Asmodeus returned to me swiftly, just as I requested. At least he still obeys me, even though since his last meeting with the gypsy he seems convinced that either he is - or is borrowing the body of - the man called Zillah Grey. I wish with all my heart that I could convince him that it wasn't true... but first I would have to convince myself, and that I cannot do.
Now, I can only reflect on the odd turns my life has taken in the last few months, and on how empty my future looks now that I can literally count the hours that I have left with Asmodeus (or Zillah? I suppose I'll have to learn to call him that from now on.) How strange to realize that the demon I summoned was actually a mortal man once... a monster of a different kind, to be sure, but certainly not at all what I believed he was at first. A man with a fiancée and children, a man with a reputation all across Europe, a man now reduced to a ghost of himself, an empty shell and a stranger in his own city. And to think that all this time I shared a bed with this same man, a man infamous for his passion for slaughtering witches... I wonder how he will see me once he's returned to his former state?
I wonder if I'll manage to move on once he's gone?
/2:05 PM
Monday, April 26, 2010: I will say one thing about this gypsy Lime: she drives a hard bargain, and makes a compelling argument. Granted, she's being purposefully manipulative -- even I understand that. But if she is telling the truth, then maybe it truly is wrong for me to hold on to Asmodeus as he is, when so many people claim that he is meant to be something else.
When last she and I spoke, she brought a little girl with her, and told me that it was Asmodeus's daughter. That is, it was his daughter when he was known as Zillah Grey... he doesn't seem to remember anything of his former life. But Lime insists that Asmodeus and Zillah Grey are the same man.
This child, Ameera Grey, is precocious almost to the point of unnatural ghoulishness. She seems not a child at all, but a wise adult trapped in the body of a sweet-faced six-year-old girl. And yes... she looks so much like my Asmodeus, I was stunned nearly speechless upon first sighting her. Her little face has the sharp bones and piercing ferocity that he does... her eyes a mirror of one of his own, the precise poison-green colour of his left eye. Even her manner of speech was the abrupt, biting Cockney that Asmodeus speaks with. But despite her very adult aura, she began to sob at the mention of her father. She begged me to let her see him. But... how can I do that, when it isn't even for certain? And besides, my demon lover is so terribly violent... suppose the child was hurt?
Though I have my reservations, the sight of the child's tears inspired me against all instinct to grant her a visit with my demon consort. A child's eyes never lie... if she recognizes with love the monster I keep as her father, I will help them to be reunited -- even though it means that I may lose my faithful friend forever.
I can only pray now... pray that Asmodeus will choose to stay... /6:36 PM
Monday, April 12, 2010:
A new friend of mine finally came by for tea. I invited her weeks ago when we first met, looking forward to the break her unconventional ways would bring from the monotony of London society. Her name is Lime, and I strongly suspect she's a gypsy - isn't that exciting? And I confess, I assumed because she is Romani that she would understand my strange new circumstance, and perhaps have something uplifting to help guide me through my new trials... particularly those pertaining to my demon consort.
But Lime was not as supportive as I thought she would be... in fact, she almost seemed to look with hostility on the idea of my demon altogether, so I dropped the subject and gave her an ample window for escape. I wondered to myself after she left why she should say such unkind things about demons. I came to understand that she had had a bad experience with one in the past but I felt sure that if she had ever met my Asmodeus, she would change her perspective on them a great deal. As far as I could tell, Asmodeus was merely... misunderstood.
That is, I thought these things until the following afternoon, when another friend came calling unexpectedly. Normally when I have company, I send Asmodeus away, or enchant him with sleep. But Mr Jonathan Rose turned up unannounced, in a strange temper, and I had only enough time to banish Asmodeus to the back garden before I could greet Jonathan in the foyer.
I believe I met Jonathan at Lady Kelly's crush last midsummer, and he had taken a special interest in me at the time. He had courted me for a couple of weeks, but when it became clear that my interests lay elsewhere, his visits had slowly tapered off and lately I had heard nothing from him. It seems he had recently heard from a mutual acquaintance that I had a gentleman caller every day, and that there was a rumour I was even living with this stranger. Jonathan had come straight from the club, after having perhaps a little too much to drink and obviously incensed. He had pushed past my servant and demanded to see me, even though they had told him I wasn't in.
