Demon_ A Memoir Part 25

"Don't." I heard a tremor in her voice. "Don't do that. You did everything right."

"I don't think I did."

"Yes, you did. You're a good man."

I hated those words. I hated hearing them. Being a good man had won me nothing. Lucian's words echoed somewhere between my brain and the phone line.

I ask you, what is good, really, Clay?

And I knew the answer: not good enough.

But I thanked her anyway, knowing she meant well, and asked her again if she was well.

"I am. I'm pregnant."

And with those words, I felt her fall irrevocably away from me. All the hope I had harbored, but had been afraid to admit even to myself, slipped away like coins through a grate.

"That's wonderful, Aubrey. That's really something." My voice was hollow. I wished her well again and we hung up.

It seemed so unfair. She would have the house, the children, the life I had wanted with her. She would never endure what I had, would never know what those months had been for me.

It was unfair, but it had tethered me too long. And despite our reasons and expectations-realistic or not-I had surely let her down as much as she had betrayed and abandoned me. I was a good man, but I was no better than she.

I forgave her.

I HAD NOT BEEN to Esad's since that first night. The strap of bells against the gla.s.s sounded sharp and metallic, too loud. The smell of the grill, the chicken and burgers and gyros, flooded my nostrils and I was there again, that night in October.

But tonight I was a different man.

The Mediterranean stranger was there, sitting at the same table. This time I did not wait for him to summon me but walked directly to his table and sat down.

"You let me believe lies."

His hair curled over his forehead as it had before, though this time I did not find his looks enviable. His wool trousers did not summon to mind cognac, yachts, or Cohibas.

His watch, stainless, heavy, and surely expensive, did not interest me.

He studied me, his eyes darting across my face as though he were reading a book. He smiled slightly. "But I never lied." He picked at his slacks, at the cuff of his cashmere sweater. It reminded me of Richard, struck me as fastidious and affected.

"And Mrs. Russo?"

"What business is it to you?"

He was right. I supposed that was between her and her G.o.d. I did not expect to get a straight answer from Lucian now, anyway. Besides, asking would not return her to me, grant me retribution, or help me now.

The demon looked away, deflecting my gaze.

"The story isn't finished," I said.

"Ah, the story," he said coldly. He tapped his chin in a mockery of thinking and sat back, regarding me over his slightly hooked nose. "How about this. I had a dream-if demons truly dream-the other night. I dreamed I stood before a great mirror-one that distorted all the things I once thought beautiful, recasting them in ghoulish images, casting me into an ugly mold I have known only in my own mind. And it threw Lucifer into such grotesque state that I barely recognized him except by his eyes and that presence I know to be his. And when I shook free of it, my strange waking dream, it occurred to me that I was not looking at a mirror at all but into the reflection of all things as they are, for all things must be seen in their true light when held up to the mirror of Truth."

"What does that have to do with anything?" My anger, my grief, my outrage bubbled up all at once.

His mouth formed a tight line. "I saw Lucifer the other day. Still brilliant, my Prince. Still beautiful. Perhaps not quite as stunning as before-it may be that the millennia are finally working their wear upon him, as the shining cloth wears at last upon the finish of an antique, as even kisses wear down the gold leaf of an icon. But he's lovely yet." His eyes shone with terrible light. "It's almost more than I can stand, remembering him in the long idyll of first Eden, before, though I have long since come to terms with all that has happened since. To look upon him now is still amazing, though he is not-will never again be-the perfect creature he once was. But then, none of us are what we were. Even you, Clay." He looked at me, clearly expectant.

"Do you feel better saying that? Ruminating about your life, though your future is set and there's nothing you can do about it-living in the past, as we say? I don't care that you saw Lucifer! How does it finish? The story isn't finished!"

The dark smile changed, transformed itself into a terrible glare. "But mine is. And that is all I am concerned about. I'm tired, Clay. I came back to you, not because I wanted to, but because I was compelled to. I played a game with you, and for the game to end I must finish it. So here I am. And this is all I have for you and all you will get from me, for I know very well how my own story shall end. Oh, there's more for you, a bit more, but this is the end as it pertains to you and me. My tale has given way to yours. Don't you see it, or are you still blind, you idiotic human? In the end, as I have said, it has always been about you."

"No." I said, my emotions heating to a roiling rage. "I don't see at all what this has to do with me. And without that, it has no ending. And without an ending, it can't ever be published. So there's some truth for you!"

"That doesn't matter."

