for Toby to begin his incantation. But just to reaffirm his suspicions the baby spoke. A rough, slightly northern, perhaps antiquated voice.

“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s eye. Never seen anything like that before,” said the baby.

“Me neither,” echoed an enrapt Nadia.

“Me neither,” admitted Toby, less than enrapt.

Toby began the final incantation of the night. As he did so a blue cloud formed and swirled above the threesomes' heads. Nadia and the baby looked up, hoping that the cacophony above them would come no nearer, their voices and shouts taken by the wind and swirl. 

The cloud grew, becoming hurricane like and with accompanying lightning weaving across the plumes. As the mini storm reached a crescendo there was an almighty thunder clap and all three found themselves sprawled across the grass. The cloud subsumed itself and swiftly disappeared into the night as if it had remembered a meeting it was late for elsewhere. 

“I am never having kids,” said Toby from his not so great vantage point, lying on the ground. His eyes met the mothers’. There was fear but mainly anger in her look, but whatever she was planning to do next was entirely forgotten when the baby, face up, kicking naturally, emitted a happy gurgle followed by a short healthy fart.

“Baby – My baby!” said Nadia and crawled damply over to embrace the infant.

Already Toby was on his feet and chasing after Mel.

Behind him he could hear the rest of that night’s attendees slowly leaving the church hall, a little dazed and confused, but leaving.

————-

Ten minutes before

Mel sighed at Toby. He had a way of spoiling her best thoughts sometimes.

“Are we safe?” she asked next.

“Think so,” said Toby, surveying the sleeping circle of people.

And then he noticed someone who wasn’t sleeping. The baby. Against all odd, and indeed against the ability of one so young, the baby was on its feet, walking slowly around the circle towards Toby and Mel. Behind it, with super-baby strength it was dragging a foot, the foot of its mother, Nadia, who was still connected to it and was slowly waking up – although really it appeared that she found being dragged backwards along the floor by the foot fairly restful on the whole.

“OK…” said Toby slowly. “I’d like to revise that last update. Get out. Get out of here right now.”

Mel looked at Toby, “Any suggestions as to where..?”

But then she noticed the baby was no longer dragging Nadia along the floor, it was now levitating above his mother’s head, it’s eyes riveted on hers as they opened, and as they opened they had no choice but to immediately latch on to the child’s and in this way, whatever spirit inhabited the baby was now attempting to transfer to the older living being. 

“I’ve got this,” said Toby.

“Damn right you have,” said Mel and ran for the door.

At such short notice Toby didn’t feel he had much choice now but to use some kind of physical force. Chanting, he felt, was going to take too long if indeed he could think of an appropriate chant or get either of the two there to listen to him for five minutes. So physical intervention it was. 

As the baby was levitating, Toby took a firm grasp of each foot and tried to move the baby out of orbit in order to break the eye contact with its mother. Unfortunately something more forceful than baby alone was at work here and there was no way the infant was going to shift without some more convincing coercion.

Toby stepped in front of the baby, purposefully blocking the view from one to the other. As he did so he closed his eyes willing himself not to look into those deep pits of cute baby blues, and reminding himself that whatever it was that was in the baby, it was probably as far from a representation of a baby as was actually possible. 

The look broken, whatever or whoever it was in the baby was clearly annoyed.

OUT OF MY WAY

A voice, with a slight northern twang, boomed in Toby’s head.

NOT GONNA HAPPEN

He sent back.

With no warning at all the baby relaxed and in doing so fell forward, thereby securing itself around Toby’s face and grasping firm hold of his ears. The embrace was extremely painful for Toby, and with the babe’s puppy fat now secured around his mouth and nose, breathing also became tricky.

Toby reeled backwards but held his feet. He shook his head violently but that just seemed to introduce a further pain inside his head to match the one across his ears.

With no sense of direction, Toby stumbled along the walls of the hall and finally fell into the ladies’ toilet. Flailing his arms around haphazardly now, more concerned with stopping himself from crashing into something rather than trying to rip the baby off him, he made contact with the push button of a hand dryer which revved intro life from zero to 60 mph in 10 seconds flat.

Barely had the noise started but the baby gave an almighty screech, let go of Toby’s ears and clamped his hands around his own ears. Toby swiftly adjusted to hold on to the baby preventing it from falling now it no longer held itself to him.

Toby would have tried an incantation then but at that moment Nadia crashed through the toilet door.

“What are you doing in here?” she screamed over the dying whine of the hand dryer. “And where’s my darling baby boy?!”

“All yours!” shouted Toby, and he deposited the baby in her arms.

