The Repentant Demon Trilogy Boxed Set: The Repentant Demon Trilogy, #4

The Repentant Demon

Book 1: The Demon Calumnius

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Samantha Johns

Copyright 2012

Copyright 2012. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons either living or dead, as well as any events or locations is entirely coincidental.

In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, any means of reproduction, either electronic or physical, of any part of this book, without written permission is unlawful piracy and deemed a theft of the author's intellectual property. You may use the material from this book for review purposes only. Any other use requires written permission from the author or publisher.

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1. The Demon Watches

Chapter 2. The Demon Covets

Chapter 3. An Eventful Date

Chapter 4. The Demon in the Mirror

Chapter 5. Abigail Loves Flying

Chapter 6. Old Friends and Camels

Chapter 7. New Friends and New Camels

Chapter 8. An Old Demon Enemy

Chapter 9. End of Iraq and a New Beginning

Chapter 10. The Demon Meets Abigail

The Repentant Demon Trilogy

Author Info

Chapter 1. The Demon Watches

In the shadows, Calumnius watched. He roared, turning his huge horned head and showing his sharp fangs. Standing eight feet tall, no earth shadows could hide him; instead, he lurked rather in a shadow world, unseen by humans. Another like him was near. Burnt sulfur filled his nostrils even before he heard his steps approaching. This was his catch, Calumnius warned, growling. Go away.

Zechaniah appeared from nowhere. This one, though bull-like in his head and curving horns, was darker in color and more human in his body parts. He had no fur like Calumnius covering his lower limbs and groin; therefore, he wore a loincloth and leather boots.

The earth is abundant with victims tonight, he said, making small talk as if assuring Calumnius that he was not after his victim.  It's been like that for ages now. The fields are teeming with prey, more so even than in the Middle Ages. Good hunting, friend.

Good hunting to you, also, said Calumnius, glad that he was leaving.

Yes, there were ample souls to snare. It was easy now that the humans so universally did not believe in demons. Such fools they were, it was like slaughtering sheep—so easy that it no longer even seemed a sport. The time for the final battle would come, and we are winning, he thought.

The Church fights back in vain, increasing the numbers of exorcist priests dramatically. But it will not help them. We demons have infiltrated their numbers, as well as rising to high positions in the governments around the world. These are the humans who have succumbed to possession willingly, to reap earthly rewards beyond belief. They live among the ordinary, only recognizable to a few very accomplished exorcists. But even those elite clergy will make no attempt to expel them from their hosts. Entrenched, willing servants of the Lord of Evil, these poor souls work for Satan's cause behind the scenes in the human world. Many such people of the earth have with their own free will sought us out, wanting riches, power, and luxuries more than they care for their eternal fates. These humans are so easy to capture, so weak and worthless. I have turned to seeking prey that would challenge me—I seek a true believer.

He had been watching this one for weeks, stalking her, trying to decide what her fate should be, if she was the one, and how to attack her. It had been taking him longer and longer to choose a victim, and with every effort, he sought to appease the demons that drove him mad with their taunting. The others would come down hard on him if he returned without a tremendous tale to tell about seduction and shame or torture and cruelty. For the past hundred years, Calumnius had been cheating on his colleagues—taking the easy path because his heart was no longer in the pursuit of souls for the cause of evil. They were evil enough on their own, he’d surmised. It had become no challenge to tempt them.

Often he lurked unseen in dark alleys in the worst places on earth, sensing the evil in the air, especially loving New York City, London, and Moscow. Calumnius looked for despicable human beings about to commit horrendous crimes and lurched at their very souls, taking credit as the final instigator before the killings, rapes, child molestations, and brutal crimes of humanity against humanity. This practice of his, in this realm where cheating and defrauding were virtues, would not have been so acceptable if it involved cheating or defrauding Satan's cause. What he had been doing was to steal the credit for evil he himself had not produced. Calumnius had been receiving great grief from demons who demanded he return to his former glory—lead them with vigor as one of the powerful ones as in days of old.

