in the city of illusions all is not well, there are signs that are written in the patterns of the sands, the sprawl of stars and the lines on the old mans face, there are ripples in the cosmos, the tortoise shell has cracked. An old lady places her hand upon the last card and reveals it to be the hanged man.
on the streets people move like insects panicked, scuttling about, stocking up on grains and water, there's talk of guns.
A priest makes a sacrifice, a young boy is slaughtered, to appease a vengeful god and the perverse pleasures of a corrupted church. His mother and father feel privileged to have given their only offspring in this honour, they would gladly offer another if they had been blessed.
Later that evening a stillness descends upon the city, quiet permeates the fabric, not even the rats are on the streets. A shadow slowly moves, below a full moon.
From above the city, a birds eye view, we can see a single figure glide effortlessly above the clouds, hidden from the eyes of the sky watchers, a shape not unlike a giant bat.
The creature is the size of a man, perhaps slightly larger with equal wingspan, it follows a slow decent like a pelican approaching water and then with the grace of a eagle eases into a spiral above the old church towers where the gargoyles look downwards with disapproving gaze below.
A lone girl child stares from behind the doorway, she looks at her now dead friend who's body lays upon the alter, defiled, entrails spilling over a body turned inside out, a flood of blood still trails from the wounds, the body still warm and glistening. The girl don't notice the shadow pass across the skylight, she is moved passed her horror at what she has witnessed, fear slowly replaced by curiosity and the mystery of death.
She takes a deep breath, the elders have gone, she bites her bottom lip and steps out. Taking one step at a time she moves towards the body of the boy. Slowly and carefully, tip toeing her way forwards. Each beat of her heart becoming louder and louder, she can feel her own blood very much alive cascade through her tiny body, she can taste her excitement as she draws closer and closer to her dead friend.
And then the silver iridescent light from the moon that floods the belfry is snuffed, darkness and the gust of breeze blows across her face frozen in terror as she gazes at the shape before her.
He looks upon the body of the boychild, it lays there for him, fresh and still with lifeforce, these human priests always do his dirty work so effectively, so enthusiastically, he dislikes the kill, it is only his addictive need and desire that drives him to such depravity. He loathes himself for what suffering he inflicts, many times he has preyed for death, he has welcomed it, he has sought it but it eludes him. His existance is suffering, his own plus the suffering of the pain he inflicts upon the humans, he is filled with sorrow and self pity, for there is no salvation for his kind.
His sharp, attuned senses have aleady felt the prescense of the girlchild, he has tasted her fear hanging in the air, it's energy fresh and vibrant. He knows he is it's cause and he feels shame.
The girl is trembling, before her stands the demon, the unholy one. It is beyond her frame of reference, she has no comprehension of such things, excession.
The demon speaks, 'Girlchild, do not fear me. I bear you no harm. Please?'
The girl cannot speak.
'I am sick girlchild, i suffer from a terrible curse, the curse of the Undead.'
The girl is mute.
'I will not harm you.'
Terror. The demon speaks, he tries trickery and deciet, will destroy her. She cannot look into those eye's they burn like twin suns, they will pull her into him, into the eternal abyss, she starts to mumble a prayer.
'Little one. Your words mean nothing, they are the words of a superstision. Tell me your name and perhaps i will tell you mine. No one has ever heard me speak my name before. You will be the first.'
Silence.
'Speak little one or i will search your mind.'
The girl meets his gaze, she is alive now, empowered, she will not let him reach her mind without a fight. 'My name is Charlotte.'
'Charlotte. What a beautiful name you have human. Do you fear me?'
'A little but if you come close i will scream and scratch your eyes.'
'I will not harm you I promise.'
'A demon's promise means nothing.'
'Ha. Do you think I am a demon?'
'Your are the demon that drinks blood.'
The demon sighs. 'No i am no demon, i was once beautiful like you. I am fallen, cast out and cursed to drink the blood, i wish it were otherwise.'
'You can't trick me demon, i have heard all the stories about you.'
'Stories, myths, tales, speculation and fictions but the truth is much stranger than the fiction.' The demon stood tall, overwhelming Charlotte, his eyes ablaze, penetrating the darkness gazing into her soul, 'Do you fear me?'
'No!'
The demon knew it was true. He searched deep into her mind, into her heart. She was strong and unafraid.
'Charlotte. You are a brave strong girlchild, i see many things in your future, you will be a powerful human one day, a leader.'
'You try to trick me Demon.'
'Charlotte, why are you here, in this chamber, alone?'
'I came to see my friend, the priests sacrificed him for you.'
'Ahhh i see. If i were to tell you i can make your friend live again, would you do some thing for me?'
'Your a demon, filled with tricks, why should i trust you?'
'Because you are still alive girlchild.'
And Charlotte knew he was right.
The demon turned towards the dead body laying upon the alter, he placed his hand upon the boys forehead, and then felt his heart. 'Charlotte, the knife, the sacrificial knife, where is it?'
'The priest keeps it there,' she pointed towards the darkness.
The demon steped into the dark and returned with the knife in his hands, he held it out to Charlotte to take. 'You must plunge the knife deep into my heart Charlotte, and then help me to where the boychild lies.'
Charlotte took the knife, it was large in her small hands, heavy to hold. It didn't feel as awkwards as she anticipated, just heavey, she looked at the blade, it was clean and gleamed like the blood at her feet, there was a black handle, onex or some precious stone encrusted within. With this knife, she thought, i can kill the demon.
She knelt by his side as he took her hand and helped her find his heartbeat. She was puzzled, this must be a trick, yet i hold the blade, and the demon seeks oblivion.
'You can trust me Charlotte, I want to give life to the boychild, but you must be strong enough to release me from this curse.'
'I am strong.'
'Then pierce my heart.'
Charlotte held the knife in both hands, she knew exactly what she had to do, yet could she really trust the demon, he looked almost pathetic, like a stray mistreated beast, his pale skin, his eye's so distant, tired and sad, he was not much of a demon close up.
The knife hurled towards his body, cracking the rib gace and finding the heart, a spurt of blood errupted from the wound as she pulled the knife away. She helped him up and towards the alter, he was so light, like a bird. He stood above the boy and placed his mouth upon the boys, turning to Charlotte he said, 'My last breath will be the boys first. You must take him to the healer, he will need help and you must never talk of these events again.'
'You dIdn't tell me your name?'
'Lucifer,' he whispered and turned towards the boy, 'Lucifer.'
Morning was breaking over the city as the boy opened his eyes.