The Demon Hunter

"Murder," I told him, "and murder most foul."

"Humans commit murders," replied Monsignor Rousseau. "What makes you suspect the supernatural?"

I must admit, the bright light of the sun streaming in through the windows of the Monsignor's office made my sudden inspiration of the night before now seem rather dubious, but I pressed on regardless.

"The form of the slayings was almost bestial in its brutality. But there's also an unmistakable pattern to the killings - three young boys, each slain in the same, unspeakable manner, at approximately the same time of night, and mutilated in exactly the same way..."

"Obviously the work of the same individual," broke in the Monsignor, "but serial murders have been previously documented... and proven to be the work of humans."

"But no human could be both this ferocious and this regimented," I argued. "Seven days separated the second murder from the first, and the third from the second. It's almost... habitual. I read in LeGrand's text, Les Diables, that one of the major weaknesses of demons is that they are creatures of habit."

Monsignor Rousseau gave me a stern look. "Father Dupont, you know very well that LeGrand is restricted reading. Who gave you authorisation to look at such a work?"

I met his gaze calmly. "When I was still in seminary, I considered a career as a Diable-Chasseur, a Demon Hunter. My tutor, one Father Bovary, who had actually studied under LeGrand, persuaded me that my talents were best suited to the priesthood. He let me examine Les Diables and a few other works while I was making my decision."

The Monsignor grunted, disapprovingly. "Your memory serves you well, after all these years." I could only nod my agreement. After staring at me for a few seconds longer, he continued.

"So, you suspect a demon?"

I nodded again.

"And you want me to contact my good friend, Philippe St. Gabriel, who is in nearby Vézelise, and ask him to visit you in Mirecourt."

"As usual, you have anticipated me," I told him.

"I hope you know what you're letting yourself in for," he warned. "Philippe is not the easiest of men to get along with. He may be the Church's Diable-Chasseur Premier, but few choose to spend any time with him."

"If it would stop the killings," I responded, "I would sup with Lucifer himself."

Frowning, he regarded me in silence for a moment or two more. Then, reaching for quill and parchment, he began to pen a letter.

In Mirecourt, the mood was still very grim when I returned. The brutal murders, the last only two nights ago, had shocked and stunned the small town. Parents were now keeping their children close to them and each regarded their neighbour with suspicion. If something was not done soon, all that pent up anger and tension was likely to explode into a violent mob, very probably bent upon lynching some unfortunate innocent.

Marcel le Blanc, Capitaine de la Garde, was on the church's doorstep even before I had finished stabling my horse. My acolyte, Luc, ushered him into the vestry as I was shedding my hat and cloak.

"Well, what did he say?" The Capitaine and Luc were the only people in Mirecourt with whom I had shared my theory.

"He will write to Monsieur St. Gabriel. What the Demon Hunter's response will be, I cannot say."

"And if he does not come?"

"Then after the next murder, I will have to write to the bishop and formerly request a Diable-Chasseur."