Naamah

"You're going to have to stay here tonight Al. Phone the flat and let the others know you're OK. We'll sort out something for beds. I'll take you in to work tomorrow. I'm staying home to carry on with the pictures. I'll phone Esme in the morning."

I did think of taking the settee and letting the other two have the bed. I didn't think Naamah would kill Alice, but as she had no protection now I wasn't about to take the chance. As Naamah had said, humans put their all into making love, and if the two became lovers in the night Alice's life may be forfeit.

Alice slept on the settee in the lounge while Naamah and I had the bed. My tattoos were fading too, though were still just about clear enough to keep me safe. I asked Naamah if I could kiss her, to test the strength of the protection. At first I thought she was going to refuse, then she grabbed the sides of my head above the hairline and brushed her lips very softly over mine. She moved back. "Not bad, just a little tingle. No real pain. You're still safe but ..." she leaned in and deepened the kiss. I was tingling now, not from magic but with desire. I leaned my forehead against her's and whispered "Can we do that again?" And we did -- for some time. Then we got into bed. Naamah didn't bother with the nightgown tonight. I forgot about the t-shirt and bottoms.

Bliss, no other word. Sublime bliss. The feel of Naamah's body pressed against mine was beyond anything I'd felt before. And when we made love I put all my emotions into it, and survived. Naamah was literally glowing afterwards. We went to sleep wrapped in each other's arms.

Monday 24^th November.

I took Alice to work, phoned in to speak to Esme, and then got started in the studio. About ten o'clock the phone started ringing. I tried to ignore it but it just kept on ringing. Eventually it stopped and thirty seconds later restarted. It was too distracting, so I answered it in a grumpy voice.

"2 1 2 4 4 9. Who is it?"

"Is that David Lord?"

"Who's asking?"

"This is Professor Azriel Mizrahi at Oxford University. Do you have the book the illustrations you sent came from? I believe it could be a very ancient and important grimoire. Please, do you have it?"

"It actually belongs to someone else. I got the chance to see it and copy a couple of pages. Have you managed to translate them?"

"It's very difficult to be sure I have the right translation. It depends on the context the piece was written in. I believe it is a grimoire of Satanism. Devil worship. It may have translated to an incantation to summon an evil spirit. Please tell me you haven't used it?"

"Professor, the book isn't mine. I certainly couldn't use it, as I can't read it. And I am not a devil worshipper. I have never summoned any spirits, far less evil ones. Can you let me have the translations please? Be assured that I will not be summoning and evil spirits if you do. But if I can show a translated page to the book's owner it may allow me to get more pages for you."

He was reluctant, but the thought of more of the grimoire to translate was a big incentive, and eventually he agreed.

My concentration broken, I got out The Book of Samael and skimmed through the pages. As well as text there were numerous symbols I didn't recognise and some I thought were vaguely familiar. I got out an artist's pad and started to copy the symbols, and any text next to them which may pertain to that symbol. Naamah said that she couldn't touch the book but I wondered if I showed her some of my drawings she might be able to throw some light on them. I also copied different lines of text from the page that Jon had used when he summoned Naamah, not in the order on the page, to reduce the chance of it affecting her adversely. When I had gone into my studio she had gone out, presumably to do what she-devils do in their spare time. She didn't tell me and I admit I didn't ask.

During lunch I scanned my e-mails and found one from The University of Jerusalem. It professed interest in purchasing the book the pages came from, mentioning a rather small price, certainly less than you would expect for an ancient text. Well, stereotypical Jewishness for you! I fired off a reply, thanking them, but stating I didn't own the book, but was trying to find out about it for the owner, who didn't have any intention of selling. I asked if they had been able to translate any of the text, and if so could they let me have the translation.

Naamah came home around 6pm and broke my concentration -- I had gone back to my art. I had nearly finished the solo picture of Naamah, and had done more of the first one of the two girls, creating something which I thought was extraordinary.

