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Naamah

By: rugbydad56



I wrote this for my daughter, who loves stories about vampires, werewolves and all that ilk.

She was trying to write a story on this genre, so I decided to 'dash off' a little tale for her. And yes, she did like it. I have edited it a bit before submitting it here -- spiced it up a bit, but it's basically the same story.

Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

NAAMAH

Why do people always assume that if they like something, everyone will? I love my sister Alice but sometimes she really pisses me off. She loves Halloween! Why? A stupid festival that's been Americanised. The night before All Hallows Day, where the Catholic Church celebrates the lives of all the Saints. Of course it's now on 1st November to take over the pagan festival of Samhain. Why my dear sis likes this so much I have no idea.

Tuesday 28th October -- Wednesday 29th.

My phone was ringing. I almost didn't answer. I'd been having too many sympathy calls from friends, some of them really gloating, as a week earlier my long term girlfriend had 'traded up'. We'd been going steady for 18 months, sleeping together for most of that too. I'd even bought an engagement ring, and was going to ask Sandi to marry me. Her birthday was eight weeks away, in the middle of December, and I'd booked a long weekend in London, at an expensive hotel with dinner in a plush restaurant. Then Champagne in the cocktail bar 'Gong' at the top of the Shard and ask her to marry me.

I got home last week from work to find her packing the last of her stuff into her car.

"What the Hell? Sandi, what are you doing?"

"I would have thought that was obvious David, I'm leaving you." She answered.

"I don't understand. We're in love." I said in a shocked, confused voice.

"Yes, well love doesn't pay the bills, does it? I want more out of life than this," she said waving around. "I've been waiting for you to make something of yourself, but I'll be waiting forever, wont I? Simon is an up and coming lawyer, who will be earning a packet soon. Even now he earns five or six times more than you. If I'm honest you're better in bed but I'm sure I can train him to perform how I like. Your yesterday's man, David. Simon it tomorrow's meal ticket." And with that she was off, out of my life.

How had I never realised how shallow she was. So materialistic. Maybe I was lucky that she showed her true colours before we got hitched, but my heart was still broken. I was hurting badly.

Reluctantly I answered the phone and it was Alice. "Davie," she squealed in excitement, "I've got two tickets to the hottest Halloween Party in town. It being held at the Old Hall. You know the one up on the hill behind the parish church. It's been up for sale for well over a year, and someone from the Estate Agents (Realtor for those of you across the pond!) who have it on their books has arranged a fancy dress event. Please. Please. Pretty Please come with me. I love you!" Her voice had risen towards the end of the sentence and become 'little girl-ish' and wheedling.

"God Alice, really? Halloween -- you know how much I hate Halloween. And fancy dress. It sounds terrible," I blurted out.

"Oh. Sorry. I just thought...." Her voice had changed from high and excited to flat and depressed sounding. I felt contrite. I hated Halloween but I did love my little sister, and hated to disappoint her.

"Bloody Hell. OK, I'll go with you Squab. But you owe me one, with a capital O"

"Thanks, Davie. I Love You. God, I'm so excited." Her voice high and full of excitement again, not even complaining about me using the nickname I gave her when she was little.

A trip to the local fancy dress shop procured me the last vampire cape available, black with a deep red lining to the hood. Over the top of black trousers and DJ, plus lots of hair gel to sleek back my unruly mop and I would be acceptable.

Friday 31st October.

Friday evening I drove across town to Alice's flat, which she shared with two other girls she worked with at the insurance company call centre. Helen, one of the other girls was also going to the party. She was meeting her boyfriend at the Old Hall as he was working late, so would join her there. Both girls were ready, Helen also as a vampire, and Alice as a sexy witch, in a mini skirt short enough to flash her bum cheeks if she bent over even slightly. "Short enough skirt, Squab?" I asked.

"Piss off, D. I'm off to have fun. I am twenty-two, not fifteen. I'm not a little girl any more."

"No," I agreed, deliberately staring at the generous amount of bust spilling out the top of her costume, "not a little girl, but you're still my little sis. I don't want anyone taking advantage of you, and in that everyone can see what you've got on offer." I replied. I did trust her though, and knew she was sensible, careful with what she drank. However, flashing so much flesh was asking for trouble. I was glad I was going too, so I could keep an eye on her.

The Old Hall was decked out - gravestones at the entrance, artificial cobwebs and lots of electric candles (not taking a chance with real candles in case some drunk knocked one over and caused a fire!) A local pub had set up a bar, so I bought the two girls and myself drinks. Bottles of cider for me and Alice, lager for Helen. "Keep your drink with you, girls," I warned. "Make sure no-one can drop anything into them."

I got two kisses on the cheeks and the girls were off to gossip with anyone they could find that they knew. I did see a couple of acquaintances, so wandered off to have a quick word, while still keeping half an eye on Alice.

The evening dragged for me. I hated what Sandi had done, but at the same time I still missed her. I did notice that as the evening progressed Alice was dancing with just one man, dressed as a daemon, with a forked tail and red horns. I cut in on one dance to check on her, and she seemed Ok, though I thought she had drunk quite a bit more than usual. Her eyes were a little bit glassy.

"Are you OK, Squab?" I asked, "You seem to have been drinking more than usual. I know you're a bit of a lightweight."

"I'm fine, D, really. I'm just enjoying myself. I'm not going to do anything, especially with Jon. He's a good dancer but I don't really fancy him. He won't be stirring my cauldron tonight, if you get my drift." She giggled.

"Good. Drinking always lowers your inhibitions. I don't want you waking up tomorrow morning in an unfamiliar bed thinking you've been an idiot."

She kissed me again. "Thanks, D. I know you're looking out for me. That's why I've drunk a bit too much. I know you'll protect me from myself. Now piss off and let me dance." She poked her tongue out at me and giggled again. I moved off and leaned against the wall, where I could observe the whole room, including Alice.

Eventually nature called and I went off to the gents. When I came back and checked the time it was half an hour to midnight, and Alice was nowhere to be seen. Presumably she had gone to the loo too. Fifteen minutes later and Alice was still nowhere to be seen. I started to worry. She had shifted a good few ciders. I decided to go for a walk to check for her. The upstairs was cordoned off but I slipped under the rope and moved up the stairs. All the rooms on the first floor were empty, same on the second floor. Back downstairs Alice was still missing from the hall where the dancing was, and I noticed so was Jon. I slipped out again and was wandering round the ground floor looking when I found an unlocked door with stairs leading downwards. I quietly moved downwards until I reached the bottom. There was a corridor -- which way to go? I started along one direction when I heard voices, and could see a light under the doorway

I listened at the door and could hear what sounded like chanting. Then the light suddenly flared.

"Nooooooo." -- the word was drawn out, not quite a scream, and I recognised the voice -- Alice. I barged through the door into a nightmare.

The room was probably twenty feet by twelve feet, with bare floorboards and white painted walls. Various esoteric symbols had been painted on the walls in red paint. In the centre of the room was a large triangle, with approximately eight foot long sides, with a perfect circle inside it just touching the sides. At the three points of the triangle were large red candles, lit. Inside the circle was Alice. She looked unconscious, but as I had heard her scream I guessed she must have just fainted. Standing over her was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was way past beautiful. Abso-fucking-lutely georgeous.

Wavy, long, raven black hair cascaded over her shoulders to her lower back, Her face was heart shaped, with high cheek bones, piercing pale grey, almond shaped eyes which gave her a slightly exotic, eastern look and a full mouth with deep red, kissable lips. Her body was a classic, hourglass figure with a pair of breasts that supermodels would pay a fortune for, the large nipples prominent against the tight red crop top she was wearing. She had the most perfect, tight bum and legs that went on forever, barely covered by the tight red shorts that exposed the bottom of her butt cheeks, (even smaller and tighter than Alice's panties I noted,) finished off with 6 inch red stiletto heels. She was the epitome of perfect womanhood, and exuded sex appeal from every pore. And she was carrying a wicked, curved knife and looking longingly at Alice.

Directly behind the triangle I could see Jon, the bloke Alice had been dancing with, holding a book in his hand. The fucking bastard. What had he done?

As the beauty started to swing the knife downwards I leapt across the room and crashed into her. We both went flying, ending up on the floor. I rolled and was up on my feet in seconds and back to grab Alice. As the woman got to her feet Jon collapsed onto his knees.

"Oh God, No. NO! You're released her. We're dead." All this in a loud whisper. Then louder,

"Naamah, return to the abyss, I command you. Leave."

"Please." The last word with a quiver in his voice.

She laughed. The sound was like a stream tinkling over pebbles, or champagne being poured into a glass, or the sound a lover makes when she whispers 'I love you, lets fuck,' into your ear. The voice was so beautiful, so erotic, so sensual. I was in love. I would die for this woman, happily lay down my life for her if she asked. My mind was slightly fuzzy.

She snapped her fingers and the lock on the door clicked closed. "That's better," she purred, in the most sexy voice I've ever heard, "A captive audience."

She turned to look at Jon. "You've been a naughty boy, summoning me. But now I'm out of the trap you drew, you will have to pay my price. Loose the clothes." She turned to me and smiled. My heart melted and my legs went weak. "Hi, pretty boy. I'll get to you later. Mmmm, desert. And you," she said turning her smile to Alice, who was hanging weakly in my arms, just waking up, "The cherry on the top. Oohh, I'm going to have fun tonight."

By this stage Jon was stripped and sporting an erection. The woman, Naamah I think Jon had called her, turned back to him and pointed at it. "Is that for me? How nice. I've had much bigger but as no one has summoned me for quite a while I suppose beggars can't be choosers. And by the time I've finished with you, you won't care anyway." She walked over to him and in one fluid movement her top was off and thrown behind her. She stood in front of him and skimmed off the shorts, flicking them sideways with a lazy flick of a stiletto clad foot. I was mesmerised.

Naked, even with her back to me, she was absolutely the most sublime specimen of the female of the species that anyone could ever wish to see. She had thrown her hair over one shoulder exposing part of her long, pale neck, which flowed seamlessly into her shoulders and back -- muscled just perfectly, an artist's dream.

