I enjoy the sound of desert sand crunching beneath my sandals. Especially in this part of the world where so much of the stuff is ground human skeleton. And for me, a demon in possession of a human body, the further grinding of that bone causes torment. The sound of screams comes to my supernatural ears, like the song of night birds.

My name is Darius, and I'm an old demon. Not quite one of the original fallen, but I joined up soon after. I have a lot of power and rank, but not enough to attract the wrong kind of attention. Only plum assignments like my current gig: warlord. It had everything, drinking, murder, and all the women I wanted.

With a smile, I picked up my pace.

I was going to see my lady. One of the perks of possessing a human body, apart from the chance to lead others in combat and killing was enjoying the many forms of pleasure it could provide. And my current woman? Ah, Mikal was a Jewish slave. When I first had her in my power, I enjoyed terrifying her--but something changed about a year after she was mine. I found myself wanting to please her. Tonight, for example, I carried a good new wine, some honey cake, and a necklace of silver. Gifts.

There was something in her dark eyes when she smiled at me that was different from any woman I'd been with in my thousands of years of possessing bodies and wreaking havoc. Yes, it was probably a dangerous indulgence, but wasn't I entitled? I mean, I'd done a lot of good work over the last few thousand years.

I nodded to my guards as I went inside her tent. She was expecting me, of course. The incense from her bedchamber flowed out to me, heavy with the scent of desire.

"Mikal?" I called as I stepped through the door.

She came to me at once, flowing out of the shadows, embracing me. I put my arms around her, took in the feel of her, the scent of her.

"I have gifts," I said.

She pulled away, eyes bright, and I presented my treasures. The way her eyes lit when I brought out the silver necklace--it was such a thing as the first of the fallen described, the stars at creation. They were mystical light, timeless, and so was my Mikal, my beautiful captive.

Turning, she pulled the hair away from her neck so that I could fasten this new ornament in place. I did so, taking the time to kiss her. She sighed and leaned into me.

"Come," she said. "Let's get you out of that armor."

Readily, I agreed. Together, we unstrapped my lorica segmentata, my body armor, and discarded it on the sandy floor. Before proceeding any further, she rushed against me, joining our mouths in a kiss hotter than the midday sun upon the sands.

The sudden pain in my stomach caused me to stumble back. I looked down, stunned, to see the dagger thrust through my stomach. She withdrew and struck again. My mind barely had time to register what was happening, much less stop her. When the third thrust came, I knew there was little point. I simply fell.

As I lay dying, she hovered over me and stared into my eyes.

"Darius, you beast. What were you doing carrying on with this mortal woman?"

In a way, I was relieved. Knowing my Mikal was possessed and had not truly betrayed me somehow made this whole death more palatable.

"Cassia?"

The demoness put an evil smile on my angel's face.

"A new plum assignment for you, my liege, from the High Lords of Hell themselves."

I groaned. "What is it?"

"You are to be assigned to the Son of God. To tempt and thwart him in his time on Earth."

On hearing that, my body died. Perhaps from the shock of it. There was no worse assignment that I could think of than that--nothing more dangerous. I was not that caliber of warrior, not capable of standing against a being of that might. I'd be like a pig led to slaughter.

"Do well and you will be rewarded," Cassia cooed.

"Right," I said, staring down at my body. "We all know how well demons are rewarded for failing at an impossible task. What did I do to merit this sort of attention?"

"You let yourself be seduced by this, Darius," Cassia gestured to the body she was wearing.

And so I understood. The High Lords had not so much noticed me as had one of their favorite courtesan's. Hell hath no fury, so they say, as a jealous demoness.

No longer was I a mighty warlord. Indeed, I might never recover from this. Yet it was my assignment, and disobeying would only make things worse for me.