Category: Demons

Immortal, malevolent and prevalent creatures.

  • Orders, Part V

    Back to Orders, Part IV.

    The effort to summon Makeri almost bled Jiang Xuande to death. Makeri reported rather reluctantly to the magician and gave him an insouciant and bored greeting.

    Makeri hadn’t anticipated that Jiang Xuande had built a trap for him, and Jiang Xuande bound Makeri’s metaphysical essence to the peasant girl, making it impossible for him to escape without fusing his soul to hers. Makeri realized that he was obligated to do Jiang Xuande’s bidding or forfeit his existence as he knew it, and so he had little choice but to help the magician carry out his mad plans until he was released from the cage of the peasant girl’s body.

    Jiang Xuande needed the Neku to execute his plan. The first thing he made Makeri do was to provide detailed information about Astaroth’s palace in Persepolis. Jiang Xuande was delighted to learn from Makeri that the palace was, relatively speaking, unoccupied, for Astaroth and her entourage had gone to Egypt on an errand.

    One of the more sinister magics that Jiang Xuande had learned from Ninalla was how to separate his own consciousness from his body and, in essence, become something like a Neku himself. It was through this dematerialization that he was able to travel thousands of miles at a great speed (a speed that’s hardly impressive to those of you in the 21st century, but nonetheless impressive for an actual mortal without the aid of a machine) to Astaroth’s palace. Given what he’d learned from both Ninalla and Makeri, he knew exactly what he needed and exactly where to find it, for Jiang Xuande’s intention was to sneak into Astaroth’s palace and steal from her library the most discreet of grimoires. This grimoire was particularly powerful (and is now lost, having been “misplaced” in ab urbe condita 560, or 193 BC), and it was unique, for it was a remarkable source of demonic magical secrets tucked inside a miniature orrery.

    An Orrery. Photo credit unknown.
    An orrery. The Orrery, now lost, was about the size of a grapefruit.

    You might ask yourself how an orrery could function as a grimoire, for an orrery is merely a machine meant to represent the movements of the planets in this solar system. In this case, each planet had different meanings assigned to it, and dependent upon the geometric relationships that were created, it was able to harness specific demonic energies that could then be used. As Jiang Xuande was an astronomer, alchemist and magician, Ninalla had told him all about this particular grimoire, known simply as the Orrery, for she felt that he had the specific expertise necessary to make it work if he were ever able to lay his hands upon it.

    But knowing what he needed and where it was located was less than half the battle, for Jiang Xuande had to get the Orrery out of the palace, and he couldn’t do it without a physical form. He possessed the body of a young beggar boy (which was a horrible state of existence for both, particularly the boy, if you can imagine such a crime against nature). He then summoned another Neku named Piktaungitok who was associated with neither Astaroth nor Sitri, for he needed her to gather the magics necessary to transport the Orrery back to the state of Qin in China.

    Jiang Xuande had envisioned many different scenarios involving the success and the failure of his plan before he had put it in motion, but he found himself pleasantly shocked at how easy it had been for him to thieve from Persia and return to China as the most powerful magician in the world.

    And so now we’re at the part where we angels got involved…The angels Sabrathon and Kochabiel had been keeping an eye on Jiang Xuande over the fourteen years that he had been a practicing magician, for they had found his alliance with a demon to be particularly dangerous. His return to the state of Qin with one of Astaroth’s grimoires was particularly worrisome—especially the Orrery—and that was when Sabrathon and Kochabiel contacted the Archangel Michael and explained to him what they had observed.

    Michael understood that the situation could feasibly spin out of control—and quickly— so he sent his two best lieutenants, Jophiel and Sidriel, to stand guard with Sabrathon and Kochabiel. Jophiel and Sidriel were ordered to crush anything that could disrupt the balance of the Earth if it arose and bring in further help if necessary.

    (A note: I know that when I began my tale, I mentioned that a squadron of the Heavenly Host was sent into battle. I should probably clarify that Jophiel and Sidriel are a squadron by themselves, for the two of them are were some of the most powerful weapons in Heaven. Jophiel is was a Seraph. The Seraphim are were the Order who served as God’s personal guard, and Jophiel is was their general. Sidriel is was a Cherub and always will be a Cherub, in one respect or another. The Cherubim are were the warriors within the Orders, and Sidriel is was one of the Commanders of the Heavenly Host, after Jophiel, Camael and Michael.)

    Michael assured Sabrathon and Kochabiel that he would gladly lend his personal assistance and a battalion of the Heavenly Host if the situation escalated into all-out war. Michael also saw Azrael to inform him that a powerful human magician had it out for him. Azrael was rather amused by the notion of a human trying to cause his demise. He pledged to Michael that he would be on hand to make sure that the balance of souls would be preserved on Earth should a battle come to pass, and he went on his way.