"What do you mean it doesn't matter? That was your aim all along!"

"No." His mouth curved, revealing white teeth. "It wasn't. I told you I needed to tell you my story. Yes, I knew you would write it. I knew your ego would find the opportunity irresistible. But my goal all along has been to tell you my story."

"Just to be heard? Just to ruin my life?" I was shaking now.

"How long do you expect to live, Clay?"

"What?"

"I hope not very long."

My heart was beating erratically. He glanced at my chest, as though he could see it through my flesh.

"That heart of yours has outgrown its casing. It happened a long time ago. You'll go to the doctor in a couple of days, and he probably won't even properly diagnose it. But here, what's a trifle to me? I give you a parting gift: restrictive cardiomyopathy."

I blanched. "What? What is that?"

"Look it up. You're handy that way. Be sure to inform your doctor, or he might well miss it or, more likely, dismiss it as an anxiety disorder. It doesn't really matter if he does. The only thing that could possibly save you by now is a transplant."

Sweat trickled down my sides inside my sweater. "Why? Why did you do this?"

"Because this is your life, Clay: fleeting, ephemeral, and insignificant except for one thing, that El loved you. And you have missed it. Missed it all, completely. And now, look at you. Sweating, worried about your life, your story. Did you expect to live forever? Did you think this day would not come? It had to, if not in this way then in some other. I've done you a favor!"

"What favor?" favor?"

"Still blind!" His eyes flashed with an evil I found both horrible and horribly mesmerizing. "Look around you! Open your eyes! In telling you the truth about yourself more clearly than anyone ever hears it, I have shown you a choice that was before you all along. But no, even now you cannot see it."

"What choice?"

In the sandwich shop the demon had been incensed, but here before me now, I knew the purest hate in the universe was leveled, in this moment, at me.

"The truth, Clay! In the end I have told you the truth-a truth that, having heard, you are now doubly accountable for. Yes, if you become one of them, those shining souls, what can I do about it? But reject the truth even by refusing to decide, and reap the consequence you rightfully deserve. Do you hear that? That is accountability. It is the sound of h.e.l.l, calling for you! Having had such an extravagant gift offered you, your rejection can only result in d.a.m.nation far greater than that of those to whom it was never offered."

His lips pulled back from his teeth. "This then, shall be my singular consolation, my bitter solace: that when you die-and the time will be soon-there will be at least one of El's precious clay humans more d.a.m.ned to h.e.l.l than I!"

I gaped as he got up. This time it was I who grabbed his wrist. But he shook me off as though I were an insect.

I fell back. "Where are you going?"

"I have an appointment," he growled. And he strode out into the black night, the light of the moon blue in his hair.

I STAGGERED HOME, HEARTSICK-literally-knowing he was right. But knowing, also, what I needed to do.

I had come to the end of the story only to find that it was no story at all. That my childhood training in the stuff of myth was a living and breathing reality.

That indeed, there was a monster.

Just not the one I thought.

EPILOGUE.

Kat,Here it is, in its entirety. I need you to believe me when I tell you this story is true-true, and double-edged. As you read these pages, do so knowing they will force a decision from you, one that was in front of you even before you held them in your hands.I want to talk when you are done. If, by chance, something has happened to me by then, bury the pages, burn them, publish them-it doesn't matter. As I said, the choice is there whether the others read it or not.In the end I don't know what was more poisonous-his story and my obsession with it, my vacillating belief, or Lucian himself.He's gone. He's accomplished what he came for. As for me, I need time to think and to make my own decision. Unfortunately for me, time is the one thing I do not have.Take care, Kat. I would have liked to have known you better.Clay

AUTHOR'S NOTES

I have based Lucian's account of prefall bliss on a widely but by no means universally held understanding of Ezekiel 28:1119. Some commentators view this pa.s.sage as a literal lament or prophecy against the ruler of Tyre, a wealthy Phoenician city in what is now Lebanon. Others believe the prophet addresses the power energizing the throne of Tyre-Lucifer himself. Advocates of this second interpretation cite the fact that the king is referred to as having dwelt in Eden, been an anointed cherub, been created (rather than propagated), and been blameless since his creation. This is the interpretation I chose to underpin my fictional imagining of Lucifer's prefall existence.

I have supplemented my imagining of Lucifer's fall with a similar interpretation of Isaiah 14:1214, wherein the "son of the morning" states his intention to ascend to heaven with five famous "I wills." Again, this is a widely known but not universally held understanding of this pa.s.sage, which on the surface laments the prophetic fall of the pagan king of Babylon, a contemporary of the prophet.

