Inner Demons

Chapter 5. Shadow of Truth

For the waves of death encompassed me; the torrents of destruction assailed me;

the cords of Sheol entangled me; the snares of death confronted me.

2 Samuel 22:5-6

I didn't wake up until morning. Belial was already gone. I had no idea when he left; he always appeared and disappeared suddenly and silently, which seemed to be typical of all demons.

Muted sounds of the TV drifted from the living room - Stanislavsky was already up. Or maybe the king, out of sheer spite, hadn't let him get any sleep.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I wearily rubbed my face, tossed my hair back, and stretched. My throat felt a bit scratchy, and my neck hurt, but it was probably due to the unfamiliar pillow rather than the fact that Belial had nearly strangled me last night. I really should keep my composure better - he had warned me how easily things could set him off and how unstable he became in those moments.

Pulling my robe tighter around me, I carefully opened the door to the living room and peeked in. The place looked cleaner. It seemed like Stanislavsky had finally found time for a proper cleaning and threw out everything that had been left unattended for too long. There was no trace of the king's fury from the day before. Asmodeus and Belial were both awake: the former, wearing trousers, a cream-colored shirt, and a white apron with a simple fish pattern, was bustling around in the kitchen, apparently making breakfast. Belial, surprisingly dressed in blue jeans and a white T-shirt, sat with his back to the door, chatting away and clearly distracting the librarian from frying what smelled like bacon. Zagan, in his usual dark attire, though without the cloak this time, sat on the couch, as usual, sipping coffee. He barely acknowledged my presence, only glancing my way briefly before returning his gaze to the TV screen.

The morning news was on, with a white-toothed anchor wishing America a good morning, jumping from one event to the next. Most of the reports were cheerful, and the reporters' smiles matched the anchor's in size and brightness. The clock in the corner of the screen read 6:30 AM.

I settled into an armchair, intrigued by the news from Kentucky. According to the journalist, an unusual swarm of mosquitoes and other bloodsucking insects had descended on Hopkinsville during the night, swarming the streets in droves and attacking anything alive within the city limits.

"Some things change, but some remain eternal-like Marbas' clowning around," Belial snorted without turning. He had quickly adapted to television and most of the conveniences of the modern world. Some things, for sure, amused him. "Lock me in a stone for a thousand years, then pull me out and ask me what he's up to. I'll tell you he's fooling around."

The host in the studio asked distinguished entomologists and an epidemiologist to comment on the situation-whether these insect population surges posed any danger to humans or the environment. By the end of the segment, I knew about a dozen ways to deal with mosquitoes and gnats. The host jokingly advised against using a flamethrower so as not to give firefighters more work. After a good laugh, he moved on to the next news story: Canadian scientists had found a new use for stem cells. An elderly professor assured the audience that they had likely found a cure for HIV and that within six years, after all the tests and certifications, humanity might finally defeat the terrible virus.

Belial glanced at the TV screen for a second and burst out laughing:

"Asmodeus, you're always drawn to old-timers. Why not strike a deal with some beauty instead?"