by Nancy Madore
The world seemed to turn as Amanda’s body rolled over in the bed. The dream had awakened the demon! Amanda waited in horror, feeling like a trespasser, caught in the act. But after all, what more could the creature do to her?
She realized that her own thoughts were becoming more fleeting and distant. The real Amanda was fading away. Even her innermost perceptions were being dominated by something else now. Everything around her seemed different; her cubicle, the people she worked with, even her body was unfamiliar—foreign. The only thing that seemed real was the creature inside her—and the creature inside that other man too; the one she’d stood outside the building with this morning, pretending, yet again, to smoke. They were all that was real. Nothing else mattered. Not even Tommy. Looking at him later that morning, he seemed pretentious, thoughtless—and even ridiculous. His interest in her, however, appeared to have been rekindled.
“Oh, my poor darling!” the creature gushed when it saw him. “I was up all night worrying about you! Can you ever forgive me?”
From the way his eyes wandered over her daring new office attire she could tell that he already had. But he still seemed wary. “The way you were acting last night, I could almost believe what Cat’s been saying about you being possessed,” he said.
“I know a certain devil I wouldn’t mind being possessed by,” replied the creature more suggestively than Amanda could have done herself.
This made him smile. “When?” he said, getting right to the point, as usual.
“How about later today?”
She could see that he was considering it. “The only thing is I might have to pull overtime this afternoon,” he warned in that tone that said, ‘I won’t have much time.’ But he nodded his head confidentially, adding (as if to make it up to her)—“We’re initiating testing on an important project tonight.” He gave her a little wink. “Top secret.”
“Hmm,” she purred in a tone that implied she was properly impressed, “maybe I could save you some time then.”
He was definitely interested in that. “Talk to me.”
“There’s a storage room over by the lab…in the research building,” Amanda heard herself tell him. “I took some old spread sheets over there the other day and I couldn’t help thinking how perfect it would be for one of our little…trysts!” Amanda had no idea what storage room the creature was talking about. She was certain she’d never been in the research building before.
“All the way over there!” Tommy complained. “There are a million other places we could go.”
“But it’s more private there,” the creature insisted. “And I have something…special planned.”
“Oh?” he inquired, running his finger along the neckline of her low-cut blouse. “How about a little preview right now?”
“I would,” the thing crooned, “but then you’d be useless for the rest of the day.”
“Come on,” he pleaded, “gimme a little something to look forward to!”
Amanda felt herself smile. “Your project is much too important to jeopardize,” she insisted, turning to leave.
“Just touch it,” he begged, rubbing his erection through his pants as if to show her how.
But the sound of her laughter was all the reply he got; for the rest of her had already left his office.
As they rounded the corner into her cubicle, Amanda’s head turned abruptly, and all of a sudden she was looking directly at Catherine, who was quietly watching her from about fifty feet away. And Amanda suddenly realized that Catherine had been following her all morning—and the creature had been aware of it!
It gave Catherine Amanda’s most charming smile, and then stepped into her cubicle to resume whatever it was that it had been doing all morning on her computer.
Chapter 34
On a private jet, en route to Gakona, Alaska
“Asmodeous’ plot worked out exactly as planned,” chuckled Ornias. “From that day on, the Israelites were so busy fighting among themselves that they could no longer protect themselves from invaders. It was only a matter of time.”
It had been a long flight, but Ornias’ version of the rise and fall of Israel made the time fly by. Nadia couldn’t help envying the Qliphoth’s many experiences throughout the course of their long lives.
“Did you end up staying in Jerusalem?” she wondered out loud. She felt so at ease that she forgot that she wasn’t supposed to address Ornias directly. Apparently the others forgot as well, because no one mentioned it, not even Will.
“Yes,” replied Ornias. “I went on to live a very long and happy life.” He sighed, apparently reluctant to let go of the memory. “I wrote a book about it,” he said. “I called it the Prophecy of Ahijah the Shilonite. I thought it was rather good too. Very avant garde, you know, but it was perhaps a little too far ahead of its time. It didn’t make the final cut, in the end, and was eventually lost.” It was hard to tell when Ornias was serious with that sly smile permanently attached to his face.
“So you credit the Qliphoth with the downfall of Israel,” said Gordon doubtfully.
Ornias shrugged. “It probably would have happened eventually anyway,” he admitted. “They were a quarrelsome people. Always complaining. But Asmodeous had inflicted the most devastating blow by altering their documents. That was their real power—the power that came from our fathers, the angels. And it was the loss of that power that ultimately took the wind out of their sails. Don’t forget, it wasn’t just the Qliphoth the spells threatened. The sons of men were affected too. The spells left them too weak to fight back—and sometimes even killed them. Why, the Israelites might have taken over the world if we hadn’t stopped them! And they were ruthless enough to do it, too. They really believed themselves to be God’s chosen people.”
“Were all the writings attributed to Solomon distorted by Asmodeous?” asked Gordon.
