“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Father.”

Aury tried to hide a snarl when he heard the word “Father.”

“You… uh,” the client stumbled, sweeping Aury with his eyes

Aury raised an eyebrow, dragging the massive bags under his eyes with it.

“Oh… uh…” the man stumbled. “Please, father. Come in.”

Aury’s hard-soled, suede shoes clacked as he made his way past the threshold of the apartment.

“I’m not a priest,” he rasped in a tone that reeked of tobacco smoke.

He forced out a cough that turned into a burp, surprising both him and the lanky, exhausted-looking homeowner in the doorway.

“So what’s the deal?” he asked, walking past the occupant like he lived there too.

“I… uh…” the gentleman stumbled again.

Aury inspected the ceiling seam just inside the entry way, a narrow hallway lined with coats and shoes.

“Well?” he said, sniffing at the air.

The man screwed up his face sniffed in kind. “I think I’m haunted, Fath… uh… Sir.”

“Mathersberg,” Aury responded.

“Mr. Mathersberg.”

“Yeah. That’ll do. And I can see.” Aury pulled a faded, brass zippo lighter from his pants pocket. He flicked his wrist exposing the inner workings and sparked the flint. An orange flame poofed into existence.

He passed his hand in front of the flame, inspecting the shadows cast along his fingers while the apartment tenant peered curiously. With a snap, the lighter clapped shut and Aury continued toward the interior of the home like nothing happened.

“How long?” Aury asked. The man screwed up his face and took two hurried steps to catch up.

“About a month,” the man responded with a furrowed brow.

“A month?” Aury said, glancing over his shoulder but not slowing his pace. “Why’d you wait so long?” He smelled at the air again and quickly turned the corner into the first room of the house, a tidy living room with all the care and attention you’d expect to see in a serial killer’s house. Nothing out of place, every piece of furniture square with the walls. There wasn’t so much as a ring on the coffee table nestled between a worn, but comfy-looking chair and loveseat.

Aury sniffed again. He smacked his lips and walked to the coffee table with the homeowner in tow.

“I’m James,” the man said, his offence slipping out.

“Huh?”

“James. James Levi.”

“Levi?” Aury said, running a finger across the table. He rubbed his fore finger and thumb together, holding them to yellow light glowing from an overhead fixture. “That’s an old name.”

“Old?” James repeated, trying to make eye contact with Aury, who quickly pulled his hand from the air, wiped it on his pants, and made toward a set of bookshelves built into the wall at the far side of the room.

“Yeah,” Aury said. “Old. Like really old. Like biblical. And not the new stuff.”

“I thought you said you weren’t a priest.”

“Don’t need to be a priest to know Levi is the name of one of the tribes of Israel,” Aury continued. James wrinkled he brow even harder. “James on the other hand...” He ran a finger along the edge of a bookshelf and noted the ancient looking, leather-bound volumes. He stuck the tip of his finger in his mouth rolling the dust around in his mouth like an old man smoking a cigar. “That’s not as old.“ His eyes shot to the couch. His forehead wrinkled hard and he leaned forward like someone insulted him and he was asking “what the hell did you just say to me?” That, but he was looking at a damn sofa.

“My mom’s Jewish, I…what are you doing?” James responded, interrupting himself mid-thought.

“Where did you get this couch?” Aury asked, his eyes narrowed like a cat inspecting a crack in the wall.

“The Goodwill. What are you doing?”

Aury raised a finger to his lips, shushing James. He waved a hand toward the tenant like he was swatting at a disruptive kid. James screwed up his face and crossed his arms. Aury clenched his teeth redoubled his effort to dismiss the man by angrily pointing toward the hallway. James wasn’t impressed but acquiesced, excusing himself from the living room.

Aury turned back to the couch, sniffing again. “What are you doing in there?”

The cushions rustled, bubbling from inside like a busy family of rodents took up residence in the padding. Aury sniffed again.

“What’s that?” he whispered to the couch. The movement happened again but this time more exaggerated. “I smell it.” He pressed his knee into the seat continuing to move in. “I know that smell.”

“You mind keeping your shoes off the couch?” James grumbled.

Aury growled, “shut up!” through clenched teeth, waving a hand but it was too late.

“Boomshakalaka!” A spectral voice shouted.

