THE SON OF BOMALLY

 

                                                                Chapter thirteen  

                                                                 The gods of evil

 

David and Bryndle watched in horror at the transfiguration taking place before their eyes, and as they watched the metamorphosis continued until the handsome man progressed into a handsome woman, dressed in an almost transparent lace like garment, loosely wrapped like a sarong, over which hung a long red cloak.

          “Good God” another mutter from Bryndle.

          “God help us.” another reply from David,  for they had both recognised the goddess of ‘Death and the Slain’, wearing the silken shift and the heavy cloak they had found in the box, and seen on the picture in the shrine at Richards cottage.

          “Morrigan!” spluttered David, his fear accentuated by the screams of terror by the others in the room as the apparition replaced Richard’s body. 

          “Bomally?”  The apparition which was now Morrigan was speaking and was directing her words at David. “You have seen fit to defy me and thwart me just like your ancestors. Once again you have taken one of my servants and you will suffer just like those before you who sought to resist me.” Her eyes had that same steely glare that David had seen in the picture, but now seeing them for real, they were much brighter and a hundred times more frightening.

          All those in the room were transfixed and David, like them all, could hardly move as though held in her iron grip, and no matter how hard he tried he could not close his eyes to break the spell, for she was unrelenting. He had sunk to his knees and seemed to be paralysed, held fast by a power that had overwhelmed him.

          Morrigan glared, her beautiful face contorted with rage and then she let out a howl, a long wolf like sound which seemed to go on for ever. She seemed to have no need of breathing as she maintained her call. For indeed it was a call as all around her a mist was forming blocking out the extremities of the room, and gradually in the mist shapes appeared; shapes of people.

          As they watched rooted and helpless, these other apparitions gradually became recognizable to David and the inspector as the Gods surrounding Morrigan in the shrine.  But whereas in the shrine they were fixed inanimate paintings, they had now become rounded, three dimensional, solid to the eye, far more  frightening, and most of all seemingly alive.

          Morrigan stopped howling, and calmly addressed the real people in the room.

          But David had come to realise of maintaining his own will power for he hoped that there was one thing she did not control; his mind; not yet anyway.  He couldn’t think how could this be, when it was clear that she and her friends, the ungodly gods, had all the power they needed to control human minds?  So there had to be a reason; there must be some other force he did not know about. Could it be that somehow, something was trying to help him.

          Summoning up every reserve of strength David forced himself to his feet and bravely took a step toward the apparition, who, in her red apparel was glowing all over with an incandescent light. 

          He shouted, “But wait Margollan, when my ancestor was rescued his soul was also saved, and he renounced you before he went to his maker.  It may be true that we have not been able to save the soul of Richard, so you ...”

          “Be quiet you snivelling little worm, do you think you can defeat me?”  Margollan shrieked.

          “But your curse is finished.” David shouted back. “By your own words it is finished, for the curse is now known between generations, the secret is out.”

          He gestured around the room.“All these people know about it now; you can’t put the genie back into the bottle.”

          Margollan tilted her head back and roared again, but this time the roar was laughter. 

          “You think you can outwit me; you wish to challenge me, I’ll show you.  I have arranged a little competition for you. There are enough of you to take on some of my friends, but you may choose who and how you fight - but you must know that it will be to the death"

          It was a paralysing prospect but somehow, in spite of her menacing appearance David managed to find his voice.

          "We know that we will not be able to overcome your Gods of evil, and that we will all die if we try, so we decline."

          Margollen laughed, appearing to be amused.

          "You think you can bargain with me?  You think you have a choice in the matter?"

          David had noticed the Gods milling about each other, making aggressive gestures in the direction of the frightened party. Some of them were naked, but seemed unconcerned, others were draped in a lacy transparency which sometimes hid, and then revealed their sex.

          These Gods were not governed by human conventions. Nakedness was neither a question of morals or decency; nor were they bound by our notions of right and wrong, fair or unfair.

          Margollan had not addressed her friends and yet they appeared to know why they were there, and it seemed that there was a distinct hostility brewing up amongst them, but David felt he must stand his ground.

          "We will not provide you with sport, so we decline.  If it is your intention to kill us, then do so."

          "If you will not choose then I will choose for you - see!" Again there was no communication, no command, but two of the Gods came slowly out of the mist, their gossamer thin robes rising and falling as if in the wind, though not a breath of wind stirred in the main lounge of the old house, which now seemed infinately larger than it was before.

