Every exorcist has a ritual he or she performs to get into the trance state. Some are really elaborate, with chants and special and incense--the works. Mine is disarmingly simple. I place vanilla scented candles all around the room, then turn off all the lights. Then I stand over the demon-possessed body with my hands about six inches above it and just close my eyes.<br/><br/>Usually, Iâ€™m already starting to slip into the trance after my first deep breath. Today, I was having a harder time. Jenkins had taken to fidgeting with his ID badge. The noise was slight, but annoying. And I could hear Mrs. Walkerâ€™s persistent sniffles. I imagined the table sliding into the oven with little Lisa Walker on it. I imagined hearing her screams.<br/><br/>I took another deep, vanilla-scented breath and reminded myself that, in these enlightened times, theyâ€™d anesthetize her before sliding her into the oven--there would be no screams. But that didn't make the image any more bearable.<br/><br/>The pressure was like nothing Iâ€™d ever felt before, and something akin to panic stirred.<br/><br/>Then, Lisa Walker spoke.<br/><br/>â€œWhatâ€™s happening?â€ she asked in a quivering little-girl voice. â€œMommy?â€<br/><br/>It broke what little concentration I had, and my eyes popped open. I met the gaze of a pair of red-rimmed eyes of cornflower blue. So innocent-looking. But her words and her voice were so patently pathetic, so manipulative, that they gave me pause. So I watched closely, and something stirred behind those eyes. Something not so innocent. And I knew that they were right, that there was a demon inside this little girl. A demon who had no qualms about using the body of a child like a disposable plastic cup. When it found a more suitable host, it would slither out of her body, not caring that it might leave her dead or brain-damaged.<br/><br/>I gave the demon a nasty smile. â€œFatal error,â€ I told it in a low whisper that I hoped to God the parents didn't hear. â€œYou should have kept your mouth shut.â€<br/><br/>The cupidâ€™s bow mouth widened. I closed my eyes. And the trance took me immediately, fueled by my anger. Distantly, I was aware of that little-girl voice making pathetic noises, pleading with me and with its mommy, but I was too far gone to hear the words.<br/><br/>In my trance, I see with my otherworldly eyes. Everything looks different. Simpler. I canâ€™t see things. All I see are the living, and I see them as patches of primary colors. People show up as blue in my otherworldly vision. Jenkins was a dark, solid blue, like a person at rest. If he felt any strong emotions about this whole procedure, I couldnâ€™t sense it. The parents, on the other hand, were a mess, their auras roiling with every shade of blue imaginable.<br/><br/>But on the table under my hands, the aura glowed blood red. A demon aura, so overwhelming there was no sign of human blue beneath it. The aura squirmed, and I realized that the body was struggling against the restraints. The demon saw its destruction coming and was making a last-ditch effort to escape. I hoped they hadn't gotten squeamish when theyâ€™d secured the restraints. The supernatural strength of some demons is enough to bend steel, but even an inexperienced staff would know that.<br/><br/>I heard the distinctive sound of groaning metal. Alarm trickled down my back. This thing was strong. And desperate. Behind me, someone cried out. The yellow tint of fear blended with the blue of their auras to make the humans look almost green.<br/><br/>Just like everyone has their own ritual to get into the trance, everyone has their own mental image they use as a metaphor for casting out a demon. Mine is wind.<br/><br/>I imagined a gust of hurricane force wind hitting that red aura. If it had been your average, run-of-the-mill demon, that one blast would have been enough. But this fucker was tough. The aura didnâ€™t waver, and I heard an echo of laughter ringing in my ears.<br/><br/>There were more cries of distress from the humans, and again metal groaned as the demon struggled. My pounded in my throat, and fear almost stole my concentration.<br/><br/>None of the three demons Iâ€™d failed to exorcize had come close to escaping, thankfully. I may be the scourge of demon-kind, but I do not want to be trapped in a room with a loose, angry demon in need of a new host.