The next day I didn't hang out with Jesus or his followers. I went throughout the city, stirring up feelings of jealousy, urging the religious leaders to violence.

Cassia was surprisingly unhelpful. She kept wandering off to Golgatha to sit and stare at the crucifixions. Demon's minds weren't supposed to break under torment. I decided that maybe she just needed a little time to rest and recover, so I finally stopped trying to get her to stir up anger and hatred and let her be.

After making my rounds with the pharisees, I spent some time with Judas--pointing out to him that by focusing on the hypocrisy of the pharisees, Jesus was also drawing attention away from the plight of the poor.

So Judas, who was in charge of the finances for Jesus' group, and I went through the city, buying food and clothing for poor people. I had him so worked up, he spent every penny.

As he was distributing the last of the bread, he was approached by one of the temple guard. The man had a crooked nose from where it had broken and healed, and a scar on his left cheek. He was always the one the priests turned to when they had a task that required discretion.

"Judas Iscariot?" the man asked.

Judas turned and looked behind himself.

"You have nothing to fear from me, my friend." The guard smiled revealing two missing teeth.

Judas took a slow step backward. The guard held out his hands, showing that they were empty. Of course, he still had his sword at his side, and Judas's glanced at it.

"Look," the guard said. "It's not you we want, it's Jesus."

At this Judas laughed and took another slow step away. "You have nothing against any of his followers, it's just the man himself. Just like when you arrested Barrabas, right?"

"If you tell us where to find Jesus, we'll give you money. You can use it to help the poor."

"Right, and if I don't you'll have me whipped to death."

"I swear by the Temple," the man said. "I will not harm you. If you change your mind, tonight I will be stationed at the Dung gate." He paused, grinned, and added. "No jokes about that assignment, okay?"

"Think about it," I whispered to Judas.

He wasn't quite ready, but he was close. I figured if I kept at him for a week he'd take the guard's offer.

Judas and I took a long meandering path out of the city. He ducked down side streets and narrow paths, each time pausing to look behind and make sure he wasn't followed. Eventually, he went outside the city to the place where Jesus and the others were staying, in a field on the edge of Gethsemane.

As we approached, Jesus looked up with a smile. "Ah, Judas, it's good to see you. Have you been taking care of the poor of Jerusalem?"

Judas drew himself up, made fists, glared at Jesus, and said, "Yes. I've spent all our money. I've saved nothing for wine, bread, or lamb."

For several long seconds, Jesus simply stared at him. Finally, he said, "You have done well, my friend. For we have no need of it. Our passover supper is ready within the city."

He glanced around. "Could you and Peter take care of it?"

Judas still stood with back stiff. The muscles on his jaw stood out, but his eyes showed confusion. He had, of course, expected to be reprimanded for not using the group's funds to pay for the passover.

Slowly, he unclenched his fists and let out a breath. "Sure. What would you like us to do?"

"Go into the city. You will find a man carrying water. Follow him. Ask the owner of the house he enters where we will eat the passover, then come back here and get us."

Judas glanced around, his countenance darkened as did his thoughts. "Why don't we all go together?"

Peter put a hand on his shoulder. "Judas, what's the matter?"

After another long breath, Judas said, "Sorry. It's just that with all this preaching against the pharisees that you've been doing and that incident in the temple. The city guard has been shadowing me, making me nervous."

"The reason you have given is the reason we don't all go together. You will find the place and figure out the safest route for us all to come here."

"But, Lord, clearly you know the way."

I, however, suspected he didn't. Jesus had a way of hiding things from himself, of not letting himself know what was going on when he could easily do so.

"I only know that there will be a water carrier, my friend," Jesus replied.

Several heads turned in Jesus' direction. There was an odd stress in his voice when he said friend that no one missed.

"Fine," Judas said. "Peter, let's go."

Then, without waiting, he spun on his heel and headed toward the city.

Of course, my place was with Judas, but since I could move so much more quickly than he I decided to quickly visit Mikal. Even if I had no chance to speak to her, it would ease my spirit just to be in her presence.

She sat with Mary, Jesus' mother, and with Mary of Magdalene. The women had, apparently, been making pottery for the each had a new jar. Mikal's, however, was the finest, displaying her artistic skill. Possibly I might have been biased in my assessment, but all the women in the group praised my Mikal's creation.

I hovered in the air before her and kissed her upon her brow.

She shivered. Did she know that I had touched her? I liked to believe she did.

One more fond gaze, and I was off. I easily caught up with Judas and Peter just as they reached the city gate. In no time they found the man carrying water and followed him down one street and another until they came to a mansion to rival Caiphas's own.

When they reached the house, the owner stepped out to greet them. He was a portly fellow, completely bald. He wore a silk robe and gold rings adorned his fingers.

"You are Jesus' followers, are you not?" the man asked.

Peter nodded. "Yes. Do you have the passover ready?"