          As they moved their robes were swirling round and round sometimes up above their heads, revealing from time to time the unmistakable forms of God and Goddess.

          "Choose Mr Bomally, which of your friends will do battle with my friends?"

          "I will not send them to their deaths so I decline." David tried to be bold, but he was shaking.

          "Then I will chose for you. Which in your party will fight Aeron, the God of slaughter, and Argona, the Goddess of slaughter?"

          With that they moved to where the earthly group were standing, close to each other as if to offer protection. They all bore a look of determination, desperately trying to match David's defiance, though behind that mask the overriding sensation was fear.

          Aeron and Argona walked amongst them, their gowns were now flowing lightly behind them as they wove between the startled group, until they stopped at the large space in front of the huge fireplace. 

          Inexplicably they were followed by two of the police constables, and without warning they turned and together sent a telepathic blow in the direction of the startled men. Both the gods had raised their right arms across their chests and then over their left shoulders, while their robes, as light as spiders webs floating around them. Without warning they brought their arms down with a mighty swish, like small boys with Birch twigs smiting the heads off the luckless Dandelions.

          The two constables jumped with the surprise of it and clasped their upper arms, shocked to see blood flowing from between their fingers and down their sleeves.  There had been nothing to see, but the invisible weapons were clearly more threatening than ‘Birch twigs’. The two Gods continued to circle their prey turning and twisting in tune with each other, hands in the air, their gossamer gowns flying, revealing from time to time their bodies, light olive and perfect.

            For five minutes they danced and floated, and had their purpose been different they would have been admired and applauded, but instead it was sinister and deadly. Suddenly, inspired by another telepathic signal they swept in once more, their right arms again raised high above their heads, leaping and spinning as once more they smote their frightened victims with their unseen swords, but this time on their other arms.

          David was horrified for he knew that in some way he was to blame for the pain these men must now be suffering, fear clearly showing on their faces as evidently as the blood on both arms.

          "Call of your dogs," he shouted at Morrigan, "there is no reason why they should suffer because of me."

          "Be patient my young friend," she replied in a softer, almost friendly voice, "there is more to see; the show is not over yet."

          Hardly had she finished speaking, the Gods, in perfect symmetry, came leaping like ballet dancers, appearing to defy gravity in an arc of graceful flight, each jump and turn followed by another, their leaps closing in an ever reducing circle until again they were in striking distance of the policemen, arms bleeding profusely, and eyes bulging with terror.

          Without warning, and again with no apparent signal, they stopped, each eye to eye with one of the frightened men. Quickly, and exactly together they drew back their right arms high above them, held for a split second in graceful pose, and then lunged forward, their ‘Birch twigs’ aimed at the heart.

          Both men gasped, a look of disbelief on their faces as they collapsed to the ground, gasping and clasping their chests as they fell. 

          Bryndle and the other constable rushed to the aid of their colleagues who were lying on the floor, while the two Gods watched dispassionately from a short distance.

          "They're dead." announced Bryndle, to the remaining constable. It was only intended to be a simple statement, but the reaction was immediate. The other young policeman jumped up immediately and rushed at Aeron and Argonna, grabbing hold of a large vase as he approached them, shouting and screaming at the top of his voice. Wielding the vase above his head and then round and round, he aimed a mighty blow at the two Gods. 

          They had watched this little pantomime impassively, neither frightened or amused, as the vase passed harmlessly through them. The policeman, unbalanced when the contact he expected failed to happen was pulled to the ground by the weight of the vase.

          With just the merest glance at Margollam the two Gods drew back their arms and then in a downward motion drove them quickly towards their disorientated victim.  He made no sound at all as the invisible swords pierced his heart, but he was dead in a second.

          "You see David, how futile it is to defy me."  Margollen spoke quietly, but once more her voice was full of menace. "But you can save your friend, and the ladies if you swap places with Richard.”

          David was now on the horns of a dilemma. He did not feel responsible for the death of the three policemen, for he had not known what was going to happen.  The blame for the loss of three brave lives was firmly down to Richard. But it was clear that he was the central figure of Margollan’s hatred, and if he continued to oppose her he would be responsible for the lives of the other four people.

          She was inviting him to renounce his god and join her; or see them all brutally slain.  David shivered that he was being forced to make such a choice

          He turned his friends to ask them to pray for his soul if he made that ultimate sacrifice, and was surprised when Mrs Simpson stepped forward.        

          "You must not give in David," she said, "we know we are all going to die anyway; fight her as hard as you can."