    And of course, just as one would expect in a situation like this, everything did spin out of control with magnificent speed. Jiang Xuande’s luck seemed to run out on two days after he had returned home. Piktaungitok, the Neku whom he had summoned to help him get the grimoire back to China, had inflicted enough damage on her host for her to die and release her. Jiang Xuande had seen to bind her to the body of her host, but not to the soul. He was about to regret that misstep, for even though her alliegiance was to the Apokomistis Tohil, she ran straight to Astaroth to tell her that the Orrery was in the hands of a mortal.

    I will conclude this tale next Tuesday. Dominus tecum.

    On to Orders, Part VI.

  • Orders, Part IV

    Back to Orders, Part III.

    Ninalla’s energy had been diminished by the act of childbirth. Possessing the dead Zhou threatened to sap what little energy she had left, and she was painfully aware that she to find a new host at the soonest to replenish her own lifeforce inside a new body. The only body at hand was that of the midwife, and she leapt into the mortal’s body without any hesitation. Her first impulse was to tear the midwife’s body apart from the inside out with her phenomenal rage, but she set her mind on revenge instead. She knew that Azrael had stolen away the life of her human host and, more importantly, her child, and she was going to do everything in her power to destroy him.

    Her anger gave her an unanticipated strength, and, soiled as her host’s clothes were from the childbirth, she marched from her home and into Duke Xiao’s palace to find Jiang Xuande, tossing aside every guard along the way who tried to stop her as if they were paper dolls. When she found Jiang Xuande, he was in the Duke’s company. The guards attempted to subdue her, but Ninalla repelled all their attempts and incapacitated everyone in the room except for Duke Xiao and Jiang Xuande. The Duke took his own sword, and he issued an uncertain threat to the demon. Ninalla ignored him, and in a low and cold voice that didn’t belong to the midwife, she said, “Zhao is dead. Our child is dead. I must see Astaroth this instant to seek my vengeance for Azrael’s injustice.”

    Ninalla purposefully crushed the midwife’s spine and exited the body, and the mortal woman’s broken body fell stupidly at Duke’s feet.

    Now—the Apokomistis Astaroth has a grisly sense of fun. When Ninalla returned to her mistress with her sad tale, Astaroth temporarily feigned interest and promised scores of demons in assistance, only to revoke it moments later while rebuking Ninalla for her lack of service and loyalty over the previous fourteen years. Ninalla was awestruck, but she soon recovered her fury. She raged at her mistress, reviling Astaroth’s callous treatment after more than seventeen centuries of loyal and obedient service.

    Unfortunately for Ninalla, her anger had obscured her wiser impulses and made her forget that Astaroth is an extremely impatient demon. It only took a few moments, and after they’d passed, Ninalla was no more.

    Back at the court of Duke Xiao, Jiang Xuande publicly mourned his wife and child while secretly waiting for Ninalla’s return. He commandeered a peasant girl for Ninalla to inhabit and made every attempt to summon her, but none of his spells worked very well without Ninalla’s demon blood.

    After more than a week, Jiang Xuande had begun to despair for partner’s return. He slashed into the peasant girl’s arm and summoned the Neku Benelaba to him. He ordered Benelaba to help him summon Ninalla to him, but the Neku had other obligations. The Neku was bound in service to Sitri, an Apokomistis who had been working closely with Astaroth at that time on a rather nasty little project (for another time, perhaps).  Benelaba informed the magician that Ninalla had been killed by Astaroth thirteen days earlier for her defiance. Jiang Xuande continued to appeal to the Neku for help, but Benelaba refused, citing his allegiance to his master.

    However, Benelaba knew that Jiang Xuande’s soul belonged to Astaroth, and he knew that his master’s business partner would want to keep tabs on her investment. Benelaba referred him a Neku in Astaroth’s service who went by the name Makeri, offered an insincere apology, and promptly disappeared.

    Ishtar Gate at the Pergamon Berlin Museum. Photo by Rictor Norton, courtesy of Wikimedia.
    Nebuchadnezzar II’s Ishtar Gate was inspired by Astaroth’s palace in Persepolis. Astaroth’s palace was destroyed  in Alexander the Great’s capture of the city in 330 BC.

    Jiang Xuande considered his next move very carefully, for like his dead partner, he wanted revenge for the death of his child. Over the many years he had spent with Ninalla, she had shared with him countless secrets that mortals are forbidden to know about the world of demons, and she shared with him everything she knew about the angels, as well. He knew that if he had to take on the Angel of Death, he would need an army of demons at his disposal. In fact, he knew exactly what he needed.

    All the best to you until next Tuesday. Dominus tecum.

    On to Orders, Part V.

  • Orders, Part III

    Back to Orders, Part II.

    As you’d expect, Jiang Xuande’s skill at magics improved significantly after he joined forces with Ninalla. In fact, his skill as an alchemist and an astronomer spread throughout the land, and so it was no surprise that Duke Xiao invited him to join his royal court in 361 BC.