After dinner I sat down with Naamah over coffee and showed her the first illustration. She was able to give me a meaning, rather than a literal translation, which I notated onto the page with the drawing. I showed her a second, and she coped fine. Same with illustrations three, four and five. This was great, I thought. By breaking down the book into simple parts I could get Naamah to give me the meaning. Then disaster. I flicked over the page on the pad of drawings and turned it to face Naamah. She threw herself backwards off the chair and was unconscious by the time she hit the floor. I threw the pad onto the table face down and scooped Naamah up off the floor. She was deathly white, and her breathing was very shallow. I didn't know what to do. This wasn't like a normal faint. The illustration had hurt her, badly it seemed.

I carried her through to the bedroom and laid her on the bed. I rubbed her icy cold hands, chaffed her wrists, but with no response. Her breathing seemed to be getting shallower. How could I help her? I had no idea. Then inspiration.

I pulled her shoes off and undid the button on her jeans, pulling both jeans and thong down. I grabbed the hem of her jumper and pulled upwards on off over her head. I pulled the duvet down and got her underneath. I stripped off my own clothes and got in with her. I started with her neck, and quickly kissed down to her breasts, which I thoroughly worshipped, before moving gradually down her body till I lay between her legs. I started to kiss and lick her pussy lips, trying to stimulate her. Nothing! I used my fingers to pull her pussy wide open, drove my tongue into her opening as far as it would go and proceeded to tongue fuck her for all I was worth. Nothing still. I attacked her clit and vigorously licked back and forth over it where it had popped out of it's hood, even gently biting it. Still no response, but she was now quite wet, mainly from saliva. I moved up between her thighs and slid my erection between the wet, puffy lips and eased gently into her tight velvet sheath and started to make love to her. Immediately there was a deepening of her breathing, but no movement. Next her colour started to come back. Then her arms were holding my shoulders and her legs wrapped round my hips. Her eyes opened and she smiled. "Thank you," she whispered in a low, throaty voice.

I poured my heart into it and when we finished, Naamah rolled over and slept through the night.

Tuesday 25^th November.

I asked Naamah over breakfast about the symbol that affected her so badly. She didn't give it a name, couldn't really, but was able to say it would affect any daemon as badly. She thought she may have died if it wasn't for the energy I had supplied to her in bed. I was so relieved that I had thought of making love to her.

"What would happen if you die in human form? Do you just go back to being a daemon?" I asked.

"No. If I had died then that would be it. Just as I need to eat and drink as a human, I can die in this realm too. That's why we tend to visit for short times, not stay here. Humans are so fragile, so transient. I've lived for thousands of years and in my own dimension could survive indefinitely. We are immortals, just like the heavenly host."

"So you were dying last night?"

"I was almost dead. I could feel my essence fading, disappearing into the aether. You saved my life. You could have got rid of me, solved the problem you have of my existence in your plane, but you didn't. You thought the problem through and did the one thing, the only thing, that could have saved my life. I promise you, forget about the tattoos, you are safe from me. I will never do anything to harm you. She stood up and then dropped to her knees. She bowed low. "Thank you Master."

"Get up Naamah, please. I'm happy for you to say thanks, but don't worship me. And as you said before, I may hold the book, but I'm not really your master. You are free to do what you want." I leaned forwards and caught her arms and gently pulled her up.

We talked some more about the book, but I was reluctant to show her any more of it. It seemed too dangerous. She suggested that text was probably Ok but didn't know about the symbols. I thought I might show her some lines of text another day but not yet. I still didn't know how strong she was. I suggested she may need to top up her energy levels, so we returned to the bedroom for the morning.

Wednesday 26^th November -- Monday 1^nd December.

I continued to work on the pictures and went into work Thursday and Friday. Each day Naamah came in to the office in time to talk to Esme. They seemed to becoming good friends. Friday Naamah invited Esme to dinner the next day. She told me to invite Alice too.

We had a great meal, and Naamah insisted I show Esme my studio. She knew I worked at home, but I'd never invited her to my place before so she had never seen any other artwork apart from what I'd brought in to work. She was impressed. Naamah insisted I show her the nude painting of her. I refused to show her the two of her and Alice -- they were still unfinished and I didn't want to show them to anyone until complete.

Esme loved the nude, though. She thought it was an amazing piece and talked to me about having an exhibition. I laughed. "Come on, Esme. It's good. I know that, but I haven't got enough that quality to exhibit."

