Ice hung in the air. It was early February, still chill and tainted with the lasting breath of the winter. Snow was long gone but the temperature yet hovered at freezing. Matthew drew his coat around him, soft tan suede the only respite from the chill. The tall blond man clutched a thick, leather bound book under his arm. As he headed down the alley which lead towards his home, Matthew could feel the feral cats of the alley pass their eyes over him with distaste. A few of them stopped, stared, and fled. As if they knew what Matt carried more than he. The thick Daemonology book was like a serpent in the grass, with the way it had wended itself from the shelf and into the unsuspecting teacher's clutches. The curious book now nagged at him in the same way as he thrust a golden key into the locked door of his home. Matthew was quick to put the lock back into place as he shut the door, hands shaking with some unknown anticipation. He made his way over to the study and locked that door, too, behind him with a click. The blond man placed the book on the desk and ran his hand over the smooth leather cover. It was a beautiful tome, printed only a few times. This particular volume had been part of an estate and had been a very pricey piece. Matthew couldn't bring himself to recall why he'd bought the leather back but the way the gold leafed pages and vortex of shining lettering consumed the volume was reason enough. Daemonology was marked across the leather in sharp, elegant cursive and golden boundaries outlined the edging of the cover. The spine had Daemonology written in nearly illegible scrawl, but no author was listed beside the title. Matthew pulled up the desk chair, sat down and, ever so gently, took the book into his hands. He opened it to the first page, where Daemonology was written in gothic script and some far-gone date was printed below it. He leafed past a blank page and the contents to arrive at a Foreword, again written in tilting ink-like scrawl. Unable to resist, Matthew began to read aloud.
"In all the history of the world, God has always been the most grand of its many mysteries. The Lord and his legion of angels are said to guide humanity to righteousness. That we seek true greatness in the hands of our maker. Yet, there has always been dark as there has been light, just as day to night.
Daemonology is a taboo. One would think we would be keen to be aware of our enemies, but nay. Nay, we must never dust away the glamour of the light of The Lord to search for the truths behind the angels and demons written into the Holy Bible. Time and time again we pause and wonder, only to await the answers in this book. Only the curious seek to know what the wise have known all along.
'Now the Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils;' Timothy 4:1
'Ye cannot drink the cup of the Lord, and the cup of devils: ye cannot be partakers of the Lord's table, and of the table of devils." Corinthians 10:21'." Matthew finished breathlessly, looking down at the stark text from which he read. The tall man fingered the numberless corner of the page for a moment, before he turned the pamphlet. A single raised name marked the top of the page, stained in a dark caramel.
"In all the history of the world, God has always been the most grand of its many mysteries. The Lord and his legion of angels are said to guide humanity to righteousness. That we seek true greatness in the hands of our maker. Yet, there has always been dark as there has been light, just as day to night.
Daemonology is a taboo. One would think we would be keen to be aware of our enemies, but nay. Nay, we must never dust away the glamour of the light of The Lord to search for the truths behind the angels and demons written into the Holy Bible. Time and time again we pause and wonder, only to await the answers in this book. Only the curious seek to know what the wise have known all along.
'Now the Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils;' Timothy 4:1
'Ye cannot drink the cup of the Lord, and the cup of devils: ye cannot be partakers of the Lord's table, and of the table of devils." Corinthians 10:21'." Matthew finished breathlessly, looking down at the stark text from which he read. The tall man fingered the numberless corner of the page for a moment, before he turned the pamphlet. A single raised name marked the top of the page, stained in a dark caramel.
Matthew felt the large lettering atop the page, feeling the curves of the embossment with his fingertips. The rest of the page was consumed in lettering, and faded pictures marred corners and whole paragraphs within the page. Engrossed, he begun to read once again. The passages were long and winding, written in the beautiful near undiscerning speak of old. The english professor let the words and understanding come easily with long years of learning beneath his golden cap. The page described the lord of hell, the greatest of the angels fallen from God's graces. He, the king among kings and the most renowned of temptation. Father of sin and son of evil. Matthew's mind was wrapped into the text and the words seem to fall off the parchment tan pages as he spoke. He was nearly at the last sentence when a feeling passed over him.
"And he said unto them, I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven." Matthew looked up from the page as the final words fell from his mouth. His jaw dropped and he stared, appalled, at the inky form convulsing upon his carpeting. Rather, not ink, but a child who stood in the shadowy corner of the room. He bore demon wings and lordly black as night clothing. He clasped but a single object, a crimson crown which sparkled faintly with its majesty.
"My, my, my. What have we here?" The child grinned, an air of superiority surrounding him and his stark red eyes glowing in the dark. "I don't suppose you know where I am?"
"And he said unto them, I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven." Matthew looked up from the page as the final words fell from his mouth. His jaw dropped and he stared, appalled, at the inky form convulsing upon his carpeting. Rather, not ink, but a child who stood in the shadowy corner of the room. He bore demon wings and lordly black as night clothing. He clasped but a single object, a crimson crown which sparkled faintly with its majesty.
"My, my, my. What have we here?" The child grinned, an air of superiority surrounding him and his stark red eyes glowing in the dark. "I don't suppose you know where I am?"