    If there is one force that is paramount within the Universe, it’s love. It’s the connecting thread within all our Graces. When it comes to love, there’s nothing else in the Universe that is more diverse in form and expression. There’s also nothing stronger. Love makes all the difference.

    When Jiang Xuande summoned the demon Ninalla to his side and offered his wife Zhou’s body for her to possess, neither of them had any idea of what was to come. Over the years, a curious thing happened: Jiang Xuande and Ninalla fell in love. It might seem hard to believe, but even demons can feel love. The catch with demons is that most of the time, they don’t know how to express it in a constructive way, and when love is misdirected, it has the ugliest consequences.

    I mentioned last week that Jiang Xuande had theorized that a demon’s possession of his wife’s body might alter her ability to bear children, and he was correct. A Nekudaimon possessing a human (or animal) body has a few effects. Its metaphysical energy is able to simultaneously boost and drain the physical lifeforce of its host. A Neku must have a living host in order for it to wield any power, because the bond it makes with the soul of its host is, in part, a source of power. A Neku also halts the aging process of its host and lends its adopted physical form additional brawn and hardiness. However, if a Neku remains within the same mortal body for a while—more than a few days, for example—the host dies almost immediately when the Neku departs, for the Neku will have consumed most, if not all, of the physical energy of the host. Additionally, if the host dies while the Neku is still in it on account of some horrible damage to the body, the Neku has to find a new host in order to manifest. (These rules don’t apply to Apokomistai.)

    When Zhou was Zhou and Zhou alone, she could not bear children, but Ninalla possessing Zhou was a different story. (Do note that only an Apokomistis is capable of creating an Anathema. I’d explain, but Estelle has called dibs on this one.) The offspring of a Neku and a mortal creature is called an Epiklasmon, and it’s usually a creature that is weaker than its genetic kin. Their tragedy is that they don’t usually survive very long, which is typically a good thing, for they would live a cursed existence as the children of demons if they could live more than a few days. Still, the creative will that seizes those under love’s spell isn’t enough to deter them from trying to defy the odds.

    And so it was that in 355 BC, after thirteen years together, Ninalla was with child. Everyone at the court of Duke Xiao was astonished by the news, for Jiang Xuande and his seemingly-barren wife had been a quiet (but nonetheless feared) couple who appeared resigned to being childless. It was considered a miracle, and Duke Xiao extended the boundaries of the lands of his favorite alchemist and astronomer as a gift for his seeming good fortune.

    La mort du fossoyeur by Carlos Schwabe
    “The Angel of Death” as depicted in Carlos Schwabe’s The Death of the Grave-Digger. Azrael operates more quickly than humans can fathom. He doesn’t look like this model at all, but he does really like black and green.

    But fortune is fickle.

    Among the most feared and most misunderstood of angels is the Angel of Death. His name is Azrael, and he was tasked by God to maintain the balance of life and death within the Universe. One of his specific duties was to help the souls of the dead—especially those of children who weren’t strong enough to survive infancy—return to the Earth. He was also tasked with being close at hand to make sure that the soul of a creature that was cursed wouldn’t contaminate the pure waters of Earth’s well of souls.

    Jiang Xuande’s misfortune was that Azrael was close at hand when Ninalla gave birth to their Epiklasmon on that bright spring morning. Not long after the poor creature had taken its first and only breath, its heart stopped. Azrael then escorted the dormant soul of Zhou from the plane of the physical into the cavern of the metaphysical, and then he went to an isolated corner of the Universe to contend with the curse that was present in the soul of the dead Epiklasmon.

    Azrael is typically too quick for mortal eyes and most Neku senses to catch, but, of course, the exception to the rule came to pass on this occasion. The Angel of Death’s scent had lingered just long enough for the room for Ninalla to gauge what had happened when she realized that the body of her host was no longer ensouled and, consequently, dead.

    Until next Tuesday. Dominus tecum.

    On to Orders, Part IV.

  • Orders, Part II

    Back to Orders, Part I.

    It all started when the Watchers Sabrathon and Kochabiel informed Michael that a deranged human—a dark magician by the name of Jiang Xuande—had stolen a powerful grimoire from the Apokomistis Astaroth. Allow me to provide some background (per usual) so that you can understand what this means (before we angels got involved).

    Demons are well-versed in black magics, and they also have a healthy understanding of white magics for, like the best of adversaries, they know the tools of their enemy. A few of the ancient ones consolidated their knowledge of black magics into books containing spells and magical secrets called grimoires. Grimoires are plentiful within the demon world and have varying degrees of potency. Every Apokomistis has at least one that he or she relies upon. Grimoires are most often books or scrolls or tablets, but they have been known to exist in other forms. Regardless of shape, they have often been sought by many human magicians for the vast knowledge and power that they hold, but in most cases, they are completely useless to mortals on account that most spells require demon blood to make them work.

