For Love of Evil

  Parry sighed. He knew what would do it. The heretic had a small daughter. He did not want her to suffer; that was the source of his stamina.

  But corrupt as he was becoming. Parry would not torture an innocent child! That might make the heretic give evidence, but would be no credit on the Church or himself.

  "Remember, my Lord is the master of deceit," Lilah said.

  She was giving him strong hints, but leaving him to figure it out for himself, because corruption had to come from within. Now Parry realized what she was driving at. Truly, it was infernal—but it would surely work. And it seemed he had no choice, if he was not to give up what he could not give up. For the love of evil, he was damning himself.

  "Can you assume the form of the heretic's child?" he asked her.

  "I though you would never ask!" she said brightly. She became the child: a string-haired waif of about five years, with big gray eyes and a tattered dress and a straw doll.

  Parry took the waif's hand and led her into the chamber where the heretic lay. "Pére!" she cried.

  The man's sunken eyes opened. He gave a start of recognition.

  The waif took a step toward him, but Parry held her back. "Silence, brat!" he snapped. "You will have your chance to talk soon enough."

  She began to cry. The prisoner gazed at her with alarm. "You would not—?"

  Parry reached down with his free hand and grasped the waif by the hair. He hauled her up off the floor while she screamed piercingly. He glanced meaningfully at the ropes and pulley at the far end of the chamber.

  The prisoner capitulated. "I will give the names!"

  Parry smiled with cruel beneficence. "May God have mercy on your soul." And on his own, he thought. But there was little chance of that.

  The rest was routine. Parry escorted the mocked-up child out, leaving the local personnel to take down the information. The heretic would be required to sign a statement (they had been careful not to break the fingers of his right hand) that he had given testimony freely and without duress, and to testify against those he implicated as companion heretics. Then he would be allowed to retire to prison for the remainder of his life. His family would not be bothered, once their property had been taken. His soul had after all been saved for eternity.

  Parry received his reward in full measure; the demoness was pleased with him, and she had ways of expressing that pleasure that transcended the powers of mortal women. She gave him the semblance of youth, and the vigor and potency of youth, and she became a succession of luscious young women who availed themselves freely of that potency with ever-increasing imagination. He found himself doing things with her whose very description would have evoked the Index, and that no decent person would have cared to imagine.

  But the knowledge of the cruel trick he had played on the heretic haunted him; truly, this was a device he would never have thought of, let alone practiced, in his day of serving God. Worse, he knew that he would use similar devices in the future, for the demoness had as cruel a hold on him as he had on the first heretic: illusion that cut through to the core.

  Five years passed in this slow descent. Parry never sought personal aggrandizement, preferring as he had before to be the power behind the power, but in private he wielded critical control over the Inquisition in France, the Holy Roman Empire and Italy. Under his direction, money became the engine that drove the Inquisition; the spoils were the estates of the accused heretics, and the requirement that each confessed heretic implicate others guaranteed that the proceeds would be ongoing. The Inquisition was now on a sound financial footing—and well on the way to ultimate corruption.

  With each successful case, Lilah became more ardent. Parry was becoming older, but he felt younger, because of the magic of the demoness and his infatuation with her. A billy goat seemed to have taken up residence within him, so that in those moments when he could not be fornicating with her, his mind remained on the subject. He suspected that this was an enchantment placed on him, to greatly enhance his lust, but he did not care. He lived to indulge it.

  The first part of Lucifer's vengeance was complete: the man who had done most to organize the Inquisition as a force for good had now reorganized it as a force for evil. That evil was self-sustaining; it would feed on itself and continue long after Parry himself was gone.

  "My Master is pleased with you," Lilah said. "It is time for an audience with Him."

  Parry was not eager for that, knowing that there could be little benefit in it for him. But this was not a thing he was in a position to refuse.

  Lilah made a circle in the air of his chamber with her finger. As that circle closed, the circle filled in, becoming a disk. She hooked her thumb into the side of that disk, and it swung open like a door.