This, thought Toby, should be enough of a distraction for him to exit safely, but no. Nadia wasn’t going to let him off that easily. With glowing eyes and an increasingly granite voice she stood her ground.

“Now you will pay!” she spat at him.

By now Toby had had enough of this situation: he didn’t know if these possessions were ‘real’ or projections, if they were willing, unwilling, lost or just diverted for a moment. With nothing to lose he picked up the nearest thing that came to hand – a mop – and he used it to keep Nadia at mop’s length from him as he moved towards the door and finally to freedom. 

At the porch he dropped the mop and headed for the nearest bush.

 

———-

Half an hour before

Mel slammed the door shut behind her.

It had the impact she desired. There was a pause in the screams and general noise and all faces – spiritual and living – turned towards the door. Mel was wet. Her hair was streaking down over her face, her collar was up but there was no doubting the weather outside. And it was only then that Toby noticed there was water dripping from the ceiling inside the hall. 

However, Toby realised this was no time for finding buckets or mops or anything in fact. He threw off his long coat and pulled a cloth bag off his back. It was a showy movement and Toby hated himself for doing it but practically it had to be done. As he did so Mel ran towards him and down the length of the hall.

Toby dipped his hand into his bag and pulled out a handful of Tangents. He threw three towards Mel who caught them en route and then hit the pool of rain water amassing on the floor. She lost her footing, skidded sideways but still had the presence of mind to throw the objects in the air. Having jettisoned the objects she slipped not at all majestically into a stack of chairs.

Simultaneously Toby threw four more Tangents. 

Five of them connected instantantly with members of the now possessed crowd. These figures stood stock still, gazing at the unremarkable cuboids which now rotated and levitated. The other Tangents fell and skittered across the floor. Toby pulled his frustrated face.

“Plan C!” he shouted and then, positioning himself dead centre of the five entranced participants he began an incantation. 

Mel took a few moments to remember what Plan C was, having to swiftly mentally leap over the discarded ‘B’ plan which she thought would have been next in line. Plan A and B were both based on her natural instinct and the usual pattern for exorcisms – make sure the Tangents were fully engaged, be ready to restrain stragglers and fight the resisters. Plan C was a bit weird and annoying because it meant she had to sit down and talk to people. 

Toby was making progress with his group so Mel reached into her bag and pulled out a collection of old photos. She flicked through them rapidly in front of each loose possession, trying to find one that intrigued them, the movements of a manic magician desperate to get their stooge to pick a card, any card, any card you like.

“Do you remember when the church looked like this?” she asked.

“Look at that – it’s a Tesco now, of course.”

“Ohh, trams!”

To her surprise, and to be honest Toby’s as well, the photos went down a treat. While Toby’s incantation became more intensive, or desperate, Mel’s conversation ranged between the sentimental “Oh, that was just such a lovely garden park,” and the aggravated “and then they concreted over it and turned it into a multi-storey.”

As Toby did his job, each spirit moved on and the ex-possessed slumped backwards on to their chair, relinquishing the spirit, and finding themselves asleep.

By the time he’d worked through the easy ones, Mel was having a very friendly chat with a circle of individuals who now seemed perfectly calm, collected and a positive minefield of knowledge about the past.

Toby almost felt bad about breaking the conversation up, taking each person individually to one side, having a soft word in their ear and sending the spirit on. 

Finally Plan C was complete and Mel shuffled the pack of postcards and put them back in her pocket.

“You think they’d fix the roof,” she said. “Imagine paying to hire a place like this and getting rained on. I’m sure health and safety would have a field day – I could probably sue.”

“Are you injured?” asked Toby.

“No.”

“Well you can’t sue, then."

——-

Three seconds before

GET HERE NOW Toby texted next.

———

Three seconds before

The situation might have been desperate, but Toby still felt he had to apologise.

SORRY, GOT DISTRACTED he texted.

———

Three seconds before

ARE YOU EVEN READING THIS?

Texted Mel.

————

Five minutes before.

Like it or not, for whatever reason, things were at crisis point. Toby was still sitting, trying to be inconspicuous but realising quickly that this was not going to be his night for inconspicuousness. No question about it, he had to make some kind of intervention - and while everything may have seemed playful enough earlier, the situation was now desperate. 

As he looked around this crazed circle he realised the human, living projectors were failing. The anger and uncertainty being channeled through some of the spirits was infectious and they were becoming physically closer to their hosts. 

As Toby watched, a man looking suspiciously like a coal miner literally jumped himself into the lady who’d dropped the sherry glass. Within seconds her features distorted, her hair and eyes went black as soot and her face bore a menacing stone aspect.