    (Incidentally, there is a white magic counterpart to the grimoire known as an ellamadus. As far as I know, the very few ellamadi in existence were either captured or destroyed by a few Apokomistai during the era that humans refer to as World War II. Remind me to tell you about ellamadi after we’ve wrapped up this tale.)

    However, there are exceptions to most every rule, and if we return to the state of Qin, in ancient China, in the year 354 BC, this particular grimoire and this particular magician Jiang Xuande were a recipe for disaster.

    Temple at Hua Shan
    Hua Shan is one of the sacred mountains in China. This was one of Sabrathon’s favorite vantage points for overseeing matters in the state of Qin, as it gave him a nice view.

    Jiang Xuande was born in 421 BC, and he served as an astronomer and alchemist in Duke Xiao’s royal court from 361–354 BC. The Duke and his advisers all held an understanding that Jiang Xuande’s predictions were beyond reliable, and there were whispers that he had an army of spirits at his disposal to do his bidding.

    This wasn’t entirely far from the truth. Jiang Xuande had nurtured a passionate quest for immortality from the time he was a young boy and had witnessed several members of his family succumb to smallpox. He was subsequently raised by his uncle, a doctor and alchemist himself, and he taught the boy the arts of using the elements and herbs to balance the body. However, Jiang was certain that the science of alchemy could be stretched so as to bestow immortality upon anyone who discovered its secret formula. It led him to dabble in black magics by means of a watered-down grimoire that he acquired through great difficulty during a trip to India.

    Not many of the spells worked in the grimoire, but there was just enough information in it for Jiang Xuande to realize that it was useful. He wanted more, and so he used his little grimoire to summon a Nekudaimon by the name of Ninalla in the autumn of 368 BC.

    Ninalla wasn’t pleased to have been summoned to serve a lower creature, but she sensed that Jiang Xuande’s thirst for immortality had the potential for too much fun for her to pass up. She answered Jiang Xuande’s call, possessing his pet cat, and pledged her services and wisdom to him under the condition that he volunteer his wife’s body for the Neku to use as a human vessel.

    Jiang Xuande didn’t think twice about Ninalla’s proposition. He had long fallen out of love with his outspoken and barren wife Zhou, and he had begun to regard her latest failed pregnancy as a sign of an inferior stuff in her family history. He idly wondered if the metaphysical bond between the spirit of a demon and the body of a human might improve what was wrong within Zhou and endow her with the strength to bear him a healthy child when he was finished playing around with demons.

    Ninalla had an agenda in mind as well. Serving a human gave her an excuse to escape the tyranny of serving Astaroth for a while (I’ll let you imagine how demanding a master an Apokomistis can be over hundreds of years). She knew that eventually Jiang Xuande would die and she’d be able to convert his possessions into capital that she could use herself, or rather, until Astaroth pulled rank as an Apokomistis and took them. Astaroth gave her Neku permission to stay with Jiang Xuande, understanding that his demon-dabbling made his soul all too pluckable when the time was right. Furthermore, she sensed that affairs in the state of Qin were nearing a steady boil.

    Moments after Jiang Xuande gave his assent, Ninalla occupied Zhou’s body. Later that night, she taught Jiang Xuande how to make the some of the other, more grisly and powerful spells in the grimoire work through donating decent quantities of his wife’s demon-infused blood.

    More about Jiang Xuande next week. Dominus tecum.

    On to Orders, Part III.

  • Valac the Demon, Part IV & Conclusion

    Back to Valac the Demon, Part III.

    28 Raphael. Sachiel’s Hour. On to business with where we left off last week.

    Valac saw to it that Gros was returned home. All that night, Gros was tormented in his dreams by the events of the evening. He awoke the next morning feeling altogether ill and sore from his missing molar, and he easily dismissed the more unusual events from his mind as products of a vivid and wine-soaked imagination. As he was preparing to sketch out a painting that morning, he was visited by a messenger. Napoleon wanted him to paint an episode from his campaigns in Egypt, suggesting in particular a grand scene of his visit to Jaffa in 1799.

    Gros was aware of what had happened in Jaffa. Napoleon had been repulsed by the victims of the plague that had set into the city. He had even considered burning the entire city down with all its inhabitants, including the healthy, in a supposed act of mercy.

    Still uncertain of exactly what had transpired the night before, he was intrigued by the idea of painting a lie, and Gros took to his studio and created his masterpiece, Bonaparte Visiting the Plague Victims of Jaffa. Gros thanked the young artist (whose name he couldn’t quite recall, but it had sounded much like Voulu) who had given him the idea of painting a lie by including him among the plague-stricken. Valac as the young artist is depicted as the young man in uniform in the lower right. Additionally, for reasons he didn’t quite understand or recall, Gros was moved to feature himself in the painting as the mysterious man with the cap bearing the number thirty-two.