          Nods and expressions told him that the others agreed, so once again he faced up to the godless Goddess.

          "We give ourselves to the power of good and light. It doesn't matter if you kill us all as well; we will not do your bidding."

          During that exchange the two dancing Gods, the Gods of slaughter, had slowly disappeared. The large lounge of the old house seemed to have become like an arena, its perimeters beyond vision save for a misty darkness. Only the area before the fireplace remained now twice its normal size which illuminated the central area of the arena brightly as if by an unseen sun..

           It was to that very spot that the next encounter was to be staged, as slowly another of Margollen’s Gods had come forward.

          "Mrs Simpson” the now familiar voice called. “You have been rather outspoken. Perhaps you will come forward and meet Breas, the God of cruelty”

            Breas looked at her with a curious expression and she felt an urge to go to him, an urge which she could not resist. But as she moved forward she felt that there was someone following her. A quick glance confirmed what she had feared.  It was her daughter; Jennifer.

          Unable to withstand a hidden force, both ladies stood in the area of bright light while this new God circled around them. He did not seem to have any weapon as he walked unhurriedly round and round the pair.  Nothing seemed to be happening, but after a few minutes Mrs Tyler noticed the back of her hand and let out a little cry.

          "He's making me younger." she called out to her mother, dismayed as now she could feel the years rolling back.

          "And he's making me older." replied Mrs Simpson, equally alarmed, "I'm becoming an old lady."

          In a matter of minutes the two ladies had reached the extreme ends of life, for as she became old and wizened, Mrs Simpson saw on the floor in front of her a tiny one day old baby girl.

          Breas continued the circle them, saying nothing and doing nothing more than that.

          "That is your baby the only time you ever saw her." the voice of Margollen was quite clear, and uncaring of the suffering. "My friend thought you would like to see her again before you die."

          The age changing continued and Mrs Simpsom, now very old, felt a sudden pain in her stomach. She clasped her hands to ease the pain and felt her distended belly. Her baby had disappeared, and she knew for certain that it was once again inside her.

          All her life she had mourned the fact that she had not had a second chance of motherhood, but now, unbelievably she was once more carrying a child, but it was the same one, and as Breas continued his relentless encirclement she got older, and quickly the lump at her front got smaller until it was gone altogether.  Her child, lost to her for so many years was lost again but this time forever, for she had become unborn.  She had never existed.

          As she collapsed and died at an age well over a hundred, Mrs Simpson was only able to utter a few last words. "suffer little children.”

          David was appalled at such cruelty, but he was also jubilant; almost triumphant.

          "You will not last for ever." he shouted at Margallen, who was still standing where Richard had fallen, and where she had absorbed his body for it could no longer be seen.

          How long ago had that been? David couldn't think of time at the moment, nothing seemed to relate to any kind of measure, so whether it was ten minutes or ten hours he didn't know. Ten days or ten years, it didn't seem to matter.

          Continuing his attack he shouted. "Now I know there is a God, for if there is evil like you there must be good as well, and if there is a cruel and evil God then there must also be one who is just and true."

          Margollan’s only reply was to laugh; a raucous and hideous laugh; so incongruous, coming from so delicate a mouth in such a beautiful face.

          Almost unnoticed the God of cruelty had disappeared into the mist and in his place there stood a woman. A woman of striking beauty whose only clothing was a thin, almost transparent cloak. Beneath the cloak she had long golden hair.  Ungroomed, her hair would easily reach the floor, but now it was wrapped around her body like a creeping vine.

          She moved slowly towards the three people left in the centre of the room, Becky; Inspector Bryndle  and David. She went first to Becky but did not stop, satisfied that even in spite of the mortal’s beauty, if there were to be a contest to find the most beautiful of the two, she would win.

          "This is Sheela-na-gig" wailed Margollan." who's only pleasure is to serve a man, any man, all men; but in a way no human woman can. What do think of her Mr Bryndle; is she pretty enough for you?"

          By now Sheela-na-gig was standing in front of the inspector, having made no attempt to approach David, almost as if he wasn't there.

          As with the others Gods, no words were spoken, but her eyes and lips were speaking volumes.

          Bryndle was feeling pretty shaky for he knew that in spite of her beauty, whatever plans she had for him it was not going to be pleasant. He had seen what had happened to the others, and could not see why his fate would be any different.

          So he said and did nothing.

          Sensing his resistance Margollan spoke again. "It looks like our friend needs a little persuading Sheela-na-gig. You are the Goddess of debauchery and lust. Perhaps you can think of something." her soft words broke into a laugh before ending in a high pitched cackle, dispelling the lie of her beautiful face.