Jonathan railed at me. How dare I invite this strange man into my home, people were saying he was foreign and dangerous-looking, and some had even said he was already a known criminal from the very underbelly of society. Did I wish to ruin myself and my father's reputation, he demanded? The more I tried to calm him, the more agitated he became, until finally he was shouting at me that I was behaving a harlot, and where was this stranger I was trolloping around with, as he should very much like to have a word with the bastard.
His blustering quickly ended as Asmodeus materialized in the doorway, drawn by Jonathan's shouting and my pleading. The servants had all withdrawn in fear. A dead silence fell upon the room for a brief moment. Asmodeus lifted his gaze to meet the intruder's, calmly, with the most terrifyingly hostile light blazing within, but his voice was perfectly calm, almost soft, as he said, 'What words do you have, then?'
Jonathan stared for a moment, slack-jawed, as he took in my demon lover's strange appearance, but he quickly recovered himself and demanded to know who Asmodeus was, and what business he thought he had, low-life animal that he was, skulking about with a young woman of my class.
'Jonathan!' I interrupted, petrified by the smoldering hate growing in Asmodeus's eyes. 'Please - you've been drinking. Just leave him alone, you're causing a scene. Please go, we'll talk about this some other time--' But Asmodeus had stalked slowly nearer, taunting the interloper with a smirk.
Jonathan was the one who threw the first punch. He caught Asmodeus suddenly in the jaw, and then Asmodeus was instantly at his throat, the two of them flying across the room and crashing to the floor in a snarling heap. Jonathan let out a sharp cry, and then was silent. In the blink of an eye, Asmodeus had gripped the man's head in his hands and twisted it right off, severing it, pulling it free of his body with the strength of a bear. Blood was everywhere. It sprayed across the walls, began to make a pool in the parlour floor. Perhaps most horrifying of all was Asmodeus' continued air of perfect calm, his breath slow and even, his face displaying not the slightest twinge at the carnage before him.
He dropped the severed head unceremoniously on the floor, stood, and turned to face me tranquilly.
I began to scream.
/5:54 PM
Sunday, April 4, 2010:
What have I done?
When Asmodeus told me about the ring in his pocket and the girl who has been trying to make him remember things from his terrible past, I begged him to put it out of his mind. Who is she, anyway? He says that he doesn't know. But looking at him there, I had the sudden realization that I could lose possession of him... something came over me, the discovery that my feelings for my new demon companion ran far deeper than I ever thought they could.
I summoned him to protect me from - and prove something to - my love Adrion. But even in such a short time, Asmodeus has proven well-deserving of my devotion in his own right. And in that instant, when I saw the ring and heard the things this other woman had been telling him - all lies, I'm sure - a passionate protectiveness welled up in me, and I did something that perhaps I should not have done. I invited the demon into my bed, lost myself in his kiss, let myself forget completely about Adrion and all our other troubles.
Adrion was the first and only man I have ever slept with, before my dark consort. He was frail and willowy, dark and exotic but all compliance and softness. Asmodeus is a different creature altogether, slender but powerful and, lurking beneath the surface, possessed of an incredible and violent appetite. It was if I awakened him for the first time from his sombre, brooding silence... and I am blushing now to recall it.
Have I made a mistake? For the first time, I fear Asmodeus and the fire that I saw smoldering in his eyes. But... though I perhaps should not have done this thing with him, I can't say I regret it.
My mind is made up; I will keep him far away from this strange woman and her lies.
/10:02 PM
Saturday, March 27, 2010:
When first I summoned the demon Asmodeus, I had a certain plan in mind for him. But once he arrived, I found myself completely unprepared. What had I really expected? To send to my love Adrion an inhuman monster, floating on dread black wings? A horned nightmare with eyes of fire? I blush now to think of it. My Asmodues is nothing like that.
He came to me in the form of a young man, with sharp, fox-like features and pale smooth skin. His eyes burn, it's true, but they are not glowing red. Instead his left eye is a bewitching silvery-violet, the other a toxic green. His jaw is set determinedly, but his lips are full and soft, though they turn down a little at the corners and this makes him look melancholy. His silky black hair is cut in a style no Londoner has ever fathomed. His skin is covered here and there with black images and symbols. I could never have devised such an outlandish form. But I don't dislike it.