Her waist pulled in before flaring out into a perfect pair of hips and an arse to die for. The width of her hips meant she had a small gap at the top of her thighs where a set of very aroused, cherry red, pussy lips were just visible. All this carried on a pair of pins that any exotic dancer worth anything would have insured for millions of quid.

She had the body of an angel, I thought. How was I to know at that stage how close I was!

"Davie," Alice whispered, "What's happening. I feel dizzy. I think I might be sick."

I turned my head to look at Alice, and once I wasn't looking at the woman I found I could think more clearly.

Fortunately I had taken GCSE Occult Studies. OK. I'm bullshitting, but I have read a number of articles about daemons, because I wrote an essay in school about Daemonology. I got an A-, though I don't know if that was for content or the English! But I was having trouble putting it all together. My watch shows two minutes past midnight. Had that crazy son-of-a-bitch actually done what I suspected? Had he actually summoned a daemon? The name tickled a memory from my previous research. Looking at the symbol on the floor, and those drawn round the room, they looked occult. What the fuck!

"The door's locked, Al." I whispered. "We need to protect ourselves. We need a pentagram." There was a paint pot next to the door with a brush still sticking out the top, a trickle of red paint down the side -- probably the paint that Jon had used to scribe the sigils on the wall? I grabbed it while Naamah was occupied with Jon. He had a ridiculous grin on his face as the daemon rode him. Fortunately she was completely occupied with what she was doing, and not paying attention to us.

I carefully drew a five sided star surrounded by a circle just touching all five points, big enough for both of us to stand inside without touching the lines. Just as well I was an artist, and could draw freehand very effectively. I stepped closer to the rutting couple and picked up the book Jon had dropped. Then I grabbed Alice and carefully stepped inside the painted design. No sooner had we stepped inside than Naamah's head shot up, and those milky grey eyes bored into me.

"Clever boy," she murmured. "I'm nearly finished with this one then we'll talk."

With a few more pelvic thrusts Jon suddenly went rigid, groaned then went completely limp. Naamah stood up and looked down, and blew a kiss at the corpse. "You should have been more careful. Now you've paid the price." She walked across towards Alice and me, and stopped just outside the painted lines. She raised a hand and stretched towards us. When her hand reached the plane of the lines there was a blue flare and she grabbed her hand back. "Ouch. That wasn't nice. You are going to be a problem one, I think. He," and she waved her hand vaguely in the direction of Jon's corpse, "thought he could control me. Throw me the book and I might just let you live, or at least give you an enjoyable send off."

"I don't think so," I replied. "This has got to have information in it, probably about you. I've no intention of dying yet." Funny, but even though I could still appreciate her beauty, inside the pentagram I could think clearly. She was still sexy as hell, in fact way more than that, but I could resist the pull of her charms now.

"Tell you what," she said. "Give me the girl to play with and I'll let you live."

"Not a bloody chance. This is my sister. I'm not giving her to you." I held the book up, open at the page Jon was reading from. "You're a succubus, aren't you?"

"My, you are a clever one, aren't you? So, I'm a succubus. Then you know I feed off sexual energy. That one there has just given me an appetite. However I was summoned to complete a task. You sister," pointing at Alice, "was going to be payment. Oh yes, I like girls as well as boys! Anyway payment has been made with his life," again the flick of a hand in Jon's direction, "so someone has to give me a task to complete before I can go back home." She smiled. "What, Oh great one, shall be my task."

"Why ask me?" I inquired.

"You hold the Canon of Samael. You are the Master."

"Can't I then just send you back to wherever you came from?"

"No, silly. I have been summoned for a task, so task I must do."

"What sort of task?" I enquired. "Can I get you to do anything?"

"Mmmm, I'd do anything for you," she purred, "Just come to Mama," and she stretched her arms wide and swung her hips side to side suggestively. The small tuft of hair on her mons did nothing to hide the engorged pussy lips just below it, moist and oozing a small trickle of cum, which she knew. And the aroma of female sexuality wafting our way from her sexually charged body was heady and almost overpowering.

Despite the danger we were in I burst out laughing. Probably the tension, but it did make me feel better. Alice asked, "Davie, are you OK. I don't understand what's going on. Explain to me."

"It's like this Alice. The bastard you were dancing with wanted to get close to you so he could offer you as a sacrifice to this lovely lady here, who's a succubus. That's a type of daemon who feeds on sexual energy. I thought she was going to stab you, but now I think she was just going to cut your clothes off so she could have sex with you. But in doing so she would have taken all your energy and you would have died like him," I said, pointing to Jon's dead body. She was trapped in the sigil on the floor, but I knocked her out of it and released her. She literally screwed Jon to death, and if we weren't inside this pentagram we'd be second helpings."

I paused whilst I thought. "Jon used an evocation to drag her here to complete a task for him. What task I don't know, but you have to pay a daemon. You were payment! Because I released her from Jon's sigil she has taken his life in payment. From what she's said though she is stuck here until she completes a task commensurate to the payment. A payment of death would be made for a major task, not something minor."

"How do you know so much about this?" asked Alice.

"I wrote an essay for AS English about daemons. I did some internet research. Just shows, some things come in handy when you always thought they were a load of bullshit!"

I turned to Naamah, who was listening intently and asked "Can I ask you some questions? And if I do will you tell me truthfully?"

"Ask away."

"Are you going to be honest with me or are you going to lie?"

"Oh, I'll tell you the truth," she smiled, "but on the other hand if I'm a liar I would say that anyway, wouldn't I?" She grinned now. "Your choice, believe me or not. Now, what did you want to ask?"

"First of all, can you get dressed, please. You are beautiful, but looking at you like that is a distraction,"

"I'm disappointed in you, Davie, isn't it? I rather like your eyes roaming my body. I'd rather it was your hands, or mouth, though," and she rotated her pelvis suggestively in my direction, flashing everything.

"Not Davie, Master," I said waving the book in front of me.

"Bah, you're no fun." She pouted those beautiful lips, but turned and quickly donned the shorts and top. "Better now?" she asked.

"Thanks. Now what level of task will suffice to send you back to wherever the hell you came from?"

"Hell. That's appropriate for a fallen angel," she said, followed by "Level 1."

"OK, that's a start. Now what's a Level 1 task?"

"Oh, probably killing someone, or lots of people. Major disruption, you know. Something like that."

"I don't want you killing anybody, though there's at least one bastard I can think of that deserves to die," thinking of that shit Simon who stole Sandi. But there again did he steal her or was he just being used by her. Probably the latter. And even though she had hurt me badly I couldn't wish the bitch dead. Yeh, spoil her relationship, fuck up her life a bit but not death.


Naamah



"What about money? Can you make me filthy rich, but nicely, not by killing people?"

"What do you take me for?" She looked ready to stamp her foot in anger. "I'm a succubus. If I'm going to achieve anything I need energy, and for that I need sex."

"Ok, I understand, but do you have to kill the people you have sex with?"

"Not my fault if they can't keep up with me."

"But can't you just take some energy, not drain them completely? I don't want any deaths on my conscience. I didn't summon you, but it seems I'm stuck with you until you complete my task. So, come on, help me out here."

A big sigh. "I can try but you don't know how hard it is, what you're asking. When you are making love do you hold back? Or do you put everything into it? I can't help it that you humans are so weak, and if you really put everything into sex it drains the life force." Her expression became pensive as she thought for a few seconds, "You know the French call orgasm 'La Petite Mort', the little death, referring to the expenditure of life force. Well with me," and she broke into a huge smile, "It 'La Grande Mort'. Curtains. The grand bow before a celestial audience. When you cum, you go!" She twirled in a circle, and continued. "But what a way to go."

"O. K." I said slowly, "But can you tone it down. I DO NOT want any deaths, unless I specifically order it so?"

"Humans! Why did God make you so weak? Why can't you be like Hitler, Gengis Khan, Radovan Karadzic, Ayatollah Khomeini. Or even Maggie Thatcher. They had spines. Weren't scared of making decisions that killed a few people."

"Hitler? He was a fucking megalomaniac. Tried to completely wipe out the Jews. Karadzic was a psychopath. The Ayatollah was a Muslim extremist nutcase and Genghis Khan wanted to rule the world. Thatcher..." I stopped for a second, "Oh come on, she wasn't even in the same category. She was defending her country." I thought. "Did you, like, work for any of them?"

"Maybeeee." Then she wagged a chiding finger at me. "Uh Huh, a girl's got to have some secrets, hasn't she?"

She cocked her head to one side as if listening then sniffed the air. "Why don't you wait here while I go upstairs for a snack?"

"NO. I forbid it. If I'm your master, then NO."

She gazed at me. Her eyes seemed to change, becoming cold and unfriendly, losing colour until they were icy white. "You hold the book, Master." The way she said it, it sounded more like an insult rather than a title. "But you are hiding inside that pentagram and I'm out here in the open. If you're so clever, stop me. It's all there in the book. All you have to do is understand ancient Aramaic. As I looked down at the book I heard the snap of Naamah's fingers. The door flew open and she marched out.

We stood in the circle for about five minutes, until I was fairly sure Naamah wasn't hanging around to see if we would leave the pentagram. "Alice, stay here. Do not move outside the lines till I'm sure she's gone." I jumped over the lines and out of the painted design and hurried over to the open door. A quick look round the door showed an empty corridor.

"OK Alice, let's get the fuck out of here," I whispered. Then saw Jon's body. "Let's do a quick clean up as we go. Did you touch anything?"

"I don't think so. I'm still a little bit dizzy from the drinks."

I ran across the room and grabbed Jon's t-shirt, discarded on the floor. I took the paint brush I had used to draw the pentagram and wrapped it in the cloth. As we left the room I rubbed the door handle clean, then we were along the corridor, up the stairs and out. We grabbed my car and got the hell away from the Old Hall. I only started to breathe easier once we were over a mile away.

