Chapter 1: Demon at a Crossroads

Cambridge, Massachusetts   USA 2002

"So, do all you demons have purple hair and eyes?"  The man asked her, curious to learn more.

"Not all of us.  My father has black hair.  All his offspring have some shade of purple or pink, though."  She said, walking through the shadow of the dark room.

The rain outside pelted the window of the small, unassuming office.  It was nice and cool in the office.  The hum of the air conditioner is barely audible.  It would seem that the office's sole inhabitant preferred the cold.

The inquisitive man rustled the stacks of papers lining his desk in search of something.  Our plucky demon took this opportunity to look around the office.  The tiny office felt crowded with books everywhere; it reminded her of a library.

Finally finding the voice recorder he was searching for, the man once again turned to the demon and said, "Let me just turn this on."

A small red light flickered on the battered and worn recorder; before finally stabilizing, signaling that it was on.

"Why don't we start with your name?"  The man asked, eyes locked onto hers.

"My name is Abere.  Abere Lucifer."  She said, with a hint of pride in her voice.

"So, does that mean your dad is the devil himself?"  The man asked, a bit incredulous.  Then again, there was an actual demon in his office, so anything was possible.

"He is,"  Abere said with a smile, quite proud of her troubled lineage.  "He gets a bad rap, but he's not too bad of a guy once you get to know him."

"I've heard that before."  The withdrawn man said under his breath.

"Wha was that?"  Abere was wary of him and wanted to learn more about who he really was.

"Never mind that," was all the man said, brushing the situation aside.

"Well, if we're gonna tell your story, why don't we start from the beginning?  Where were you born?"

"Before we start that, I should tell you that demons age differently than humans," Abere explained.  She knew it would be easier to get this out of the way first.  After all, she has been around for a very long time.

"How so?"  He asked, curiosity lacing his words.

"Unlike humans that take nine months to be born, it takes only a couple of hours from conception to adulthood for us demons."

It was difficult for Abere to tell, the room was dark with only the lamp on his desk illuminating it, and her eyesight wasn't the best.  But she could swear she noticed a look of disbelief on the man's face.  She was happy that she could finally crack his calm demeanor; if only a little.

"R-Really?"  He couldn't help but stutter as he remarked.  He wasn't expecting anything to surprise him, but this revelation caught him off guard.

"We're also born with all of our mother's memories, up to that point.  We can walk five minutes after being born.  Everything we need to know in life happens immediately after being born."

Abere calmly explained to the man, trying to hide her joy at getting one over him and disrupting his composure.

The man clears his throat and tries to remain professional as he continues the interview.

"Now then, why don't we start with what would normally be your childhood," he said.

"Okay.  So, I was born in Greece in 331 BCE.  My father, Lucifer, was a consult to Alexander the Great.  I can barely remember that Aristotle was trying to teach me some shit I didn't want to learn."

She furrowed her brow as she tried to recall her childhood from so long ago.

Ancient Greece 331 BCE

It was a warm summer morning.  The sun was just coming up over the City of Athens.  Young men and women were piling into the gymnasium and taking their seats, eager to start their day of learning.

"Ah, ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce our newest student, Abere of Lucifania.  She will be joining us today."  The old philosopher exclaimed to the students gathered there.

"Why is your hair purple?"  A boorish young man asked her, his disgust clear on his face.

"Be careful.  That's Gretchen's sister.  You know who her father is, don't you?"  A haughty girl told the boy.

"Oh, shit!  I didn't even put two and two together.  I'm sorry."  The young man apologized profusely, trying to save face.

"It's all right," Abere said, looking down at the ground, not wanting to make eye contact.

"You're gonna love it here, Abere.  Aristotle is a great teacher."  The earlier girl remarked.

"Thank you, my dear.  Your words fill me with joy, Gonorrhea."  Aristotle told the girl.

"Just remember why you're here.  Your mom is a slut and got knocked up by our great King Alexander," he reminded her.

"We can only hope you will be as talented as her."  It was clear the perverse philosopher fancied her.

"Thank you," Gonorrhea proudly said.  She aspired to be just like her mother and have her name live on forever.

"Okay.  Now, back to the important topic, we were pondering in yesterday's class.  The deeper meaning of 'her junk in the trunk.'"

