Symptoms

Grant reached for the first book on the shelf. He ran his stubby fingers over the coarse binding and felt the months of thought that went into its creation and the years of indulgence it provided afterwards. It was a small book, mostly a dull brown, with alternating sun-bleached red stripes along the binding. The title was in French. The author he did not recognize.

"Michel Laronde?" he whispered to himself. His grandfather would have known the author, or at least in a remote sense: most of the books had been given to him, directly and indirectly, by the authors themselves. Now the aged volumes rested in taut organization on an aching wooden shelf in his basement. Grant had obtained the keys by order of his grandfather's will, and had been intrigued by the fact that the keys had rested in a safety deposit box from the time when his grandfather had been committed to Elderbrook up to his death two days ago. The house had remained uninhabited for a total of fourteen years.

Grant pulled at the binding in an effort to remove it from the shelf. It seemed to be slightly stuck. Grant tugged at it harder, sending tiny coughs of dust into the already dank basement air. The book shifted forward, and Grant went in with both hands. The book slid out, and small flecks of the binding board came off in his fingers, staining them an ancient brown.

The cover was plain. The blatantly French title emblazoned the upper third in set gold print, and Laronde's name appeared under it.

"Hum." smirked Grant, as he ran his fingers once more over the grainy surface.

"Les Dynamiques et Histoires d'Exorcisme Catholiste."

Grant's futile pronunciation attempt did not falter his etymology skills: he picked out recognizable words and filed them away in his memory.

He opened the book.

The binding board creaked in protest, but the front cover swung open, revealing an elaborate cloth engraving which coated the other side of the cover as well as the first page. It was old, and smelled faintly of sulphur. Grant flipped the first cloth-backed page and entered the paper bulk of the material, a yellowing, fragile collection of printed sheaths. The title was repeated, and the text began.

Grant's memory was getting almost as old as the French instruction he had almost completely ignored in high school, and the text was, to him, illegible. He did notice that it was a very peculiar dialect, and dismissed this as a side effect of the volume's age. He continued to flip through the amber pages.

The thrill of exploration was about to become boredom when he came across the first picture. Before making a closer scrutiny of it's contents, he was struck with a curious sense of anachronism.

Pictures? he thought to himself. The book was far too old to include illustrations of any kind. It didn't make sense. He quickly flipped back to the title page, hoping to find a publishing or copyright date. He found none. No publishing house was listed either.

He flipped back to the spot held by his right ring finger, and glared (intensely this time) at the picture.

It was a charcoal print of a demon.

Grant recoiled slightly. The drawing was done by hand, and had the odd appearance of an interpretation drawing. It's intent did not appear to be that of typical medieval terror hell-scapes, or twisted, flamboyant Bosch paintings, whose intent was to invoke fear and respect for religion as a whole. It struck Grant to be the sort of instructional illustration one would find in a college textbook.

The drawing was not without it's horror aspects; the demon's face glared with wild abandon, and its black eyes seemed to see everything at once. Its head was traditionally horned, and its body looked physically powerful, but structurally inconsistent. Its legs were attached at an unbelievable angle, and its clawed talons sprouted from mid-chest. Its head was hairless and smooth, and it had a large quantity of teeth.

Grant swallowed uncomfortably. The drawing was hand signed and dated (with month and day only) and the caption read "Conception d'artiste sur la deamon qui a excorcisee de Charlotte D'Haloresse"

"Deamon qui a excorcisee." said Grant aloud. The demon who was exorcised. From Charlotte D'Haloresse. The signed name under the drawing was 'Mnsgnr. M. Gastron.'

"Monsingor." said Grant. M. Gastron was an early French priest. Drawing from memory.

Grant shivered in the warm basement air.