I drove back to my house, a two bedroom semi that I had bought when I started work. I had converted the second bedroom into my studio. I worked at the office two or three days a week, and the rest I spent in my studio at home, working on the illustrations I did for the publishing company I worked for. I did it all, from cartoon illustrations inside books, a comic strip that one of our writers wrote, to front covers of books. I wasn't rich, but I did enough to live comfortably.

By the time we got there Alice was just about out of it. The stress combined with the alcohol had got to her. I half carried her into the house and through to my bedroom. I laid her on the bed and took her shoes off, left her to sleep. I went through to the kitchen, put on a large pot of coffee and fired up my laptop. I had some research to do.

By six am I had read loads but was probably more confused that before. One thing I was sure of, the pentagram I had drawn had prevented the daemon from killing us. I thought I was probably very lucky to have picked the right design. Thank God for English A-level! I decided I was going to play safe.

I went through into my studio to look for a permanent marker, but while I was searching, (let's face it, artists aren't the tidiest of people -- my studio had various part-done illustrations scattered over different surfaces, some of my completed paintings stacked against the walls and loads of pencils, pens, pastels, crayons and paints everywhere.) I came across the pot of henna.

Last Summer Sandi had wanted a huge henna tattoo, which started on her right shoulder, scrolled across her back and curled round her ribs to circle her navel, with branches round both tits and curving down onto her Mount of Venus. God, I had fun painting it, AND watching Sandi walk round naked for the rest of the weekend as she didn't want her clothes to rub the henna off. Watching her try to sunbathe nude that weekend without the neighbours seeing was fun too. The sunlight 'cures' the henna tattoo, darkening it. When we went on holiday the henna was a rich brown colour and she certainly drew lots of attention, which was meat and drink to Sandi. By the time the holiday was over the colour was starting to fade so it wasn't too obvious once she was back at work.

I grabbed the pot and a fine brush. Alice was still dead to the world. I pulled her top up to expose her tummy. It only took me five minutes to draw the pentagram on her lower abdomen, starting just above her panties and ending with the upper point an inch from her belly button. The sun rays radiating out from the circle were a bit trickier but when it was finished it looked just like the ones I'd seen on my research. I hoped it would be enough if we ever met the daemon again, though I was hoping more though that we never crossed paths in the future.

I'm right handed. I decided to henna tattoo the inside of my wrists. My left wrist was easy, but it was harder to do my right wrist neatly. Fortunately the coffee had woken me up enough that I was able to do a decent job, not quite as neat as the left one but not a shoddy job. I then decided to call it a night and crashed on the settee for a few hours' kip.

Saturday 1st November.

I woke up about 9.30. Usually I'm slow to wake up, have the alarm on snooze to keep reminding me, but this morning I was immediately wide awake. I lay for a few seconds thinking about last night, then swung my legs off the settee and levered myself upright. I needed a shower and a change of clothes. Like Alice, I had slept in what I had worn to that bloody Halloween party. However I was so thankful I'd gone. If I'd refused Alice would now be dead. Not something I really wanted to contemplate.

I crept into the bedroom. Alice was still out like a light. She had rolled over onto her side through the night and was curled up. I hadn't turned the heating down last night as I was awake and doing my research, so the house had stayed warm overnight. Alice had obviously been hot so had kicked the duvet off, and lying as she was she left nothing to the imagination. I know she's my sister but Hell, I'm still a bloke, and can't help perving at an almost naked body. And while not as spectacular as the daemon from last night, still not shoddy.

Alice was a pocket rocket. Small and compact, about 5'4", but with everything a red-blooded male could want. The soft, flawless skin of her back swept down to her heart shaped bum barely covered by her tiny panties. Her pussy was highlighted clearly under the crotch of her minimal underwear.

I grabbed my jeans and a T-shirt off the chair and a clean pair of boxers out of the washing basket still waiting to be put away. (Get over it, I'm a man, not perfect at keeping house, but not a complete slob.) As Alice was non compos mentis I quickly took off my clothes and chucked them in a corner for sorting out later and with my change slipped out to the bathroom.

Showered and dressed I started breakfast. Coffee, lots of orange juice and bacon cobs. The smell must have woken Alice as I heard the shower going, then she wandered in wearing an old t-shirt of mine, barely long enough to be decent, but as she didn't seem to be bothered I didn't say anything.

I started with "How's the head? You had a skinful last night."

She groaned and said "Sore. Can I have some Brufen, please?"

I duly got the tablets and she washed them down with the OJ,

"So," I continued, "How much of last night can you remember?"

"I'm not sure, Davie, it's all a bit fuzzy. I vaguely remember dancing with someone, then he was shagging someone else, I think. I must really have had more than I should. Just as well my big bro was there to pick up the pieces." God, she had no idea how true that was.

"But," she stood up, "I certainly don't remember this." And with that she pulled up the t-shirt to expose her lower body. If she hadn't been my sister I would definitely have had very naughty thoughts. Alice however was pointing at the henna tattoo. "So, give. What's the meaning of this?"

Well, I wasn't about to tell her that I'd done it to protect her from a beautiful, but deadly daemon who had been summoned for some unknown task, and her life had been the payment. I had to think quickly, so I chuckled. It did sound a bit forced to me but Alice didn't seem to notice, and said in a light voice, "What, you can't remember? You practically forced me to do it. You said that a real witch would have a witches mark and you 'wanted one too'. So I did that before you went to bed. You insisted that I have too, so..." and I flashed the insides of my wrists.

"O God, I must have been really sloshed." She dropped the t-shirt hem and threw her arms round my neck and pulled me into a deep hug. "I love you, Davie. Thank you for being here for me. I know that sometimes I'm a bit flaky but I know that as long as you're around I don't have to worry. I know you'll look after me, big brother," and she kissed my cheek and just held tight. My arms went round her waist and hugged her back. "Love you too, Little Sis. That's what big brother's are for isn't it? Looking after their little sisters."

After breakfast I loaned Alice a pair of joggers and told her to keep the t-shirt until she had her own clothes, then took her back to her flat.

When we got there Helen and Julie, the other flat mate, were bubbling about the news.

"What's so exciting then," asked Alice.

"The Old Hall," started Julie,

"Where we had the party last night," continued Helen,

"Burnt down!" from them both.

"What?" we chorused.

It transpired that after everyone had left a fire started and the whole building had become ablaze, collapsing in on itself and suffering severe damage. As the party was by ticket, the police were asking everyone who had been there to let them know so that they could be sure that everyone was safe. Five dead bodies had been found in the ashes.

I phoned the number the girls had taken down from the news report and spoke to the officer on the other end. I explained I had taken two people to the Hall, had left with Alice around half past midnight and gone home. Helen, who I'd also taken, had already phoned them to say she was OK.

Alice changed into her own clothes and I took her out for lunch at a local pub. I dropped her off afterwards and told her I'd speak to her during the week. I headed home to think, and do more internet surfing.

Over the weekend I found out a lot of information, most of it contradictory. Naamah was a daemon, one of the original four Queens of the Daemons, along with Lilith, Mahalath and Agrat Bat Mahlat. They became the Queens by mating with the Archangel Samael. Some suggestions were that daemons were originally humans that had been stripped of their humanity in hell. Other sources suggested that Naamah was a 'Fallen Angel', that is one that had been cast down, out of heaven, due to sinning against God. Yet more sources tell that when Cain killed Abel, Adam and Eve separated for 103 years, during which time Lilith and Naamah were his lovers and bore his daemon children, who became the Plagues of Mankind. I hoped she had gone back to her own particular hell and was gone from here.

Monday 3rd November.

I phoned work and spoke to Esme, the boss's secretary. Actually Esme was so much more. She organised the whole office, arranged the schedules of the authors and writers on our books, organised me as to what illustrations were needed when, sent my stuff to the authors and my boss for approval, and made a mean cup of coffee. She was a small, bubbly blonde, barely five foot tall, but her huge personality made her seem to dominate the room if she chose to. Some authors can be prickly people, making ridiculous demands. Esme could read them and knew when to metaphorically cuddle up to them to make them feel good and when to knock them down and put them in their place. She'd worked there for a couple of years and I think the business would grind to a halt without her brilliance.

"Hi, Esme. It's David. Unless you desperately need me I'm going to work in my studio for two or three days, and come in for Thursday and Friday. I need to finish the illustrations for that new kid's book and have to change the cover of that spy book because the author didn't like it. I wish he'd told us exactly what he was looking for before I wasted all that time doing the originals."

"OK David, I'll tell Charles. If he wants you in before Thursday we'll ring your mobile."

I spent the morning on the kid's book, and the afternoon finishing the book cover. Fortunately I'd done several part drawings before I decided on what I thought was the best to finish. One of the partly done ones was very similar to the author's idea so I knew I could complete it quite quickly. In the evening I continued with the children's illustrations, falling into bed about 1am, but having got everything done that I needed to. I wanted to have a day with The Canon of Samael.

Tuesday 4th November .

I didn't feel that I could just take the book to someone and ask them what it said. I decided to make copies of a few select pages and see if I could get a translation. I contacted the language department at my local university and also at Oxford and Cambridge. Oxford actually put me through to someone knowledgeable enough to talk some sense, so I agreed to copy and fax the pages through for a Professor Mizrahi to examine. I e-mailed a couple of different pages to the ancient language department at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, with a covering letter, hopefully vague enough to allay any suspicion they may have.

I found a copy of the Aramaic alphabet on-line, so spent the day trying to translate a page myself. I picked the page that Jon had open when he summoned Naamah. I came up with rubbish in the main, with one or two recognisable words mixed in with gobbledegook. This was not going to be easy.

I phoned Alice and chatted to her for half an hour. She told me the other girls had seen her henna and thought it was cool. She also told them about the one I'd done last Summer for Sandi. If I wanted to do another two I had some willing participants. I told her I'd think about it.

Friday 7th November.