In the ancient Near East, cherubs were depicted as beings with an animal body (usually a lion or bull), wings, and a human head. Large cherub statues often guarded the gates of ancient pagan temples. Biblically speaking, cherubs may be found guarding the gates of Eden (Genesis 3:24) adorning the lid of the ark of the covenant as golden statues (Exodus 25:1722) and holding up G.o.d's throne (Ezekiel 1:428; 10:122).

I've only referenced cherubim, seraphim, and angels (including archangels) in this story, but the Bible notes other significant rankings of spiritual forces: thrones (Colossians 1:16), dominions (Ephesians 1:21; Colossians 1:16), princ.i.p.alities (Ephesians 1:21; 3:16; 6:12; Colossians 1:16) and powers (Ephesians 1:21; 3:10; 6:12; Colossians 1:16). The only authority over the upper (cherubic) rank is Elohim; even the well-known archangel Michael must employ G.o.d's authority against Lucifer as in Jude 9.

I have a.s.sumed that the rock garden in Eden of Ezekiel 28:13 where Lucifer resided before his rebellion physically preexisted the Eden of Genesis and that it was the (unspoiled) earth mentioned in Genesis 1:1. For the sake of story, I've theorized a chaotic ruin of Lucifer's first garden in Eden before the formless and dark Eden of Genesis 1:2.

Ezekiel says the object of his lament dwelled in "the holy mount of G.o.d" (Ezekiel 28:14, 16). The exact phrase, "the holy mount of G.o.d" occurs nowhere else in Scripture though Jerusalem is sometimes called "the holy mount" where G.o.d dwells in His temple (Psalm 99:9; Isaiah 56:7). For this telling, I have imagined G.o.d's heavenly dwelling as a spectacular spiritual mountain-that is to say, something both and either physical and figurative simply because I cannot think that our concrete world would rely on the same physical laws and logic as one inhabited by spiritual beings in a perfect Eden before even the creation of the sun or moon. Other references to a mountain of G.o.d indicating government are: Isaiah 2:2 and Daniel 2:3435, 4445.

The Bible distinguishes between angels fallen and unfallen/elect (1 Timothy 5:21), and is specific about the judgment and fate of the lost (2 Peter 2:4; Jude 6). Therefore, I have based Lucian's odium on the fact that the Bible makes no mention of a messianic provision for fallen angels, no matter how they curiously long to look into the mysteries of salvation (1 Peter 1:12).

Lucifer derives his name from several sources. In Isaiah 14:12 the Hebrew is helel, helel, meaning "shining" (in the way of celestial bodies)-hence, the interpretation "son of the morning," or "morning star." As the morning star (Venus) is considered the brightest of "stars"-and some hold that G.o.d referred to angels in Job 38:7 as "stars"-Lucifer was to have been the brightest of all creation. Throughout the New Testament angels are referred to as shining beings (Matthew 28:23; Revelation 10:1), and Lucifer is said to pa.s.s himself off as an angel of light. Satan is a.s.sociated with Lucifer as having fallen like lightning from heaven (Luke 10:18, as a.s.sociated with Ezekiel 28:17), and having fallen because of his pride (1 Timothy 3:6, as a.s.sociated with Isaiah 14). meaning "shining" (in the way of celestial bodies)-hence, the interpretation "son of the morning," or "morning star." As the morning star (Venus) is considered the brightest of "stars"-and some hold that G.o.d referred to angels in Job 38:7 as "stars"-Lucifer was to have been the brightest of all creation. Throughout the New Testament angels are referred to as shining beings (Matthew 28:23; Revelation 10:1), and Lucifer is said to pa.s.s himself off as an angel of light. Satan is a.s.sociated with Lucifer as having fallen like lightning from heaven (Luke 10:18, as a.s.sociated with Ezekiel 28:17), and having fallen because of his pride (1 Timothy 3:6, as a.s.sociated with Isaiah 14).