"But now you have a muse," she replied, pointing to Naamah, "you can continue to paint at that quality and build up a portfolio to get enough. I know the owner of one of the better new galleries in London. I could easily get you an interview, and when Christian sees these he would jump at the chance to show them. Just let me know when you have more like this."

"Did you know that David is going to write a series of books too?" I was shocked by Naamah's statement. "We've been talking about the subject matter. They'll be fantasy books, but we don't want to say much more until we've completed our research."

Esme and Alice both turned to stare at me.

"Tell me more," demanded Alice.

"Absolutely not. Not until we've completed much more research and drafted out the bones of the stories. And worked out the title names," came back from Naamah, "so no more questions. Change the subject, please."

Esme left late, and took Alice with her to drop off on her way home. We decide we should make sure Naamah's energy levels weren't too low. We seemed to be growing closer. Naamah seemed now to want to give me pleasure as much as receive it. All in all a very good night.

Sunday I finished off the final touches to the nude Naamah, and continued on with the duo picture. Naamah left me in peace to work and by late evening I had finished and was well into the third one. I had a few more hours work to do to bring it to how I thought it should look, but I knew I could finish it the next day.

Monday I went into work for the morning, as there was a new author to meet and get the feel for. We discussed the cover for his book, and I did a few very quick charcoal sketches for him, to give him an idea of my thoughts. Naamah had gone off somewhere again. As soon as I got free I raced back home and continued to completion of the third picture, the oil of Naamah and Alice. By 6pm I was happy, so I signed it. I quickly tensioned the canvas and strung it. I had a feature painting in the living room, which I removed to the studio and hung the new painting.

I phoned Alice. "What are you doing, Squab? Anything important?"

"I'm in the pub having a drink with your girlfriend. Why don't you join us?"

"Which pub?"

"We're in The Phantom. You know, the new one on Market Street, near the precinct."

"I'll meet you in 15."

I just had a half, I was driving, but the girls had two more each. "Careful, Al. You know what happens when you get drunk. Next time it may be a permanent tattoo."

"Shove it, big brother. You'll take care of me. And Enn wouldn't let any harm come to me either, would she? I hope you know how lucky you are. She's an angel."

Naamah and I both looked at each other, and smirked. "You're right, Al. I think she's an angel too. Want proof?"

"Go on, Davie, prove it if you can." Alice's voice wasn't quite slurred but I could tell she'd had enough.

"Food. You especially little sis. You're getting squiffy."

We went to a little Italian and Naamah and I had pasta. Linguine del maré for both of us and wild mushroom risotto for Al. By the time we were finished she was much more sober.

"OK. Let's head back to the house. You can either get a taxi or kip overnight."

"Depends on how much noise you two are going to make. It might keep me awake. "

We all laughed, and headed for the car.

Being an artist I knew how to light a painting. I had a couple of hidden spots aimed at the old picture in the lounge. Before leaving to meet the two girls, I had adjusted them so the light fell on the two faces, giving them an ethereal glow. A small strip light underneath the painting threw a gentle, warm colour onto it, softening up the effect and adding a subtle depth to the whole scene. I had turned the main lights off.

I opened the door and ushered the girls in. "Go straight through to the lounge," I suggested.

They walked in with me following behind. Their eyes were immediately drawn to the new painting. I had suggested a background of devastated earth, as if ravaged by war. Alice was lying on this naked, as she had been on the studio floor, her head thrown back and a hand stretched up imploringly towards Naamah. Naamah I had covered with a diaphanous cloak, blurring her slightly without hiding anything of her luscious body. Her hand was likewise stretched out, as if to give succour.

And then I had given her wings. Not the batlike leathery wings of a daemon, but beautiful, sweeping, white feathered angel wings. They flared out from her shoulders, and sheltered the prone body on the ground, which was in slight shade. Both women were stunningly beautiful, and the whole picture told the story I wanted to convey. I was inordinately proud of my effort.

Alice stopped, spellbound, shocked into silence. Naamah sunk to her knees, also silent, but with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"How did you know? How could you tell?" she whispered, so quietly you could barely hear her.