<br/><br/>The fear radiating from Jenkins and the Walkers pounded against my concentration, worse than my own fear, because there were three of them feeding each othersâ€™ panic. I prayed Jenkins wouldnâ€™t do anything really stupid, like open the door to take himself out of harmâ€™s way.<br/><br/>As soon as I thought it, though, it happened. My concentration snapped completely, and I was out of the trance in time to see Jenkins shove the Walkers out the open door before he dove out himself.<br/><br/>At least he had the good sense to swing the door shut behind him. I really didnâ€™t want to see what would happen if the demon got loose in the containment center halls with all those inexperienced armed guards wandering around.<br/><br/>Of course, I really didnâ€™t want to be trapped alone in a room with a powerful, pissed-off demon either.<br/><br/>I looked at the table, and my stuttered at what I saw.<br/><br/>Steel restraints bolted to the table held Lisaâ€™s thin arms and legs down, and there was another steel restraint around her waist. Sheâ€™d pulled so hard on those restraints that the table had buckled beneath them, though so far she hadnâ€™t managed to break free. Blood poured from her wrists and ankles--the demon didnâ€™t much care what happened to this poor little body. It just wanted out. It pulled Lisaâ€™s lips back in a feral snarl. The metal groaned again.<br/><br/>Shit.<br/><br/>I drew in a deep, quavering breath and forced myself to close my eyes. If I gave it enough time, this thing was going to free itself. And I was going to become an unwilling host to an illegal demon myself.<br/><br/>No pressure.<br/><br/>Sweat trickled down the small of my back. I tried to calm myself. My life depended on it.<br/><br/>I slipped back into the trance more easily than Iâ€™d expected. Amazing what desperation will do for you. Once again, I hit that demon aura with a blast of wind. It wavered for a moment, then settled firmly back in place.<br/><br/>The metal didn't groan now so much as scream. The temptation to open my eyes and see what progress the thing was making was almost unbearable, but I resisted.<br/><br/>A small, delicate hand clapped onto my arm with a bone-crushing grip. But her hand was over my sweater, no skin-to-skin contact.<br/><br/>I stifled a scream and sent another blast of wind at the aura. Somehow, I managed to stay entranced, even with a demon squeezing my arm so brutally Iâ€™d wear bruises for days even if it didnâ€™t break anything.<br/><br/>My breath burned in and out of my lungs and my heart slammed against my chest. I was so scared I could taste it, but if I let the fear win, I was demon-chow.<br/><br/>I gathered my power into me, concentrating on drawing every ounce of my strength into my center for one last try. There was another scream of tortured metal, and a second small hand grabbed me.<br/><br/>I almost panicked and let my next blast loose at that moment, but I knew I had only one more chance. If I didnâ€™t throw enough power against the demon, I was toast. So I fought my instincts and held myself together a few seconds more.<br/><br/>The demonâ€™s fingers tore through the fabric of my sweater, and that little demonic hand pressed against the skin of my forearm.<br/><br/>I screamed louder than Iâ€™d ever screamed in my life, overwhelmed by terror, horror, revulsion. My worst nightmare come true. A demon forcing itself into my body, taking me over, destroying everything I was without actually killing me . . .<br/><br/>I shoved my gathered power at it, knowing it was already too late--demons can transfer from one host to another instantly. The millisecond it touched me, I was gone.<br/><br/>Except, I wasn't.<br/><br/>That red, red aura crept up my arm from the demonâ€™s hand, and then withdrew, half a heartbeat before my power hit it.<br/><br/>Iâ€™d thrown everything I had into that blast. The aura shattered into a million tiny pinpricks of color; then it was gone.<br/><br/>I opened my eyes, hardly believing my good fortune, hardly believing I was still myself.<br/><br/>I wobbled on my feet. The floor bucked under me. I felt myself falling in slow motion but couldn't even get my hands under me to cushion the fall. My head hit that cold tile floor, and I was out.