He had once been ambitious like them, dwelling in convents and monasteries to snare the ones who presented a challenge, ones not so easily tempted. He looked for prominent people admired by others for their qualities of generosity, compassion, and piety. Their destruction had felt good to him, depriving God of His followers and wounding Him. It had once been easy, given his opinion of these beings was so low and his anger so intense. They were unworthy of life and breath. Calumnius enjoyed watching their tortured souls writhing in the fiery abyss. They deserved to suffer, not only for what they had taken from his race, but for their own lowly nature mired in weakness and wretchedness. All anyone need do is look at them to see justification for hate and disgust. They were like insects thrown into fire for the fun of hearing their bodies crackle and sizzle as their flesh burned without ceasing into eternity.

Abigail Rayetta Fitzgerald unknowingly drew him to her by the color of her aura—white, a hue seldom seen in these days. It marked her as having tested goodness. More commonly, one would see blue—the innocents, born that way only to change as their characters developed. Few remained either color for long in this world. The children of the earth were losing their innocence at younger and younger ages.

This woman he watched intrigued him by the words she said in the classes she taught; the story of human culture over vast epochs of time. Her understanding of ancient history was immense, though flawed. Often he wished he could join in on some of those class discussions. He had lingered so at the feet of Socrates and Plato. Yet for all their intelligence, their civilizations had met with ruination—because of evil ones like himself. No matter how brilliant their minds, no matter how noble their cause, they had fallen. All of them.

He carefully watched and listened for many weeks before deciding if she were the one he would choose. What amazed him was that she knew all this horrid history of man, yet she remained moral and seemed to love, even to admire humanity. She helped people when able, attended church, and had remained chaste through the thirty-one years of her existence. Throughout all of this, she remained pleasant, even cheerful. And her energy was boundless in her never-ending pursuit of knowledge and truth, which was remarkable. This was truly a specimen worthy of his attention.

She studied at Washington University in Saint Louis where she taught Anthropology courses to supplement the grants and her meager investment savings, which enabled her to travel and pursue her dream of unearthing some spectacular archaeological discovery. Her interest lay mainly in uncovering sites from the biblical era between 6,000 B.C. and 100 A.D. It was her ambition to help prove the stories in the Bible as fact. Some historical evidence had already been found, and she longed to make even a small contribution that would add to the body of knowledge.

This woman was firm in her faith and confident that no discovery awaited anywhere in the world that would do anything but bolster her belief in God. Such sentiments did not come from the mind but from the heart. She had the gift of faith, given by God to her, marking her as one of his own. This is the very kind of soul Calumnius sought to bring down, to turn evil.

Calumnius studied her, not only because he enjoyed doing so, nor to confirm the wisdom of his choice, but mostly to learn her weakness, so that he would know how to attack. She presented more of a challenge than he had experienced in many earth ages. He often would face her, eye to eye; his breath inches from her face, challenging her to feel his presence. Staring intently into her eyes, as they looked past and through him, as he waited for the signals of discomfort in her demeanor. Such fun this was for him, seeing her react, with some involuntary response of irritation, some feeling of bodily discomfort as humans do when they sense they're being watched.

Although he had done this several times, she did not run screaming into the night for help as many had been prone to do. Some had actually sought psychiatric help after their bouts with him. And even more humorous were the ones who sought the help of ghost hunters. There were those who felt tortured enough to even commit suicide. And for those that sought the help of a priest, but most would not intervene to help them. Many priests themselves no longer believed in evil, or worse, they did believe and were afraid due to their guilt or sense of unworthiness. 

Abigail Rayetta Fitzgerald, as he had always called her in his mind because he enjoyed the beauty and flow of the name, had offered a new challenge for Calumnius as he indulged in this game with her. Once, it shocked him when it was he who turned away first. He who felt a moment of discomfort. She stared directly into his eyes, as if she saw him, which was impossible. He knew that. But he saw, for a brief moment, something that startled him. It only took a brief time to realize that it was her soul that he saw. It was stronger than he had imagined. This brief glimpse confirmed for him that he had wisely chosen his next victim.

Calumnius had once enjoyed his work, so he began to hope that perhaps he would again when the sweetness of success healed his ailing spirit. He had taken great pleasure in bringing down holy ones in the olden days. He had conquered popes, hermits, nuns, and monks over the centuries and had basked in the glory of hell over these victories. He reveled listening to the moans of human souls agonizing and regretting their sins, longing to see the face of God, which was forever denied to them. To Calumnius, the fate these miserable creatures deserved for the sin of their very existence in the universe, a universe that would have been perfect without them was this. He considered them ugly beings, mistakes of God.