    "Bonaparte Visiting the Plague Victims of Jaffa" by Antoine-Jean Gros
    Bonaparte Visiting the Plague Victims of Jaffa. This never happened. Click for detail.

    The painting was a phenomenal success at the Salon of 1804. Gros was celebrated as a genius among his peers for the next eight years of his life. He had droves of admiring students. He had more money than he could spend. He was loved.

    But on a bright day in November of 1811, he felt something shift within him while he was working on the cupola of St. Genevieve. It began as an uncertainty in the shoulder that crept down his arm and affected his ability to hold his brush. His eight years of brilliance were over. His twenty-four years of interest had begun, and it started with a mistrust in the precision of his fingers.

    It took him thirteen years to complete the cupola. After he was finished, all of his work was met with sharp criticism. He tried to exhibit his paintings at every opportunity, but no one in Paris was willing to pay him any mind.

    "Portrait of a Child" by Camille Corot
    Valac, as seen by Camille Corot at the Salon of 1834.

    Gros’ last Salon was in 1834. No one—not even his students from his halcyon days—recognized him. However, the artist Camille Corot noticed that there was a drunken, destitute man who appeared to be the object of fascination to a strange, unaccompanied young boy clad in black. Corot himself was captivated, and he used his memory of the boy as the subject of a painting that he debated showing at the Salon the following year. (It was lucky he didn’t—he did much better with Hagar in the Wilderness.) To this day, human scholars debate whom Corot had employed as a model for Portrait of a Child.

    Finally, on June 23, 1835, Gros dressed himself in the uniform that Napoleon had given him in appreciation for his magnificent painting of the plague victims at Jaffa, and he drowned himself in the Seine. He had tucked a note in his hat that read, “Tired of life, and betrayed by last faculties which rendered it bearable, he had resolved to end it.” His body was positively identified, examined thoroughly and released to an adolescent boy who claimed to be Gros’ nephew, unaccompanied and dressed in a manner that indicated he came from a family of means.

    A new tale next week. Dominus tecum.

  • Valac the Demon, Part III

    Back to Valac the Demon, Part II.

    21 Raphael breaks, a day of Ariel. Remind me to tell you about time some day. Yes, yes…with Estelle’s permission…of course.

    When we left off last time, Valac had just entered the studio of Jacques-Louis David. David’s studio was particularly rich for the demon, as David seemed to attract the company of those whose moral definitions were, shall we say, flexible. During one of his visits to the studio, the Apokomistis discovered a young artist named Antoine-Jean Gros.

    Gros was a talented painter in his right. Before his unfortunate encounter with Valac, Gros had studied with David, and he had also travelled to Genoa in order to perfect his craft with foreign masters. He’d had the fortune of being an acquaintance of Napoleon Bonaparte’s wife Josephine, and she’d recommended him to her husband as someone who might be able to provide a visual record of the French Republican victories on the battlefield.

    Napoleon was indeed interested in commissioning an artist to document his campaigns, in the interests of spreading a fantastic and epic form of propaganda, and thus Gros was given an audition of sorts by Napoleon. The general invited the young artist to witness the Battle of Arcole, where the French Republican Army met the Austrians on the battlefield. Gros was inspired by Napoleon’s advance over the bridge, and filled with the stuff that artists kill for, he created a portrait meant to elicit awe in Bonaparte on the Bridge at Arcole.

    "Bonaparte on the Bridge at Arcole" by Antoine-Jean Gros
    Gros’ Bonaparte on the Bridge at Arcole. It was a fine likeness, in truth.

    Napoleon didn’t hate Gros’ representation of what he’d considered to be a great military victory, but he wasn’t wild about it, either. Napoleon felt that he should have looked still more handsome and more heroic than Gros’ skills could harness. Gros was crestfallen, for he felt that he had represented the general with a god-like bravado within his painting. (It is indeed difficult to satisfy a narcissist.) However, Napoleon had no other competent artist on hand to document his feats of glory, and so he kept Gros relatively near.

    Knowing people in high places did nothing to improve Gros’ finances, however. He found himself broke and outside of the limelight that he felt his talents deserved, and so he went to David for help. Gros explained his plight, and as misfortune would have it, Valac happened to be posing as a model for the students and just within a demon’s earshot. Gros was particularly disappointed by the reception of his latest work in the Salon of 1803, and he ached for the riches and the immortality that was promised by the adoring crowds. Valac’s interest was piqued by Gros’ ambition, and he took the opportunity to satisfy the young artist’s deepest desires.

