William Blatty - The Exorcist

Karras moved forward to the foot of the bed while Merrin walked slowly, tall and erect, to the side. There he stopped and looked down into hate.

A smothering stillness hung over the room. Then Regan licked a wolfish, blackened tongue across her cracked and swollen lips. It sounded like a hand smoothing crumpled parchment. "Well, proud scum!" croaked the demon. "At last! At last you've come!"

The old priest lifted his hand and traced the sign of the cross above the bed, and then repeated the gesture toward all in the room. Turning back, he plucked the cap from the vial of holy water.

"Ah, yes! The holy urine now!" rasped the demon. "The semen of the saints!"

Merrin lifted up the vial and the face of the demon grew livid, contorted. "Ah, will you, bastard?" it seethed at him. "Will you?"

Merrin started sprinkling.

The demon jerked its head up, the mouth and the neck muscles trembling with rage. "Yes, sprinkle! sprinkle, Merrin! Drench us! Drown us in your sweat! Your sweat is sanctified, Saint Merrin! Bend and fart out clouds of incense! Bend and show the holy rump that we may worship and adore it! kiss it! lick it, blessed---"

"Be silent!"

The words flung forth like bolts. Karras flinched and jerked his head around in wonder at Merrin, who stared commandingly at Regan. And the demon was silent. Was returning his stare. But the eyes were now hesitant. Blinking. Wary.

Merrin capped the holy-water vial routinely and re-turned it to Karras. The psychiatrist slipped it into his pocket and watched as Merrin kneeled down beside the bed and closed his eyes in murmured prayer. " 'Our Father...' " he began.

Regan spat and hit Merrin in the face with a yellowish glob of mucus. It oozed slowly down the exorcist's cheek.

" 'Thy kingdom come... ' " His head still bowed, Merrin continued the prayer without a pause while his hand plucked a handkerchief out of his pocket and unhurriedly wiped away the spittle. " '... and lead us not into temptation,' " he ended mildly.

" 'But deliver us from evil,' " responded Karras.

He looked up briefly. Regan's eyes were rolling upward into their sockets until only the white of the sclera was exposed. Karras felt uneasy. Felt something in the room congealing. He returned to his text to follow Merrin's prayer: " 'God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ; I appeal to your holy name, humbly begging your kindness, that you may graciously grant me help against this unclean spirit now tormenting this creature of yours; through Christ our Lord.' "

"Amen," responded Karras.

Now Merrin stood up and prayed reverently: " 'God, Creator and defender of the human race, look down in pity on this your servant, Regan Teresa MacNeil, now trapped in the coils of man's ancient enemy, sworn foe of our race, who...' "

Karras glanced up as he heard Regan hissing, saw her sitting erect with the whites of her eyes exposed, while her tongue flicked in and out rapidly, head weaving slowly back and forth like a cobra's.

Once again Karras had a fling of disquiet. He looked back at his text.

" 'Save your servant,' " prayed Merrin, standing and reading from the Ritual.

" 'Who trusts in you, my God,' " answered Karras.

" 'Let her find in you, Lord, a fortified tower.' "

" 'In the face of the enemy.' "

As Merrin continued with the next line, Karras heard a gasp from Sharon behind him, and turning quickly around, he saw her looking stupefied at the bed. Puzzled, he looked back. And was instantly electrified. The front of the bed was rising up off the floor!

He stared at it incredulously. Four inches. Half a foot. A foot. Then the back legs began to come up.

"Gott in Himmel!" Karl whispered in fear. But Karras did not hear him or see him make the sign of the cross on himself as the back of the bed lifted level with the front.

It's not happening! he thought, as he watched, transfixed.

The bed drifted upward another foot and then hovered there, bobbing and listing gently as if it were floating on a stagnant lake.

"Father Karras?"

Regan undulating. Hissing.

"Father Karras?"

Karras turned. The exorcist was eyeing him serenely, and now motioned his head toward the copy of the Ritual in Karras' hands. "The response, please, Damien."