Lowly creatures though they were, humans were not the root of his problem. God was. He hated these creatures of God because they could obtain His forgiveness—something he could never do. It had taken a long time to acknowledge that he, Calumnius, actually wanted to be with God. To be one of His holy angels, as he once had been at the dawn of time before Lucifer rebelled. But even to want such a thing was theoretically impossible as he had always assumed—until it happened to him, until he looked into the very face of forgiveness itself.

His view of the nature of this virtue akin to mercy had changed irrevocably about a hundred years ago during his temptation of Alessandro Serenelli in the earth year of 1902. This was a nineteen-year-old boy. What an easy job it should have been. All of them were naturally filled with lust. The other six deadly sins were virtually unneeded where they were concerned. Calumnius planted a seed of desire in the boy, planted it deep in the fertile ground of a physical body raging with emerging male hormones.

You want to have sex with that young girl who just moved with her widowed mother to your parents' farm. She is a beauty, he’d whispered to him. She has a sweet luscious body, and she is right for you—small so she could not overpower you like the girls your own age, and so innocent she cannot possibly compare your inadequacies with other males.

Maria Goretti was twelve years old and unaware of the feelings boys had for her. She dressed modestly and covered her hair with a shawl. Still her beauty showed—her lovely dark eyes fringed with heavy lashes, her full mouth sensuous and soft, and her form overdeveloped and evident beneath her simple dress.

Alessandro saw her and coveted her every day. When she smiled at him in innocence, it roused him to uncontrollable passion. He exposed this to her on more than one occasion, and although she scolded him and averted her eyes, she did not tell anyone. Alessandro interpreted that as a sign of her secret desire for him. A thing not unnoticed by Calumnius.

Every night, the demon Calumnius would taunt the boy until his desires drove him mad. The boy would have her no matter what he risked in the way of reputation or punishment. Calumnius told him the pleasures would be worth it all.

He began to groom himself meticulously, and it seemed to him as if she smiled at him more sweetly. As she studied, he pretended to be interested in her book on Catholic saints. When she was willing to talk with him at length, he could hear her melodious voice, which sparked a burning in his loins, causing him to touch himself as she looked away to read passages for him.

Maria had sincere concern for his soul and was happy to do her part to lead him back to Godly pursuits. His urges so fervently aroused, Alessandro could wait no longer to persuade her with looks, gestures, and words. He needed to touch her body, both for the pleasures it would give him and to stir those feelings within her anatomy that hadn't as of yet been awakened. He would show her desires she had never known, and be her guide to the universe that was her body with all its hidden secrets.

All of those passions he had learned about from reading materials he had gotten from other boys, things he paid dearly for with money stolen from his father's coffers. He read how to stimulate a girl to ecstasy by touching her in places of which she herself was not even aware. It did not matter that she protested continuously to all his efforts, to his pleadings, or to his sensuous charms. She could not refuse the pleasures he would give her, once she knew of them. Maria would be grateful that he had awakened her sensitivities. She had a girl's body, and he had learned about girls' bodies from his books, some of which had explicit pictures. He knew just what to do to her, and she would want him to do them once she felt how good it was. They could sneak off to his room or to quiet places on the farm, where they would be undisturbed, and enjoy each other’s bodies for hours on end. She would become his, perhaps even desire him the way he did her.

That is what Alessandro was thinking when he threw her down and reached under her layered skirts. She tried to push him away, of course, but she could not with his greater weight upon her. He tickled her against the surface of her pettipants, which should have created feelings of pleasure. It should have warmed her, but she stubbornly denied herself that gift he offered. So he grabbed the crotch of the lace undergarment and pulled ferociously, ripping it away and gaining entry to the soft, moist prize beneath. He fingered her gently, touching her exactly in the correct locations and in the way he had read about. She cried out in terror, demanding he stop, telling him this was sinful and displeasing to God. That made him very angry.

Maria was so small; he could overpower her if she did not eventually comply with his wishes. He himself was not as large as other boys his age. He could not hope to get any of his female schoolmates interested in him; they called him pipsqueak and laughed. As he remembered this, it made him even angrier at Maria—his only hope for a sexual partner that he could see. He was tired of masturbating to pictures, covering his organ with a sock to hide his emission from his mother, who always checked the sheets and scolded him when she found them soiled. He was desperate to know what it was like to feel himself inside a real girl.