    Within the last century or so, humans have come to count many things as fiction that, on the contrary, are fact, and the sale of one’s soul remains as one of the nastier means to an end. Demons rely upon the demonic pact with humans because it is one of the ways that they sustain their power. There is a measure of quid pro quo, for most demons are not entirely unreasonable usurers, so that the human who makes the pact does get to enjoy several years of fame or fortune or whatever their misguided heart desires. The pact itself is simple: it requires a verbal pledge and a single drop of human blood. (Valac typically prefers a few ounces at the very least, but he does make exceptions.)

    Valac donned the appearance of an artist from a wealthier economic background. Gros left David’s studio, and Valac flagged him down, extending him an invitation to join the disguised demon for an evening of fine food and wine. Gros accepted the offer, as he was hungry and tired of stale, moldy bread. During the second course at dinner, Valac asked him, “You have worked your entire life to paint the truth, and it has gotten you nowhere. Have you considered what might happen if you paint a lie?”

    Gros and Valac debated the point for a good portion of the evening. After a couple of bottles of wine had taken over Gros’ judgment, it was agreed that Valac would grant Gros eight years of fame and fortune, at the rate of twenty-four years of (misery) interest to be paid in full in thirty-two years’ time, or by the end of 1835. In his drunken stupor, Gros extracted a diseased molar from his mouth as his collateral to seal the deal.

    (Dominus tecum, dear reader. Until next time…)

    On to Valac the Demon, Part IV.

  • Valac the Demon, Part II

    Back to Valac the Demon, Part I.

    Before I return to Valac, it’s important to understand something about how demons work. Present circumstance forbids me from explaining precisely why demons do what they do—Estelle shakes her head and mouths, No! Not now. Not yet.—but for the meantime, suffice it to say that it’s a given that they have it out for humanity.

    Demons are indeed powerful. They’re stronger than humans, and there are even some demons who are stronger than some angels. (However, as an Archangel, I’ve yet to meet a demon who would dare cross my path and not expect swift annihilation.) You might ask yourself, “If they have it out for humans, and they’re stronger, why don’t they just take over the world?”

    Not that they haven’t tried. But humans are a resilient species. Every attempt to subjugate them has been repelled with defiance. Such as the time—oh, no? OK. Furthermore, humans have a purpose that—not even that? Very well then.—More shaking of the head from Estelle. Apologies.

    Back to Valac, then.

    Throughout the assault from the boys of Fontainebleau, Valac maintained his shape as the wealthy young boy, feigning the victim with a red face and tears, volleying with childish threats that he knew would cause the boys to chase him as he ran off. Then Valac, as the boy, hid. The boys looked for him, and they voiced aloud their fantasies of how they would punish the little boy when they found him.

    Valac watched in amusement, for he had dematerialized, occasionally appearing as a wisp in the corner for the boys to chase. After the better part of an hour, the boys had lost interest and were more interested in harassing a local girl. The demon then took the shape of a young man of about eighteen wearing the uniform of the newly formed French Republican Army. He strutted past the boys, and pretending to show outrage for their idle behavior, he admonished them for their laziness. He appealed to their innate childish recklessness and told them all to enlist in the Army, for France had wars to fight.

    By the next day, all six boys had been sent off to assist in the crushing conflict between the Republicans and the Royalists that had arisen near the west coast of France, the War in the Vendée. Valac hung around, assuming the shape of various soldiers, ensuring that each boy met his end in a gruesome fashion. The eldest boy was trampled to death in a surge. The youngest boy, who served faithfully as a little drummer boy, was blown up in a cannon blast. Valac nearly brimmed over joy when the last boy died viciously at the hands of the Royalists.

    However, Valac had no idea that that fourteen-year-old boy, the last of the six boys, was destined to become legend. His name was Joseph Bara, and to this day, he is celebrated as a hero of the French Republic. How he met his end is the reason for his fame: he was captured by the Royalists. Valac was well aware of Joseph’s inner terror and unwillingness to die, and the boy already had a plan in mind to beg for his life. Valac couldn’t have Joseph being returned to Fontainebleau in one piece, so he took over his body and began to pronounce a laundry list of rude names all directed at the Royalists captors. The Royalists were already blood thirsty, and they had no patience for a Republican brat spouting curses at them. They gave him one last chance to recant, and they ordered him to declare, “Long live the King!” to save his life.

    Internally, Joseph fought the demon’s hold over his body and mind, but he was no match for the Apokomistis. Valac quieted the boy, and said, “Long live the Republic!” instead.

    The soldiers were slightly kinder than Valac. At least they made sure that Joseph died quickly.

    The Royalist soldiers were captured later that day, and one of them let slip Joseph’s seeming bravery. Word spread throughout the Republic of Joseph’s bravery, and Valac followed the path of the story, amused beyond comprehension that his—and not Joseph’s, the poor boy—defiance of the Royalist soldiers served to foment further hatred between the factions.

    Valac remained in Paris for a while, while the story turned to myth turned to the cornerstone of a religious devotion to the lad, and he was immensely intrigued that one of the Republic’s strongest (and rather blood lustful in himself) supporters, a painter named Jacques-Louis David, offered to immortalize the boy in a painting.

