Demon

“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?”

“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 hell, calling for you! Having had such an extravagant gift offered you, your rejection can only result in damnation 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 damned to hell 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 28:11–19. Some commentators view this passage 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 14:12–14, 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 passage, which on the surface laments the prophetic fall of the pagan king of Babylon, a contemporary of the prophet.