He gave up on trying to evoke desire in this inexperienced girl, so he forced his way inside her. But she fought harder, kicking and screaming—even calling to the Virgin Mary to save her from this act of impurity. Alessandro grabbed her by the throat to stop her from crying out so loudly, and it worked. She seemed to lose consciousness, as he finally was able to have his way with her without the distraction of waving arms and flailing feet. The thrill he’d felt was so enormous that he no longer cared about eliciting pleasure for her. As she coughed and regained consciousness, he urged himself to regain an erection with one hand while securing her weakened body with the other. It was his one chance, since she wasn't likely to allow herself to be in his company alone ever again. He planned to ravage her repeatedly, knowing he would never have the opportunity again.

Confident that she would not tell, as she hadn't mentioned to anyone of his previous attempts, Alessandro wanted to have a longer time with her. She would cooperate now that her initial fears could be cast aside—her loss of virginity, the pain of the first entry past the tissue that had been torn, and the avoidance of knowing what it was really like to experience such passion. He pushed into her again, but she kicked and struggled with every bit of strength left in her. In her exhaustion, she prayed again and pleaded with Alessandro to stop and to beg forgiveness from God for what he had done. He could not enjoy himself with her constant struggling, so with his left hand, he pulled his pocketknife from his jacket and flicked it open quickly, and then he stabbed her in the chest. For some reason her stillness inflamed his desire to greater heights, and he continued pumping himself into her body. When she moved, he struck her again and again—fourteen times in all—and young Maria Goretti moved no more.

All of this, Calumnius watched with pride. It was I who have brought about all of this evil. The boy had become so much more than I could ever have dreamed—a rapist and a murderer. As Alessandro pleasured himself with those final strokes inside a half-dead girl, Calumnius entered the boy's body, feeling with him his powerful ejaculation, a practice often employed by many demons—giving them almost the sensation of flesh and blood—also giving them all the more reason to envy humans. As the boy finished, finally, Calumnius lingered within his body astride the girl, also gazing into her still barely living face. This was the event that changed him.

The sorrow in her eyes was of a depth he had seldom seen. It was so much more than suffering endured by bodily pain—that vision of soulful expression. She reminded him of the Virgin Mother herself at the foot of the cross, weeping for her Son while praying for the forgiveness of humanity. He had been there; he remembered it well.

Calumnius had been there at Calvary, as had all the demons, to watch the spectacle God had created there. He attempted to offer salvation to creatures who were too stupid and absolutely incapable of appreciating the gesture. The vast dominion of hell clamored to Calvary on that day that Jesus of Nazareth died, but only a few demons were able to view the proceedings from nearby because hordes of angels guarded the perimeters. The evil ones strained to watch the humiliating lengths to which the Supreme Being had lowered himself.

From all outward appearances, this Son of Man, who hung on a cross with bleeding head and broken wounds, was merely human. But the demons knew who He was, even if most of the people there did not. Only a few of the demons were able to break the barriers and venture close enough to see His face, but Calumnius had been one of those.

Angels watched in agony while no one saw them, except for perhaps John, the Beloved Apostle, who often had visions and seemed to be looking right at them, as Seraphim swarmed with fiery light and the ones known as Virtues sparkled through the air, trying to heal the wounds of their God, who was dying before them. The Powers, the Order of angels who guarded over life and death, appeared as hazy forms waiting for the end to come, as they would stay with Him throughout His entire time in the tomb. Archangels stood watch, as they do for every major event involving the matters of humankind.

The sin of Adam and Eve, the original sin, was forgiven. At His death, it would become possible for the first time since the eviction from Eden for humans to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Hoards of righteous souls gathered at the gates for their long-awaited reward.

Calumnius watched all of this with eyes of anger and hate. How could the Son of God be so foolish as to die for these worthless creatures? Hence, his job became all the more clear; his dedication, at that time, profound. He hated all humanity because they had been given the chance at heaven not afforded him, a glorious being once beautiful beyond imagination and now horrid before God and man. He could never be with his Creator, yet these loathsome vermin would be welcomed with loving arms. And through their stupidity, they disregarded this gift, too moronic to even realize what it was they failed to regard with gratitude.

