The demon snarled, as if to present an argument. Jesus held his hand out and the creature recoiled in abject fear.
“Wow, look at that,” said an awed Fraith. “He can probably do this with one hand.”
“That’s serious mojo,” agreed Lillim. “I wish I had that much Grace.”
“Ladies,” said Jesus in an even-handed tone. “This is not a circus act. This poor man is suffering. He must be healed.”
The demon snarled again. “I don’t want to be healed.”
“Come now, don’t be selfish,” reprimanded Jesus. “It’s the Will of the Lord. You must be cast out.”
“What’s gonna happen to me?” said the demon. “I live here, y’know.”
“A home shall be made for you,” announced Christ, “as long as you agree to leave this man. What is your name?”
“Lesion ,” said the demon.
“Legion?”
“No, Lesion. As in, suppurating wound leaking pus.”
“Your mother named you that?”
“Yeah. She wasn't a very nurturing type.”
“Don’t listen to him,” commented Fraith. “They always blame their mother.”
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