It was close to 5pm and I'd done as much as I could in the office. I'd completed the comic strip for the next four weeks. I was now waiting for Jimmy, the writer, to send me more written work to illustrate. It was reasonably easy work, and was actually quite fun to do. Charlie and I had set up a video conference with the author of the spy book and had eventually got his approval for the cover. After telling us the original wasn't what he wanted, and giving me precise details of what he did want, he realised that the first cover looked much more professional and actually led into the book better. After lots of soul searching he decided to go with the original.

In a way I was pleased as the cover was definitely better, but I was a bit pissed that I'd had the extra work needlessly. Authors. Eh! Prima donnas the lot. I was glad that Esme normally dealt with them.

"OK Charlie, I'm going to hit the road. Some wasted time on the second cover but the first one is definitely better artwork and will be a better cover for the book."

"I know David, but we've got to keep the punters happy, haven't we?"

"You and Jackie have any plans for the weekend?"

"Yep. We're off to Wales for the weekend. Off to visit Jackie's folks. Lots of food and booze. I'm not back in till Tuesday, but Esme can run things just as well as I can."

"Have fun then. Give my love to Jackie. See you next week."

I nipped back into my room, an office cum studio, then wandered out to reception to say 'Bye' to Esme. She was deep in conversation with someone whose back was turned to me.

"David," she said brightly, "Look who's here for you. Your new girlfriend."

The woman turned round. Fuck me if it wasn't the succubus. I'd hoped we'd never meet again.

"Hello. Darling. I've just been getting all the gossip about you from Esme here. What a lovely girl."

I had to think quickly. I didn't want people to know who or what she was, so didn't want to use her name. "Enn, this is a surprise," I stammered. Understatement or what! "I certainly didn't expect to see you here." She glided across the floor towards me and leaned in for a kiss. As we touched I felt a tingle. Naamah obviously felt something a lot stronger. She grabbed my shoulders and whispered "What HAVE you done?"

I leaned forward until we were nearly touching, and whispered my reply, "Protection."

"I said you were going to be trouble right at the start. I was right, wasn't I," she whispered back.

I assume that to Esme it looked as if we were whispering little words of love to each other, at least I hoped that's what it looked like.

I looked over Naamah's shoulder at Esme and said, "We're off Esme, I'll see you Monday, God willing."

"Have a good weekend. Don't be too naughty," she replied with a smile.

Naamah linked her arm through mine. It seemed touching was Ok as long as it wasn't skin to skin. Out in the carpark I opened the car door for her, got her settled and then got in myself. "Where to?" I asked.

"Take me to your home. We've got a lot to talk about."

It was a ten minute drive, and Naamah was silent all the way. When I pulled into the drive she said her first words. "I can see why you asked about making you rich. Bit small, isn't it?"

"I'm twenty five, own my own house and car and at present I'm unattached. Why do I need a mansion?"

"Then why did you ask me to make you rich?"

"At the time it seemed better than asking you to kill someone. And you said I had to give you a task, so it was the first thing that came to mind. Why, have I suddenly got millions in the bank, or are you trying to tell me that you can't complete the task set?"

"Let's go in, shall we, and we can talk about you and me."

I chucked my jacket in the hall cupboard and went into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. "Naamah," I asked, "Do you eat and drink? I know you need sexual energy to survive but what about other things?"




Naamah



She smiled at me. God she really was the most beautiful creature. "Yes, you idiot. I both eat and drink. And I like my coffee strong and black. No sugar. I'm sweet enough!"

I laughed. If only she wasn't a daemon. But, she was!

I'd got some chicken in the fridge so I took out two breasts and cut pockets in them. I chopped up a handful of dried apricots, diced a small red onion and tossed them both into my wok, with a pinch of salt and a good grating of black pepper. A pinch of oregano, a small glug of balsamic vinegar, turn down to simmer. I turned the ring off for it to cool, and washed a couple of baking potatoes. The oven on to heat up, prick the potatoes and rub them with olive oil, and into the oven. The stuffing was cool enough so I split it in two and filled up the chicken pockets, then wrapped them both in bacon. I put them on the top to wait. It was too early to put them in.

Naamah hadn't said anything, just watched intently, while drinking her coffee.

"You're good, aren't you? Why did Sandi leave you?"

Esme had been talking, hadn't she!

Before I answered I opened the fridge again and took out a bottle of Pinot Grigio. I held up the bottle and asked, "Wine?"

"Why not. Thank you. I'm glad I didn't kill you last week. I'm enjoying your company."

"Thank you, Naamah. I'm glad you didn't kill me too. I'm sure you are a fantastic lover but I'd rather live and never know you in the biblical sense than enjoy you once and die. Now if I could enjoy your charms and live..... then that's a completely different ball game, and I'd be up for that. Literally."

She laughed. "So what did you do to cause me pain when I kissed you?"

I turned over my hands and showed her my wrists. "I'm surprised you didn't see them when I was at the sink. It was the only way I could think of to protect myself. And even though I think you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and I'm probably a little bit in love with you already, if not a lot, I still want to enjoy my life. And, you are a daemon, so I don't really think I can trust you. You are only completing your task because you are impelled to do so. If you got the opportunity, you'd suck my life force away completely, wouldn't you?"

"Yes." Single word answer. Didn't mince her words, our daemon!

"Well that was quick and simple, wasn't it? That's why I don't trust you. But at least you were honest."

"I think I would rather not drain you, but I am what I am. If you were a daemon then we could, you know, jig-a-jig."

"Jig-a-jig," I laughed. "That's an interesting way of saying it. I thought you were much blunter, more basic than that."

"I do need to blend in with your society, you know. Especially if I'm going to make you filthy rich, so I can go back."

I had a sudden thought. "Naamah, do you have to go back through the same..." I paused for a second, "portal I suppose you could call it. Where you came through."

"A daemon trap," she replied

"OK, a daemon trap. Does it have to be the one you came through?"

"Yes, of course. Why?

"We have a problem then. The Old Hall burnt to the ground last Friday. Possibly one of the candles in the basement room. It's been completely destroyed, just a pile of rubble."

"What. Take me there. NOW." Those sparking eyes of a few seconds ago now replaced by hard, pale eyes. She then shook herself, literally. Her head shook back and forth a couple of times, then she looked at me again. The eyes were back to the grey eyes, the nice eyes.

"I apologise. Could you please take me up to see the site of the fire? Please, Master."

I turned off the oven and went to grab a coat. I looked at Naamah's clothes. She was dressed in a navy blue flared skirt, stopping a hand span above the knee, a white blouse and a cardigan that matched the skirt. "Are you going to be warm enough?"

"You are nice. I'll be fine. I'm a daemon. We generate our own internal warmth, remember we live in Hell. But thank you."

Fifteen minutes later I pulled up on the road outside the Hall. There was police 'DO NOT CROSS' tape across the entrance to the drive, but no one about. We slipped under the tape and walked up the drive. It was a mess. The east gable end still stood, but the other walls had collapsed inwards. Once we'd got to within 30 yards, Naamah stopped. She looked a little pale. "The trap should be calling to me by now. Nothing. I can't feel it." She turned to me. "Take me home please."

We walked back to the car in silence, and drove home. Once back inside I poured Naamah out another glass of wine, and restarted dinner.

"Are you OK? You look a bit pale."

"No. Not really. I'm trapped, here, in this realm. I don't know how to get back." Then she turned to me. "You'll have to send me back. You have The Book."

"Yes, the book in ancient Aramaic! That's a lot of help. Unless you can translate it for me?"

Her shoulders stooped. "I cannot touch The Book. It is not only forbidden, but would cause me intense pain, possibly kill me."

"When I was in the pentagram on Halloween you asked me to give you the book. Now you say you can't touch it?"

"I know. I was trying to get you out of the pentagram, that's all. Didn't work though, did it?"

Dinner was a sombre affair. I tried to talk to Naamah but all I got was monosyllabic answers. Eventually it was time for bed.

"Look, I don't know how you want to do this. I've only got one bed. You're welcome to share," I smiled, "but I know I can't touch your skin. If I give you a pair of joggers and a t-shirt you should be OK. I promise not to take advantage of you."

"Very funny," she replied. "I suppose it'll work." And it did. She stripped off in the bedroom in front of me -- I'll admit it, I watched. Any man would have as long has he still had a pulse. She donned the joggers and tee and got into the bed. She still seemed tense, so I told her to lie on her front and rubbed her back through the t-shirt, being careful not to touch any skin. Eventually she seemed to relax. I turned my back on her and settled down. The sensation of another body in my bed again was very unsettling. I wanted to roll over and cuddle in, but was afraid of hurting Naamah. Crazy really as just a week ago she intended to love me to death. Who said life was fair. The most beautiful girl I had ever met was sleeping in my bed and I couldn't even touch her. Eventually I dropped off too.

Saturday 8th November.

I woke up feeling refreshed, having slept better than for a while. Then I remembered why. Although we were still lying back to back we had moved together during the night and were touching from shoulder to bum. It felt good. I could smell Naamah too, a subtle aroma, possibly a hint of perfume, something floral with and underlying muskiness. The essence of a beautiful woman. I lay inhaling the scent for a couple of minutes, but my bladder was telling me to move.

I slipped quietly out of bed and off to the toilet, then a shower. When I went back into the bedroom to get dressed, Naamah had rolled onto her back. She smiled and said "Good morning, David."

"Morning," I replied. "Did you sleep well? I didn't know daemons slept."

"In daemon form I wouldn't," she said getting out of the bed and quickly stripping off her night clothes, "but in human form," and with that she twirled round on her heel doing a complete 360, "I need the same as a human. So, food, drink, sleep."

"I wish you wouldn't do that twirly thing. You look sensational but I can't touch!"

She twirled again. "What, this?" she asked.

I put my hand over my eyes dramatically, but with splayed fingers. "Yes, that!"

"Oh, Ok," she said and proceeded to turn her back on me and then bend from the waist, keeping those long, long legs straight, to slowly pick up her discarded clothes. While still bent over she looked at me over her shoulder with a cheeky grin, knowing she was fully exposing her sex to my view. Then slowly stood up, dropped the clothes on the bed and said "I'm going to get a shower if that's all right with you."