Calumnius heard the words of Christ as He hung dying on His cross, Father, forgive them for they know not what they do. It confounded him why God cared at all about these lower life-forms.

It was in those eyes of the one they called Jesus that Calumnius witnessed unfathomable sorrow combined with utter and complete forgiveness. Christ's pain appeared to come not so much from his physical condition, which was great, but from the hurt caused by the failings of humanity to love according to his command. His sorrow was that even after all of this—his passionate suffering and death—human beings would continue to sin and sin horrendously. He loved them this much, yet they seemed not to love Him in return at all. Jesus knew all of this and forgave them in spite of themselves. In Christ’s eyes, Calumnius beheld the same look of compassion he later witnessed in Maria Goretti as she forgave the boy who took her virginity and her life.

Chapter 2. The Demon Covets

Calumnius stalked and coveted Abigail Rayetta Fitzgerald for her humanity, which he hated, and for her goodness, which he hated even more. He sought to destroy her soul because of the nature of what she was—a creature that God loved more than the angels. A glorious trophy for him it would be to bring down one such as her, when there were so few good ones left in the world.

Twice in the duration of his existence, Calumnius had witnessed this remarkable quality called forgiveness. God, he had always known to have possessed this ability to forgive, and to withhold it as well. And yet this extraordinary thing—a mere human was able to experience it as well, as did the Almighty. This sharing of such a powerful attribute of God defined humans as more than just intelligent animals—not merely pets to God, but His very children. This realization confounded Calumnius more than it enlightened him, and it changed him. But it did not alter his situation. He was what he was, and would continue to be a demon forever. No other choice was afforded him but to continue to do what demons do—for all eternity. So he lingered on earth for long periods, trying to resolve these mysteries in his soul—something that he actually wasn't sure he even possessed.

He had specifically targeted Abigail Rayetta Fitzgerald as his victim for the very reason of her goodness—goodness, he wanted to destroy. Yet she also intrigued him for reasons he didn't quite understand. She spent most of her waking hours mired in the study of the evils humankind had thrust upon themselves. How could this woman remain good? How could she retain a love of humanity with all she knew about the worst of human nature? Yet this is what he saw.

As he casually reflected upon her, his attention wandering as he pondered her nature, a sudden sensation hit him. As if he could feel in a physical way a horror was running up and down his spine. As though inside of him his being was silently screaming. In a shadow of invisible ethers, he manifested beside her. A male student of hers had cornered her in a dark alley on the west end of Saint Louis not far from the university. She often walked this way to visit a coffee shop at the Loop or to browse the shops. It was a more dangerous section of town, though Abigail had always done this unafraid—until now.

I could say that you seduced me, and even if the dean believed you, said the male dressed in a Washington University hoodie and jeans, there would be an investigation. That alone would ruin your career. Why risk it? I'm not asking for the moon here. What difference does it make to you anyway whether I have an A or a D in a subject that doesn't even matter to anyone anyway?

Perhaps it doesn't matter to you, she answered with confidence, but to many, myself included, anthropology is a significant pursuit. To lie about your scores damages the integrity of the entire class, lessens the value of the work done by the others who have studied hard to earn their grades, and, she added, it would be lying. I don't lie.

Look, all I care about is getting my undergraduate years behind me, so I can get into medical school. I need a 4.0 average to qualify, and these credits will complete my Social Studies requirement. There is no option for either of us here. It's going to be my way or my way, he said in a low voice, ignoring both her refusal and her reasoning.

If it's so important to you, Mr. Reid, she said calmly, though Calumnius sensed her emotions to the contrary, you should have prepared for the tests and completed the assignments. If you want to threaten me, then do so. I will testify to the truth, and we will see who is believed.

You are so sure they'll believe you over me? he said. You are risking everything. Why would you want to bring such negative attention to yourself in such an embarrassing, humiliating situation?

For one thing, Mr. Reid, because I do not tell lies, and I see no reason to do so for your cause, which matters not at all to me. Personally, I would just as soon have doctors in this world not so willing to compromise morals and standards accepted by society. And secondly, because you haven't done the work or passed the tests, she said. I have verifiable records of your achievement in my class, or should I say of your lack of achievement. Students who have sex with their professors provide excellent grades to show for it. You certainly don't.

The university will not appreciate the publicity, Ms. Fitzgerald, he warned. Never mind salary review time. The press loves stories about attractive female teachers accused of sexually abusing students.