“Not all of them,” countered Ornias. “Only the ones that related to us. Solomon was mostly a poet, like me, but he had begun a series of secret books that described the ‘keys,’ as he called them, for controlling evil spirits, as he called us. He was convinced that we were the source of all evil on earth—and that we influenced the sons of men to do their evil deeds. It was outrageous, really. The world was never more vicious than before we came along.”
“Why didn’t Asmodeous just destroy Solomon’s writings?” Gordon wondered.
Ornias shrugged. “It was more amusing to revise them,” he replied. “He kept some of our names the same, which I think was his way of thumbing his nose at future scholars who would be reading them, but most of the names were changed into utterances so ridiculous that no one would take the writings seriously. He exaggerated all the secrets we were forced to reveal about ourselves to Solomon…even his own.” Ornias chuckled. “He forever immortalized himself as the demon of lust! Who knows why Asmodeous did it. Perhaps it was his little joke on Solomon, the self-proclaimed wisest man on earth.”
“When was the next time you saw Asmodeous?” asked Gordon.
“Not until nineteen twenty,” said Ornias. “When our paths crossed on the streets of London.”
“You didn’t see him in all those years?”
Ornias shrugged. “It’s a big world,” he replied. “Asmodeous and I move in different circles. And too, we all tend to keep to ourselves out of fear of discovery. There is always the risk of capture.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at Gordon knowingly. “Those Hebrew monks—the Essenes—escaped with some of our documents before Asmodeous got a hold of them.” His pause told Nadia that he knew that they were somehow connected to those monks. “And too, with archaeology came more discoveries,” he added after a moment.
“At that meeting in London,” Gordon prompted. “Are you certain you’ve told us everything that Asmodeous said about Armageddon?”
“Yes!” said Ornias. “As I told you before, he was very evasive.”
“I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t push for more details,” persisted Gordon.
Ornias looked uncomfortable. “I figured if there was something happening Asmodeous would handle it,” he said defensively. “Naturally I want our life to go on as much as he does, but what’s the point if you don’t live it!” It was a self-justifying declaration, and Nadia wondered if Ornias felt guilty about leaving it all on Asmodeous’ shoulders.
“Do you think his claims of Armageddon are real?” Gordon asked.
The grin was beginning to look like a grimace again, which was a sure sign that Ornias didn’t like where this was going. “At the time I thought he might have been panicking about the impending war between the sons of men. But now…I think Asmodeous may have been onto something,” he admitted.
“What?” persisted Gordon.
“Just what the word implies,” he said. “The end of the world.”
“How?” asked Gordon.
Ornias shrugged. “I told you I don’t know how,” he said, growing exasperated. “Look around you and figure it out for yourself. That’s basically what you’re asking me to do.”
Gordon was silent, thoughtful.
“Look,” said Ornias. “I haven’t been around for a while, but I’m guessing that Asmodeous must be involved in something big to have attracted your attention. And for him to risk his neck on something, it would have to be a real threat, like the one in Israel. That’s what it would take to bring him out.”
“A threat to the Qliphoth,” clarified Gordon.
“Maybe,” Ornias conceded, “or to the world.”
“Maybe he was wrong,” countered Gordon.
“I don’t think so,” said Ornias. “And I sense that you don’t think he was wrong either.” When Gordon didn’t deny or confirm this he continued, becoming more animated. “I can help you!” he exclaimed. “You could save the world—and I could be your consultant. My fee would be negligible. Only the barest necessities.” His smile deepened. “Like, for instance, a body.”
Nadia laughed. She couldn’t help it. At Will’s sharp look she grew quiet.
“I can be of much more help to you on the outside,” Ornias continued. “I sense we’re getting closer.” He looked out the window of the plane. “We’re riding into the storm!” Nadia could see why he loved being a prophet so much. He had a natural flair for the dramatic.
“A body is out of the question,” said Will, giving Gordon one of his looks. “Let’s keep it serious.”
“You’ll still have full control!” Ornias told him. “You could find some homeless guy. Put him out of his misery.” Clearly Ornias was willing to take anything he could get.
“Gordon…” said Will in a warning tone.
“I think it’s time to close this meeting,” said Gordon—regretfully, it seemed like to Nadia.
“Just tell me where we’re going!” begged Ornias.
“Alaska,” said Gordon.
“Alaska…” Ornias repeated thoughtfully. There was a long pause and then his eyes grew wide. “HAARP!” he exclaimed in a whisper. There was a strange, knowing light in his eyes.
“How did you know that?” demanded Gordon.
“I may not be Asmodeous but I’m not a total dunce either,” he said. “HAARP came out in the nineties, just before you captured me, remember? All that stuff about angels. I would have had to be deaf, dumb and blind not to notice. It wasn’t the sort of thing a Qliphoth could ignore. After all, we recognize our work when we see it.”
“Your work?” asked Gordon.
Ornias gave him a look. “The capacity to govern the elements controlling the earth did not originate with the sons of men,” he said.
“What are you saying, exactly?” Gordon asked.
“I’m saying that, if the claims about HAARP are true, it could only mean that they have somehow harnessed the power of gods.”
“The power of gods?” echoed Gordon.