          Sheela-na-gig’s arms appeared from within the folds of her long hair, and finding the ribbons under her chin she released the silken cloak, which slithered slowly and silently to the ground. At the same time she released her long silky hair which fell to the floor behind her and over her shoulders creating a golden curtain all around her but parting slightly to frame her face, complete with its breathtaking enigmatic smile.

          From his position David could also see her smile; a smile that he knew at once for it was the one from which the Mona Lisas’ smile had been derived. 

          David was shocked at the thought that this might possibility be the solution to a five hundred year old mystery. "Had Sheela-na-gig been Leonardo da Vinci's model?" he wondered, "perhaps his mistress; and through her had he sold his soul to the devil in return for his genius?

          It was a question he didn't get the chance to consider further for just then her hands, held together as if in prayer, came through the silky tresses of her golden locks.  As they came forward she opened her arms wide and the full beauty of her body was exposed. 

          Bryndle had never seen anything like it, and in spite of seeing five of his party die, and notwithstanding the weird circumstances of his situation, he could not help the sense of erotic pleasure as this Goddess revealed herself to him.  Completely unclothed and being to the last fraction exactly Bryndles ‘perfect’ woman he could not help that certain feeling. And when, a moment later, she gestured the certainty of sensuous pleasure; of a union to end all unions, he could not find the power to resist, and as he moved forward he knew he was lost.

          It did not take long. 

          It mattered little that he had an audience and he made no protest as his clothes were removed, and he was drawn into her arms, and in a moment he was drawn into her body .

          David and Becky were astounded to observe how Bryndle was taken within the golden screen of hair, once more shielding her nakedness, but now Bryndle’s as well.

          It took little imagination to realise what was going on under that silky covering, but Bryndle's moans confirmed their union. Unexpectedly Sheel-na -gig started to turn. Slowly at first keeping Bryndle within her grasp, but gradually her turns became faster, until it became a spin, and as the spin got faster, so her hair began to lift and slowly reveal the two people inside. First the feet and legs then the thighs and buttocks, until both bodies were in full view. I spite of the whirlwind it was possible to detect other movements from the pair under their golden spinning canopy, especially from Sheela-na-gig whose vigorous thrusting seemed unaffected by the motion. Bryndle on the other hand had flung his arms out wide, either in abandonment, or defeat. 

          It was also clear that Bryndle was at the point of no return, for suddenly he shouted out, overcome by his climax, the signal Sheele-na-gig had been waiting for. The spin went faster and faster still until it was hard to see which was Sheela and which was Bryndle.  Soon it was just a blur.

          Bryndle’s moan of pleasure and excitement soon gave way to shouts and then to screams, as they spun so fast the blur became a smear and his screams became a roar of fright and terror; and then to silence as the smear gave way to an ephemeral nothingness.

          David and Becky knew that there was nothing they could do as they watched this satanic version of the mating game. Neither could they save him; knowing for sure that they had seen him alive for the last time.

          Their only thoughts now were to wonder, and to fear, what little surprise Margollin had in store for them.

          After a while they noticed that the misty haze which was all that was left of the spinning bodies had gathered at it's centre, and was spiralling slowly like a dervish until it was gone. On the floor at its centre was the naked body of a man.

          Quite dead.

          Six of the party were now dead, though there were only five bodies in the room.  Also there was Richard’s, which was suspended somewhere within the monstrosity which was Margollan.

          Margollan spoke again, this time to Becky.

          “I have been watching you and had thought that you might become a good disciple. You displayed many qualities that I admired, but lately you have turned your back on me.”

          Becky heard the words, but could not understand the meaning. She had never heard of Margollan; so how could she have turned away from her?

          “You thought that all the good things you enjoyed were your right, but they were not. It all came to you through the power of my devotee Richard, and he got his power from me.”

          The Goddess of death seemed to be getting angry for her voice was rising.  Strange that Becky, who for a while had perhaps more affinity with Margollan than any of the others should evoke such emotion. 

          “You could have had anything; everything; but now you will have nothing.”

          David listened as the rage in Margollan grew. Why had she singled out Becky for such hard treatment.

          “You are wrong Margollan.” he shouted. “Becky became what you say because of Richard. She was a normal young woman before he got his hooks into her, and she had none of your sense of evil.”

          Margollan looked at David and smiled, her anger suddenly gone.