If the university cares so little for integrity, she said, then I belong somewhere else. And I don't care about public opinion. Those who know me will not believe it.

Angered at her naivety, Mr. Reid finally turned in a huff and stormed off, leaving her to wonder if this would be the end of this ordeal. Abigail picked up the large satchel of books and papers she had dropped and continued on her way home, completely unaware that the conversation had been overheard. Calumnius followed, walking in front of her backward, examining her face for signs of what she might be thinking or feeling.

She arrived at her modest apartment building, walked up two flights of stairs due to the out of order sign on the elevator, and entered a cozy interior laden with piles of books everywhere. She kicked off her shoes and turned on some soft music while she turned on the shower and waited for the water to attain a comfortable temperature. It wasn't much, but this was Abigail's haven.

The strains of ancient instruments carried Calumnius back to Egypt three thousand years ago. The music was a hymn to Osiris, heavy with the rhythm of the sistrum, an ancient form of tambourine. In his mind, he saw processions with millions of spectators and throngs of warriors dressed in shimmering gold, which sparkled in the light of torches. How was it that this mortal in the twenty-first century was able to hear such sounds? He examined the equipment and perused her collection of CDs, the random disks lying on the shelf, and the empty case that described an artist who took credit for this marvel. Admiring this sampling of what human talents created, he perhaps felt compelled to admit to their having some talents after all.

Calumnius lingered there, examining her things and reading the titles of her books. She emerged from her bedroom and passed before him, dancing naked in Middle Eastern style with a rolled towel stretched between her upturned arms. The music was majestic, hardly meant for belly-dancing, but she forced it somehow to work rhythmically with slow, deliberate hip thrusts. Her face was reverent more than sensual, and her body gyrations seemed like a tribute to some ancient godhead rather than a glorification of her female attributes, glorious though they were presented before him. Though naked, she danced with innocence, her round, full breasts bouncing in a way that even he, who did not find humans attractive, could appreciate as having a certain beauty.

Smart, gutsy, confident, and attractive, according to human standards, he thought. Though he was not familiar with the rules governing the institution where she taught, it seemed to Calumnius as if she had handled the situation in the alley very well. As she showered, he watched, seeing that her body was well proportioned, much like the women pictured in the advertisements everywhere he cast his eye in this world. This would probably classify her as an attractive specimen by her own species—desirable, to say the least. Yet she lived alone, without a mate, and had never had one, from what he could observe. The reason for this did not seem clear. Judging by his observations of her kind over millenniums, it confounded him that she was so alone in the world.

Calumnius watched her body as she lathered her long legs, her breasts shimmering in the water and her hips swaying with movements that jiggled the rounded flesh of her buttocks to the rhythm of the music filtering through the open doors. Her rich, long, auburn hair, now wet, clung to her back and shoulders, reaching down to her tiny waist. He did not understand sexual desire according to human standards, but he could admire the symmetry of her structure and the pleasing curves and dips of her anatomy. Calumnius felt no physical stirrings inside himself, not that others of his kind had not had such inclinations.

Legends proliferate throughout the human world about couplings between demons and daughters of men. Some truth exists behind the preposterous notion, Calumnius would admit. He knew of several of his kind that had attempted such unions, but all had failed. Even then, he supposed that their inclinations were not so much based on attraction to the creature itself, but of a strong desire to bring about offspring—a living replication of themselves. Sensual pleasures may have been a factor for some of the lower-level demons, ones with less mental capacity. But procreation was the greater motivator, considering the extreme effort required for such attempts. Reproduction was another gift from God to humans that He denied to both angels and demons. But Calumnius did not share these twisted desires. He himself did not approve of interspecies unions. Such biological functions he considered beneath his level of comprehension.

The level of difficulty in attempting copulation is nearly impossible for a being without a body. While demons, like angels, have mustered the power to produce structures of flesh and blood for short periods of time, it required great strength and much concentration. Angels have been known to have appeared as physical beings, not only in Bible stories and in legends of all cultures, but even in modern times. The tales are too numerous for any serious person to completely discount. To perform a sexual union, the strategy is even more ambitious. According to the Sacred Scripture, the Sons of God found the daughters of men fair—but those passages were something Calumnius could not take seriously. The demons he knew of who had attempted this feat exhausted all their resources for eons of time.

