“They can’t actually exorcise a demon.” When I started to mention news footage of exorcists on the front lines, charging into battle against the Unclean, he stopped me. “They’re soldiers. They know how to shoot, and if they’d wanted you dead, they would have shot you on the spot. That’s what they’re good at. But killing a possessed host doesn’t exorcise the demon. That just releases it, which means the demon is then free to search for another host. That’s harder for the demon to do once it’s been disembodied. Going from one body to another, they just…” He shrugged. “They do this cold-kiss thing. I hear it’s pretty horrible.”

“I can verify that.” I shuddered at the memory.

“Disembodied demons have to find someone who’s sick or hurt or under some sort of chemical influence. Or even just someone sleeping. If the demon finds a body before he’s sucked back into hell…ta da! You have a newly possessed citizen, which means the ‘exorcists’ have failed.”

“But what about all the Latin and the holy water and the symbols of faith?” Elements we’d come to associate with exorcists after a lifetime of seeing them on the news and on posters, decked out and armed for battle in their iconic, silver-trimmed black cassocks. “What about their training?”

“Bullshit.” Finn dug out a can opener from a shallow box full of utensils. “Demons can’t even understand Latin unless they’ve possessed someone who speaks it. Which is why they always speak the local language, no matter what that is. So if you’re trying to fight evil with stupid incantations, you’d have just as much luck with pig Latin as with the real thing.”

Wow. “What about holy water?”

He clamped the halves of the can opener over the top rim of the stew can, then twisted the handle. “That might piss them off if you hit them in the face, but I suspect the spray-bottle approach works better against naughty cats than against demons.”

I almost laughed. Almost.

“Symbols of faith? Like the column of fire?” Exorcists wore them on chains hanging from their necks, echoing the brands burned into their cheeks.

“Seriously?” Finn tossed the can opener back into the box, where it rattled against the other utensils. “That degenerate this morning tried to eat your face off—which would have been a real shame, by the way.” He grinned, and I actually felt myself blush. As if we had nothing more important to discuss than how much he liked my face in its not-devoured state. “Do you really think she would have run off screeching if you’d been wearing a bonfire charm?”

I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “I guess that would have been a little out of character for a monster so intent on consuming my nose.” And my soul.