Savannah, Georgia, 1965.
On a street in a quiet neighborhood with a close-knit community, police and firefighters swarmed the once-peaceful area that night.
A beautiful two-story white house with a lovely garden was ablaze. Firefighters battled the flames consuming the Godoy family home.
A young girl screamed at the top of her lungs about a demon and how it had tormented her family in recent days. The 13-year-old, Victoria Godoy, had tears streaming down her face as two paramedics restrained her.
Mark Godoy and his wife, Alissa, did nothing to stop the scene. They just sat there, on the curb, staring at the burning house as though their souls had been taken. However, while Alissa was trapped in mute despair, Mark seemed to embody rage and hatred, ready to explode at the slightest provocation.
Neighbors pointed and whispered among themselves, but the couple remained motionless. The police took statements from the Godoys, but the children said nothing.
The family's youngest daughter, Elizabeth, had been silent since the beginning of the week. Her beautiful blue eyes were unfocused, deep shadows under them, and her lips trembled faintly.
Alexander, Victoria's twin brother, however, had far less conventional thoughts.
"They lied to me. They promised me a new life but didn't let me choose a power. They told me this world was normal." Alexander thought.
His golden eyes glimmered with barely restrained fury.
"This world is anything but normal! How the hell is being tormented for a week by a demon supposed to be normal? Where's my system, my earth-shaking powers? Where are my dreamed-of adventures, where I swear to protect my family? Where's my harem of beautiful girls?"
His hands trembled as he remembered his past life. Memories of his previous existence had returned when he was five years old. Despite finding it unbearable to live in a world without the internet or cell phones, he persevered.
"When I recovered memories of a past life, I imagined I'd live an epic adventure. Create technology, get rich, maybe even… live surrounded by incredible girls. How naive I was. None of that matters now, not when my family is being used as playthings by something that shouldn't exist."
"I'm such an idiot… never sign a contract without reading the terms and conditions…"
Elizabeth glanced at her older brother, wondering if he had gone mad as well.
A paramedic's voice snapped Alexander out of his thoughts. "Miss Godoy, I need you to calm down, or we'll have to sedate you," the paramedic said sternly.
"You don't understand! There's a demon in that house! Can't you feel the vile and putrid aura that reeks of death? Have you been numbed and corrupted by the demon?!"
At that moment, Alexander turned around. There are certain things you just don't do, especially in the South during the 1960s, and perhaps the foremost is this: don't doubt someone's faith.
The paramedic quickly gagged Victoria before sedating her. They carried her to the ambulance while a third paramedic spoke with Mark and Alissa.
Alexander watched all of this in disbelief, as Elizabeth sobbed softly next to him.
He suddenly stood up, ready to give his "loving parents" a piece of his mind.
"That poor girl must've gone insane," one of the closer neighbors whispered to another.
"I always thought that girl was strange. I never let my Margaret get close to her. I told Jerry: that family is trouble!"
As Alexander slowed his steps upon hearing these murmurs, he picked up louder male voices nearby.
"Mark has always been spineless. Look at him just sitting there while his house burns to the ground."
"This must be divine punishment. Last month, I saw him talking to a colored man downtown. Divine punishment, I say!"
Alexander quickened his pace as he saw the paramedic walking away from his parents. He stood in front of Mark and opened his mouth, but no words came out when he saw Mark's eyes.
They were red and deranged, like a cornered animal. His teeth ground together, veins bulging on his forehead. White hairs had appeared that weren't there a week ago, and wrinkles creased around his eyes.
"Don't say a word, Alexander, or I swear I'll leave here in a police car tonight," Mark whispered with such venom in his voice that Alissa, sitting beside him, flinched in fear.
Alexander froze. He didn't doubt that threat. Mark would do exactly as he said. The man was cornered and just wanted someone to vent his rage and pain on.
Alexander backed away and returned to where he'd been, wrapping his arms around Elizabeth, who was now crying loudly.
The sirens, firefighters shouting orders, and police radio chatter blended into a background noise. The once-kind and welcoming neighbors now whispered about how this must be divine retribution. Others suggested it was because Mark was an incompetent provider or that Alissa wasn't a good homemaker.
Alexander's head throbbed from the sensory overload. He felt so much hatred, so much pain, so much anguish. And the one responsible for all of it was right there, but no one else could see it.
Amid the burning house, behind the miraculously still-standing front door, was a dark shadow. The flames seemed darker there, yet burned hotter than any normal fire had a right to.
It had red eyes like rivers of blood, its skin a dark, undefined tone. There were no lips on its mouth, just rows and rows of teeth. Long, sharp claws, stained with blood that evaporated quickly in the searing heat.
That demon stared directly into Alexander's golden eyes. It was laughing. It reveled in the misery of the Godoy family. And Alexander could do nothing.