"Tease," I said, sticking out my tongue. "There's a clean towel on the towel rail for you. I put a fresh one out this morning."

She then pointed at the tent in the front of my towel. "I haven't lost my touch then?"

"It's got nothing to do with you being a succubus, everything to do with being a beautiful, sexy woman. Go get your shower, I'll make breakfast."

Naamah came down for breakfast in yesterdays clothes.

"What are your plans now?" I asked.

"Well, I need to know all about you and your life. I have to make you rich before I can return, and you have to learn how to send me back. So I thought I'd stay here with you as your girlfriend for the moment. Sound OK?"

"I don't know. I hadn't really thought it out. I suppose I'm Ok with it. But if you're staying we need to get you some clothes. That seems to be the only set you have."

"Yes, well I came in the red shorts and top but they were probably destroyed in the fire. I 'acquired these', say ....from a friend!"

"Naamah, did you kill this 'friend'?"

"Well, she seemed to be enjoying herself, and I may have got a bit carried away. I do remember what you asked though and I'm trying to reign in my impulses. It's not easy. I'm used to just letting myself go. And then, pouf," and with that she threw her hands up in the air, "they're gone."

"Well, we need to go shopping. We need some food for next week and if we go to the shopping centre we can go to some clothes shops for you. Then you won't have to 'borrow from friends', will you?"

She blew me a kiss.

"Oh, and we're meeting Alice, my sister, for lunch. You remember Alice, don't you? Your payment!"

"I remember her all right. You spoiled my fun, but in the circumstances I suppose I can forgive you."

"Well, she doesn't really remember you. She'd had quite a lot to drink, and with the stress and shock of a daemon summoning, her memory was quite hazy. Oh, and don't shake hands with Alice, or kiss her, when we meet. You should be Ok with a hug. In this weather you'll both be covered up quite well. I, sort of, tattooed her as well, with the same tattoos as I have on my wrists. But I did Alice here," I said pointing to my lower abdomen.

"Why did you do it there, over her sex organs? The most powerful place you could have put it on a woman for protection from a succubus, or incubus for that matter."

"Pure luck. When we got back to my house after the party and summoning, Alice passed out on my bed. She was lying on her back and her top had ridden up exposing her tummy. It just seemed a good place to put it at the time without waking her up."

"Luck with the protective symbol. Luck with where you tattooed yourself and your sister. It looks as if you're getting divine inspiration."

We clothes shopped first and Naamah changed into jeans and a jumper. On anyone else it would have been just that -- jeans and a jumper, but on Naamah it was catwalk quality. The jeans hugged her body just so, and the jumper moulded to her curves in a head turning way. She was obviously braless under the jumper, but considering she was several thousand years old and a mother to numerous daemon children, there was not a hint of sag. She looked to be in her early twenties with a body of perfection. I was stunned, and I was getting used to having her around. Every other red-blooded male in the shopping precinct couldn't help but stare, and most of the females too, some with admiration, some with envy bordering on hate.

We met Alice and went into a cafe/restaurant for lunch. I introduced Alice to 'Enn', my new girlfriend.

"Well, Sandi's not the only one who's traded up, is she?" she quipped. "Enn, you are gorgeous. Where did you two meet?"

"Oh, I met David to do with work. I'm planning a book and wanted a good artist for the cover artwork. We seemed to gel pretty quickly. He's rather dishy, don't you think, and is really very sweet."

"I never thought of him as dishy, but there again he is my brother. But sweet, yes, without a doubt. He's definitely what a little sister needs."

"I think he's definitely what a woman needs, this woman anyway," came the reply.

The two girls chatted over lunch like they were old friends. Over coffee Alice said "Enn, have we met before? The longer we talk the more sure I am that we've met before. I just can't place you. And where does the name come from? Enn? Unususal!"

"Well, as you can tell from my appearance, I'm not originally from round here. I've a very mixed heritage. 'Enn' is just my initial, my name is Naamah. It's a biblical name. Naamah was Noah's wife."

"You don't sound foreign," Alice came back with, "your English is excellent."

"Thank you. I do speak several languages fluently."

After lunch we food-shopped then went home. Alice had gone off to meet up with some friends, but was coming for dinner Sunday.

For the next two weeks, Naamah lived with me, watched me work in the studio, talked to me about my work, met me at the office at the end of the day, always arriving early enough to chat to Esme. She met and charmed both Charlie and Jackie. She engineered a meeting with three of our authors, and had them eating out of her hand within minutes.

I have to admit I didn't know what she was doing most of the time I was at work. I hoped she wasn't topping up her energy levels by draining life forces. If she was, it meant she was having sex with others. I had no rights to her, and with my henna tattoos we couldn't even touch, but nevertheless I felt the pangs of jealousy. Was I seriously falling in love with a daemon?

We were still sleeping together. Naamah had bought a full length nightdress, and I got a thin long-sleeved t-shirt. It meant I could sleep holding her. Even a thin covering seemed safe - as long as there was no skin on skin contact we were Ok. However it seemed to strengthen my feeling for Naamah. I wanted to keep her as mine.

Saturday 22nd and Sunday 23rd November.

After breakfast Naamah ordered me into my studio. She followed me in shedding her clothes. "Paint me, David. I know you have the talent to create a masterpiece."

Four hours later I had sketched out the basis of the picture, and was starting to build up the colour. Naamah had barely moved a muscle. She was the perfect live art subject. I kept bottled water in my studio for when I was working. I passed a bottle to Naamah, and grabbed one myself. I lost myself in my art, and barely noticed the time pass. We stopped mid evening. Naamah had been unbelievable in her ability to sit for me.

"I have to stop. I'm getting tired from all the concentration and I don't want to cock things up. Can you sit for a bit again in the morning? I'm on a roll and don't want to stop."

We ordered in Chinese and the crashed into bed.

The next morning we were back in the studio early. The painting was my best ever work. The texture, the lighting, the subtlety of colouring, the depth -- the drama. Looking at it you could feel the emotion I had poured into the creation of it. I was quickly immersed fully into the work, so much so that I didn't hear any knocking, or the door opening.

Alice walked in and broke my concentration.

"My God, D! That's fucking fantastic. It's spectacular. Enn, you are so....I can't think of a suitable word. Amazing doesn't really do you justice." She leaned down and kissed Naamah. Amazingly Naamah didn't pull away, didn't seem to have been hurt by the contact.

"Alice, take your clothes off and come and pose with me," she instructed.

"I can't do that. I can't strip in front of Davie. He's my brother."

"Not today. Today he's just a hugely talented artist. Do it, Alice. He needs this."

Alice looked from Naamah to me and back again. You could see that she didn't want to but Naamah's instruction seemed to compel her. She suddenly seemed to decide, and quickly stripped off her clothes. I immediately saw that the henna tattoo had faded away to a vague smudge. No wonder Naamah wasn't hurt by the kiss, and that was probably why her suggestion had compelled Alice to do something that was probably against her better judgement.

They started off with Naamah sitting between Alice's legs, with Alice wrapping her left arm round Naamah, across her breasts, with her right hand on Naamah's hip. She rested her forehead on Naamah's neck.

I was in a frenzy, pencil sketch first to outline the work, then oil pastels to gradually build up the base colours. Further layers of different colours of pastels crayons to build the picture until the basis was done. I leant back. The girls seemed in a world of their own. Their bodies hadn't shifted, but they were whispering to each other all the time. The picture of two naked girls didn't show anything sexual. The position of legs hid any view of Naamah's pussy and Alice was mainly hidden behind her. There was the swell of Naamah's breasts but the majority was underneath Alice's arm. Despite this it was the sexiest, most erotic thing I have ever seen. Forget porn. This was so much more stimulating. This was art with a capital A. I was gobsmacked that I could do work of this quality.

I knew I was a decent artist, but this recent work far surpassed anything I'd ever done, or anything I thought I was capable of doing.

Naamah recognised that I had reached the point that the picture just needed finishing touches. "David, get a new canvas." She pushed the armchair they'd been sitting on out of the way.

"Lie on the floor, Alice. Hold your hand up like this, and stretch your head back as if you are shocked, or frightened." Then Naamah stood over her, slightly stooped, gazing down at the prone body, and held her hand down until the two stretched out hands nearly touched.

"OK David. You need to get started. I don't know how long Alice can stay still."

Again I started with light pencil strokes to give my picture substance, then grabbed my oil paints and started. Time seemed to fly as I concentrated fully on my art. My eyes constantly flickered between the tableau in front of me and the canvas. Eventually Naamah spoke.

"David, I hope you have what you need. Alice needs to move, and drink something. Tea or coffee first, then wine, at least a couple of glasses. And food. We've had nothing since breakfast. Neither has Alice."

The spell was broken. I had all I needed. There was still lots of work to do to complete the pictures but I didn't need the girls for that. The scenes were indelibly printed in my memory anyway. "Al, are you OK. You know what I'm like when I'm painting. I get carried away. Let me grab some clean towels and then you can have a shower. You too Enn. Today was unbelievable. I love you both."

Naamah helped Alice up and they both hugged me, neither trying to look at the unfinished pictures. They knew I would show them when I was happy they were done to my satisfaction.

After washing my hands I put the coffee maker on and grabbed some steaks out the fridge to bring them up to room temperature before griddling them. I seasoned them and put them aside. I had salad in the fridge which would go with the meat. I grabbed the corkscrew and took the corks out of two bottles of wine. A Pinot Noir Rosé from New Zealand, lighter for the ladies to drink before dinner, and an Australian Cab Sauv, full of berries, perfect to go with the steak. There was a bottle of Pinot Grigio in the fridge in case they wanted white. I poured three coffees and took them through to the bedroom. As I walked in the girls were just coming out the bathroom, wrapped in towels and holding hands. "We're done," said Alice, "get your shower while we get dressed. Though as we've been naked most of the day I don't suppose clothes matter that much."

The girls made the salad while I grilled the steaks, and then we ate. We were ravenous. I grabbed a tub of ice cream out the freezer -- some Ben and Jerry's. The two ladies squealed with excitement and devoured the lot. I was happy to let them. They had the harder job today, keeping still while I painted. By the time the two bottles of wine were finished we were all flagging.