          “Ah David,” she said, in an almost affectionate way that made him shiver, “I could learn to like you, and I offered you a solution, but you turned it down.  There is still time to change your mind.”

          “Never.”

          “You’re so like all the others. They were all the same, but as you will find out, they all lost in the end.”

          “I don’t understand what you mean, but there is no reason to make Becky the scapegoat for your malevolence.”

          “Ha’, you will see malevolence when my friend Afagadu, the God of utter darkness, has finished with her.”

          Margollan was in her element. Speaking now to Becky she said. "You think you got where you were on your own,”  She stops and shrieks with laughter; a shrill hideous sound tailing off to a chuckle,  “but you did not my dear; I did it all, not you. Through Richard I was grooming you, and you could have had anything you wanted; but you have failed me."

          Afagadu, his dark face covered in an unkept beard, and dressed in a long black gown now stepped forward.  Becky had not noticed him standing there, just on the rim of light which illuminated the arena.  The large lounge had long gone as had all the furniture.  What remained was like a parade ground on a misty day with the sun above just shining through.  A moment ago there seemed to be only the circle of light on Becky, while at its very edge, almost invisible was Margollan and David.  Now into this arena came the God of utter darkness and without delay or ceremony placed the palm of his hand on Becky's forehead.  Uttering some words in a tongue which was unknown to her and David he started to stroke her. 

          Any resistance she might otherwise have had was gone, killed off just like the bodies scattered around what was once the lounge of the old house.  She was ill prepared for what she had seen, and it was clear that now it was her turn.  Her turn to die.  Becky was afraid; not so much of death itself, but the act of dying terrified her, and the uncertainty. Like most people Becky was reluctant to face up to what came after. How could anyone know if there was a hereafter.  That she now knew for certain there was, only made her more afraid, for she had reason to believe she might not be heading in the right direction.

          With Afagadu's hand on her, she felt a strange sensation, reminding her of trying to listen to a radio station that was just off tune. She knew it was there, could just hear it, but not quite.

          Then suddenly she heard it loud and clear.  Someone was communicating with her.  It was Afagadu. Though he was close to her, even touching her, as he moved slowly around her, he was engaging her mind; searching; exploring.

          He was still stroking her, softly, almost tenderly.  First her head and then her body, round and round while his words became a chant, and to David’s surprise Margollan started to respond answering his calls until it became a duet.  Afagadu continued to stroke Becky, his hands touching every part of her body as he circled her, the noise of his chanting augmented by the Goddess of Death becoming so loud that it was starting to hurt David’s ears.  But Becky just stood there as if nothing was happening.

          But something was happening, for Becky could sense that he was foraging amongst the miles of corridors, sections and storage areas of her brain where all her knowledge, memories, intuition and experience might be stored.  Every part of her mind could feel his touch as he teased and coaxed.   But what was he looking for?.  Becky could not tell, but neither could she stop him looking.

          Then she felt a strange sensation as though something was being drawn out of her. She felt her mind was being searched, her brain being purged, but more than that it was as though her very essence, all that she had become was being sucked from within it.

          Now the noise was deafening as though there were a thousand voices shouting at her, but strangely it was sending her into a kind of trance.  She tried to break out of but could not do so.  She seemed curiously empty and panic overtook her forcing a scream.  But the scream was silent.  Not a flicker of anything showed on her face to reveal the battle that was going on inside.  The panic subsided, along with all other sensations as she felt her brain being denuded of all its accumulated knowledge, acquired over all her life years.  Years of study, and of growing up. Now she felt that it was not only knowledge that was going, but the power of thought itself, until finally there was nothing left but an empty shell.

          David watched as Becky stood motionless while the God of Utter Darkness continued to lay his hands on her.  He didn't seem to be doing much to her, and as far as he could tell she was not in any pain or distressed.

          He had witnessed the cruel deaths of all the others in his party, and he had little doubt that soon he would be killed off in some unspeakable manner.

          So he was pleased, that Becky was being treated less harshly, though of course somewhat puzzled.

          He called to her.

          "Becky; can you hear me?”

          There was no answer.

          "Becky," he called again "can you hear me."

          "She will not hear you, she hears nothing now."

          It was Margollan, answering for her, and for the first time since she had materialised out of Richard's body, she moved.  Her arms were outstretched and she was walking toward David with a smile on her face.  It was hard to believe that such beauty harboured such horror.

          "She hears nothing and she sees nothing."