He does not seem to resent his servitude. There are stories, you know, that once summoned a demon is difficult to maintain control of. They're supposed to want to trick you, to try to make you fall. But Asmodeus has told me of the agony he underwent in Hell, a terrible shredding of the soul no mortal man could withstand. He seems to feel that his service to me is nothing more than a welcome reprieve from the torment he endured for as long as he can remember from before.
He's always so very quiet. Too quiet - I sometimes try to get him to make normal conversation, explain that this is what normal people do and he must also if he is to fit in, but he cannot get the hang of it. He is still and silent unless prompted, but not immovable. He gives way willingly to my every request.
I feel terrible really, that I thought to use such a creature for my own ends, he follows me so unquestioningly. He seems almost... innocent. He does not seem evil or cunning at all. Can I turn back now? Can I put my loyal servant in harm's way, just to lure back my wayward lover? Do this to my friend?
Because yes, Asmodeus is my friend. He listens to my silly prattle patiently. His fealty is only with me. He is beautiful, dangerous, powerful, mysterious - the things I wish I could be, but cannot. Can I hurl this friend into battle on my behalf? He would do it without complaint, as he would anything else for me.
Lately, though, something is troubling my Asmodeus. He will not tell me what it is, but I can sense it. His simple silence has turned into brooding.
There are secrets he harbors. Dark secrets - I can feel it. The Diabolical Signature that glows like a brand over his heart is not quite right. There's a Y-shaped scar across his chest and belly that I can't place, and that he says he knows nothing about. There's his strange appearance. There is the matter of his personality - not entirely like a demon should be.
Is my new friend really what I think he is?
In the end, it doesn't matter. I will find out soon enough. And in the meantime, I am content to have him at my side: my lovely, my devoted, my silent shadow.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010:
For as long as I can remember, I lived with my Adrion. I must have been about five or six when my parents had discovered that I possessed strange powers and an affinity for spellcasting. My parents didn't understand my abilities, and so they called on Adrion, a distant relative, to meet me and to help them determine what should be done with me, and how I could be cured. Adrion always told me that they had been unwilling to accept that I was what I was, a witch, and that I could not be changed. To spare me the risks that would come when the townspeople discovered what I was later in life, Adrion took guardianship of me and neither of us ever saw my parents again.
Everyone in the family knew that Adrion von Dietrich was a vampire. He had been looking after our family since before my parent's grandparents were children. He told me that he was a great-great-great-great uncle of mine, but when I was little I called him 'papa'. His duties as a high priest in the Satanic Church took us from our London home frequently, and he always patiently accepted my accompaniment, though bringing a young girl such as myself on such long voyages must have been difficult for him. Our nomad lifestyle meant that I could never be given a formal education, so Adrion taught me all he knew - a significant knowledge - of theology, of magic, of herbalism, science, astronomy and mathematics. He was always pressing books upon me and making me read for hours. But even when he was making me read about things I didn't care for, his gentle insistence charmed me, and so I would smile and kiss his frosty white cheek, and go back to my studies.
Adrion would sometimes take company for their blood - always consenting donors, but he would not allow me near when he was enjoying them, and he asked me never to speak of it to him or anyone else. Adrion was a perfect gentleman about his vampirism.
As I began to grow into the passion of young womanhood, I began noticing other things about my Adrion beyond his soft, polite manner of speaking and his seemingly endless intelligence. I began to notice the sleekness of his straight black hair, and the shine of his skin, and the beauty of his crooked smile. I wanted to kiss the sweet shadows his lashes cast against his razor-sharp cheekbone as he read in his study. I wanted to take his long pale hands with their perfect sharp-filed nails and kiss his fingertips. I looked at other men and could not help but compare each one to him, they all seemed rough and uncouth and far too boorish when measured against him. I shed my childish moniker of 'papa' in favour of 'brother,' or more often, just 'Adrion'. I loved him feverishly. I believe he noticed this change in me, the change in my love for him, and he took it gracefully; he was careful not to bruise my delicate pride and careful also to never mention it - it would have embarrassed me far too much.