The name Satan, Satan, at its most basic, denoted an adversary or enemy of human or spiritual origin. In the lives of Job and Joshua, Lucifer embodied the role of antagonistic accuser and adversary of the faithful. Throughout the Bible Satan is given many other names including G.o.d of This Age (2 Corinthians 4:4), Prince of the Power of the Air (Ephesians 2:2), and Prince of This World (Matthew 4:8; Luke 4:57; John 14:30). at its most basic, denoted an adversary or enemy of human or spiritual origin. In the lives of Job and Joshua, Lucifer embodied the role of antagonistic accuser and adversary of the faithful. Throughout the Bible Satan is given many other names including G.o.d of This Age (2 Corinthians 4:4), Prince of the Power of the Air (Ephesians 2:2), and Prince of This World (Matthew 4:8; Luke 4:57; John 14:30).

Lucian's human guises are based on the abundance of angels that appear as humans throughout the Bible. The book of Job indicates that Satan has the power to inflict sickness (Job 2:7), control elements (Job 1:1619), and inflict discouragement, doubt and disappointment (Job 3:110; 7:11; 10:118). Job is explicit that Satan has no power to harm those protected by G.o.d. Ephesians 6:1018 indicates that children of G.o.d possess the means to withstand Satanic attack.

I need to cite my great reliance on H. LaVern Schafer's work, Satan: The Enemy Without Satan: The Enemy Without (Schafer, 1996) in addition to the usual commentaries and indexes, as well as books such as Billy Graham's (Schafer, 1996) in addition to the usual commentaries and indexes, as well as books such as Billy Graham's Angels. Angels.

Last, I should say that despite my research I have never come to the point that I feel I completely understand the implications of G.o.d's relationship with spiritual beings or the nuances of pa.s.sages like the ones found in Ezekiel and Isaiah. I chose the interpretations I did for the sense they make to me and also for their storytelling merit. I encourage you to pa.s.s my views and these notes through the sieve of your own discernment and to use them as a springboard for your own investigation.

WHY I WROTE DEMON: A MEMOIR DEMON: A MEMOIR.

One day, as I drove the stretch of Nebraska road that leads to my acreage, I found myself wondering what it would be like to be angelic and fallen. Would I go around tempting people to l.u.s.t, covet, envy . . . just for kicks? It seemed too shallow a motivation for any complex, spiritual creature. There had to be more to it.

Suddenly, I realized that being angelic and fallen was similar to being human and fallen-except for one major difference: the provision of a Messiah.

I immediately wondered what it must feel like to be unquestionably d.a.m.ned-and worse, to watch humans luxuriate in and take for granted the grace made available to them from a doting G.o.d. And I thought: Why wouldn't an angelic creation resent a human recipient of G.o.d's grace? And why wouldn't a demon want to prove that creature unworthy again and again as a result? Why wouldn't an angelic creation resent a human recipient of G.o.d's grace? And why wouldn't a demon want to prove that creature unworthy again and again as a result? Now I knew what it must feel like to be an angelic outsider looking in with jealous eyes and razored heart. Now I knew what it must feel like to be an angelic outsider looking in with jealous eyes and razored heart.

And so let me ask you: What if you made one mistake?

One.

What if one moment you were worshipping the Mighty G.o.d and Creator that brought you into existence . . . and the next you were d.a.m.ned for eternity?

You had never seen sin, you had no experience with death, you had never felt separation from your G.o.d. But you had turned your worship to the greatest being under G.o.d in an impulsive moment that seemed to make sense at the time. You only belatedly realized that something had changed. You just weren't sure what.

What if you watched as that same G.o.d replaced you in his affections with a baser, uglier, mortal breed-a creature made of clay. And what if you watched in horror as he breathed into their mud bodies the essence of his own spirit-a gift you had never received?

And what if they took every G.o.d-given thing considered precious by you for granted as they failed again and again . . . and then turned away from G.o.d altogether?

Would you feel some satisfaction when G.o.d, unable to allow them to continue, decided to destroy their world and all of the clay people along with it? And would that satisfaction be lost when you learned he couldn't bear to kill them all but had decided to spare a family-a seed group of those mud people to repopulate the earth?

What if you watched as G.o.d patiently taught them laws so they could stay in relationship with him . . . and they continued to do the same things that had ruined their relationship with him in the first place-over and over again?

Remember: You only did one thing.

And what would you think if that same G.o.d decided, in a radical move, to become one of them, to take on that mud flesh forever, and to let them kill him, and to die for them, so they could be reconciled with him and with him again . . . forever?

You were supposed to be with him forever. You only did one thing.

And how would you feel upon knowing that not every mud person jumped at the chance to have that great gift you feel so much more deserving of-only one thing-that the majority of the mud people decided they didn't want or need?

Would you be jealous? Would you hate the mud people?

Would you want them to die?

Of course you would.