Real Demons don't wear Prada.

Prologue

26 years earlier.....

Amanda Grayly, the thirty-two year old wife to Reverend Dr Jesse Grayly, the forty year old pastor of the Holy Sacrament Baptist church, sat quietly one late evening, contemplating whether or not her husband would be home before his dinner went cold. The hearth fire blazed to the tune of the church hymns humbly hummed by the ancient radio she'd received years earlier as a wedding gift.

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of her knitting needles drummed softly in a monotonous beat of small soft hands and their familiarity with her hobby.

The little turquoise yarn end climbed toward her unfinished scarf, as though eager to lie against the warmth that was Amanda. Noticing it, Amanda paused her work, took a long sip from her coffee mug, then reached for her next ball of torquise yarn.

Just as her small delicate fingers brushed over the soft material, a ring sounded.

Mrs. Grayly startled at the sound, jumping up to get the door in case it was her husband, back for the night.

The bell rang again and she slowed, Jesse never rang more than once, not even during a snowstorm like the one on that night.

A third ring and her sense of urgency returned threefold.

"Who is it?" Amanda called out.

There was no reply.

Fearing the worst, Mrs Grayly opened her door for whatever poor creature awaited on the other side.

There wasn't a single soul. Amanda blinked, confused and curious of who would walk all the way to secluded farmhouse in the middle of a night this cold just so they could play a joke.

With a disbelieving shake of her head, Mrs Grayly swung the door shut. It stopped halfway, causing a frown to marr her sweet demeanor. As she scanned the door from top to bottom the doorbell rang again.

Amanda looked at it and there was no one there. Unnerved, she swallowed audibly and pulled harder on the stuck door.

Ding, Dong!

She let out a terrified shriek, crossing herself as she asked God to protect her from harm.

The lump in her throat felt like a brick and her heart was well on the way to mimicking a snare drum.

She stopped pulling on the door and took a deep breath.

She closed her eyes, counted to three, then opened them.

There.

A strange shimmer to her left.

The moment she look directly at it though,  it seemed to have disappeared, the only thing left behind to mark it's presence was a large wooden basket, swaying in midair.

"Oh!" Whispered Amanda, with a lone salty tear running down her face. She wasn't sure if this was a coincidence or if God had heard her prayers at some point of time.

For within that basket, staring up at her, were a pair of large unearthly green eyes.

"Blessed be." Amanda exclaimed. "A baby!"