But when I turned eighteen, Adrion announced that I was no longer to live with him, that I was a woman now and that I must go out on my own. I was crushed. I had believed that Adrion and I would live in his townhouse together forever. I cried. I screamed. I threw his priceless vases and smashed them on the walls. And then, I did something awful, something I had never done before. I accused Adrion of never really loving me, of stealing me away from my parents like a monster in the night, of lying to me, of seducing me and making me want him, and of now unfairly casting me out, cruelly. I told him that I hated him. I still wince to think of it now, this outburst. Those words. But he merely watched in silence as my madness took hold - that was more maddening than anything, his calm poise while I slowly lost my wits. I left his house and wandered all night, cold and terrified, but too proud to show my face again so soon.
As dawn approached, his carriage pulled up alongside me in the street and his hand reached out for me. I was so grateful to see him again. I kissed him over and over in the carriage, insistent. I pulled at his jacket and bit at his throat. I begged him for the first time to drink from me, a request I knew he forbid. But Adrion surprised me; he took me into his bed. He complied with all my entreaties.
I assumed that now he would let me stay. I assumed that now we could finally be lovers, that he would never send me away, that my role in his life had changed. I was mistaken. Adrion had bought me a house on the other side of London within the week.
Again, I raged at him. But this time, Adrion would not comply with my demands. In fact, he finally lost his temper. He berated my for my ungratefulness. He threw me out.
I wrote letters threatening to expose him for what he really was, a vampire and a devil-worshiper, a black monster, a kidnapper, seducer of his own daughter. I wrote letters begging forgiveness, of promising to never misbehave again, if only he would welcome me back into his home, accept me as his wife. I lamented that my virginity was taken, I would never find a husband now. Didn't he feel responsible? I was steeped in bitterness. I felt that he had cast some awful spell upon me - if I only could break it. Adrion never wrote back.
Finally, I turned up on his doorstep. I refused to go away until he would see me. It had been nearly a year since I had seen him; my beautiful Adrion was in his study, he looked the same as always. He regarded me with the same cool silence that he had met my past outbursts with. I told him I hated my house, I hated the people I knew, I was bored, I was lonely. I wanted to come back. Wouldn't he at least come and see me? Was he not my only family?
'Leatrix,' he started sternly. 'You learned nothing of what I tried to teach you. Your selfishness knows no bounds. Your only ambition seems to be to manipulate me. I will not have you in my house. I will not have you as a daughter. Go out in the world, and make yourself useful. Do not trouble me again until you've done so.'
Another year has passed since that day. Now, shortly after my twentieth birthday, I think I may have finally accomplished something that even my Adrion will have to take notice of.
I pray he will...
/8:58 PM
Monday, March 8, 2010:
Leatrix cursed softly as a scalding droplet of wax landed on the back of her hand.
'Stupid candles,' she complained to no one in particular. 'Why should a demon care what colour your candles are? Suppose they won't be summoned because you've got the wrong kind of drapery for the season, or you put out the tea without a doiley!'
With this last outburst, she tossed her ladle back into the pot of melted wax, crossed her arms across one another on the table, rested her forehead on her arms, and breathed a deep sigh.
She supposed if Adrion were here, he would be laughing at her. But Adrion was not here, had not been here since their disagreement, and besides she had decided that she was going to do her best to put him out of her mind.
Leatrix had been busy making arrangements to summon her very own pet demon for months now. Since she had been expelled from the school of alchemy her brother had packed her off to last spring, it had been her only interest. The only trouble was finding all the ridiculous ingredients and accessories that her demonology books demanded - the proper sized altar, the ritual knife with a translucent edge, and of course, these black candles.
These damned, stupid black candles.
Leatrix lifted her head and began picking at the edges of the mold, peering in at the wax she'd poured. It had taken several tries to find ingredients that demons would like and turn the plain beeswax a sufficiently dark shade. She frowned. The wax was starting to dry a cakey, off-colour hue. It was mostly black, she decided. Maybe a little on the red side.
'Oh, bugger it anyway,' she muttered, standing. 'If this colour isn't good enough for them, they can stay in Hell for all I care.'
/9:46 PM