The original session presenter, who previously seemed convivial enough, was now molten lava, and even Peter, good old mild mannered Perter, was now covered in bark, lichen and moss as a pair of red eyes fired up and looked out at Toby.

This was no longer a question of research and recon, it was defend and survive. Toby looked at his phone.

————-

Three seconds before

READY AND IN POSITION

Texted Mel.

—————

Five seconds before

Toby looked around the room. The pattern was repeating elsewhere. In front of most of those attending there were projections of diverse people. They were all ages, all genders, all backgrounds. It seemed this class had managed to tap into the entire wealth of bodies lying in the churchyard and immediate surroundings. Even the baby had another infant shadow in front of it to play with. Those who didn’t have a projection were happily watching those hosted by their neighbour.

For a second Toby wondered if he was the problem – after all these were just projections, not even possessions if you thought about it. Leave them alone, they’d just go away again and everyone would be OK once more. Tidy up, go home.

But Toby had changed all that. Just by being there he’d pushed this beyond what it was. The spirits were aware of him, had picked up on what he could do and were worried as hell.

HE KNOWS WHERE THE PORTAL IS cried a policeman, levitating above the head of the chanting man, the policeman’s arm extended, accusingly at Toby.

CHECK UNDER HIS COAT moaned a voice from elsewhere into Toby’s head, WHY HASN’T HE TAKEN IT OFF?

DO NOT MOVE TOWARDS THE LIGHT cried a woman’s voice from behind Toby RESIST!

WAIT STOP! Toby shot the thought into the room I’M JUST WATCHING. I MEAN NO HARM.

LIAR! Bawled Jeremy’s voice in Toby’s head. THEY LET ME OUT, YOU WILL NOT STOP ME.

————-

Three seconds before

READY AND IN POSITION

Texted Mel.

—————-

Ten minutes before

It really didn’t take long. Peter opened his eyes, then his mouth and then the image of a spirit appeared in front of him. 

Toby took a few seconds to focus on exactly what was occurring. Peter didn’t seem possessed as such. He was actually projecting this person in front of him. The spirit was dressed in brown, perhaps 1920s clothes. He seemed working class, quite happy – not in anyway driven down by circumstances – perhaps out for a night with his mates. There was no sound to the spirit Peter was channeling.

WHO ARE YOU? asked Toby, attempting to make some kind of connection.

There seemed no change in the projection, perhaps this spirit hadn’t heard him, or couldn’t hear him or wasn’t actually a spirit in the sense that Toby was used to. 

Just when Toby thought he was talking to himself something did come back.

“Who are you?” asked a voice back. Toby double checked that this wasn’t just an echo. He also looked up at the spirit and saw that the figure was still much as it was: just a projection. It wasn’t actually interacting or even acknowledging its surroundings, it was just there. Happy to be there, sure, but just there.

Toby would have addressed the question sent to him, but his silence actually brought him more information. “This is Jeremy,” said the voice. “Buried down towards the left corner of the churchyard. Unmarked but down there alright.”

And then Toby realised, to his disgust, this voice wasn’t coming from the possession, it wasn’t even coming into his head. It was coming straight from Peter in the usual way. No doubt about it. Peter was just talking while he projected the spirit. He was telling Toby what was going on whilst apparently churning out an image of the possessing spirit. It was like watching an old black and white film with an audio commentary.

HOW DO YOU DO THAT? asked Toby. “I mean how do you do that?”

“How do you do that?” replied Peter, meaningfully. “Can you read my mind?”

Toby was about to come clean as to his real reason for being there when Peter’s voice changed in tone. Or rather, his internal voice suddenly started up and sounded a lot less laid back than his external voice had: WAIT, WAIT, IT’S OK - HE’S ONE OF US. ONE OF…

Peter fell suddenly silent as Jeremy stopped being a mere projection and engaged with his surroundings. Or at least one part of his surroundings. He stared down at Toby. There was no doubt about it, he may well have been a projection before but now he was his own person, aware of what was around him, knowledgable about what was going on.

GO, EXORCIST. Commanded a voice. And Toby knew for sure this was Jeremy now. YOU SHALL NOT SEND US ON.

He knew this because of Jeremy’s expression and also because Peter was now entirely slumped forward and was non communicative. To begin with this hadn’t been a possession. At least, not how Toby thought of possessions. Jeremy might have had some kind of connection with his human host, but it wasn’t a manifestation. Peter had been sitting there enjoying the show, he wasn’t being Jeremy, he was just toying with him. Tuning him in and out like some kind of radio receiver.

But now that changed. Jeremy was in control, knew the situation and wanted to ensure Toby wasn’t about to terminate his line to life.

—————-

Two seconds before

WAIT. ARE YOU STILL OUT THERE? Texted Toby. IT’S KICKING OFF.