Naamah



"You're going to have to stay here tonight Al. Phone the flat and let the others know you're OK. We'll sort out something for beds. I'll take you in to work tomorrow. I'm staying home to carry on with the pictures. I'll phone Esme in the morning."

I did think of taking the settee and letting the other two have the bed. I didn't think Naamah would kill Alice, but as she had no protection now I wasn't about to take the chance. As Naamah had said, humans put their all into making love, and if the two became lovers in the night Alice's life may be forfeit.

Alice slept on the settee in the lounge while Naamah and I had the bed. My tattoos were fading too, though were still just about clear enough to keep me safe. I asked Naamah if I could kiss her, to test the strength of the protection. At first I thought she was going to refuse, then she grabbed the sides of my head above the hairline and brushed her lips very softly over mine. She moved back. "Not bad, just a little tingle. No real pain. You're still safe but ..." she leaned in and deepened the kiss. I was tingling now, not from magic but with desire. I leaned my forehead against her's and whispered "Can we do that again?" And we did -- for some time. Then we got into bed. Naamah didn't bother with the nightgown tonight. I forgot about the t-shirt and bottoms.

Bliss, no other word. Sublime bliss. The feel of Naamah's body pressed against mine was beyond anything I'd felt before. And when we made love I put all my emotions into it, and survived. Naamah was literally glowing afterwards. We went to sleep wrapped in each other's arms.

Monday 24th November.

I took Alice to work, phoned in to speak to Esme, and then got started in the studio. About ten o'clock the phone started ringing. I tried to ignore it but it just kept on ringing. Eventually it stopped and thirty seconds later restarted. It was too distracting, so I answered it in a grumpy voice.

"2 1 2 4 4 9. Who is it?"

"Is that David Lord?"

"Who's asking?"

"This is Professor Azriel Mizrahi at Oxford University. Do you have the book the illustrations you sent came from? I believe it could be a very ancient and important grimoire. Please, do you have it?"

"It actually belongs to someone else. I got the chance to see it and copy a couple of pages. Have you managed to translate them?"

"It's very difficult to be sure I have the right translation. It depends on the context the piece was written in. I believe it is a grimoire of Satanism. Devil worship. It may have translated to an incantation to summon an evil spirit. Please tell me you haven't used it?"

"Professor, the book isn't mine. I certainly couldn't use it, as I can't read it. And I am not a devil worshipper. I have never summoned any spirits, far less evil ones. Can you let me have the translations please? Be assured that I will not be summoning and evil spirits if you do. But if I can show a translated page to the book's owner it may allow me to get more pages for you."

He was reluctant, but the thought of more of the grimoire to translate was a big incentive, and eventually he agreed.

My concentration broken, I got out The Book of Samael and skimmed through the pages. As well as text there were numerous symbols I didn't recognise and some I thought were vaguely familiar. I got out an artist's pad and started to copy the symbols, and any text next to them which may pertain to that symbol. Naamah said that she couldn't touch the book but I wondered if I showed her some of my drawings she might be able to throw some light on them. I also copied different lines of text from the page that Jon had used when he summoned Naamah, not in the order on the page, to reduce the chance of it affecting her adversely. When I had gone into my studio she had gone out, presumably to do what she-devils do in their spare time. She didn't tell me and I admit I didn't ask.

During lunch I scanned my e-mails and found one from The University of Jerusalem. It professed interest in purchasing the book the pages came from, mentioning a rather small price, certainly less than you would expect for an ancient text. Well, stereotypical Jewishness for you! I fired off a reply, thanking them, but stating I didn't own the book, but was trying to find out about it for the owner, who didn't have any intention of selling. I asked if they had been able to translate any of the text, and if so could they let me have the translation.

Naamah came home around 6pm and broke my concentration -- I had gone back to my art. I had nearly finished the solo picture of Naamah, and had done more of the first one of the two girls, creating something which I thought was extraordinary.

After dinner I sat down with Naamah over coffee and showed her the first illustration. She was able to give me a meaning, rather than a literal translation, which I notated onto the page with the drawing. I showed her a second, and she coped fine. Same with illustrations three, four and five. This was great, I thought. By breaking down the book into simple parts I could get Naamah to give me the meaning. Then disaster. I flicked over the page on the pad of drawings and turned it to face Naamah. She threw herself backwards off the chair and was unconscious by the time she hit the floor. I threw the pad onto the table face down and scooped Naamah up off the floor. She was deathly white, and her breathing was very shallow. I didn't know what to do. This wasn't like a normal faint. The illustration had hurt her, badly it seemed.

I carried her through to the bedroom and laid her on the bed. I rubbed her icy cold hands, chaffed her wrists, but with no response. Her breathing seemed to be getting shallower. How could I help her? I had no idea. Then inspiration.

I pulled her shoes off and undid the button on her jeans, pulling both jeans and thong down. I grabbed the hem of her jumper and pulled upwards on off over her head. I pulled the duvet down and got her underneath. I stripped off my own clothes and got in with her. I started with her neck, and quickly kissed down to her breasts, which I thoroughly worshipped, before moving gradually down her body till I lay between her legs. I started to kiss and lick her pussy lips, trying to stimulate her. Nothing! I used my fingers to pull her pussy wide open, drove my tongue into her opening as far as it would go and proceeded to tongue fuck her for all I was worth. Nothing still. I attacked her clit and vigorously licked back and forth over it where it had popped out of it's hood, even gently biting it. Still no response, but she was now quite wet, mainly from saliva. I moved up between her thighs and slid my erection between the wet, puffy lips and eased gently into her tight velvet sheath and started to make love to her. Immediately there was a deepening of her breathing, but no movement. Next her colour started to come back. Then her arms were holding my shoulders and her legs wrapped round my hips. Her eyes opened and she smiled. "Thank you," she whispered in a low, throaty voice.

I poured my heart into it and when we finished, Naamah rolled over and slept through the night.

Tuesday 25th November.

I asked Naamah over breakfast about the symbol that affected her so badly. She didn't give it a name, couldn't really, but was able to say it would affect any daemon as badly. She thought she may have died if it wasn't for the energy I had supplied to her in bed. I was so relieved that I had thought of making love to her.

"What would happen if you die in human form? Do you just go back to being a daemon?" I asked.

"No. If I had died then that would be it. Just as I need to eat and drink as a human, I can die in this realm too. That's why we tend to visit for short times, not stay here. Humans are so fragile, so transient. I've lived for thousands of years and in my own dimension could survive indefinitely. We are immortals, just like the heavenly host."

"So you were dying last night?"

"I was almost dead. I could feel my essence fading, disappearing into the aether. You saved my life. You could have got rid of me, solved the problem you have of my existence in your plane, but you didn't. You thought the problem through and did the one thing, the only thing, that could have saved my life. I promise you, forget about the tattoos, you are safe from me. I will never do anything to harm you. She stood up and then dropped to her knees. She bowed low. "Thank you Master."

"Get up Naamah, please. I'm happy for you to say thanks, but don't worship me. And as you said before, I may hold the book, but I'm not really your master. You are free to do what you want." I leaned forwards and caught her arms and gently pulled her up.

We talked some more about the book, but I was reluctant to show her any more of it. It seemed too dangerous. She suggested that text was probably Ok but didn't know about the symbols. I thought I might show her some lines of text another day but not yet. I still didn't know how strong she was. I suggested she may need to top up her energy levels, so we returned to the bedroom for the morning.

Wednesday 26th November -- Monday 1nd December.

I continued to work on the pictures and went into work Thursday and Friday. Each day Naamah came in to the office in time to talk to Esme. They seemed to becoming good friends. Friday Naamah invited Esme to dinner the next day. She told me to invite Alice too.

We had a great meal, and Naamah insisted I show Esme my studio. She knew I worked at home, but I'd never invited her to my place before so she had never seen any other artwork apart from what I'd brought in to work. She was impressed. Naamah insisted I show her the nude painting of her. I refused to show her the two of her and Alice -- they were still unfinished and I didn't want to show them to anyone until complete.

Esme loved the nude, though. She thought it was an amazing piece and talked to me about having an exhibition. I laughed. "Come on, Esme. It's good. I know that, but I haven't got enough that quality to exhibit."

"But now you have a muse," she replied, pointing to Naamah, "you can continue to paint at that quality and build up a portfolio to get enough. I know the owner of one of the better new galleries in London. I could easily get you an interview, and when Christian sees these he would jump at the chance to show them. Just let me know when you have more like this."

"Did you know that David is going to write a series of books too?" I was shocked by Naamah's statement. "We've been talking about the subject matter. They'll be fantasy books, but we don't want to say much more until we've completed our research."

Esme and Alice both turned to stare at me.

"Tell me more," demanded Alice.

"Absolutely not. Not until we've completed much more research and drafted out the bones of the stories. And worked out the title names," came back from Naamah, "so no more questions. Change the subject, please."

Esme left late, and took Alice with her to drop off on her way home. We decide we should make sure Naamah's energy levels weren't too low. We seemed to be growing closer. Naamah seemed now to want to give me pleasure as much as receive it. All in all a very good night.

Sunday I finished off the final touches to the nude Naamah, and continued on with the duo picture. Naamah left me in peace to work and by late evening I had finished and was well into the third one. I had a few more hours work to do to bring it to how I thought it should look, but I knew I could finish it the next day.

Monday I went into work for the morning, as there was a new author to meet and get the feel for. We discussed the cover for his book, and I did a few very quick charcoal sketches for him, to give him an idea of my thoughts. Naamah had gone off somewhere again. As soon as I got free I raced back home and continued to completion of the third picture, the oil of Naamah and Alice. By 6pm I was happy, so I signed it. I quickly tensioned the canvas and strung it. I had a feature painting in the living room, which I removed to the studio and hung the new painting.

I phoned Alice. "What are you doing, Squab? Anything important?"

