Goetic Justice

He walked for another ten minutes or so, dropping his empty styrofoam cup and the paper bag into a trash can once he had finished his breakfast, the smells of exhaust fumes and the sounds of angry motorists doing little to dampen his mood. He knew that something good was going to happen today, something positive, it was an odd and welcome feeling to be assured that luck would be on your side.

As he rounded a corner and the entrance to the mall came into view, he felt a tug on his pants leg, and he stumbled as he turned around to see what had grabbed him. There was a homeless man lying prone on the street, clad in tattered wool clothing and sporting fingerless gloves, his weather-beaten face obscured behind a wiry beard. He stank of booze, and he was clearly drunk, Ryan shaking him off in disgust as the man propped himself up against the wall of the building behind him. He took off his moth-eaten beanie, and held it out towards Ryan like a collection plate, his hair long and matted.

"Hey fella," he slurred drunkenly, "can ya spare a penny for...for the poor?"

Ryan brushed himself off and turned to leave, but then he remembered what Nahash had said. You will be accosted by a drunken vagrant, be generous with him and treat him as you would a friend, but see him on his way. She had been right about Becky at the coffee shop, there was no reason to doubt her now, and so he opened his coat and searched for his wallet. The homeless man waited expectantly as Ryan opened it and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. The demon had advised him to be generous, and it wasn't as if twenty bucks was going to prevent him from losing his apartment if he didn't find a job in time.

Ryan handed it to him, and the vagrant held it up to the light, struggling to his feet and reaching out to embrace him. Ryan grimaced as the filthy stranger hugged him tightly, the smell of body odor and alcohol washing over him, but he endured it and patted the man on the back reassuringly. Treat him as you would a friend, that's what Nahash had said.

"Yer a real pal," he mumbled as Ryan eased himself out of his arms, "whas yer name?"

"Ryan, and it's no trouble, really."

"Ryan, ah'll keep an eye out for ya."

Send him on his way, he thought, as he turned the man away and gave him a gentle nudge to send him doddering off down the sidewalk. He muttered incoherently to himself, wealthier and more handsomely dressed city folk avoiding him like the plague as he passed by them. Ryan watched him stumble along for a moment, and then continued on towards the mall, pushing his way through the glass doors and into the food court near the entrance.

He had never visited a mall so early in the day before, and he was surprised to see it relatively empty, many of the stores were just now opening for business. The smell of breakfast food greeted him as he made his way past the tables and glass counters, not sure of why he was there or what he was supposed to do next, doubt nagging at him as he wondered if Nahash might have forgotten to relay the rest of her instructions to him. He emerged into the mall proper, morning sunlight beaming down through the windows in the domed roof, and he wandered past clothing outlets and various other stores as he searched for some clue that might set him on the right path.

"You, sir!"

Ryan turned his head, looking in the direction of the voice, and he spotted a man in a dark suit standing beside a car. It was in the middle of the walkway on a raised podium, cordoned off by a red velvet rope, a white sedan with a silver grill and gleaming hubcaps. The man who had called to him waved him over, and he approached slowly.

"Enter the raffle and win a car! Just fill out your information on this form and enter for a chance to win."

Ryan took the sheet of paper and glanced over it, they wanted his personal information, things like his home address and his phone number. He felt a surge of excitement welling in him. This was it, this was what Orobas had foreseen! He needed a car for work, and so Orobas had used his powers of prescience to contrive a series of events that would result in him winning this car, putting him in exactly the right place at exactly the right time to fill out the winning form. The stop at the coffee shop, his encounter with the homeless man, all links in the chain that would delay his arrival until precisely this moment in time.

He asked for a pen and filled out the sheet of paper, handing it back and starting to walk around the podium to get a better look at the car. It was a four-door sedan, a luxury model with all the trimmings, probably sponsored by some local auto dealership.

"She's a beauty," the crier said, slipping the form that Ryan had filled out into a box. "This year's model, five-year warranty, comes with all the bells and whistles. You know, you're lucky, got here in the nick of time. You're one of the last people to hand in your form, the registration ends at midday."