For his part, Judas simply glared at the man, his eyes taking in the fine wooden beams, the marble floor tiles, and the many servants in fine clothing.

With a wide smile, the man said, "Everything is prepared. Bring the Rabbi upstairs and you will find a well-furnished room where you can all be comfortable."

"Comfortable," Judas muttered.

"Great," Peter said. "Then we will go at once and get him."

"Wait," the man said. "I'll send one of my boys with you. Wait until it's dark, then he will lead you to a gate called the Eye of the Needle. If you go that way, you will evade the city guard."

So the three men went back on their way. The boy's name was John Mark, and he proved an excellent guide. They saw no sign of the city guard as we made our way back to Gethsemane.

All the while, the wealth of the man who was providing the meal darkened Judas thoughts. Silver flashed in his mind from time to time.

"You know, they can't really kill Jesus," I whispered. "With the miracles he can do? No one can lay a hand on him."

"What do you think, Peter?" Judas asked aloud.

"About what?"

"Jesus keeps saying he must die and rise again. What do you think it means?"

Peter shook his head. "It reminds me of the story of Abraham and Isaac. God asked him to sacrifice his son, but all he really wanted was to see that Abraham was willing to do it. I think the Father is giving Jesus a similar kind of test."

Judas's eyes widened. "That is--wow. I'm amazed I didn't see it."

"So you see," I whispered. "If you sell Jesus' location to the guard, no one will be harmed. It's all just a test."

A small laugh escaped from Judas as my suggestion found its place in his soul.

I wondered, though, if Peter didn't have it right. What else was that story for if not to set up this new one? Jesus sets an example by all, showing that he is willing to give his life for God's service. Another marvelous lesson.

Still, I had my doubts. When had I ever predicted the man correctly?

So it was that I still was pondering these issues when we finally found our way to the upper room. It was, indeed, a marvelous setup with a long table, mounds of food, and four golden cups a the the table's center for Jesus and the apostles to use for the passover.

Judas's jaw dropped and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the sight. "Gold? Really? Golden cups? We're going to sit here in this palace, eat all this--this rich food--and then drink from cups made of actual gold?"

"Peace," Jesus said. "You will always have the poor. These things that this man does for me are in preparation for my burial."

"Burial," Judas said. "How many poor people will be buried in this city tonight? How many could be saved by a fraction of this insane wealth?"

To this Jesus gave no answer, no mystical explanation. Instead, he began the ritual meal. When he got to the last cup, he paused.

"Tonight, one of you, one of my twelve chosen will betray me."

Everyone blinked as if waking from a dream. One after another, they asked. "Will it be me?" Others asked. "Is this a parable of some sort, some secret message for us to figure out."

He tore a piece of bread from the basked in front of him and lifted it up. "It will be the one to whom I give this piece of bread after I have dipped it."

We all watched in silence as Jesus dipped the bread in the wine. He held it there.

"Come closer." He gestured to his apostles. They did as he asked, but none dared to get too close.

"Closer still," Jesus said.

Reluctantly, they all did so. Once they were close by, Jesus handed the bread to Judas. "Take and eat, my friend."

Judas took the bread. His face paled, his body shook. Everyone's eyes were on him. "But--but I don't--I didn't--"

Silence followed. "He doesn't care about the poor," I whispered to Judas. "And he doesn't care about you. He is upset because you spent all the money."

My words sunk like arrows into Judas's heart. His will retreated into anger, fear, and the dark places of his heart.

At once I saw that he was ready, that he and I were attuned enough that I could possess him. I did so, taking control of the empty place inside the man. Once in command of my host, I bowed to Jesus.

"Go," he said to me. "Do what you plan to do, and do it quickly."

On hearing the command, I turned on my heel and went out the door into the night and headed for the Dung Gate, dutifully serving my two masters.

The rest all went like clockwork. I received my silver, then led the guard to Gethsemane, where I found Jesus. There was blood on his forehead.

That puzzled me for a moment. I mean, I understood what had happened. When under great stress, humans could on occasion sweat blood. I'd seen it a few dozen times in my thousands of years in service of sheol. But what upset him so much? Everything was going according to plan, just as he and I had arranged.

I greeted him with a kiss on the cheek as was the custom. To me, it seemed a nice touch. Jesus seemed to agree, for he said, "Do you betray me with a kiss?"

The funny thing was, he sounded genuinely upset. Was this just an act so the Abominations wouldn't catch on that I was actually helping the Son of God? Or was I missing something?

From that point I abandoned Judas. As far as I was concerned, he'd served his purpose. Whatever he did with that money was up to him. Doubtless he'd go back to the city and spend it all on the poor, make a few people a little less miserable.

The guard led Jesus to a chamber in a building near the temple. They struck him repeatedly, bruising him and causing him to bleed.

All I could do was stare.

What was the purpose of this charade? When would Jesus walk away from the middle of these men the way he had so long ago, when I first started working with him?