  Beyond it was a tunnel. "After you, lover," she said, gesturing into it.

  Parry climbed in. At first the tunnel was large enough only for his body on hands and knees, but soon it widened, so that he could stand. Lilah joined him, showing him the way.

  They followed a descending spiral down through an increasingly intricate network of chambers and passages. They were, he realized, on their way to Hell.

  At length they reached a grand nether audience chamber. There, on a golden throne, sat the Prince of Evil, Lord Lucifer. He was a darkly handsome figure with well-defined horns and tail, exactly as represented in contemporary paintings. Obviously the artists had infernal inspiration.

  "Bow down," Lilah whispered. "Prostrate yourself before the Son of the Morning."

  Parry hesitated. "The what?"

  "My Lord Lucifer, the Morning Star, as he was known before the Fall. Get down!"

  "So the friar shows doubt," Lucifer boomed. "For that will I do him one disfavor. Friar, I tell thee what thou dost not wish to know: the date of thy death. It is precisely three years hence, at the hour of—"

  Parry dropped to the floor, prostrating himself before Lucifer, and the malignant voice cut off. The Lord of Lies was satisfied.

  The Lord of Lies. Did that mean that this cruel information was a lie? That Lucifer was merely taunting him with a fallacious date of demise?

  "The friar still doubts!" Lucifer boomed again. "To Hell with him!"

  Suddenly flames rose up around Parry. They closed in on him, their heat excruciating. His robe caught fire. He scrambled to his feet and leaped out of the circle. He struck the ground rolling, but the material of his robe blazed up again the moment it was upward. He tore the robe off, getting free of the agony only when naked.

  And found himself the cynosure of a multitude of eyes. They belonged to young women, naked themselves, who gazed at him in shocked confusion. Each held a three-tined pitchfork. Parry tried to cover himself, but had nothing other than his hands. He realized the effort was pointless, and desisted; after all, they were as embarrassed as he.

  He was in a more literal version of Hell. There was choking smoke and smoldering fire all around, extending endlessly. The fire was contained in circular pits, each tended by one of the maidens.

  The nearest pits blazed up vigorously. The girls squealed in dismay, and returned to their labors, using pitchforks to scoop ashes from the edges into the center of each fire. This had the effect of damping the flames, though there was a compensating increase in the vile smoke, causing the girls to cough uncontrollably. Most of the ashes sifted down between the widely spaced tines, which hardly helped, but they had no other tools.

  So his appearance here had distracted these damned souls, causing them to neglect their fires, and they had been punished by increased heat and smoke. Obviously they had to keep constantly at it, or they would very soon be even more uncomfortable than they were.

  Lilah appeared. "I have prevailed on my Lord to give you another chance," she said. "Considering that this is your first visit here. Apologize to Him, and He will grant you the intended audience."

  Parry realized that this was the best course. Obviously Lucifer could read his mind, and he had indeed doubted what Lucifer had told him.


  Then he noticed something about Lilah. Her normally perfect dresses were in disarray, and there were marks on her body. She was a demoness; no mortal could muss her or mark her, as he had long since discovered.

  "You were left with him," he said. "Did he hurt you?"

  "Of course not," she said quickly. "I cannot be hurt."

  "But he did something to you! You're changed!"

  "I am His creature," she reminded him. "I never suggested otherwise. He can do what He likes with me."

  The nearer fire girls were becoming distracted again, overhearing this dialogue.

  "What did he do to you?" Parry demanded. "Nothing I was not made for," she said defensively. "Look, Parry, this is dangerous. Just apologize to Him, and—"

  "How did you get him to reconsider?"

  "Parry, you know I have only one way to—"

  "You had sex with him!" he cried, in a sudden fit of jealous rage. "You prostituted yourself to him!"

  "That term has no meaning for my kind. Please, Parry, be reasonable, lest—"

  "You whore!" he screamed.