Mastering the creation of molecules from the finest antimatter is difficult enough. Constructing a male genital organ—something demons do not require for any reason—is arduous work. To then produce cells and DNA capable of reproduction, ones that can carry traits of demons for which there is no human counterpart—the task is beyond the capacity of even the most powerful of creatures as themselves. No such viable life forms have thus far emerged from the uterus of any human woman—to his knowledge. If such a thing had ever happened, the news would be astounding. It was not something that interested Calumnius in the least, though he amused himself with such thoughts as he continued to watch his victim in her shower.

Abigail Rayetta Fitzgerald interested Calumnius, but not in a sexual sense. He noticed the things on her desk, her choices in music and art, and a small sampling of antiquities, which dotted the shelves and tabletops in her living area. Most of these items were small, less precious items from the Middle East. A fossil or two, a shell, and an amulet. The most valuable piece of all seemed to be the Egyptian amulet of Bes, the dwarf god, also known as Pataikoi. These were worn to pray to the god for fertility and were commonplace during the period of 1000 – 700 B.C. This one he saw displayed on a bookshelf would be worth several thousand dollars in the current market, a price that seemed beyond the budget of a woman who wore second-hand clothes and refused to pay for cable TV. This possession and its prominence in the room spoke volumes about her.

Bes was used to produce magical spells in the pagan world. Idolatry proliferated among the heathen, illiterate cultures. Now intellectuals considering themselves of superior mental abilities labored to understand such portals to hell. They tended to regard primitive people who made potions with frog eyeballs and foretold the future in pig guts as admirable teachers with ancient secrets while those who chose to pray the rosary were considered narrow-minded and of lower intelligence. If they had any inkling of awareness about the fear such prayers evoked in demons, they would not be so smug.

Abigail had assisted in excavations in Israel, Jordan, and Turkey—as her budget and the regulations of the variously changing regimes would permit. Although it hadn't been her discovery, she had been privileged to excavate at the diggings in the Valley of Siddim, just south of the Dead Sea and the site at Numeria, which are believed to be the ruins of the legendary Sodom and Gomorrah. Contrary to common knowledge, there were more than just the two cities that were destroyed by fire. Archaeologists have actually located the northeast gate with two flanking towers through which Lot traveled with his family to escape the destruction as forewarned by the angels of God. Angels—angels that were nearly ravished by the sexual appetites of the very reprobates whom God sought to destroy. Their behaviors, in their extreme perversity, justified God's wrath because they actually threatened the human DNA pool. God could not permit such corruption in His infant civilization. And it wasn't the first nor the last time God destroyed huge segments of humanity to purge it of its loathsomeness.

Another group of archaeologists, one that Abigail was also unable to join, had discovered the remains of Noah's Ark near the top of a mountain in Turkey. The relics procured from the site are dated at 4,800 years old. Scholars worldwide are still studying such things, and they only prove the point further in the mind of Calumnius—that the human experiment is a failure. God Himself should be ready to admit this by now. How many times must he cleanse the world of human debris? How much dead, putrid flesh must be carved away by the Master's scalpel before He realizes that the creature itself should be permitted to die out? Did not the very first disobedience by the original pair prove their worthlessness? It would have been better to destroy those two before they'd had a chance to fill the world with their flawed species.

Calumnius considered that he had perhaps chosen too ambitiously—that he would never be able to seduce Abigail into any form of sin whatsoever. But he was not a quitter, and she had been chosen for the level of challenge she presented. He faced ridicule and mockery by the other demons if he returned to hell in failure or with another insignificant success. Life there was miserable enough, though he could easily endure isolation, be that their form of punishment. It proved effectual with some humans, but they knew him too well to go so easy on him. They would use torturous methods suited to his own disposition. It would be unbearable. He required nothing short of bringing down some good, holy person, a saint, to make up for all the poorly executed and mediocre performances over the past hundred years—every temptation after the encounter with Maria Goretti.

Abigail entered the area where he stood examining the amulet, walking past him to her desk, and began poring over papers—lists, pamphlets, booklets. Miss Abigail was planning a trip, or trying to, if the expressions on her face were any indication. She opened her laptop and checked online, bringing up her bank account, and scribbled some numbers on a pad of paper. Exhaling through her clenched