I knelt down beside her and took her hand. "It's how I see you. I love you Naamah."

Alice seemed to come out of her reverie. Her breath exploded out her mouth. She must have been holding it while she stared at the painting. "David! God Almighty. How...." she stuttered to a stop. "Fucking unbelievable. I wouldn't have believed you could do something so wonderful. Not that I don't think you're talented, but this is just at another level. Davie, Wow! A masterpiece!"

Naamah stood up and held her hands out to me. I stood too and she wrapped herself round me in a deep hug. "Thank you, David, Thank you," she murmured into my ear. "It makes me feel better about myself. But sad too. That's what I should be, not what I've descended to. This human body is nothing like either my angel or daemon form, but you have made it something special. For that you have my undying gratitude."

Tuesday 2^nd - Saturday 6thDecember.

Naamah changed. The presence of the picture seemed to be the catalyst. She seemed to become more human. Difficult to explain, as her appearance was always very feminine, but she now just seemed more mortal and less daemon. I can't really put it into words. It was just the feeling she projected to me. She became more demonstrative, holding hands, cuddling, kissing. The absence of the tattoos, which had not completely faded may have helped, but she seemed less daemonic every day. Her eyes were still grey, but they were a warmer colour of grey. I know it sounds stupid, but that's what I perceived.

The night she first saw the picture was another example. After we made love I didn't feel limp and languid but energised. Naamah smiled when I commented on it. "I just wanted you to experience the slightest bit of what I feel when we make love. The energy you generate, that I absorb, makes me feel....well something like you feel now but so much more. You can see now how I would be addicted to it before. I needed it, craved it and wasn't worried who I killed to get my fix." She tenderly kissed me. "Now, I just need your love and that's enough."

Friday evening we were in the lounge. I had my sketch pad on my knee and was doodling. Naamah was sitting on the settee, her legs curled under her, her hair tumbling about her face and shoulders. I had a small occasional table beside my chair with a set of paints and I was just playing with creating images with just a few sweeps of the brush. You know the sort of thing where there's three curved strokes suggesting the outline of a cat, or bird, or something. Well I was playing a bit like that. Minimalist painting, just a few curved lines to suggest a curve of a hip, the waterfall of gorgeous black hair falling over the curve of a breast.

I'd flick onto a new page and another couple of lines would bring forth the suggestion of a mouth, full lips just waiting to be kissed. Another stroke bringing out the curve of an eyebrow, slightly arched in a 'come hither' look. She was just so drawable.

I got up to get another glass of wine. I kept a large beach pebble as a paperweight, which I sat on top of the sketchpad to hold the page from flipping closed before the paint dried. I went into the kitchen and poured. Coming back to the lounge, Naamah had moved, and was standing in front of the new picture. She started at it a lot. I popped down the wine and went and put my arms round her from behind. "I love you, Naamah Angel," I whispered into her hair. I pronounced it 'ahn --gell' (the g soft as in get) as if it were Spanish.

"I love you too, David Lord." And she turned, we linked fingers and just stood, leaning our foreheads together, each just basking in the presence of the other. It was a special moment, one I would never forget, when we had both declared our love for the other. It was the first time Naamah had uttered those three precious words.

The next I knew I was slumped against the wall, my head aching, and something/someone was standing over Naamah, who was lying prone on the floor. It/He was enormous, at least seven feet tall judging where his head was in relation to the ceiling. His back was towards me and he was looking intently at the picture of Naamah and Alice. He looked down at Naamah, back at the picture, and down again. "Does anyone really see you in that way? You fell from that grace many aeons ago." Then, without rotating his body, the massive head turned almost 180 degrees so he could stare at me. His eyes were completely white, no pupils.

His gaze roved my body from head to feet, then he spoke. "This? This puny human? I don't see anything there to draw you away from me. But for this," turning and pointing at me, "you fall in love." His voice was a low rumble, like thunder grumbling in the distance. It grated on my hearing. You know what it's like when you are listening to rock or heavy metal on a sound system with a huge subwoofer. The deep notes vibrate through your body until they can make you feel sick. That's what this voice was like. It made me queasy and uncomfortable.