"You don't say," Ryan mused, playing his eyes over the snow-white finish as he circled the vehicle. It was shiny, he could see his reflection in the bodywork, distorted like a funhouse mirror. He didn't know all that much about cars, but it was as nice a one as he could imagine owning. Beyond something like a sports car of course, but like Nahash had said, if he kept his expectations reasonable then their relationship would bear fruit. "So how do I win?"

"Your information will be entered into a raffle, and the winner will be randomly decided by the luck of the draw. If you're the lucky winner, then you'll receive a phone call with further instructions."

"I'm feeling pretty lucky today," he said, suppressing a grin.

***

"You were right about everything," Ryan said excitedly, gesturing wildly as he paced around the living room. Nahash had appeared again shortly after he had returned from the mall, and she was sitting on his couch as he circled it, her oddly goat-like head turning to track him. She looked large enough to crush the wooden frame into splinters, and yet the cushions beneath her ample rump barely sagged, as if her weight and mass were not as her appearance suggested. Did she grow tired, and did she need rest? Was she relaxing, or was this some illusion for his benefit? Orobas had not even taken form until he had been compelled to do so by the sigil. What was Nahash's true form, and did she even have one?

"The coffee shop, the homeless guy, everything that you said came true. So what's next?" he asked as he leaned on the back of the couch, her long ears flicking as if to bat away invisible flies. "When do I get the car?"

"Soon. For now, you must widen your search, look farther afield for work and find something that pleases you. Once you have made a decision, my master will be able to see into the future with greater clarity, and he will be able to advise your next course of action."

"This is great," Ryan exclaimed. "I didn't understand your methods at first, but this is like having a strategy guide for life itself."

"Now do you understand the way that magick works?"

"Yeah, yeah I do. The applications are limitless, I could win the lottery and become a millionaire, I could..."

He noticed that her expression had changed, her amber eyes were peering at him with what almost looked like disdain.

"I remember, don't worry," he said in an attempt to reassure her. "I have to keep my requests humble for the best results. In any case, that wasn't part of my contract with Orobas, a job that I enjoy will work out better for me than a winning lottery ticket anyway. Most people who win eventually go broke, you know."

Her expression softened, and she seemed satisfied. Demons must really hate greed. As beings who were described as the embodiment of sin and evil, they sure seemed to get pissed off with him when he talked about things that he didn't need, did they just want to avoid the extra workload?

"Something doesn't add up," Ryan said, walking around to the front of the couch and standing before the demon. "You guys are demons, right? You're bound by contract not to do me any harm, at least not directly, but isn't your whole shtick trying to tempt people into self-ruination?"

She crossed her long legs, distractingly naked, her cloven hoof dangling as it protruded from the feathery fur that looked so much like a woolen knee sock. It was odd, the more time that she spent in his apartment, the more her demeanor seemed to change. She had gone from an imposing and terrifying figure who stood stoically as she advised him, to someone who made herself at home on his couch. She was lingering for longer and longer upon each visit too. If anything she was becoming more comfortable around him, maybe that was it?

"What do you think of, when you hear the word demon?" Nahash asked, and Ryan had to take a moment to think about his reply.

"Red guy with a beard and a pitchfork, embodiment of evil, takes your soul in exchange for a monkey-paw contract that eventually fucks you over in some cruel and ironic way."

"And have you found that to be the case?"

"No," he answered, a little sheepish now. "I don't mean to be like...insensitive or anything."

"Biblical lore talks of fallen angels, of good versus evil. But in reality, there is an entire world of spirits and entities that exists beyond your perception. There is no more good or evil in a spirit than there is in a mortal, we follow our whims and our fancies just as you do, and we are bound by the laws of our society much as you are bound by those of yours."

"So you won't try to corrupt me or anything like that, you won't steal my soul?"

"My master is loyal to his exorcist, and no lies pass his lips. Is that not why you chose to summon him above all others?"

"In part, yeah."

