The Demonologist

The sun gave the buildings a golden glow. I stared off into the horizon. Blue everywhere. The handle of the briefcase was held on tightly by my hand. The chewy chunk of flesh hurt. I hadn't gotten used to not having my right thumb anymore. I stepped onto the edge of the roof. My loose clothes were fluttering in the wind. I had lost weight during my fucked up trip around North America.

The face of the Pursuer suddenly came to my mind. In the end, it was I who killed him not O'Brien.

I could feel the tall, dark shadow standing a few feet away from me. I could sense some type of insecurity coming from him. It was probably my desperate brain trying to find anything that would make any other rational human being abort this mission. But not me. I went through so much already.

Tightening my jaw I forced my neck to bend down a little, so that I could catch a glimpse of what lay more then a few hundred feet below. The streets were crowded by tiny, dull colored dots. Cars were stuck in traffic, honking. From up here the Big Apple sounded like a malfunctioning television transmission.

"I'm going to jump, Belial", I whispered, tasting my foul breath. I knew that even thinking those words would have been more than sufficient. I sensed him twitching, moving, shifting unnaturally, as if a strong, invisible force held us together. Sewing our organs and spirits , leaving me with the smell of hay and skin that tastes like dirt. My mouth was dry.

"And I will jump after you, David", his rotten voice made my insides tremble. I wanted to cut myself out of my skin.

How was it that even though I was blinded by this incredible light, somehow this demon clung to me?

O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams

That bring to my remembrance from what state

I fell..

He quoted from Paradise Lost, reminding me of my drive to Florida.

"I can save you", he whispered his presence lurking closer to my back.

"Save me, how?"

" Let me in, David. Let me help you tell the world that how our story is presented is as important as what the story is," he says. "The narrator must have a compelling tale of his own and there is nothing more compelling than self-sacrifice. Milton was jailed, too. Socrates, Luther, Wilde, And of course, no one more than Christ himself understood how delivering your message from chains makes the message easier to hear."

"You're sick. You want me to be a martyr. I don't want to spend the rest of my days in prison. " I thought of Tess. Memories of her smile went briefly through my head.

"Is this not the most noble cause? This is what I bring. Not a plague, not arbitrary suffering. But Democracy! Truth!"

His voice was resonating with warmth. The kind of safety that makes your cheeks rosy. It was all fake though, I knew that far too well.

"Revenge. Hate. That's what you bring."

"David-"

"Belial. Without worth. That's what your name means. The greatest lie you tell is that you are a creature sympathetic to humanity." I couldn't stop the words I spoke to him."All along I thought I was chosen for my expertise. That someone in Venice needed me to straighten out details on a case. But that's all window dressing. You chose me because mine is the story of a man who loves his child. And yours is the story of nothing. No child. No love. In all of the ways that truly matter, you don't exist."

"Be careful," those two words felt like acid on my skin. Electricity shot up my spin. I swallowed.

"Why? You can't return my daughter to me. That was a lie from the start. I brought what you requested from me here before the new moon. I even figured out your name. None of it matters."

"David-"

"You have the power to destroy, Belial, not to create, not to unite. There might have been a time, perhaps where I could have understood your loneliness, your frustration and your anguish. I might have been fascinated by your existence solely. You're selfish. Pure evil to the core. No matter where she is now, you can't bring her back."

He was about to reply with force of some unpredictable kind. The coiled readiness of violence. I couldn't believe, not even for a minute, that he might've been hurt. They can't feel as us humans, they have no emotions or empathy. They're not capable of love.

With a nudge of strength from my legs, I made a giant leap over the edge and onto my inevitable end. He came along, as if pulled by that invisible force. The cold air pressed against my body, stretching my skin, biting at my cheeks. I knew it was only a matter of seconds until I would hit the concrete, provoking screams of horror and attracting unwanted attention from all sorts of people. Belial's shriek followed me. Grinding. Metallic. Unheard by all but me.

I closed my eyes as the ground moved closer and closer to me. I tried to think of a prayer. A holy name. A holy scripture.

I was calm. I believed.

O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams

That bring to my remembrance from what state

I fell..