Karras looked blank and uncomprehending. Sharon ran from the room.

" 'Let the enemy have no power over her,' " Merrin repeated gently.

Hastily, Karras glanced back at the text and with a pounding heart breathed out the response: " 'And the son of iniquity be powerless to harm her.' "

" 'Lord, hear my prayer,' " continued Merrin.

" 'And let my cry come unto Thee.' "

" 'The Lord be with you.' "

" 'And with your spirit.' "

Merrin embarked upon a lengthy prayer and Karras again returned his gaze to the bed, to his hopes of his God and the supernatural hovering low in the empty air. An elation thrilled up through his being. It's there! There it is! Right in front of me! There! He looked suddenly around at the sound of the door opening. Sharon rushed in with Chris, who stopped, unbelieving, and gasped, "Jesus Christ!"

" 'Almighty Father, everlasting God...' "

The exorcist reached up his hand in a workaday manner and traced the sign of the cross, unhurriedly, three times on Regan's brow while continuing to read from the text of the Ritual: " '... who sent your only begotten Son into the world to crush that roaring Lion....' "

The hissing ceased and from the taut-stretched O of Regan's mouth came the nerve-shredding lowing of a steer.

" '... snatch from ruination and from the clutches of the noonday devil this human being made in your image, and...' "

The lowing grew louder, tearing at flesh and shivering through bone.

" 'God and Lord of all creation... ' " Merrin routinely reached up his hand and pressed a portion of the stole to Regan's neck while continuing to pray: " '... by whose might Satan was made to fall from heaven like lightning, strike terror into the beast now laying waste your vineyard...' "

The bellowing ceased. A ringing silence. Then a thick and putrid greenish vomit began to pump from Regan's mouth in slow and regular spurts that oozed like lava over her lip and flowed in waves onto Merrin's hand. But he did not move it. 'Let your mighty hand cast out this cruel demon from Regan Teresa MacNeil, who...' "

Karras was dimly aware of a door being opened, of Chris bolting from the room.

" 'Drive out this persecutor of the innocent....' "

The bed began to rock lazily, then to pitch, and then suddenly it was violently dipping and yawing, and with the vomit still pumping from Regan s mouth, Merrin calmly made adjustments and kept the stole firmly to her neck.

" 'Fill your servants with courage to manfully oppose that reprobate dragon lest he despise those who put their trust in you, and...' "

Abruptly, the movements subsided and as Karras watched, mesmerized, the bed drifted featherlike, slowly, to the floor and settled on the rug with a cushioned thud.

" 'Lord, grant that this...' "

Numb, Karras shifted his gaze. Merrin's hand. He could not see it. It was buried under mounded, steaming vomit.

"Damien?"

Karras glanced up.

" 'Lord, hear my prayer,' " said the exorcist gently.

Slowly, Karras turned to the bed. " 'And let my cry come unto Thee.' "

Merrin lifted off the stole, took a slight step backward, and then jolted the room with the lash of his voice as he commanded, " 'I cast you out, unclean spirit, along with every satanic power of the enemy! every specter from hell! every savage companion!' " Merrin's hand, at his side, dripped vomit to the rug. " 'It is Christ who commands you, who once stilled the wind and the sea and the storm! Who...' "

Regan stopped vomiting. Sat silent. Unmoving, The whites of her eyes gleamed balefully at Merrin. From the foot of the bed, Karras watched her intently as his shock and excitement began to fade, as his mind began feverishly to thresh, to poke its fingers, unbidden, compulsively, deep into corners of logical doubt: poltergeists; psychokinetic action; adolescent tensions and mind-directed force. He frowned as he remembered something. He moved to the side of the bed, leaned over, reached down to grasp Regan's wrist. And found what he'd feared. Like the shaman in Siberia, the pulse was racing at an unbelievable speed. It drained him suddenly of sun, and glancing at his watch, he counted the heartbeats, now, like arguments against his life.