"I'm in the pub having a drink with your girlfriend. Why don't you join us?"

"Which pub?"

"We're in The Phantom. You know, the new one on Market Street, near the precinct."

"I'll meet you in 15."

I just had a half, I was driving, but the girls had two more each. "Careful, Al. You know what happens when you get drunk. Next time it may be a permanent tattoo."

"Shove it, big brother. You'll take care of me. And Enn wouldn't let any harm come to me either, would she? I hope you know how lucky you are. She's an angel."

Naamah and I both looked at each other, and smirked. "You're right, Al. I think she's an angel too. Want proof?"

"Go on, Davie, prove it if you can." Alice's voice wasn't quite slurred but I could tell she'd had enough.

"Food. You especially little sis. You're getting squiffy."

We went to a little Italian and Naamah and I had pasta. Linguine del maré for both of us and wild mushroom risotto for Al. By the time we were finished she was much more sober.

"OK. Let's head back to the house. You can either get a taxi or kip overnight."

"Depends on how much noise you two are going to make. It might keep me awake. "

We all laughed, and headed for the car.

Being an artist I knew how to light a painting. I had a couple of hidden spots aimed at the old picture in the lounge. Before leaving to meet the two girls, I had adjusted them so the light fell on the two faces, giving them an ethereal glow. A small strip light underneath the painting threw a gentle, warm colour onto it, softening up the effect and adding a subtle depth to the whole scene. I had turned the main lights off.

I opened the door and ushered the girls in. "Go straight through to the lounge," I suggested.

They walked in with me following behind. Their eyes were immediately drawn to the new painting. I had suggested a background of devastated earth, as if ravaged by war. Alice was lying on this naked, as she had been on the studio floor, her head thrown back and a hand stretched up imploringly towards Naamah. Naamah I had covered with a diaphanous cloak, blurring her slightly without hiding anything of her luscious body. Her hand was likewise stretched out, as if to give succour.

And then I had given her wings. Not the batlike leathery wings of a daemon, but beautiful, sweeping, white feathered angel wings. They flared out from her shoulders, and sheltered the prone body on the ground, which was in slight shade. Both women were stunningly beautiful, and the whole picture told the story I wanted to convey. I was inordinately proud of my effort.

Alice stopped, spellbound, shocked into silence. Naamah sunk to her knees, also silent, but with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"How did you know? How could you tell?" she whispered, so quietly you could barely hear her.

I knelt down beside her and took her hand. "It's how I see you. I love you Naamah."

Alice seemed to come out of her reverie. Her breath exploded out her mouth. She must have been holding it while she stared at the painting. "David! God Almighty. How...." she stuttered to a stop. "Fucking unbelievable. I wouldn't have believed you could do something so wonderful. Not that I don't think you're talented, but this is just at another level. Davie, Wow! A masterpiece!"

Naamah stood up and held her hands out to me. I stood too and she wrapped herself round me in a deep hug. "Thank you, David, Thank you," she murmured into my ear. "It makes me feel better about myself. But sad too. That's what I should be, not what I've descended to. This human body is nothing like either my angel or daemon form, but you have made it something special. For that you have my undying gratitude."

Tuesday 2nd - Saturday 6thDecember.

Naamah changed. The presence of the picture seemed to be the catalyst. She seemed to become more human. Difficult to explain, as her appearance was always very feminine, but she now just seemed more mortal and less daemon. I can't really put it into words. It was just the feeling she projected to me. She became more demonstrative, holding hands, cuddling, kissing. The absence of the tattoos, which had not completely faded may have helped, but she seemed less daemonic every day. Her eyes were still grey, but they were a warmer colour of grey. I know it sounds stupid, but that's what I perceived.

The night she first saw the picture was another example. After we made love I didn't feel limp and languid but energised. Naamah smiled when I commented on it. "I just wanted you to experience the slightest bit of what I feel when we make love. The energy you generate, that I absorb, makes me feel....well something like you feel now but so much more. You can see now how I would be addicted to it before. I needed it, craved it and wasn't worried who I killed to get my fix." She tenderly kissed me. "Now, I just need your love and that's enough."

Friday evening we were in the lounge. I had my sketch pad on my knee and was doodling. Naamah was sitting on the settee, her legs curled under her, her hair tumbling about her face and shoulders. I had a small occasional table beside my chair with a set of paints and I was just playing with creating images with just a few sweeps of the brush. You know the sort of thing where there's three curved strokes suggesting the outline of a cat, or bird, or something. Well I was playing a bit like that. Minimalist painting, just a few curved lines to suggest a curve of a hip, the waterfall of gorgeous black hair falling over the curve of a breast.

I'd flick onto a new page and another couple of lines would bring forth the suggestion of a mouth, full lips just waiting to be kissed. Another stroke bringing out the curve of an eyebrow, slightly arched in a 'come hither' look. She was just so drawable.

I got up to get another glass of wine. I kept a large beach pebble as a paperweight, which I sat on top of the sketchpad to hold the page from flipping closed before the paint dried. I went into the kitchen and poured. Coming back to the lounge, Naamah had moved, and was standing in front of the new picture. She started at it a lot. I popped down the wine and went and put my arms round her from behind. "I love you, Naamah Angel," I whispered into her hair. I pronounced it 'ahn --gell' (the g soft as in get) as if it were Spanish.

"I love you too, David Lord." And she turned, we linked fingers and just stood, leaning our foreheads together, each just basking in the presence of the other. It was a special moment, one I would never forget, when we had both declared our love for the other. It was the first time Naamah had uttered those three precious words.

The next I knew I was slumped against the wall, my head aching, and something/someone was standing over Naamah, who was lying prone on the floor. It/He was enormous, at least seven feet tall judging where his head was in relation to the ceiling. His back was towards me and he was looking intently at the picture of Naamah and Alice. He looked down at Naamah, back at the picture, and down again. "Does anyone really see you in that way? You fell from that grace many aeons ago." Then, without rotating his body, the massive head turned almost 180 degrees so he could stare at me. His eyes were completely white, no pupils.

His gaze roved my body from head to feet, then he spoke. "This? This puny human? I don't see anything there to draw you away from me. But for this," turning and pointing at me, "you fall in love." His voice was a low rumble, like thunder grumbling in the distance. It grated on my hearing. You know what it's like when you are listening to rock or heavy metal on a sound system with a huge subwoofer. The deep notes vibrate through your body until they can make you feel sick. That's what this voice was like. It made me queasy and uncomfortable.




Naamah



"You are a fallen angel and a daemon," he continued. "We have no souls. But by declaring your love and meaning it you have achieved that which we cannot do. You are no longer daemon. You are now human with all the frailties and weaknesses of humankind. Unbelievably you have gained a soul. You will age and die." The voice rose until it thundered, "You are fortunate we are linked, and losing you drew me here. I have come to save you from your weakness. You were one of my Queens and I will not lose you. I will strip you of your soul as we do to humans destined for Hell. After, however you will be one of the lowest daemons, serving my will."

Naamah tried to scramble backwards away from the apparition. From what he said I assumed he was not just any daemon, but probably Samael, fallen archangel and Lord of Daemons. Still facing me, he pointed back at Naamah, who was transfixed, bereft of movement. The hand rotated lazily and Naamah's clothes disappeared into smoke. "Crawl here, woman," he commanded. She complied, as if she had no option. He laughed, an unpleasant sound that made my ears tingle.

He then pointed to himself and moved his pointing finger down his body. As he did his clothes disappeared. His skin was dark and leathery, but jutting out from his groin was an enormous, double headed phallus. Naamah had crawled to where he had pointed and now knelt in front of Samael. Put your head down and present yourself to your Master, he roared. She did as she was bid. He dropped to his knees behind her, prepared to violate both orifices at once.

"I will rip the soul from your body with pain, and your pathetic lover can watch."

He looked at me and grinned, showing a mouth full of pointed teeth, more suitable for rending flesh than anything else. "Or are you going to stop me, human?"

Naamah told me before that I had divine inspiration, when I choose the right tattoo to protect Alice and myself. Perhaps it was just luck, but maybe, just maybe, someone was looking out for me. A guardian angel? By my left hand lay the paperweight pebble and just by my right hand was the paint brush I had been using with my sketch pad. Without thinking I picked them up and with three quick strokes drew Ж, the symbol that hurt Naamah so much, the one she said would injure any daemon. I looked up to see Samael holding Naamah's hips and just about to thrust forwards.

"Yes," I said in a loud voice, enough to get his attention. "I am going to stop you." And with that I threw the pebble straight at his face. Luck again? I hit him between the eyes on the base of his forehead. The paint was still wet and the stone acted like a stamp, leaving the mark perfectly printed on Samael's skin.

The scream was so powerful it knocked me out. A bit like a stun grenade. I must have been out for a minute or so. When I came to, my ears were ringing so badly I couldn't hear anything. Naamah looked unconscious, and Samael lay up against the far wall, smoke drifting out his eyes, ears and mouth. As I watched the smoke got thicker and his body started to dissipate until all that was left was a thinning cloud of smoke, and a black smudge on the wallpaper.

I got up and staggered across to Naamah, pulled her to her feet and hoisted her over my shoulder. I staggered through to the bedroom where I managed to get us both into the bed. The knock I had got on the head from hitting the wall probably gave me a bit of concussion. I should have stayed awake, but very rapidly I was asleep, cuddled up tight to Naamah.

By the time I woke up the next morning, I was in bed by myself. My head throbbed terribly and I felt sick. My vision was a bit blurry in my left eye. I fumbled my way to the bathroom and relieved myself, then walked through to the kitchen. I put on a pot of coffee and walked gingerly through to the lounge. It was normal -- no signs of the altercation from the night before. My sketchpad was on the little table by my chair, there was no mark on the wall where Samael had rested as he dissolved. And there was no Naamah!

My house was small enough that she couldn't hide, ergo she wasn't there. I slumped down into my chair, worried and depressed.

My next recollection was a cool cloth being placed gently on my forehead. I jumped.

