I returned to my job, following Jesus, figuring out ways to tempt him. At the moment, I had no spectacular ideas.

To make matters worse, I had little idea what was even going on. All Jesus did was heal people and preach to them. He called judgement on no one except demons, though he was constantly saying bad things about the pharisees. I suppose speaking out against those in authority was a classic way for humans to gain influence, but wouldn't it make more sense fo him to speak out against the Romans instead of his own people?

He wandered through a small village, a ragged crowd surging in his wake. Like many such places, most people here were poor, common laborers and beggars. The houses were small, some of them barely more than loose collections of rocks. I smelled bread, and saw a long line gathered along a side street.

A tax collector sat at a booth, a man named Levi.

He was one of the jewish people the Romans had recruited to take money from the jews themselves.

Levi was a young man wearing a bright red robe. He had a broad black beard and thick hair, both of which were well-combed and shone with oil. Gold rings adorned three fingers of his uncalloused hands. Two burly jewish guards stood at his right and left, armed with sticks. They had the large midsections common to men of great strength, and to my senses, their fists reeked of blood.

When Levi saw Jesus, his eyes went wide. He got up at once and started walking rapidly away.

"This man is a traitor to the race you've made yourself part of," I whispered to Jesus. "Curse him. Make an example of him. The people will love you for it."

Perhaps it was not my most inspired temptation, but as a demon you learn the value of being tenacious. Even if you don't expect what you say to work, it usually makes sense to supply whatever temptation comes to mind. Quantity matters more than quality when attempting to erode a human soul. It was like Jesus himself said in his parable about asking for bread in the middle of the night. Persistence pays.

"Levi," Jesus called to him.

The man froze in his tracks, like a child caught stealing a sweet. Slowly, he turned.

"Follow me," Jesus said.

Levi glanced around, as if he wasn't sure who Jesus was talking to.

I laughed out loud. Of course. Of all the people to recruit, Jesus would pick a man whose made his living by taking from others. As far as such people went, Levi was less likely to take more than he was owed, but why him?

With my demonic senses, I focused on the man's soul and I realized at once why Jesus had chosen him. This was a man keenly aware of his own failings and weakness, one who tried to do good with his spare wealth, who meditated on the holy book late into the night. What coin he did not spend for the poor was spent on oil for lamps and books. Though he attended synagogue regularly, he always sat in the back, not wishing to draw attention to himself, knowing he was a miserable tax collector.

This was a man who disliked his job and was ready for a change, a naturally prayerful person. His soul was like dry wood, waiting for a zealous fire to be kindled.

"Yes, you," Jesus smiled. "You are to be one of my twelve chosen. Leave everything and follow me."

A hesitant smile came to Levi's face, and he fell to his knees. "Lord, if you are willing, I'd like to offer a feast in your honor before we depart. We can invite the poor of the city to join us."

Jesus nodded. "It will be as you say."

I sighed. Well, if Jesus was going to continue finding people to help his cause, I should probably help with the recruiting. I needed someone more amenable to my influence than this Levi person.

So I went out into the streets, searching. Who? I needed someone with a love for God and the poor, but who was flawed in exactly the right way.

I passed one of those pharisees who gave money to the poor, announcing his good deed with hired men blowing trumpets.

No, Jesus would never pick someone like that. Whatever flaw the man would have, it would not be pride--at least, not in so obvious a form. That was an attitude he had little time for. Perhaps someone who meant well, but had a weakness for women and prostitutes, or someone overly fond of wine.

What I needed was a relatively humble men, one who stayed toward the back of the synagogue like Levi--someone with love for the poor but enough intelligence that I could reason with him, yet enough passion that I could turn that reasoning to rationalization.

Just down the road from where Levi collected taxes, I found another man, quietly walking among the most run-down houses with a list of names scribbled on a sheet of parchment. The names were of some of the most poor and needy people, the widows and those caring for orphans. This man went among them, quietly distributing coins.

He was less well-groomed than Levi, and his robes were drab and of poor quality. He had a hawkish face, like a man who disapproves of everything he sees, but tries to keep his anger to himself. Not unusual in an occupied people like the jews

I gazed upon his soul. He was an accountant with a head for numbers and the balancing of books. He worked with Levi, though in secret. When the Roman soldiers visited Levi, Levi would make a show of taking money from the poor among his people, then he'd pass the money to this man to return it.

Clever.

Should I recruit this man for Jesus? The passion and intelligence were there. Deep down, though, there was the idea that he knew best about most everything--an attitude common to smart people. I wasn't sure if it was enough, but at least it was something to work with--assuming I could get Jesus to even consider him. I had an advantage there. Levi would doubtless recommend him.

As I was thinking this, a boy ran up to the man I'd picked and said, "Levi is having a feast today for the man Jesus that we've all heard about."

My accountant snorted. "I don't have time for feasts and miracle workers. There are poor in this city who need help."

The boy shrugged. "Some say he's the Messiah."

"Oh, another con man. Just what this poor town needs. I suppose he'll take half our wealth with him when he leaves."

I smiled. I could see the ire of jealousy behind the man's objections. Levi had never thrown a feast in his honor. Maybe this man was even a better choice than I first suspected.

Quickly, I whispered in his ear, "You'd better go and make sure he doesn't fool your master."

After letting out a long sigh, my accountant said, "Fine. I'll see what this one is like."

At once, he and the boy headed back to Levi's house.

My accountant's face darkened when he saw the crowd gathered. His thoughts buzzed like bees on a corpse about con men who preyed on the foolish.

He went inside Levi's well-appointed house. Colored linens hung on the walls, sweet incense burned in every corner of the spacious room filled with guests. There were numerous tables. Apparently, the place was designed for parties, though the one in progress now taxed the spacious accomodations. Servants in bright robes moved among the room, handing out bread and wine.

Levi sat next to Jesus at the center table. When we entered, my attention was distracted by the sight of Mikal. She stood outside one of the open windows with the overflow crowd, looking in. Many of the girls who worked with her had come as well.

What were they doing here? It would have been a significant journey for her. I laughed to myself. Perhaps meeting a demon made her seek out some sort of divine protection. Regardless, I was glad to see her.

So much so, that I was only dimly aware of the introductions taking place.

"Jesus," Levi said. "This man is the best and most honest accountant in all of Israel. If you want someone to manage the funds of our small group, I can recommend no one better."

I should have been paying more attention, but all I could do was focus on Mikal. Maybe it would be good for her if she followed Jesus. He'd saved her from sickness once, after all.

"Pleased to meet you," my accountant said, nodding to Jesus.

Waving expansively, Levi said, "Please meet my most trusted friend, Judas Iscariot."