She slumped down in the seat, burying her hands in her face, unable to fight it any longer.
“I love you too, Shane. I don’t want to, but I do. Please don’t do this to me. Caring about someone hurts. I’m better at being evil, which doesn’t require me to pay attention to my heart. Is there no way you’ll quit haunting me? Can’t you just leave me in peace?” She already knew the answer. Love intended to bring her pride low, and would not stop until it won. Her heart had won the battle. Helpless to do otherwise, she cried for the rest of the ride.
“Poisonous. You’ve been crying. What’s wrong?”
She didn’t really feel like recounting her recent jag. Feeling vulnerable only made her irate, especially when interrogated by Evie. She didn’t have the strength to battle with her, however, so she told her the truth.
“I just keep losing the battle with my feelings.” She stopped, carefully weighing the merits of telling Evie about her recent evil deed. Oh, why not. What do I have to lose? “I just seduced someone and had sex with him in front of his wife. I won’t lie to you: if felt great. At least, that is until I got on the train home. I’ve been thinking about Shane Logan a lot—too much, in fact. I can’t seem to get Shane off my mind. I find myself thinking of him more and more.”
Her head fell. She became downcast, and tears start falling from her eyes. Suddenly, she sat straight up, and with fire in her eyes, pointed her very sharp-clawed fingers at Evie, with blistering words to match her fury. “Will you stop praying for me! I can’t take this... this misery I feel. Just leave me alone! I don’t want to feel this way. I feel like...” She stopped and swallowed hard. “I feel like I’m getting caught in that human emotion called ‘falling in love.’ I find that detestable. Please stop. Please stop praying for me. I’m begging you.”
“I can’t stop praying for you. Lord Yehovah compels me. Besides, I care.”
“Yeah right. Care about me when I’m in Hell. I have no bright future—no heaven to look forward to.”
Evie looked at her with sad compassion. Her eyes had glassed over. “You don’t understand what a gift you’ve been given. You have a chance to find peace forever. You can know love that will make you stronger.”
“And what is that to me? I’ve only ever been a demon. What do you expect me to do—roll over and give in? Become like you lovers of The Lamb? No way. Not in this lifetime, cursed as it is.”
“I can’t make you do anything. I wouldn’t even try. I really do love you, Poisonous. Deep inside your wicked heart, I see a tender and compassionate person, even though you are a spirit being. Even Pristine Honor, the angel you used to be. You don’t see her yet, but I do.”
Poisonous roared with sardonic laughter. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that? That’s the most profound nonsense I’ve ever heard!”
“Think what you will. I’ll not stop praying for you. I’m using the most powerful weapon I know to stop evil from influencing you, and it’s obviously working.”
Poisonous answered by getting up, and storming off to her bedroom. Before she went in, she turned and yelled at Evie. “Be cursed and raped, daughter of a dog!” The door slammed behind her.
* * *
Thursday, August 14th
The afternoon sun bore down on the city, the hottest part of the day. Poisonous found herself at Tyrell’s apartment, keeping cool after heating things up. “Tyrell. This has been great. I needed someone to treat me right.”
“I do what I can, baby.”
She gave him a full-press kiss, letting it linger as long as she could, then turned and left. It was a typical Washington summer evening: hot and sweltering, even at 5:30 PM. About a block from the subway, she heard a commotion. Two young thugs held up a man up at gunpoint.
“Gimme your money, fool, or I’ll waste you. Now move it!”
The man trembled, and fumbled for his wallet. He was about to give it to the one who made the demands when a police officer rounded the corner. He pulled out his gun, and shouted at the man. Poisonous stared, transfixed.
“Stop, or I’ll shoot!” the gunman demanded again.
The police officer looked warily at the perp, and said, “Just put the gun down, and there’ll be no trouble.”
The man holding the gun took the man’s wallet, shot the man and ran. The officer ran after him a short distance and shot him. The young man fell, holding his shoulder and the police officer apprehended him. Another officer came on the scene, apprehended the other man at gunpoint, and stood him spread eagle against the squad car.