"One day, it may not be today or tomorrow… but one day I will exterminate your kind and bathe in your blood, fallen creature," Alexander muttered, filled with unprecedented wrath.
Elizabeth didn't understand her brother's murmur, but she felt a shiver down her spine at the hateful tone in Alexander's voice.
The demon only laughed harder, and the more its silent laughter echoed, the more violent the flames became.
That very night, a storm fell over Savannah. Alexander didn't know if it was divine intervention or just another obstacle. After all, the rain helped douse the flames, but they no longer had a home or money, forcing them to sleep huddled in a car with no heating in the middle of a storm.
_________
Portland, Oregon, 1971
In a simple, dilapidated hotel room, Alexander, now 19 years old, wore his gray three-piece suit.
That night, like almost every other night since that fateful night, he dreamed of that filthy demon. His laughter and the cries of his younger sister. Mark's silent desperation, Elizabeth's terrified scream, Alissa's hopelessness. Everything overlapped, blended, and rearranged in his nightmare, like a soup of pain and suffering.
And just like in real life, in his nightmare, he could only watch helplessly while the vile creature toyed with his family's minds, slowly destroying them.
Alexander still doesn't know why the demon doesn't kill his family, but it doesn't matter now. He has much to do and much to fix.
His dark brown, almost black hair was carefully combed, with gel to keep it in place. His white shirt was under the gray vest, the same color as his suit.
Alexander's face had changed significantly over the years. His high cheekbones, chiseled jawline, and rosy lips were completely overshadowed by his captivating golden eyes.
Looking at himself in the small bathroom mirror in the hotel room, Alexander took one last look at the buttons on his shirt, which had crosses drawn on them, courtesy of the Catholic Church.
"The bastards who threw me into this filthy world may have denied me power, but at least I'm handsome," Alexander murmured deprecatingly.
His memories of his past life had become so muddled that they seemed like a distant dream. He no longer remembered his old name, the name of his dog, the movies and games he used to enjoy.
But he still remembered the names of his parents from that life and the three bastards who promised him a new life.
Dressing in his suit, Alexander adjusted his tie before reviewing his briefcase one last time.
The briefcase was black, simple, unadorned, and completely unassuming. But when he opened it, there was a variety of strange and bizarre items.
There was a shrunken head, rectangular papers with writing in Japanese or Mandarin. There was a Latin Bible, a wooden bead bracelet, similar to Buddhist prayer beads, and several other miscellaneous items, like small containers with water and other liquids.
Alexander meticulously went over each item, checking the amount of water in some jars, making sure the bracelets were intact, and counting how many papers with strange writing there were. If he needed to replace anything, he would take it from another bag and put it in the briefcase.
"I know this will be a small case, but it's better to be safe than sorry..." Alexander murmured.
Since the incident six years ago, Alexander and his family had moved from Georgia, living briefly in each city until they settled in Los Angeles four years ago.
Alexander learned that his "gift" of seeing and feeling the supernatural wasn't as unique to him and his twin sister as he thought.
Some messengers from the Vatican came to his family a few months after the incident, and they explained at length.
For a long time, people with "special abilities" have existed in this world. Some can see, others can feel, and some can interact with the supernatural. The problem, however, is that most die before they even turn 16. Either they die mysteriously, or they go insane. Those who survive are usually under the church's care.
They tried in every way to convince Mark that Alexander and Victoria were special, that Mark should give them to the church to be trained to fight evil.
But Mark had already made his decision. Victoria was sent to an asylum that same year, and Alexander had to stay because he would be the one to take care of his younger sister.
Alissa ran away at the end of 1965, causing the already bitter Mark to become a different creature. The once kind Mark turned into a bitter, drunken man, beating his children at the slightest sign of disobedience.
Elizabeth no longer spoke, and Alexander had to become the pillar for his younger sister. Mark stopped beating them both only when, one day, he hit Elizabeth so hard she was hospitalized. On that same day, Alexander grew tired of his father.
"If you want to hit someone weaker than you, I'll show you how it's done!" Alexander shouted at his father.
The final result was Mark having both arms broken and two ribs fractured.
Since Alexander couldn't go to the Vatican and receive formal training, the Vatican envoy, having read the report on what happened to him, and feeling sorry for the poor boy who hadn't even turned 14, took him to an acquaintance who taught Alexander everything about the supernatural world.
This man wasn't affiliated with the church or any organization. He fought the supernatural using anything he could, and he was the best teacher Alexander could ask for.
Since then, Alexander has helped a few exorcists, taking care of wandering spirits and dispelling minor curses.
Today would be his first day working alone, and he couldn't be more excited and nervous.
Closing the briefcase, Alexander Godoy, the exorcist, was ready for his first big case.