The couch jumped, tossing Aury to the ground. It thumped against the wall leaving disheveled the cushions as heavy footfalls stomped toward the doorway. A thwack cracked out as the coffee table flipped to its side.

“Ow!” the voice boomed. “Why is it always the pinky?”

“Get out of the house!” Aury shouted at James. James stood, eyes wide, staring at the mess and listening to the foot beats pummel toward him. “James!”

James stumbled over his words, stumbled over his feet, backed into the wall, and ran into the house.

“God dammit,” Aury grumbled, picking himself up off the ground, vaulting over the overturned table. “I said out. Why do they always do the opposite of what I say? Get back here!” he shouted, bouncing off the hallway wall and turning toward the interior of house. The sounds of pursuit echoed off the ceiling, capped by a door slamming shut.

Aury slowed as he passed the kitchen. His eyes flicked around for anything out of place and sniffed again. He narrowed his eyes at the bedroom at the end of the hall, lowering his center of gravity.

Aury padded forward until he heard a muffled noise from behind a closed door. He stopped, pressed his back to the door, and fumbled for the handle. He sniffed again, trying to peer into the darkness of the bedroom until his fingertips tapped the handle. It wasn’t hot.

He gripped the knob and turned. The door opened silently, and Aury backed in, never taking his eyes off the darkness at the back of the hallway.

Inside the bathroom the air was thinner than the rest of the house and smelled mildly of cinnamon and spicy fruits. His shoes clicked as he entered the linoleum, his eyes scouring the surroundings. He stopped quickly and looked behind him. He ripped the curtain back and jumped at a shrill scream.

“Christ, James! You scared me!” he said, deflating.

James was balled up in the tub, eyes wide, slobbering and on the verge of tears. He stammered in response, incoherent beats like a beatboxer with a stutter.

Aury pulled a freshly folded towel from the counter and handed it to the terrified homeowner. “Here.” He turned back toward the house and James finally blurted.

“Wait!”

Aury turned and looked.

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“What was that thing?” James stuttered.

“It’s why you called me.” Aury said, walking out again, slightly crouched and ready for anything.

“Wait!”

“Fucking hell, Levi. What do you want?”

“What about me?”

“You’ll be fine,” Aury said, pointing at himself in a mirror that covered the entire wall space above the sink. Back-lit LED lights cast shadows along its edges. “These kind don’t like mirrors; doesn’t wanna get trapped insied. Just stay put.” He stopped, stood up straight, and jabbed a finger at James. “And I fuckin’ mean it this time, huh?” He assumed his ready-stance and resumed his exit, mumbling. “Last time I told you to do something you did the opposite damn thing. Like you know so much. Well, if you know, why don’t you exorcise this damn thing yourself, huh?”

Aury sniffed. The air in the hallway was warm, thick. He reached into his coat pocket, felt around a bit, then pulled out a dull, dark-colored rectangle object. He held it to his side with a stiff arm looking as if he would slide it into his coat sleeve, like a teenager trying to shoplift a candy bar. He fumbled a bit more, flipping it around in his hand, his keen eyes searching the dark rooms on either end of the hallway. His thumb found the mark, firing the release of the lower portion which slid open and exposed several buttons. There was a click. Aury took a deep breath and held it.

The Nokia 8810 buzzed to life, its green display casting an eerie light on the wall and its cheery ringtone announcing its presence.

Something in the primary bedroom groaned and thumped like a cow laying down after a big meal. Aury squinted against the thing’s defense, a piercing smell he could see; an orange cloud tinting the air and staining the walls the color of intense cheddar cheese.

“Oh god!” James shouted from the bathroom. “What the hell is… Oh god. Oh god…” James’s voice trailed off, replaced by retching and soon, the distinct sound of vomit and water splashing against porcelain.

Aury continued, still holding his breath. He stopped and tilted his head looking into the room. The bed, a short, oaken four poster, was made up neat and tidy. None of the drawers were ajar. A single lamp on the bedside table burned and flickered like something was actively trying to kill it. A sizzling noise hissed from the bulb.

Aury reached into his pants and pulled out a dull-colored ring. “Four, five, six,” he mouthed as he thumbed the collection of disks it like he was counting a rosery. He dangled the candy necklace against his side and jiggled it. Nothing. He glared at the candy jewelry like it was broken.

“Fucking Bruce…” he mouthed.