“Of the angels, then, if you prefer,” clarified Ornias. “As far as I’m concerned, the angels are the gods of our world. They always have been.”
“So are you saying…the Others are behind HAARP’s technology?” asked Gordon.
Ornias shrugged. “Either that or one of the Watchers divulged the secrets to his offspring before the war. It had to come from an angel somewhere.”
“So, you’re suggesting an angel, or a Qliphoth, helped HAARP create this technology…for what purpose?” asked Gordon.
“I don’t know,” replied Ornias. “All I know is that, if HAARP really has this technology, the angels—or their offspring—are behind it.”
Gordon was thoughtful. “Power of gods,” he repeated again, as if the answer to the mystery could be found in the chilling words.
Chapter 35
Fort Greely, Alaska
High up on Amanda’s ‘hit’ list (in the event that she was ever diagnosed with a terminal disease), coming in somewhere after Flo, but definitely before the woman who kept screwing up her coffee in the mornings, was Amanda’s supervisor, Dewey Rinehart. Dewey Rinehart was a pasty-faced, shifty-eyed, little weasel who never did a single thing to support the people who worked under him. Yet he was quick to make them a scapegoat whenever anything went wrong. In fact, he was almost always the reason things went wrong. He didn’t do his job; Amanda and the other employees in his department were often left in the dark about what was expected of them. Inquiries were either met with condescension or completely ignored. Though no one wanted to confront him directly, they had a field day with him behind his back. Hardly a day passed without some new anecdote about him, depicting either his unparalleled stupidity or his interminable laziness. There was an ongoing debate over which it was: that he truly didn’t know what they were supposed to be doing or that he simply didn’t care. Most of the employees didn’t care either, as long as they weren’t the ones blamed when something important didn’t get done. It didn’t happen often—their department mostly processed data after the fact—but it occurred enough to keep everyone uneasy. Amanda had already been written up for a missing report that she’d never even received an order for. She’d avoided Rinehart like the plague ever since, which was why she was so shocked to suddenly find herself face to face with him.
In fact, she saw that she was standing in his section of the building, where the offices were, which meant she—or the thing inside her, rather—had come here on purpose! Amanda tried to get her bearings. She must have faded out again. Last she remembered they were sitting in front of her computer.
Rinehart was looking at her in that way that people do when they’re trying to remember who you are. His lips seemed forced into a smile as his eyes darted back and forth from various points on her person to some unseen point in the far-off distance.
“Amanda Fioretti,” she heard herself say. Her voice sounded more confident than it ever had when speaking to Rinehart. “I wanted to give you this.” She saw that she was handing him a sheet of paper.
“What is it?” he asked.
“My resume. I would like to be transferred to another department.”
Rinehart’s eyes darted over her breasts before making even quicker time over her resume. “H.R. handles all job applications, even the in-house ones,” he said dismissively.
“I’m not applying for a specific job,” came the curt reply. “I’m requesting a transfer. And I don’t think you’ll want this to go through H.R.”
Finally his eyes landed—and managed, somehow, to stay—on Amanda’s face. He seemed momentarily stunned. Amanda’s eyes felt like they were boring into his and she could feel herself cringe. What was the creature up to now? It seemed to be staring him down, as if waiting for something.
Rinehart was the first to look away. “Er…I suppose I could give you a minute. Come into my office.”
The creature followed Rinehart into his office and settled comfortably in one of the chairs facing his desk. Amanda could do little more than watch in horror as her legs crossed seductively, causing her skirt to ride up and expose a great deal of thigh.
Rinehart contemplated her leg
s for a moment before meeting her eyes again.
“I’ll get right to the point,” she heard herself say. Her voice was strong and determined. “I’m being sexually harassed by a man in our building. It’s been going on for some time now. I thought I could handle it, but it’s beginning to affect my work.” There was a short pause, during which time Rinehart appeared to be struggling to keep his startled eyes on her face. It was as if some kind of gravitational pull kept dragging them downward, toward her breasts...and legs. “I like working here,” she heard herself continue. “I take my job very seriously and I’m not about to let that little cretin ruin it for me!”
Rinehart was either about to say something or choking on his own tongue. The creature didn’t wait to see which it was.
“I didn’t want to file a formal complaint because, frankly, I don’t want the publicity,” it continued. “You probably remember all the fuss the press made when both my parents died in that terrible accident a few years back. I couldn’t bear to have all that drudged up again if this harassment thing got out. And I know T.D.M.R. doesn’t want the publicity either.” There was no missing the threat—even Amanda caught it, and she could see that Rinehart did too. Her voice became deceptively soft. “And too…I wouldn’t want anyone else dragged into this, least of all you, who’s always been so kind to me.” Her eyes seemed to be boring into his again, devouring him, and Amanda felt as dazed as he looked. “You see, the man in question is your superior. I know how awkward that could make things for you.”
Rinehart’s pasty white skin seemed to get even pastier. It was beginning to look like he really was going to choke on his own tongue. This didn’t faze the creature in the least. It leaned forward slightly in the chair. “A simple transfer will eliminate the problem for everyone. I’m not asking for a promotion, just to be moved to another building.”