  The visage of Lucifer appeared amidst the hovering smoke. "Methinks our friar hath not quite yet relinquished his monkly ways," the Lord of Lies said. "Let him remain here for eternity, then!"

  "My Lord, no!" Lilah cried. "It is not yet his time!"

  "And thou with him, strumpet, for thy failure," Lucifer intoned, and faded out.

  Lilah tore at her hair in a remarkably human gesture of remorse. "Now look what you've done, Parry! We'll never get out of here!"

  Parry's rage evaporated. Of course she was a creature of this nether region, and sexual fidelity had no meaning for her. He had reacted possessively, when he had no right to be. She had never told him that she cared for him at all; she had only rewarded him in a calculated manner when he did what she wished. Whore? She had never claimed to be anything else! She had acted in her fashion to try to obtain a reprieve for him, and had succeeded—and he had thrown it away by his narrowness.

  "I apologize to you, Lilah," he said. "But not to him." There was a smattering of applause from the surrounding women. Then they hastened back to their work.

  "It's too late to apologize to anyone!" she snapped. Yet she seemed mollified; she had always reacted positively when he addressed her in a polite manner. It was evident that demons did not get much respect, and craved it. "We're both stuck here with the adulterous wives. In a moment the warders will assign us to our separate places."

  Parry had been almost ready to accept this chamber of Hell, if it was to be in Lilah's company. Now he realized that of course it would not be; Lucifer would hardly allow him to have that satisfaction.

  "Maybe we can escape," he said.

  "Fool—there is no escape. The attempt would only aggravate the warders." She looked him for a moment in the eye. "But I will say that your jealously was very flattering. You know I am not worthy of it."

  It was almost as if she were human! Their common plight had for this moment put them on an equal basis. "I think you are," he replied.

  "A demoness? I am no more than a tool in my Master's hands. I have no soul, no conscience, no imperative except to do His will. His will is that I corrupt you, and that I am doing. Certainly you owe me nothing; I extract payment from you in full measure for every reward I return."

  Absolute truth. "Yet you are very good at what you do," he said.

  "I certainly am. Too bad I will not be allowed to do it anymore."

  "So you do have pride in your work."

  "Pride is one of the basic sins."

  "And one of the basic virtues." But of course she would not regard that interpretation with favor. "Why did you try to get me another chance with Lucifer?"

  "Because your failure is my failure. I had to give you a chance to show that I have done a proper job corrupting you. Then I could continue."

  "Why not just let me go, and start with another assignment?"

  "Well, I—"

  "You're lying," he said.

  "I never lie!"

  "Then tell me that you care nothing for me. That I'm only an assignment."

  She opened her mouth, and paused. Then she laughed. "You're doing it back to me! You're corrupting me with words!"

  "I have had excellent teaching," he replied dryly.

  She considered. "As a demoness, I have no mortal emotions, only emulations I use to deceive mortal folk like you. But I do have an abiding desire to accomplish my purpose, which is to please my Master. I see in you the potential for enormous evil; therefore your corruption will accrue equivalent power to my Master, and He will be equivalently pleased. I believe my Master errs in throwing you away. Therefore I tried to persuade Him to allow the process of your corruption to be completed. I care for you in the manner you might for an exceedingly precious gem, or a unique tool to accomplish your purpose. It would be foolish to mistake this for caring for you personally. I am incapable of that."

  Parry nodded. That had the ring of authenticity. "I know you for what you are, Lilah. But I am mortal, and human. I hate you for what you have done to me and my spirit wife, but I care for you too, and hate myself for that. So just let me delude myself that there is some spark of human sentiment in you, masked by your demonic nature."

  "Delusion is the hallmark of this realm," she reminded him. "Here comes the warder."

  The warder was a huge masculine demon bearing a three-tailed whip, which he lashed about routinely, striking the flanks of the laboring women. The women screamed piercingly; but the manner in which they cringed from the warder suggested that the whip was not the worst they feared from him. One woman even stumbled into her pit; there was a horrible hiss as her feet burned, and her scream redoubled as she scrambled out.