He placed the necklace back in his pants pocket and pulled out the Nokia. He thumbed against the number pad of the phone and smiled when it sung out that same familiar, metallic tune. Another groan. Something flopped off the wall in the corner and clamored under the bed, bumping the frame so hard the bed jumped off its feet and thudded back against the floor.

“Ow,” it whined. It sounded like a teenager, post pubescent and generally unhappy.

“What happened, little buddy?” Aury asked in a patronizing voice, his eyes never stopping. “Get your head?” He sniffed quickly, rubbed his nose like he was fighting away a sneeze, and continued breathing cautiously, like someone farted in an elevator.

“Fuck off, old man,” the thing said in that nasal, angsty way only a teenager can.

“I plan to,” Aury responded, continuing lightly across the carpet. “I don’t wanna be here either. But I need you to fuck off first.” The bed shuffled.

“This is my house!”

“It’s not,” Aury said calmly. “You just came here with some furniture and if you let me…”

“What’s up, MTV. Welcome to my crib,” the voice interrupted, this time much deeper than any human could manage. “I’m warning you,” it growled

“I knew I smelled you, you piece of shit,” Aury whispered through his teeth. He slowly reached into his coat, safely tucking his Noika in his pocket and rifling around for something else.

“You’re not my dad!” the voice shrieked.

The bed shot straight into the air, spinning in place before flying at Aury. Aury dove to the side, narrowly dodging the massive wooden piece of furniture that crashed into the wall, cracking the drywall and sending the mattress soaring.

Aury rolled, stopping on his knees and scrambling to his feet. He reached into his coat pocket again, dodging books, drawers, and a lamp that flew at his head.

“I gave you a chance,” he shouted, grasping the object in his coat and ripping it out.

“Talk to the hand,” the monster shouted as the bedside table took flight, “’cause the ears aren’t listening!”

Aury cursed as the piece of furniture coasted across his plane of view, thwacking against the back of his fist and sending his weapon soaring, bouncing against the bed mattress that landed propped against the wall. The small, plastic, egg-shaped object glinted in the dim light and landed on the carpet with a gentle thud.

Aury dove, fully extending his arms but was caught midair by the thing. He grunted in pain as it squeezed him about his midsection.

It pulled him close to its face. “It smells like updog in here,” the thing growled through stained orange teeth.

“What’s updog!” Aury grunted, wiggling a free hand into his pocket. The Noika buzzed and sounded again.

“Stop doing that!” the animal shrieked, covering his ears and dropping Aury.

Aury scrambled again, barely getting his feet under him and diving, landing on his belly. His pulled his elbows under him and army-crawled against the howling toward the sparkle of the metal chain and ring at the end of his beacon of hope. He reached out and felt a gritty hand wrap his ankle. It flung him by the leg against the wall. Aury hit with a deafening thud, leaving a dent in the shape of his torso in the wall.

Aury dropped to the ground, bouncing from the pressure. He writhed, curling himself into a ball, gasping.

“That’s what up, dog,” the thing grumbled, advancing on Aury’s barely moving body. “I get knocked down; but I get up again; you are never gonna keep me down,” the thing sung in a hideous voice.

“Tubthump this,” Aury growled, rolling to his side and exposing his weapon.

“No!” the thing shouted, diving as Aury pulled the plastic tab on the Tomagachi. A single, high-pitched tone beeped, and a pixelated image of an egg danced on the screen. The monster stopped in the air and was sucked, screaming, into the tiny, plastic toy.

“Yo momma!” it shouted, twisting and grasping against the vortex that extended out of the faded, neon orb.

And it was done. The orange dust from the thing’s mouth still hung sour in the air, skewing everything in view as Aury propped himself up, huffing, sweating and very grumpy.

Aury grumbled like an old man, coughing, sputtering, and spitting the dust out of his mouth. He squinted at the tiny buttons on Tamagotchi, pressing them in succession, setting the time.

“Hey, Siri,” he said to his wrist in as clear a voice as he could muster. “Set a timer for five minutes.”

Aury walked, heavy-footed, into the hallway, patting the orange powder off his clothes, coughing at the fumes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his zippo. He struck it. The flame flared and sparkled when it met the dust, then settled. He passed his hand around it looking at the shadows, snapped it shut, and trudged forward, rubbing his shoulder and pulling his neck.