"I am bound to him, and to you, treat my words as if they came from his mouth. There is much that you do not yet understand, and much that I cannot teach you, arcane knowledge that is forbidden to mortals and ancient histories that I do not know myself. It is not my master's place to teach you the secret history of the world, nor is it mine. That is the domain of other demons who you might learn to summon in time. But what you must understand is that our history pre-dates yours by eons, and that many of what you refer to as demons are simply old gods who lost their following, and with it their power. Most have no interest in your immortal soul and seek only to fulfill their contracts."

"So what's the deal with the sigils? Why does Orobas treat engraved metal plates as currency?"

"As I said, many are gods who lost their power. Their worshipers are long dead, and their icons have been reduced to dust. Worship and tribute invigorates them, strengthens them. Without it, they would fade and cease to be."

"So..." Ryan hesitated, wanting to ask more questions but unsure of whether he really wanted to know the answers.

"I sense uncertainty in you," she said, watching him with those horizontal pupils. "You wonder if the religion that you know is true, and you fear that you will be judged poorly for what you have done. The surviving texts contain fragments of the truth, though none have accurately recorded the full account of what happened before the deluge, as so much was lost to your people."

She shuffled aside and patted the cushion beside her with her clawed hand, an oddly human gesture that contrasted with her demonic appearance.

"Come, sit with me."

Her hips were so wide that there would barely be room for him, and he was a little apprehensive about getting so close to her. He wasn't as fearful of her as he had been when she had first appeared, but she still had a fearsome look about her, those horns could have skewered a sizable cow.

"Do not be afraid. I am your familiar, my purpose is to serve you."

Still skeptical, he sat down on the couch, his hip pressing against the soft meat of her thigh. She was as physical as he was, he didn't pass through her like she was a ghost, he could even smell her. Far from the stench of sulfur when she manifested, up close she smelled more earthy, but in a pleasant way. It reminded him of grass and soil after a rainstorm.

She was so large, oppressive, and yet the couch did not sag beneath her. Her meaty thighs were almost as large as his torso, tapering into thinner and more goat-like limbs below the knee, the transition masked by her white fur. It was a struggle to keep his eyes off her bust, her two mammoth breasts hung free, battling against the gravity that fought to take hold of them. They were like a pair of damned exercise balls made of flesh. They should have been back-breakingly heavy, and yet despite their mass, she carried them easily on her massive frame. Whatever she weighed, it wasn't right, perhaps she had more control over her form than he thought.

"I am here to help you in the full scope of your contract with Orobas, it is my job to aid him in his understanding of what it is that you actually want, to see you so worried will not do."

"You don't think that I'm going to hell for consorting with demons, then?"

"Even my master cannot see that which has not yet been decided, but a man's life is long and fraught with challenges, I sincerely doubt that one act can doom him. Besides, as you now know, good and evil are relative."

"Were you ever...alive? Were you a person once?"

"Did I go to hell, you mean? No, I am of the Seirim, the progeny of the demon Azazel. I was never human. We were spirits who inhabited the plains and forests of the ancient world, we were also named Satyrs, or Jinn. It is best not to dwell on such questions, Ryan. As I have explained, my purpose here is not to recant secret histories to you, but you may learn in time if you continue your magickal pursuits."

"But hell is real?"

"Hell is just one realm amongst many. Heed my words, Ryan, it is best not to dwell on such things. Your time on Earth is so fleeting, you cannot waste it worrying about what will come after, live your life here and in time the truth will reveal itself to you."

"I suppose..."

He flinched as he felt her heavy arm on his shoulder, he could feel those hard nails scraping against his clothing. Was she trying to reassure him? For a moment he wanted to break away from her, to leap from the couch and flee, something deep in his subconscious mind still screamed that she was an aberration. It was as if he sensed that she wasn't supposed to be on some instinctual level. It wasn't fear exactly, more like some kind of immuno-response from reality itself.

She was clearer and more manifest than Orobas had been at least. As much as she projected her form into his mind like an intrusive thought, he saw her with his physical eyes, and he could reach out and touch her with his hands. It was as if the longer she remained here, the more manifest she became.

"Your heart is filled with turmoil," she said, her musical voice softer now. "At night your thoughts keep you awake, your sleep is disturbed. You must rest if you are to perform the tasks that will be given to you optimally, my master has foreseen it becoming a problem. I can help, if you wish it."