The first officer called for an ambulance on his radio through dispatch.
“Send an EMT team, and possibly a helicopter. The victim’s been shot directly in the heart and is bleeding profusely.”
She had seen death before, even painful torture, but she was never human; now the events happening were very vivid and real. She relished seeing another human soul sent to eternal misery. She couldn’t take her eyes off the man whom the gunman had shot, lying there bleeding. Shortly thereafter, his spirit left his body. Two angels she had never seen before took him to his ultimate judgment. She knew well what was in store for the poor man, because the Light of Lord Yehovah was absent from his soul. Such circumstances caused her to gloat at such unfortunate souls, but from the other side of the spirit realm.
The sirens of the EMT truck and the ambulance blared as they arrived. The techs scrambled out, and got quickly to work. The EMT techs declared the victim of the shooting dead on the scene. The paramedics put the robber with the gun in the ambulance and took him to George Washington Hospital. The police put the other man in custody.
“All right everyone, you all will have to leave. Please clear the crime scene. Everyone go home,” said the officer-in-charge.
Walking away, she cackled loudly, her smile more a sneer than benevolent; words more condemning than mere observations. “You stupid, foolish worthless human flesh. We’ve made sure you would believe our lie, and now you’ll pay for it... forever!”
* * *
Randy Gable, the Senior Pastor of Church of the Spirit, presided over the Financial Committee. This particular meeting took place on a Wednesday night, when various other ministries took place. After discussing the various accounts that the church’s income would go into, Randy would make sure that about five percent would go into his ‘slush fund’ which he had set aside for himself. The slush fund gave him the ability to buy things for himself that he couldn’t afford on his pastor’s salary. So far, he had bought a brand new car, and invested in a business on the Dark Web that sold arms to militant groups around the world, including ISIS.
A knock on the door to the room interrupted the flow of the meeting. Randy said, “Could someone please see who that is?” One of the assistant pastors went to the door, and found a young couple there.
“May I help you?” the Assistant Pastor asked.
“Yes, we were told to come to this room to ask to talk to the Senior Pastor.”
Randy answered, “I’m sorry folks, but this is a private meeting. You’ll have to leave.” His face reflected his impatience and anger at being interrupted.
The couple, aghast at the callousness of his answer, turned around and left, and decided never to set foot in the doors of this church again.
Finishing up the business for the night, Randy, Randy said, “Alright, ladies and gentlemen. This meeting is adjourned. We’ll meet again next month.” The Associate Pastor who had answered the door, looked at him, shook his head and left.
Politically Correct watched as the various members of the Finance Committee left the room, then smiled to himself. He had been working on this pastor for a long time, along with all the other corrupt pastors in the D.C. area. In each case, the pastors made the church seem on target with the preaching of the Bible, but he encourages them to have one or more major peccadillos. Smiling to himself, he said, “That’s right, Pastor Gable. You deceive these people, and I will make sure you are rewarded…with excommunication, most li
kely. But only after you have ruined this church.” Roaring with laughter, he flew away.
As the unredeemed soul went to his final judgment, Poisonous reflected on what further kinds of mischief she could get into. However, Politically Correct, the ruler of the Washington, D.C. district, appeared to her, and said, “Intelligence has informed me that a certain member of The Church of The Spirit suspects foul play on the part of the Senior Pastor. I need you to make sure this member doesn’t live to tell his tale. His name is Fritz Bellinger, and he lives in Falls Church, Virginia. I have made sure the pastor is deceived, and corrupt.”
Poisonous, invigorated by the death of a human soul, flew through the air, heading towards Virginia, looking forward to destroying another. As she flew through the early evening air, she smelled an odd combination: The Light and dissatisfaction. The pungent odor of being treated badly, not only on the job, but also at a church filled her nostrils. The smell became stronger as she flew over Falls Church. “This must be where Fritz Bellinger lives. Alighting in an craftsman home build several years back in an older neighborhood where a married couple lived, she walked past the living room where the wife quietly watched a show on a shopping channel. The smell of children did not exist, except for a pet dog. Only the two of them inhabited this house.