"Thank God you're awake," cried Alice. Naamah was just behind her. "Enn came to get me, saying you had fallen last night and banged your head, and she couldn't wake you this morning."

"Yeh, I think I might have a concussion. I just sat down for a minute, then nothing."

"Did you have breakfast, any painkillers?"

"No, I put on some coffee but obviously fell asleep before I had it."

Both girls wanted me to go to the doctors but I declined. "No need. I know what's wrong. All I need is rest and Brufen. And coffee."

"No coffee," exclaimed Alice. "It's a stimulant. Drink lots of water."

Sunday 7th -- Thursday 12th December.

I gradually improved over the week. I phoned Esme Monday morning and told her I'd had an accident, had concussion. We rearranged my work to avoid me having to go in at all for the week. She did visit us Tuesday evening after work to collect some illustrations I had done but not taken in to the office, and probably to check up on me.

She and Naamah split a bottle of wine and discussed me as if I wasn't there, despite me sitting with them. As Naamah cleared away the glasses I let Esme out.

"Remember I'm on holiday Friday and Monday, Esme!"

"Yes, but in the circumstances I didn't think you'd be going now."

"I'm still going, but with Enn, not Sandi. She traded up, but I think I've got the best out of the break-up. Don't you?

"Oh Hell yes, David. Enn is just the girl for you. You'd be stupid to let this one go," and with a kiss on the cheek she was off.

I phoned Alice Thursday and told her my plans. She was over the moon, but did have a word of caution. "Are you certain, D? I think she's great but you've only known her for a few weeks?"

"I've never been more certain of anything, Al. I'm really in love. I thought I loved Sandi, but my feelings about Naamah are so much stronger. I hope you'll be happy for me, but I'm definite whatever."

"Go for it, Davie. I love you."

Weekend Friday 13th- Monday 16th December.

Friday morning after breakfast I packed a small bag while Naamah was having a shower. After a leisurely coffee I called a taxi, which took us to the station. "What's going on, David?" she asked.

"Wait and see," was all I would say.

She got excited when I bought tickets for London. "What are we going to see? A show? Come on, tell me, please."

"Nope, it's a surprise."

Well, surprise it was when our taxi from King's Cross took us to the Shard. The Shangri-La Hotel is situated on the upper levels in the Shard, with magnificent views across the city. I'd booked one of the Premier City View rooms. We could sit on a settee and look across London, see The Eye, Saint Pauls, Big Ben, Westminster and lots more. They even provided a pair of binoculars. That evening we went to see 'Wicked' at the Apollo Victoria. It was great fun.

Saturday started with a swim in the pool on the 52nd floor, followed by breakfast. Then shopping. I took Naamah to Covent Garden and we browsed through the various shops and boutiques, bought her some clothes. A couple of cocktail dresses, 3 long evening gowns and a couple of everyday dresses. I'd packed spare jeans and tops from home. I got a jacket and a couple of new shirts. My credit card was taking a hit, but the hotel had already been paid for. I'd gone for something expensive for two reasons. First, I was going to propose to Sandi when I had originally booked the weekend, and secondly I'd just had a big bonus from work for some illustrations they had sold to another publisher.

After lunch we Christmas shopped. Christmas day was just eleven days away! We picked up presents for Charlie and Jackie, something for Esme. Small gifts for Helen and Julie, Alice's flatmates.

For Alice we bought vouchers for a spa day and a West End show. Naamah also insisted we get her a necklace -- we had passed a small goldsmith and she dragged me in. The design? The same as I had hennaed onto her belly on Halloween night. She giggled as I drew it out for the smith. He agreed for an extra fee that he could get it made for Christmas, and would get it couriered to us in time. Again another big hit on my credit card, but Alice was worth it. I loved my little sis and appreciated the fact that Naamah knew it. As we left I suddenly turned back. "I forgot something, just hang on here love and I'll be back in a minute."

I went back into the shop and chucked him my card again. "Can you make two of them, identical, in time?"

"You're asking a bit, young man, aren't you?"

"The one we ordered is for my sister. I want another for my girlfriend. Soon I hope my fiancée."

He must have been a bit of a softy, as he agreed. Payment made I rejoined Naamah.

That evening we dined at the Aqua Shard, one of the restaurants in the Shard building. I had Smoked Tuna followed by Seared Wood Pigeon. Naamah had seared Foie Gras followed by Cornish Lamb. She finished with a white chocolate and truffle pudding while I had the cheeseboard. Afterwards we went up to the 52nd floor to the cocktail bar, where I ordered champagne. Then, in the busy bar, I got down on one knee and asked Naamah to marry me. Her squeal of delight obviously alerted the bar as she threw herself into my arms and burst into tears.

This is London, you don't get anything for nothing, but within a couple of minutes one of the bar staff arrived with two glasses of pink champagne, courtesy of the house, to congratulate us on our engagement. I slipped the ring on Naamah's finger. It was the proudest moment of my life.

Saturday 31st October, Halloween, 1 year on.

We had a small intimate service, with Alice as bridesmaid, Esme as Maid of Honour and Charlie as my best man. Despite everything that had happened, Naamah seemed a normal human, she got sore throats, could catch cold, but did seem healthier that most of the people I knew. She still always felt warm, even in cold weather. I tool her temperature once and it was nearly two degrees higher than normal. The high temperature probably helped her ward off most infections.

She was so easy to talk to that she had built up a circle of close friends. She was also on our books now, as an author. She wrote short stories for young children, which I illustrated.

How does a fallen angel become accepted into society? In modern times, everyone needs a history, paperwork. Naamah had nothing. Again my artist's skills came in to play. I forged a birth certificate! It's amazing what you can find on the internet. I managed to get a copy of a genuine birth certificate from Venezuela, and was able to forge one for Naamah. As a publisher, we have access to all sorts of different paper, so was able to get the right sort to allay suspicion. Once I forged it we then aged it. Lots of folding and unfolding, some coffee stains, and some sweat from me carrying it around in my back pocket for a week.

It was scruffy but was accepted as real, so I took my Venezuelan fiancée, Naamah Angel, to the Venezuelan Embassy in London to have them check her out. After jumping through various hoops they finally accepted her as part Warao, one of the indigenous tribes of Venezuela, which explained the lack of documents. She explained that she had been brought to the UK as a youngster, with family friends who were no longer here. She had stayed but the only document she had ever had was a birth certificate. We got her passport three weeks before the wedding date, and managed to book a honeymoon abroad. She was now an accepted member of British life, with a soon to be British husband. With that she could get a driving licence, a bank account, and all the other paraphernalia of modern living

For a honeymoon we spent three weeks working our way through the top part of South America. We visited Venezuela, of course, Ecuador and Peru, including walking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. We had a wonderful time and came back even more in love.

We settled down as a normal married couple.

Summer -- three years further.

My second exhibition was due to finish next weekend. All of the paintings had been bought in the first 24 hours, but the buyers were required to leave them in the exhibition until it finished. Esme's friend Christian was only too happy to stage the first exhibition at his gallery, at Esme's recommendation. When it proved so popular, he was desperate to do any further ones I wanted to stage. As he had taken the chance originally, and as we got on well, I decided to give him first option on any future shows.

My third book came out two days ago. It was already at the top of the best sellers list before its release date, thanks mainly to Amazons pre-release sales figures. It was the third part in the 'Fallen Angel' trilogy. Book one, 'Fallen Angel', was slightly slow to take off, but some good reviews suddenly saw it moving up the ranks. A bit like the Twilight Saga or Divergence series, it seemed to take on a life of its own. Like an avalanche, it started with a small movement and gathered momentum, until it became an unstoppable force. Book two, 'Redemption' , was already in the top ten by the time it was released, and this one, the final book, 'Wings of White' was breaking all records.

I collected Christian from the station. He'd come for the weekend as we were having a big shindig to celebrate. We got into my new range Rover and headed off. Shortly I signalled and turned off up a sweeping gravel drive, behind the parish Church. At the top of the little hill stood our new house, The New Hall. I had bought the derelict ruins of the burnt out Old Hall, and had builders demolish it and build me a new version. Only on two floors, but built on three sides, with the front at the end of the drive. Two wings stretched back, the East one ending in an indoor swimming pool. On good days we could open the side doors to make it semi-open aired. The basement has been turned into a leisure area, with our own personal gym and a small home cinema. We had eight bedrooms and a dining room which could seat around thirty people. Between the wings were the formal gardens. From there the grounds stretched for another three hundred yards, sloping downwards towards an orchard with a stream running through it.

As I pulled up Naamah come out to greet us. She waddled a bit now, but an eight month baby bump does that to a girl. Holding her hand was our beautiful two year old daughter. Jet black hair like her mother, but sometimes the light seemed to give it deep red highlights. She smiled and cried out "Daddy," so I picked her up.

"Go through Christian," said Naamah, "Esme's just in the hall and will show you where to put your things, then go into the garden. The barbecue will start shortly. I think you'll know most of the people here from previous get-togethers.

As he went in to the hall, I put my arm round Naamah. "You don't feel anything, do you? No pull from the portal, the trap where you entered our realm?"

She smiled. "Don't look so scared, I don't feel anything."

"It's just that if you look around, see what we've got. I'm now rich, stinking rich, from the sale of the paintings and the books. And I have you, Angela and the bump. Riches galore. You've completed your task, so I'm now scared that you'll go back to that other place."

She kissed me. "No. I won't be going back. Have I completed my task? Maybe you're not rich enough yet, maybe I won't have completed it until you have a son." She kissed me again. "You changed me, remember. I now have a soul, I'm human. There is nothing to draw me back to that realm. And remember you protected me," and she held up her necklace with the pentagram inside a circle with a sunburst effect outside that. "You know I never take it off, so no daemons can harm me. I'm yours, now and forever." Her lips gently brushed mine. "I'm yours forever, David Lord. You ARE my Lord and Master."

I put Angela down and she walked into the house between us, holding our hands.

Behind them, they didn't see the faint heat shimmer as a gust of hell-hot air washed across the top of the gravelled drive.

And in the Underworld Samael screamed.

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