  These were damned souls. Parry knew; they had no mortal flesh. But they looked physical, and evidently felt so. They were truly being punished for their failure to remain loyal to their home hearths. As was Parry himself, now that he had taken the demoness as his lover. Lucifer was a cruel and somewhat arbitrary master!

  "This way, sludge!" the demon rasped, tagging Parry on a buttock with a casual flick of the whip. Pain lanced through Parry's flesh; he bit his tongue in his effort not to scream. "What's a male soul doing here?"

  "Lucifer has a warped sense of humor," Parry replied as his agony abated.

  The demon raised the whip for a more telling strike—and recognized Lilah. "What are you doing here, Lil?" he demanded. "Slumming?"

  "I failed to corrupt this mortal sufficiently," she explained. "So I am incarcerated here with him."

  "Ho, ho! That means you are finally subject to my lust, you snooty creature. I have lusted for a piece of your posterior for centuries. Come here!" He grabbed for her.

  "Down, dog!" Lilah snapped. "I'm not for the likes of you!"

  But the demon caught her and hauled her in for a tusky kiss. Parry realized that she could not dematerialize here in the neither spirit realm; not now that she had been classified as an inmate rather than a favored creature. She could not avoid the demon as she could a mortal man on the surface.

  Before he knew it. Parry grabbed a fork from the nearest woman and launched himself at the demon. He stabbed it at the creature's rear.

  But the fork passed through without resistance. The demon, intent on Lilah, hadn't even noticed; his flesh was untouchable by local artifacts. But it was evident that Lilah's substance was touchable. She was struggling valiantly, but the demon was overpowering her, and in a moment would have his will of her.

  Parry had to do something—but what? On one level he knew this was utterly foolish, because Lilah was an infernal creature who could hardly be hurt by the act of the demon. Human standards did not apply here. Yet she was in her singular fashion his female, and he could not stand to see her ravished. It had been bad enough knowing that Lucifer had used her. This time the horror was occurring right in his sight.

  He had no weapon that could prevail against the warder. He could not e
ven touch the warder! How, then, could he bring the creature up short?

  His mouth opened, and he began to sing.

  "Creature of Hell, hark unto me! Turn not against your own kind! Consider how all of you are minions of Lucifer, How all labor for a common cause."

  The warder paused. Parry was improvising in the same manner he had when protecting the children from the possessed animals, using the mode of address that had been effective then. He was trying to pacify the evil spirit, to make it respond to his own will. He was putting magic into his song, reaching out to the demon not in enmity but in understanding.

  "Creature of Hell, remember that favor is fickle; As you treat your associate, so may you sometime be treated. When Lucifer's favor orients again on her, What you do now may be remembered."

  The warder froze, evidently shaken. As Parry continued singing, the warder let Lilah slide from his grasp. She stepped back, staring at Parry.

  Parry took Lilah's hand and led her away from the stunned warder, still singing. She walked with him without resistance, her eyes fixed on him. They wound through the chamber, and all the women stared likewise at them, their fires untended. But, while he sang, the fires did not blaze up.

  They came to the chamber wall. There was an opening in it, guarded by another warder. Parry continued singing and improvising, and the demon watched without moving. They entered the opening, and walked down a passage. When the entrance to the tunnel was small in the distance behind. Parry stopped singing.

  Now Lilah took the initiative. She moved ahead, still holding Parry's hand, tugging him along the route she selected. They turned a corner at an intersection, then another, and another, winding through the labyrinth. Now the general trend was upward.

  At last they emerged from the final tunnel, and stepped down into Parry's chamber in the monastery. Lilah turned, closed the door and erased it with a sweep of her hand. They had won their freedom from Hell after all. Lilah spoke no word. Instead she embraced him and kissed him with unusual intensity, and made love to him with a passion bordering on ferocity. It was of course her way of expressing pleasure with him; she knew no other.