I followed Jesus at a safe distance as he went down to the shore of the so-called Sea of Galilee--which was actually a freshwater lake. He stood for a long time on the shore, looking out over the water at the fishing boats.

As usual, I had no idea what he was up to. Would he start preaching to the fish?

"Are you there, Darius?" Jesus asked.

I'd no idea he was aware of me. "I am," I replied.

"I am searching for followers, men who will show me loyalty and help me carry out my mission. What do you think of that man there?" He nodded toward one of the fishermen.

To my eyes, there was nothing special about the man.

"Why do you ask me?" I said. "Am I not your enemy?"

He didn't glance my way. I suspected his mortal eyes could not see me.

"I healed the woman you loved, didn't I? You owe me for that."

I considered his words. I did, but did he expect that I would appreciate what he'd done for me? I was one of the fallen, a betrayer by nature. He should have known this, but I did not feel the need to correct him.

"Besides," Jesus went on, "you are a commander of many and have experience in leading others that I lack."

What should I tell him? Had he wanted to, he could have discerned more about this human than I could.

Still, I looked, gazing upon the man with all my supernatural power. Simon was a natural leader, enthusiastic. He had a strong will, and a great deal of courage--but there was also a weakness in him. Despite his good qualities, I could see that he would ultimately fail--he was like a vase with a hairline crack, the flaw invisible until it was filled with water.

"He has great zeal," I replied. "He would serve you well."

"That's what I think, also."

Did Jesus know what I omitted? If he did not, that was on him. What kind of advice did he really expect from a demon?

While we stood there together, the scent of water on the breeze, a small demon with bronze-colored skin materialized before me, bowed, and held out a scroll and a quill in clawed hands. "For you, my lord."

I took it and scanned the page. It was a summons from hell, along with the typical boiler-plate terms of use, declarations that the issuer held no liability for anything that happened upon its use, etc. There were two curses embedded in the legalese, both of which I crossed out. I had no intention of spending a thousand years buried up to my neck in sand and letting deathstalker scorpians sting my ears, nor did I wish to live with a flame dagger buried in my demonic essence until the last battle. Satisfied that I'd caught all the traps, I signed.

At once, the document burst into flames, engulfing me in smoke until I was shrouded in utter blackness.

I waited. At length, I saw six demons holding burning incense in their blistering hands. They resembled men wearing long linen pants, and they bare to the waist--except that they had no eyes on their head and six on their chests. Behind them were six thrones. The creatures that sat on the thrones were the Abominations, a hopelessly jumbled collection of arms, clawed fingers, legs, bits of flesh, torsos, heads, and wings--all covered with eyes.

When they spoke, their words were in unison--it was more like a chant, really, with overlapping but different musical tones.

"Tell us, lowly warlord, of the fruits of your labors in tempting the Son of God."

I bowed, my face to the floor, and lay there a full minute. It felt like forever, but I would not risk offending the Abominations in any way.

When I rose, I chronicled my efforts in the desert and with the girl, as well as the time I'd put in to research--what I'd learned so far about the man and his mission.

There was silence when I finished, then mumblings and sighs, then more silence.

I waited.

"The demoness Cassia has spoken to us of thee," they said.

A tingling numbness spread through my essence. I hadn't expected them to speak to her. Had she told these creatures of Mikal? If they had, both I and the girl would be doomed. The answer to the question was obvious. Of course, she'd told them. Why wouldn't she? I'd let her walk into her own destruction. I did not respond. There was nothing I could say in my defense.

"She tells us that though she tempted you with pleasure, you remained focused on your task."

It would not be atypical of the Abominations to lead me into a false sense of security before pronouncing doom upon me, so I braced myself.

"Your dedication is pleasing to us, yet because you have failed and because you must always remember that you are a miserable worm, we sentence you to forty plus one lashings with the scourge of fire."

Typical. Forty lashes, plus one to emphasize that I deserved no mercy. Ten tormenters, each eight feet tall and resembling minotaurs, appeared behind me. The lashes of fire descended, ten at a time.

Mortals have a limited understanding of pain. For them, pain is a warning of danger, the ability to feel it is a capability which helps them to survive. Consequently, their bodies can only endure so much before their minds shut down. The spiritual bodies of the fallen are different. For us, pain does not help us to survive, but aids those in power over us to give us punishment. There is no limit to what we can experience and our minds never shut down.

One lash from a scourge of flame is enough to drive a mortal insane, to turn their minds inside out.

Four times the ten-fold lashing came down. By its conclusion, my mind was like shattered glass, discordant and incoherent.

The demons faded.

Where was my plus one?

Silence reigned.

"Come. Rise from the deeps," the Abominations chanted.

I saw something. A shadowy figure walked up from the shadowy pits below. The flame of its scourge of fire illumined it. The thing's progress was slow as it hobbled up the long stairs from the nether realms.

It took me a long while to recognize Cassia.

She was naked, but her spiritual body was so marked with charring and scars that her wounds were a kind of covering. She limped horribly, as she was missing the foot of her left leg. There were black pits where her eyes should have been, her eyes were clutched in her left hand. In her right, she bore a scourge of flame.

"No," I whispered.

I'd known she'd fallen, but I'd not guessed how far, how much torment she was in because of me. What had Jesus done to her? Or was this some special punishment prescribed by the abominations.

She took her place behind me and wailed, a sound like a thousand cats being slowly submerged into a lake, and struck with her whip.

There was a force in it that belied her frail figure. When the lash hit, bits of red-hot, spiked metal bit through me, searing my essence. The other lashes had left me intact, but this blow split me nearly in two. Such pain. By itself, it was beyond a tenfold lashing.

It took me a timeless time to put myself back together. My spiritual essence still hummed and vibrated.

"By this blow, Cassia, Princess of the Fourth Realm," the Abominations chanted, "you have proved yourself free of the affection for the creature before you. Is there anything you wish to add to your testimony concerning Darius, Warlord of the Dark and Deep?"

She spat upon me. The spittle sizzled like acid in my still-healing wounds.

Here it came. Now she would tell them, and my real torment would begin.

"No, my lords." She bowed. "I wish I could tell you of his failings, but I cannot deceive such being of power as yourselves."

I stole a look at her. The eyeballs she clutched in her hands stared back at me.

Why hadn't she turned me in? Surely, the Abominations would have freed her and incarcerated me in sheol's depths if she had.

I thought back to standing with Jesus on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. He'd been looking for loyalty in men, unreliable creatures at best. I'd thought him a fool to ask advice from a creature like me, but Cassia had just shown me that betrayal was not fundamentally part of our nature. Had he known what would happen? Was this whole incident one of his cryptic lessons?

When I returned to the mortal realm, I found Jesus and several others with a huge catch, well over one hundred fish. Together, he and the fishermen were giving the fish to any who asked.

Cassia's lash was still fresh in me. Should I warn Jesus about the man, Simon, that he'd chosen?

For a long time I considered it. In the end, I did not. I turned and went into the wilderness to think.