————

Twelve minutes before

Everyone was now seated. The general chat died down and a middle-aged man came to the front. Standing between the book table and the refreshments and clutching a local history book to his chest.. 

There was a young man seated next to Toby. Probably mid twenties, thought Toby, slightly bookish, but nothing too over the top.

“I’m Peter,” he said as he leaned over to shake Toby’s hand. “You new here?”

“Yes,” admitted Toby. “I was hoping not to be too conspicuous.”

“Oh you don’t need to worry about that,” said Peter. “We always welcome newbies. They bring a new dimension to our sessions.”

“Cool…” said Toby. “What exactly are these… sessions?”

In reply Peter nodded at the man standing before them.

“That’s Clive,” he said. “You’ll like him. He’s very good.”

Toby sat back and prepared to be treated to a local history lesson. It wouldn’t be an entire waste of time, he thought. Could be some kind of research, really, might even link into a few of the possessions he’d dealt with lately.

Indeed, he would have laid money against the history lesson and in a way he was right. Only not in the way he had thought. He realised this when Clive opened his mouth, and instead of speaking any usual words he embarked on an incantation that Toby would have been proud of.

Clive’s phonics matched Toby’s own and then some. He seemed to have a more local version of an incantation, but then, Toby didn’t have a dialect of his own that he was aware of. 

Whatever the incantation was it appeared to be a pretty strong one. Or maybe, given their location adjacent to an old church and graveyard, it was just that any old incantation would have raised something because within the first minute, Peter had slumped forward, the woman with the baby had thrown her head back (baby playing on the floor in front of her) and there was a small tinkle of glass as the old woman dropped her sherry glass and started a low guttural moan. 

—————-

Seconds before

OK. SEE YOU LATER ALLIGATOR

Texted Mel.

————

Only just before that

MAYBE WE SHOULD CALL THIS OFF

Toby texted to Mel. 

———-

Fifteen minutes before

Everything looked normal, plain and straightforward. Everyone looked normal, plain and straightforward. Everyone was behaving as if they were normal, plain and straightforward. There were 7 or 8 fairly normal, plain and straightforward looking people of various ages in the building.

There were local history books on the low table in front of them. Behind that a higher table boasted tea, coffee, biscuits, sherry and a rather daring screw top bottle of rose. So this was it? All united, it seemed, by a love of nostalgia, or history, or whatever they wanted to call it. And using the whole spirit reference as some kind of key into the past – an enjoyable bit of nostalgia or discover of what was here before.

This is all fine, Toby thought to himself. Over-reaction on my part, nothing doing. After all, there’s even a woman with her baby over there.

——-

Half a minute before

“Take your coat off - make yourself at home,” said an old lady to Toby, pausing to take a sip of sherry. 

“Make yourself at home,” she repeated, more insistent. “You’re not planning on going anywhere straightaway are you?”

“No,” admitted Toby, “But I’d rather keep it on, to be honest. Bit cold.”

“As you wish,” lilted the lady.

“Why do you call yourself a Spirit Circle?” asked Toby.

“Oh, its just because we get a bit high spirited,” she giggled, and then raised her glass – “and you know – we all have a nice enjoyable spirit!”

She winked at Toby. He continued into the hall.

–––––

Three second before 

Toby looked at his phone surreptitiously

IN POSITION NOW

Read Mel's text.

———

Seven and a half minutes before

As he entered the church hall at the allotted time, Toby was met by an elderly gent, balding, semi-florescent coat and flat cap.

“Hope you enjoy yourself,” said the man. “You’ve got two hours booked but I don’t mind if it goes on for longer. Just good to see the space used.”

“Right…” said Toby, unsure if he’d been mistaken for someone else.

“Thing is there’s people round here who’d buy this whole place up and convert it into flats as soon as they’d look at you,” continued the man. “Shocking state of affairs. It’s a community space but they don’t care. Just want to make money however they can. You know the price of housing round here?”

“”No…” admitted Toby.

“Anyway, I’ve told that woman with the baby - she’s the one who booked it. I’ll be around later to check, but no rush.”

Toby watched, none the wiser as the man sauntered off into the night.

“Oh, and use the buckets if it rains,” called the man as he disappeared. “Can’t afford repairs at the minute. It’s a thing.”

—––

The week before

Toby looked at the advert in the local magazine. It seemed innocuous enough.

“Spirit Circle. Weekly history meet ups. Say hello to the past, face to face. All welcome.”

But his instincts were rattling a little. Something about it wasn't quite right.

He dialed Mel.

“What are you doing next Wednesday?” he asked. And booked her for a night out.