    David debuted his painting in 1794, the year after Joseph’s death. It wasn’t so much an accurate tribute to how Joseph died—Jean-Joseph Weerts came far closer with his representation almost a century later—as it was an odd combination of praise for the Joseph’s purported demigod-like bravery through its neo-classicist themes and an indication of David’s own, shall we say, varied and unusual tastes.

    Given even the slightest hint of corruption of the soul, Valac is ever intrigued. Valac followed David for a few days, and it was there, in David’s studio, that he uncovered an entirely new opportunity among a throng of hungry and ambitious young artists all desperate for immortality in one respect or another.

    (Time’s up. More on the next day of Ariel. Dominus tecum.)

    Charles Moreau-Vauthier, Mort de Joseph Bara
    The Death of Joseph Bara by Charles Moreau-Vauthier

    On to Valac the Demon, Part III.

  • Valac the Demon, Part I

    Valac is an ancient demon, and just as the word упир has changed over the centuries of human history, so has his name. He answers to Volac, Valax and Valu, the latter pronounced with a nice French-sounding u at the end. Sometimes he can be even summoned as Moloch whenever Moloch himself is out of reach.

    Valac's Sigil
    Valac’s Sigil as it was not altogether erroneously recorded in the Lemegeton, the Lesser Key of Solomon

    Humans have created their own classification systems for demons over the last few millennia. Byzantine writer and politician Michael Psellos dreamt up one of the most fantastically elaborate systems back in the eleventh century. He wrote (and many others copied) that there were demons of the Empyreal (the atmosphere), the Aerial (the air), the Subterranean (underground), Aqueous (all bodies of water), Terrene (land) and Lucifugi (exclusively nocturnal). Mr. Psellos wasn’t so much wrong as he was overcomplicating something fairly simple, like inventing categories for pencils based upon their length after they’ve been sharpened for the first time.

    There are only two categories of demon as recognized by angels: the older and stronger demons, known as the Apokomistai (Ἀποκομισταί, singular Ἀποκομιστής), and the young and weak demons, known as Nekudaimones (Νεκυδαίμωνες, singular Nεκυδαίμων), commonly shortened to Nekus. Whereas a Neku must possess a human or animal in order to have a corporeal form, an Apokomistis is capable of taking whatever corporeal or non-corporeal form he or she wishes. Of course, if any demon were to choose to inhabit a cloud in the upper atmosphere, he or she could, but as humans have firmly established themselves as ceaseless forms of entertainment to demonkind, most demons opt for human forms.

    Valac is an Apokomistis. He only answers to a handful of other Apokomistai and generally keeps to himself, unlike most of the other most powerful demons, who are typically accompanied by an entourage of Nekus. He is frequently sighted and summoned by humans, and he has a reputation for appearing as a child who uses his seeming innocence to lure willing victims to terrible ends. In fact, you’ve probably heard about some of Valac’s greatest crimes and never knew it. Have you ever heard of the Children’s Crusade? Or the Pied Piper of Hamelin? Those were both Valac, leading children away to certain death. Some of his lesser-known but more ghastly feats took place in France, not long after the Revolution.

    In the months before the Bastille fell on July 14, 1789, a clutch of Apokomistai and supporting Nekus had been irresistibly attracted to the streets of Paris by the kind of turmoil that eventually leads to bloodshed. The demons dug in and transformed the French Revolution into a ruthless affair that would usher in almost eighty years of intermittent unrest, conquest and, at its worst, horrific civil war.

    Valac arrived in France in May of 1789, at the invitation of the Apokomistai Astaroth and Mammon. Over the next fifty years, he showed up wherever he felt he could do the most damage to the French. Valac, Belial and a squadron of Nekus participated in the Reign of Terror from June 1793 to July 1794 that saw the deaths of tens of thousands of humans (although Kimeries himself rightfully claims the responsibility for having caused it).

    On occasion, Valac would find himself bored with the warring factions and preening Nekus, and he would set off on his own to satisfy his need for human flesh and blood. He was on his way to find a battle or even a minor skirmish to occupy his time when he accidentally discovered a whole new opportunity.

    Fontainebleau is a town to the south and east of Paris. It had been a popular retreat for the French monarchy over the prior centuries, and so it was no stranger to the violence of the Revolution. On the 23rd of Fructidor, Year 1, in the newly adopted and quickly discarded French Republican Calendar (more commonly recognized as September 9, 1793), Valac was passing through Fontainebleau disguised as a young boy of about eight years of age, when he came across a group of six idle teenaged boys. The eldest of the boys was fifteen, the youngest was barely eleven, and they were all from peasant families.

