Chapter 115: Identifying the Demon
"Mr. Frank, I heard you were mugged in Harlem," the butler greeted Frank with concern upon his return to the estate.
"Yes, even my clothes were taken," Frank replied in agreement.
"What's this?" the butler asked, noticing the bag Frank was carrying.
"Oh, just some souvenirs I bought. Harlem may be chaotic, but it has its charms," Frank explained.
"You bought them?" The butler seemed skeptical.
Frank had claimed to be robbed, so how could he have money for souvenirs?
"After the mugging, I met a kind person who lent me some money. You reminded me—I need you to repay him, with a bit extra as thanks," Frank said, feigning realization.
"Certainly, Mr. Frank. Do you know his name or where he lives?" the butler asked.
"He's easy to find, just go to Pop's Barber Shop in Harlem, and you'll see it," Frank replied.
"Got it," the butler noted the name.
"I'll take this to your room," a servant offered, reaching for Frank's bag.
"No, it's light," Frank said, shifting the bag from his left hand to his right.
After a brief chat, Frank headed upstairs to his room.
"Check out that barbershop," the butler instructed.
"Phew, that went smoothly," Frank sighed in relief once inside his room.
Frank opened the bag, taking out essential items for his protection.
After speaking with John, Frank hadn't gone straight to the tattoo shop. Realizing he'd already delayed too long, he knew the demon might have tracked him, and the driver could find him at any time.
So, Frank quickly gathered necessary supplies before heading to the tattoo shop. Just as he sat down, the driver appeared.
Frank was relieved by his decision, knowing tattoos take time and could have been interrupted midway if he'd gone earlier.
Frank took plastic bottles resembling those fished from a trash bin, emptied a bottle of alcohol into the toilet, and refilled it with water from the bottles.
The water from the bottles was holy water Frank had collected from a church.
Despite doubts about its efficacy, as it was merely tap water blessed by a priest, John had assured him it could harm demons.
'Knock, knock, knock,' came a knock at the door.
"Come in," Frank said.
"Mr. Frank, here are new clothes and a phone for you," the butler announced, entering with a servant.
"Just leave them there," Frank instructed.
"We found your benefactor and repaid the loan," the butler reported.
"Good to hear," Frank nodded.
After a few more words, the butler and servant left.
"Seems it was just a misunderstanding," the butler thought after leaving Frank's room.
"Looks like the demon isn't in the butler," Frank mused, watching them leave.
According to John, demons possess humans and can switch hosts, so identifying the possessed individual is crucial.
Frank went to the living room, observing his intoxicated and high companions, finding one mumbling incoherently.
"Christo," Frank whispered repeatedly in his ear.
This was the Latin word for "Father," one of John's methods for identifying possessed individuals.
After a dozen repetitions, the drugged man began echoing the word, his voice fluctuating as if snoring.
Frank sat nearby, feigning drunkenness while observing the room.
John hadn't detailed the method's effects, only that Frank would recognize the possessed person instantly.
With the room littered and filthy from intoxicated occupants, servants frequently cleaned, allowing Frank to wait and watch.
Despite his vigilance, Frank couldn't identify the possessed individual.
"Could the demon reside outside the villa, only visiting for sacrifices?" Frank wondered.
He recalled seeing a suited man's silhouette in the basement, presumably the demon.
As Frank pondered, something changed.
"There!" Frank's gaze froze as he noticed a servant stop abruptly, turning his head almost 180 degrees toward the drugged man.
From Frank's angle, the servant's face was visible, his eyes blood-red, devoid of pupils.
"That's him! The demon's inside him!" Frank thought confidently, understanding John's assertion that recognition would be immediate.
The servant approached the drugged man, checking his awareness by tapping his face.
"Shut up," the servant muttered, confirming the man's incoherence. Frowning, he pinched the man's face and dumped white powder from the table into his mouth.
"Cough, cough," the man sputtered, sending powder flying.
(End of Chapter)