          Afagadu had done his work, and like the other gods and goddesses was gone now, each having departing into the ether as their part in the proceedings were completed, and now only Margollan and David remained.

          She was standing in front of David now, somehow seeming taller than she was before, and her arms were held before her as though reaching for the young man. She smiled as her hands touched his shoulders and pulled him to her, clasping to him gently as she took him to her bosom.

          "You see," she said quietly, "she no longer has any of her senses. She cannot see or hear, or taste or smell, and she cannot touch or feel.

          David was horrified.  To hear how the woman he loved had been so broken apart. He spoke to Margollan quietly know that shouting or a display of anger only played into her hands.         

          "You have not only killed her but you have destroyed everything that made her what she was.  How could you hate her so? Why didn't you just kill her like all the others."

          "Ah but you see, I haven't killed her; not completely.  Her body, yes; that will soon die, and with it what you call the senses"

          David was still held in Margollan's grip and he could feel the warmth of her body under the flimsy silkiness of the red cloak. Her could smell her, a sensuous exotic smell, and in other circumstances such proximity to a woman would have had an immediate erotic effect on him. He knew however that this was Margollan’s ploy, and that any move in that direction would be a total and utter defeat, and that seven lives would have been needlessly lost.

          He concentrated on what was most important - Becky. Hoping that his captors unexpected  affectionate mood might hold. He asked her, quietly still, and  with as much dignity as he could summon. "What will happen to Becky?"

          "She will die like the others, but not so quickly.  She no longer has any senses so in a way her body is dead already."

          David responded immediately, and were he was not still being held close to Margollan’s breast, he would have jumped up. 

          "Her body you say, but not her mind?" The last part more in hope than in real expectation.

          "Her normal senses no longer exist, but I have given her another which will stay with for all time."

          "What is that?" David asked, feeling distinctly uneasy.

          "Awareness"

          "Awareness?"

          "She will always be aware of life; her life; that she once enjoyed being alive, but can never again know its joys.

          "For all time?" David asked incredulous, the little spark of hope quickly extinguished.

          He slumped again, once more aware of the beautiful sensuous woman who was holding him, and whose arms and body were gently moving and caressing, bent on his arousal, and ultimate defeat.

          "For all time" David asked again. He could not see Margollan’s face, but he could tell by a small change in her voice that she was smiling.

          "Why have you saved the worst for Becky, she was innocent of everything until Richard got his hands on her." He gritted  his teeth, determined not to give into her deadly embrace.

          "To start with she was so much like me when I was human all those century's ago.  And then you see David, I didn't save the worst for her."

          "It's cruel beyond endurance."

          Now Margollan laughed, and finally released David from her grasp.

          "What I meant was that I have saved the worst for you.“

          Shocked at this remark David pulled abruptly away, and to his surprise Margollan allowed him to escape her embrace.  He had resisted her female closeness, and she was no doubt happy to let him go.  She was after all playing with him like a little girl might play with a puppy.  And David feared what would follow when she became bored with her plaything.

          "Is there no way back for Becky and my other friends? It's me you wanted from the start.  Is my life not worth theirs?"

          "But it's not your life I want David, it's your eternity.  I could have your life with the flick of a finger, but not your soul. You must give me that."

          David had long since given up any hope that he might live beyond this encounter with the Devils lieutenants.  Indeed, he was not at all sure that he was still alive.

          But he was still in contact with Margollan, and after all he was the one she was after.  Somehow he knew that in her eyes he would be a compensation for having lost Richard.

          David persisted.  "If I give myself to you will you restore my friends to their lives?"

          Margollan laughed.  It was a  laugh which contained all of her cunning and guile; her wickedness and pure delight at having once again outwitted a mere mortal man.

          “Why should I do that David, why should I care?”

          “Because I will not give you my soul unless you promise to return the lives of all my friends. It must be some kind of victory for you to win the support of one who has worshipped my God.”  David answered quietly, aware that what he was about to do would damn his soul for all eternity.  “May he forgive me.”

          "So be it," she said when eventually she stopped laughing.  "I have work for you to do.

          Without a moments delay she had gone into some kind of ceremonial display, wanting to welcome David into her world, but her mood had changed. There was no need any more for playfulness, or wantonness.  Her feminine allure abandoned, as she prepared to take away his soul.

          "Don't feel to bad about it David, you will find that there are many compensations, and you are not the first in your family to come over to my side.  Many of your ancestors succumbed to my powers; just like you.”

          It was perhaps the only word that could summon up in David one last cry for help, and Margollan had unintentionally used it.