"Help? How?"

This line of conversation was making him uncomfortable, he didn't like the idea of her seeing into his heart, or whatever it was that she did. His emotions were his own private business, and he hadn't asked for this in the contract. At least, he didn't think that he had. To be honest, he didn't know what he was feeling right now, his fucked up emotional state was what had cost him his job in the first place.

"I can soothe your mind, send you into a deep and untroubled sleep."

"How?" Ryan asked, his interest admittedly piqued by the idea. He hadn't slept properly since the day that Becky had left. "Speak plainly."

"Perhaps it is better if I show you."

"Show me? How are you-"

Before he could voice a complaint, her hold on him tightened, and she pulled him against her massive body in a one-armed hug. He fought for a moment, damn she was strong, but his alarm quickly faded. His face was pressed into the feathery wool that started between her weighty breasts and formed a kind of ruff around her neck and shoulders. It was the softest thing that he had ever felt in his life, like the fur of some luxury mink coat. It was puffy and downy, not quite wool and not quite hair, his face sinking into it as she placed a hand on the back of his head.

Her ample bosom was an inch below his chin, heavy, shapely globes that were larger than his head and held aloft as if by some invisible force. It looked as if he could have sunk his arm into her cleavage up to the damned elbow. He dared not touch them for fear of offending her, she looked strong enough to pull his arms out of their sockets, and so he let his hands rest around her waist.

She pressed him deeper into the wool, and despite the cold that fell over the room whenever she appeared, her body was warm. He could hear a heartbeat beneath her pale skin, which was as smooth as glass and soft like silk wherever it wasn't covered by her fur. Her scent was intoxicating, that earthy smell filling his nose as her fine hairs tickled him.

It was as if the world around them fell away, his concerns suddenly seeming remote and faint, all that mattered was this sensation. He exhaled slowly, nuzzling gently as he felt her softness against his cheek, her powerful heart beating slow and steady like some kind of hypnotic drum. Her chest rose and fell, her breathing deep and rhythmic, inviting him to follow suit. He was becoming drowsy, a kind of euphoria overcoming him, his muscles aching as if he had just run a marathon.

He leaned into her, and he felt her other arm wrap around him, cradling him in a warm cocoon of soft flesh and fluffy wool as his consciousness began to fade. It was like being sedated before an operation, irresistible, his eyes closing of their own accord as everything went dark.

"Sleep," she whispered in that oddly synthesized voice, her lips an inch from his ear.

In an instant he was wide awake, sitting on the couch in his apartment again, his head snapping back and forth to get his bearings as Nahash watched him with her ovine eyes.

"W-What the fuck was that?" he stammered, lurching to his feet and backing away from her. "What did you do to me?"

"As I said, I can help you sleep. My powers pale in comparison to those of my master, but I can see into the hearts of men, feel their emotions and their desires. I can also influence them to an extent. I can soothe fears and calm worries, ease loss, and dull pain." She cocked her head at him, blinking those long eyelashes. "You feel violated, that was not my intention."

He rubbed his temples, unsure of how to respond. Yeah, it had been a violation. She had reached into his brain with her magick or her psychic powers, or her pheromones or whatever the fuck it was that she did, and she had scrambled his brains like an omelet. She had changed his chemistry, or his thought process, or something. It was all muddled. Yet that lingering calm still dulled his anger, a warmth and peace that had given him such a brief respite from what she had described as his emotional turmoil. Now he felt all the worse in comparison, like a rucksack full of bricks had been slung over his shoulders, the knot in his belly returning with a vengeance.

"I...I don't...know what that was."

"Should you wish it, I will stay with you until you fall asleep to ensure that your rest is peaceful. You cannot attend a job interview in your current state, you are unkempt and poorly rested."

He shook his head, waving his hand dismissively.

"I need a minute, just...don't do that shit again without asking me, okay?"

"Understood."

He walked over to the kitchen and poured himself a mug of coffee from the pot, taking a long draw of the now lukewarm liquid in an attempt to shake off the drowsiness that still clung to him. It had felt...good, very good, a damn sight better than playing video games until he was exhausted and then downing a cap of NyQuil.