As she walked unseen towards the master bathroom, the smell was the strongest. There, Fritz stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing his teeth. She wrapped one of her tentacles around his head, squeezing the air out of him. His eyes closed, and he fell over, hit his head against the bathtub as he dropped to the floor. A bruise formed where his head had hit the tub.
About ten minutes later, his wife, Ingrid called out, “Fritz. Are you alright?” Hearing no answer, she walked towards the bathroom, and looked in the door. “Fritz!” she screamed, seeing her husband on the floor, breathing shallow, ragged breaths. She put her hands on his carotid artery; the pulse was weak and erratic. “Oh, no. Fritz, what happened to you?” Tears fell down her eyes as she panicked, alternating between tears and saying, “Fritz, please wake up…”
Poisonous snickered, and then laughed uncontrollably, as panic set in to his wife. A few moments later, Ingrid called 911, and within minutes, an ambulance came and took her husband to the Virginia Hospital Center. Ingrid sat on a bench next to Fritz, and Poisonous stood in the rear of the ambulance, presiding over the situation, unseen to all. A short while later, the doctor-in-charge that night in the Emergency Room looked at the patient, not knowing why he was unconscious. “I’m not sure why he blacked out, but I suspect it was a seizure. Induce a coma, so he doesn’t succumb to more seizures,” the doctor said. The crew quickly did as the doctor requested, and Fritz breathed on a respirator, lying on the hospital bed, eyes closed, oblivious of the world around him.
Eleven
Friday, August 15th
About a day later, Poisonous decided to pay Fritz and Ingrid a visit in the hospital. She landed in the Fritz’ room, and observed him waking up from his coma. The doctor asked him what year it was, and he answered, mentioning the previous year’s date, including the previous year’s president.
“No, honey,” said Ingrid. “That was last year. It’s now a year later, and we have a new president.”
“Really?” said Fritz. “ I’m confused.” Then he looked at Ingrid and asked, “Who are you? You look familiar, but I can’t quite place you.”
“I’m your wife,” Ingrid said, sadness in her eyes. “We’ve been married for twenty years.”
Poisonous laughed at the damage she had done to Fritz, and the sorrow his wife felt.
The doctor stood next to the bed, and said to Ingrid, “We’re not certain what caused this, but I have a strong hunch it was a stroke. He may have to undergo mental therapy, accompanied by medicine to help him recover from the damage to his memory.
After she had left the Virginia Hospital Center, she headed back to the condo. This particular day, Poisonous had no ‘appointments’ to keep, so she sat on her bed thinking of what she wanted to do. Oh yes: that pervert at the Capital Scene needed a date. She made a mental note of finding that girl today. “But this kind of stuff is getting boring. I need to meet someone whose ideology makes them want to destroy all that is not their way of thinking. Except that, unlike me, they do it in the name of religion.” The thought of Sharia Law came to her mind, and then she said, “Oh yes! Someone of that part of the Radical Islamic way of thinking who has no problem killing someone, one way or another, who doesn’t agree with their ideology. I think I know a place where I might find someone like that.” The map of Washington, D.C. pointed out the location of such a temple in the Kalorama neighborhood. I must visit this place right away.
Her human body’s Indian features could make her pass for an Arab girl, so she decided to dress like one. Using the Internet, she located such a store in Falls Church, Virginia, which catered to just such clothing. Not wanting to offend, she put on long pants, a knee length skirt, modest heels and a thick white scarf, arranged in such a way so that it could resemble a hijab.
Satisfied with her choice of outfits, she decided to take a ride in a Transportation Network Company car. She put in the information and a few minutes later, the driver pulled up in front of the condo complex.
As the TNC car came to a stop, she opened up the back door, and climbed in.
“Are you Perri?” the driver asked.
“Yes.”
“You are going to Falls Church to the Muslim Boutique?”