The door to the bathroom door swung open. James was curled up on the ground groaning and holding his stomach.

“What the hell happened?” James grimaced.

“Gluttony spirit,” Aury stated, coughing softly. He hacked a little, flexing his neck. He growled deep in his throat, spat an abrasively orange ball of phlegm into the sink, and ran the water. “It came in with the couch. Probably spent a lot of time there then died suddenly and didn’t know anywhere else to be. They get angry when you move them.”

“But I bought it.”

“Spirits don’t care.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and thumbed against the screen. A whooshing sound played and he replaced it.

“How did you know?” James asked, rolling onto his knees using the bathtub to help him stand, wobbling, to his feet.

“Cheetos,” Aury said. “Speaking of which, you got a fuckin’ mess in that room back there. Just clean it up. It won’t hurt anyone.”

“How bad?” James said. “Will insurance cover it?”

Aury snickered and looked down at his other hand as his five-minute timer alerted. The Tamagotchi beeped brightly and the once-dancing digital egg hatched. A tiny, angry looking blob bounced back and forth, staring blankly at Aury. Aury smiled a devilish smile.

“Here,” he said, tossing the egg to James. James caught it on instinct and looked down.

“Is this a fucking Tamagotchi?”

“It is.” Aury turned and started limping into the hallway and toward the door.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” James said, following Aury out of the bathroom.

“Keep it, smash it, burn it, play with it. I don’t care. Whatever you do, just don’t reset it. Not unless you wanna call me back here.”

“Well what do we do now?” James asked.

“We?” Aury asked with a screwed-up face. “We don’t do anything. I leave and you pay the bill. It’s already in your inbox.”

Aury held his ribcage and pulled the front door as James made it to the main bedroom.

“What the shit!?” James exclaimed.

“It’s fine!” Aury called. “Just run a vaccum. It’s just Cheeto dust. I fucking hate Cheetos,” he grumbled, closing the door to James’s apartment.

----------------------------------

Downstairs, Aurelius Crixus Mathersberg, flopped into the driver’s seat of a twenty-year-old Crown Victoria. It was mean and powerful when it was first made. It can still mean and powerful now but in the same way that old dude on the corner of the street is mean and powerful. It’s mostly superficial. He’s dangerous if he catches you by surprise and he’ll never yield, but it doesn’t take much to knock him over.

Aury reached into the center console and pulled out a half-smoked Black and Mild cigar with a wood tip. He pinched it between his teeth and drew a breath while the flame from his zippo slipped inward, reddening the tip. He exhaled a grumble. Pillows of thick, grey smoke painted the air with the sweet scent of vanilla cigar tobacco. He dug out his phone, touched the screen, and held it to his ear.

“It’s me,” he said. A pause. “Yeah. Again,” he stated. “Gluttony spirit this time.” He rolled his head to the side and stretched his neck again. “Place is a bit roughed up but nothing structural. I’m fine too. Thanks for asking.” His eyes followed a young lady walking across the street with a dog on a leash, shoes leaving ripples in the puddles as she traipsed along. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know that either, but it matched the one from last week. And the one from the week before.” A car drove by, splashing and echoing on the road. “It’s not good, Bruce. Something’s up.” His voice was grave now. “Yeah. Okay. I’m gonna take a shower. I smell like Chester Cheetah and Hulk Hogan just tag teamed me. You get me a fresh supply of the basics and any specials you can get your hands on. You got my list, right? Good ‘cause I feel like I’m gonna need them. Come by late tomorrow. I’m gonna crash.”

He set his phone down, took another drag, and sunk his head back into the headrest.

This was the third exorcism Aury had in as many weeks and that was a problem.

Aury was one of the best, surpassing every other up-and-comer, including the old-timers who still loved the chase. But Aury was usually playing a support position to someone who enjoyed vomit-spewing dolls and floating, ephemeral grandmas.

He didn’t take your run-of-the-mill six-year-old girl in tattered Victorian era clothes singing children’s tunes in a minor key. Aury handled Millennial exorcisms, anything from the early-internet era; the ecto-restless who came of age between 1990 and the early 2000’s. He was used to being called HomeSkillet and being told to “this is an A and B conversation” by a spectral voice that sends chills up the spine, but never three times in a month. Something was wrong on the other side, and it was going to be up to him to figure it out.