Finally, I tired of the whole thing and went out to look for Mikal. What would she think of these events and my part in them? I planned to tell her eventually, of course. She had to see that I was only doing what Jesus wanted.

I found her before I even left the building, seducing one of the guards in the place where Jesus was being interrogated. She had a knife hidden in her garments.

"Is it true," she asked, "that they've got that crazy preacher imprisoned in this very building."

"Yeah." The guard laughed. "Just down the hall."

In horror, I watched as she encouraged the man to take a drink--and when his eyes were closed, she drew her knife.

"No!" I shouted, manifesting myself to her. "Don't! You don't know what you're doing!"

But if she saw me at all, she didn't notice. She drove the blade into the man's neck with a ferocity that I admired. As soon as he was down, she lifted the keys from his belt and made her way toward the locked door to the hallway.

"No," I pleaded. "Run. Do you know how many guards are in this place?"

"Shut up, Darius," she said. "I'm not letting them do this to Jesus."

As she fumbled the correct key into the lock, the door opened. The man on the other side shoved it hard enough to knock Mikal off her feet. Before she could stand, he kicked her twice in the ribs. It was then he noticed the other man laying on the floor, bleeding.

"Please," Mikal said. "You don't understand, I--"

Another kick silenced her.

The guard glanced again at his fallen comrade. He hissed out a pained breath. "You were an idiot, Justin," the man muttered. "Chasing the prostitutes. Now what will I tell your father?"

"Jesus is a prophet," Mikal said. "Don't you understand?"

But the guard simply howled at her, drew his sword, and thrust it through her belly. He howled, then did it again and again. Rage took him.

Mikal's spirit floated up, turning its wretched gaze on me.

I drew my sword and gathered my darkness about me. If I could not save her, I'd do what I did for Lazarus, fight off the tormenters until someone could come to take her to the Bosom of Abraham--where I'd never see her again.

"Whatever comes, let me stand between you and it. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

They came. First the lesser shadows with their lances of corrupted iron. These I sliced apart easily.

Next were the knights, creatures with flaming blades like mine, infernine armor, and teeth like a lion's. Though they ripped at my essence, tearing pieces of me away, I fought on until they were dead.

Still more came. The horrors with six arms and six mouths, creatures glistening with the foul waters they swam in. Five of them rose against me. They shredded my armor to tatters, but I defeated them as well.

"Darius," Mikal said. "What is happening to you?"

"I'm winning," I grunted.

The winged nightmares descended on us next. Over a dozen of them came from every direction. I darted, this way and that, skewering one after another with my flaming sword--but I was not fast enough. The last of them grabbed Mikal in hits bloody talons and dove into sheol with her. My Mikal's screams still rang in my ears for several long seconds as I remained alone with the body and the weeping guard.

I touched the corpse with my spirit, the hair, the cheek. This was the greatest beauty of God's creation, and he'd allowed her to die.

Why?

Hadn't I done everything Jesus asked of me? I hoped he did die after all.

As I sat there, alone, mourning my beloved, the darkness gathered around me. Severl dozen black snakes slithered from the ground and slithered in circles around me.

I struck one with my flaming sword, but the blade passed through without harming it.

"Did you not wonder why we chose you, Warlord of the Dark and Deep?"

When they spoke, I knew that I heard a manifestation of the Abominations. Somehow, I didn't care what they had to say.

I rose from the place where I knelt beside Mikal. My sword billowed with new flame. "I have a question for you. Where is Mikal? You will not keep her from the place in the underworld that she deserves."

"We assure you that she has found her home, a place along the Dark Stair where people who commit murder and consort with demons are kept."

On hearing this my fire dimmed.

"Yes. You are the cause of your love's destruction. Through you, she earned herself a place in the most terrible of darknesses."

What could I do? Ask them for mercy? I knew it would be pointless.

"Again, Darius, we ask you. With a target so important as the Son of God, why not choose a greater or more powerful demon?"

Again, I didn't answer.

It was a good question though. I'd more or less chalked it up to incompetence. The Abominations weren't known for taking anything seriously but cruelty.

Could they have had a real reason?

Honestly, though, I didn't care. They could have any number of excellent reasons and it wouldn't matter to me. Not anymore.

"We chose you because we saw that you had fallen in love with a mortal."

I stared at the slithering dark shapes. "All this time you knew? Why did you--"

"Because we needed your passion and your anger. We needed you to make Jesus understand just how bad this world can be. He must drink every ounce from his cup of suffering and no one, Darius, wants him to burn more than you."

I stood there, staring at them. They were right.

Maybe if I could convince Jesus, he'd do away with sheol and the Dark Stair and restore my Mikal to me. No, I had to do it. This was the time, the moment in history, when demons had to finally win.

"Again we ask, Warlord. Do you believe in our cause?"

"I do," I promised. "If it is possible for Jesus to be convinced, then I am the one with the will to make him see. For all that is good and decent, the powers of sheol must prevail."