“Yes, and I’m sure you’re excited about the fare you’ll make.” She never looked at the driver, and in no mood for small talk, remained silent for the rest of the ride. Arriving at the boutique, she bought some proper Muslim attire, in fact two outfits, and left the shop. Noting the time to be almost three o’clock in the afternoon, she decided she’d better fly back home.
Settled into the apartment, which, at the time was empty as Evie was at work, she put the clothes on hangers and in her closet, and turned her attention to finding a young girl suitable for the guy at the Capital Scene. Putting her olfactory instincts on high alert, she flew out of the apartment, and headed in a generally Northwest direction. The last girl had lived in Gaithersburg, but needing someone more high-class, and in better physical shape, she headed for the Potomac River, where one found such neighborhoods as McLain, Virginia, and Potomac, Maryland. As she flew up the river towards the I-495 Beltway, a distinct odor assaulted her nose. The distinct smell of wealth, pride and blue-bloodedness hit her. In fact, the smell also contained a bit of rebellion: a perfect combination. She followed the smell, and zeroed in on a house in McLean.
The house was more of a mansion, worth millions of dollars; definitely a high-class, high priced neighborhood. The smell she targeted came from the back yard, where she found a teenaged girl, probably sixteen, lying on a lounge chair next to a large pool, tanning herself. Although she was young, she had features that rivaled most women ten years older. The girl smeared on suntan lotion and prepared to have the sun turn her fair skin a few shades darker. Now, there could be no explainable reason to just walk up to her and say, ‘Hi, I’m Poisonous’ so Poisonous walked up to the girl invisible to the eye, stepped in front of her, and stared directly into her eyes. The girl, who had no clue she was being visited by a demon, continued rubbing suntan lotion on herself. Very glowing red eyes met the girls, and suggested she listen to everything she was about t say.
The girl, completely overcome by Poisonous’ strong power of suggestion, stared blankly straight ahead.
“What is your full name, sweetie?” she asked.
“I’m Shauna Anne Williams.”
“…and how old are you, Shauna?”
“I’m seventeen.”
“Very good. Now listen carefully. You are going to go on a date tomorrow with a handsome gentleman. You’ll meet me at the Capital Scene, and I’ll introduce you to him. You need to be ready to leave your house at 7:15 p.m. Get a ride there via a TNC car. Dress attractive
ly. Do you understand what I’ve said to you?”
“Yes,” Shauna replied, her eyes expressionless.
“Now you must tell your parents that you’re meeting a friend at a restaurant in D.C. called the Bombay Club on K Street. I doubt you have a curfew, and it will be a Saturday night, so there should be no problem. I’ll see you tomorrow at the Capital Scene. Do you have any questions?”
“Will he be paying for this date, or should I bring my own money.”
“Oh, he’ll be paying for this date. He’s a gentleman.” You’ll be paying as well…
“What’s your name? I will need to identify you when I get to the Capital Scene.”
“I’m Perri,” she said matter-of-factly. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Okay.”
Satisfied, she flew back to D.C. towards the Islamic Temple.
The temple stood tall and whitish grey in the Embassy Row section of DC. All along the roof keyhole shaped finials stood atop the tall walls. Above the entrance, in Arabic, the phrase ‘In the name of God, The Most Merciful, The Most Compassionate’ was inscribed above the main entrance in blue letters against a dusty pink background. She shuddered at the mention of God and his attributes, but still smelled murder inside the walls.
She changed to Perri, dressed in the Muslim garb she had bought, and walked in the main entrance. Just inside, a guard looked at her, and asked in Arabic:
هل لى أن أساعدك؟
{May I help you?}
She answered, “نعم، أبحث عن صديق من زوجي لتقديم رسالة. هو هنا يصلي ...”
{Yes, I am looking for a friend of my husbands to deliver a message. He is in here praying...}
“هل يرافقك أحد أفراد الأسرة الذكور أو زوجك؟”
Poisonous: A Visit To Earth (DC Angels Book 2) Page 14