    Valac, like most demons, has a sincere appreciation for money and everything its appearance affords them. As he passed the group of boys, they couldn’t help but notice his wealthy-looking attire, even though he was curiously unaccompanied and travelling with purpose in his step. The boys had all heard plenty from their non-landed families about how miserable life had been under the King and before the Revolution, and they couldn’t pass up the chance to take it out on what appeared to be a weak child with money.

    The eldest of the boys initiated the torment with a vile taunt. He was soon joined by the younger boys, and they all took, very unwisely, to throwing stones at the disguised demon.

    (To be continued later. Dominus tecum.)

    On to Valac the Demon, Part II

  • UPYR! Part III & Conclusion

    Back to UPYR! Part II.

    …her life had seemed to fall apart. yes yes yes. End of sentence.

    Before we return to our history of the servant woman Aleksandra, there are two things that you must know about demons: one, demons love to pose as gods, and two, if they can sniff it out, they will never miss a blood sacrifice.

    This occasion was no different. A demon called Valac was in the vicinity, and he was enticed by the miserable scene. And so, just when Aleksandra couldn’t possibly have felt any more dejected, Valac assumed a shape that matched her inner visualization of Perun, put his hand to her shoulder and assured her that her sacrifice was more than acceptable.

    Aleksandra was the very picture of shock. She had always believed in Perun, but never had she imagined that she was worthy of a personal visit. Valac as Perun glowed faintly in the dark of the woods, and he smiled brightly, assuring the poor servant woman that she was worthy of his attention. When she recovered her senses, she threw herself at his feet and begged him to rescue her from the court of the disbelievers. Valac petted her head and promised to rescue her on the following night at midnight, all the while nibbling on the bit of flesh she’d hewn off for Perun.

    The servant woman wiped her tears away. Although she was exhausted and weak from the blood loss, she felt relieved for the first time in weeks. She had kept her promises to Mariya, and she was finally going to be rewarded.

    Valac disappeared after making additional promises to return for her, taking his glow with him. Aleksandra caught her breath for a few long moments while she allowed her eyes to readjust to the darkness of the wood. She was preparing to stand when she heard a twig snap behind her, and a pit settled in her gut when she realized that she hadn’t been alone in the woods.

    The darkness had obscured Gleb’s expression, but it was clear to her that it was full of malice. He whispered that he had seen her evil treachery in the woods, and that if she made even the quietest complaint that he would not hesitate to let the Prince know that she worshipped false gods.

    Aleksandra was filled with terror, but she also recognized that she had a god—a god who had just promised to save her, at that!—in her corner. So she screamed. She screamed as loud as she could.

    Her scream carried far, even though she had travelled deep into the woods. In the distance, the palace guard took up arms and shouted to each other to search for the disturbance.

    Gleb panicked. Aleksandra continued to scream, and Gleb understood that the only way for him to stop her scream was to stop her throat. So he stopped her: he put his hands to her neck until Aleksandra could scream no more.

    The boyar was furious that he had destroyed so lovely a creature. He knelt next to her, uncertain as to which vile action he wanted to perpetrate on the destroyed woman.

    Remaining true to his degenerate self, Valac hadn’t left the woods. He had stayed to watch the whole ghastly murder play out. With the taste of flesh still on his tongue, he felt compelled to toy with the humans, so Valac entered Aleksandra’s poor, lifeless body and animated her corpse.

    Gleb was still kneeling over Aleksandra’s body when he was suddenly thrown onto his back. He looked up in utter horror to see that Aleksandra had pinned him to the forest floor, and she had a vicious, ugly grin on her strangely illuminated face. With a burst of unanticipated strength, he broke free and ran toward the palace, but he was no match for the demon inside the body of the dead servant woman. Just as they reached the edge of the woods, Valac overtook the boyar, and the demon, in Aleksandra’s body, bit into the warm, tender flesh of Gleb’s neck and subdued the boyar without much effort.

    All the while, the palace guard had spread out in search of the source of the scream. It wasn’t long before one of the guards happened upon Valac possessing Aleksandra, feasting upon the throat of a convulsing Gleb, with that same vicious, ugly grin on her face. The guard recognized Aleksandra and was frozen for a moment by his revulsion. Only one word came to mind, and it was the epithet that had been uttered about her behind her back. He cried, УПИР!

    Good news travels fast, but slander travels faster. Before the end of the night, everyone within the palace of Kiev was unable to sleep, for word had spread that the упир Aleksandra had murdered the boyer and was on the loose.

    Helena wept over the body of her husband, and her grief dared her to demand from the Prince Vladimir and Princess Anna why they hadn’t believed her when she said that the servant woman had been nothing other than an evil, blood-drinking упир.

    And упир, after it’s been transliterated and contorted over several centuries to fit inside the Romance and West Germanic languages, starts to sound very much like the word vampire.

    Poor Aleksandra.

    I’ll tell you more about Valac on the next day of Anael. Dominus tecum.

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