Exorcism Novels Novels & Stories

Then a bolt of sheer pleasure rippled through him, and then it was over. “DANIEL, DANIEL COME QUICK!!” Preacher Garland yelled as he rounded the church. “What is going on here? Daniel.. You're a Witch. That’s blood magic!!” “Preacher, Wait.” Daniel tried to explain. “No, Daniel! You performed blood magic, and that is why the fever has taken your brother. Wyatt is dead, and now so are you and so is Louise.” He continued. “Now to the cells with you.”

The memories comfort and then swiftly spin around and wound me. All I can do for now, stuck in Greenway in this gilded cage, is keep out of the firing line. Back in the library amongst the records I picked up a couple of books for studying tonight in my room. They’re about demons and demonology. I’m going to work out whatever it is Roxie has awoken and find out to put the thing back in its place. The pages are dark and stained with age, the blood red leathery covers marked with hundreds of different users' hopes for answers.

“IT’S JUST I HAD a different book in mind when ink spilled on this one, plus what’s left to do in a finished book?” They, of course, ignored me Completely probably deciding if I would not explain, they were just going to proceed. One of the three waved their hand above the inky darkness we were standing on, and instantly a book on a pedestal was in front of them on the floor. It showed off my title, ‘1001 Dark Tales’. I instantly held my breath, hoping they didn’t realize what that meant. But if they had, they said nothing. Instead, they just started flipping through the pages of the book, looking for which store to choose.

It simply disintegrated, then reappeared back in the car. “Sick bastard,” I spat. He'd been stalking me. I tore a slim black book from the rat pile. Book of Psychopomps was etched on it in gold ink. Numbers, emails, and old-fashioned addresses accompanied names, written in no apparent order. I rifled through the pages: “Old farts: ODIN, MORRIGAN, YAMA, HERMES....” and “New pests: ANAESTHESIA, AIDS, SANTA MUERTE...” A red ribbon marked a page at the back. “Accessories: SHANNON PARKER.”

Exhausted, frustrated, and confused, Rio sat alone in the library. Books are scattered at the table in front of him. These books were all about paranormal beings. Creatures that are believed to have existed among us but stayed hidden from the mortal’s eye at least. Rio massages his forehead removed his reading glasses and closed his eyes.

Some titles seemed interesting to him, like ‘How to kill and skin a sand wurm by JJ Rulus’ or ‘The spirit realm unmasked by Sir Tapnes’ and some made him shiver at the thought of their contents, such as ‘A look inside of fae anatomy by Priest Daphne’ and ‘Histories of demonic possession that nearly ended existence by Krun. He had already finished two rows and had started on the third when a slight whispering in his ear broke his concentration, “You must kill.” “What the..?” Rex said out aloud, looking left and right, searching for the person who had made the sound, not being able to see anyone, he followed where he thought the whispering from coming from, rounding the end of the large booksh

"You keep telling yourself that, nerd." "Don't call me that" He leaned over and mock-whispered, “I’m scared now." A server came by and we ordered our coffee, black for him, vanilla oat latte for me. Once they walked away, Christian leaned forward, elbows on the table, that ever-present smirk on his face. "So what is this book, anyway? Witchcraft for Beginners? How to Hex Your Ex?" I scoffed. "No, it's a comparative analysis on supernatural war tactics over the last two centuries. It goes into detail on Flare magic, territorial blood pacts, and..."

On a metal table in the corner sat half-melted candles and jars filled with liquids of every color. My gaze dropped to the cemented floor. A massive circle, drawn in blood-red paint, marked the center of the room—complete with a Star of David, runes, and Latin inscriptions. In the middle stood a metal chair with ropes dangling from the backrest. The room had no windows, and the heavy scent of sulfur, death, and venom filled the air. “Whoa,” I breathed. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen a room for exorcisms, but it definitely brought back memories I’d rather forget.

They collapsed in a wrecked heap, bodies slick and leaking everywhere, holes twitching ruined, cum pies sealed or oozing free. Zeke's lovers curled close and devoted around him, breaths ragged, skin marked with bites and bruises. "My perfect sins," he murmured soft, voice laced with possession. Remotes went silent for the night, plugs humming low as aftercare. Tomorrow brought bigger deals, Harlan's ghost fully exorcised, Roskov's empire expanding. Deeper depravities waited in the wings, the family bond unbreakable. The empire throbbed on forever, fueled by cum and dominance.

The smoke disappeared into the air. The candles and incenses were lit on the table to create a flicker in the breeze blowing through the kitchen. She placed the crystals in the oven. Red for blood, fire, violence, health and danger. Orange for change and yellow for mourning. Black for evil and dark. She began stirring the crystals in the oven with a wooden spoon as she chanted a spell. The oven became so hot the spoon began to catch fire. She reached over to the sink and filled a glass with water. She propelled the glass of water onto the fire. The steam spelled out Slaughter Hill. The spell was completed.