Aristotle continued on his rant under the guise of simple philosophical musings while raising his hands in the air to emphasize his points.

After class, Gonorrhea and Abere walked down the streets of Athens on their way home.

"So, your dad Lucifer is a consult to King Alexander?"  She asked Abere.  She knew it would benefit her to cozy up to the new girl.

"Yes.  He's also somewhat of a mage."  Abere told her.  She was every bit as prideful as her when it came to her father.

"Wow.  That's fucking awesome.  And you live in the palace with Alexander?" Her eyes filled with curiosity, thinking she had finally found a way into the king's bed.

"I do," Abere said with a big smile.

"That is so cool!  Have you slept with Alexander yet?"  She quietly asked, playing the demure damsel in order to try and curry favor.

"What?  No!" Abere exclaimed, shocked at the question.  "Plus, I couldn't, even if I wanted to.  Which I don't."

Gonorrhea stopped dead in her tracks.  Her goal has always been to sleep with the king.  To hear someone reject that idea seemed preposterous to her.  She looked at Abere, trying to figure her out, and asked, "What do you mean?"

"My father, as I mentioned, is also a mage and put a curse on my chastity.  Any man who penetrates my body with their sex organ will die a slow and painful death."

While Abere is proud of who her father is, she can't help but look at the ground and avoid eye contact with Gonorrhea.  Telling someone she just met about the curse on her chastity is still embarrassing, even for a demon.

"What a jerk!"  She said to Abere.

"He can be.  But he's a good father," Abere said, looking up towards the sky, doing her best to try and hide her flushed cheeks.

"Do you want to go to the market?  I hear there are some great rumor scrolls for sale."  Gonorrhea said joyfully, trying to find some common ground with Abere.

"I'm not really into that celebrity stuff," Abere replied, looking down at the ground.  She didn't want to anger her new friend but wasn't all that interested in gossip.

"Plus, I've got to go to work.  It's my first day."  Abere exclaimed.

"You work?  What do you do?"  She was surprised to hear that Abere was already working at such a young age.

"I buy and sell essences for my dad," Abere said, finally making eye contact with Gonorrhea.

"Cool.  Can I sell you mine?"  She asked Abere.

"I don't see why not.  Just remember, sometimes it backfires, and you end up worse than you were."  Abere warned Gonorrhea.  She didn't want her to feel tricked after.

"What do you want?"  Abere asks Gonorrhea.

"I want my name to be known throughout history."  She said with a huge grin.

"So be it," Abere said, grabbing Gonorrhea's shoulders and pointing her head to the sky.

A burst of electricity flowed through her body.  She heard her father's words echo through her head, "Accepted!"  As her pupils disappeared and her eyes turned blood red.  She heard a faint voice in the distance.  It sounded like someone was calling her name.

"Abere," it said.

"Abere.  Are you okay?"  The voice was getting louder and closer to her.

All of a sudden, everything went back to normal. It took a while for Abere's eyes to adjust and notice that the person speaking to her was Gonorrhea.

"Abere?  Are you back?"  Gonorrhea was visibly worried and concerned about Abere's well-being.

"Yeah.  That was my first time buying someone's essence.  It felt a little strange."  Abere tried to get up and felt a shooting pain in her head; she quickly placed her hand on her forehead to stabilize herself.

"You looked a little strange.  Your eyes went full blood red.  It was freaky, but a bit cool, though."  Abere could see that her new friend was a mixed ball of trepidation and curiosity.

"I now know that you're the real deal," she said to Abere.  "I wonder what great thing I'll do that will cause my name to be known forever?"

"I'm not sure.  I bet it will be cool, though."  Abere said to Gonorrhea.  She was slowly recovering and feeling better after the ordeal.

"I hope so!" Gonorrhea said, giddy with anticipation.   They continued to walk down the street towards the market as the afternoon sun slowly set behind them.

2002
"That was the first time I ever bought a soul.  It was just two days after I was born."  As she subtly puffed her chest in pride.

"Wow.  It also seems like her wish did come true," he said to Abere.  He reached for his chipped and dented cup from the desk.

Abere assumed the dark liquid in the glass cup was soda; she could just about make out a waft of sweetness emanating from it.  Then again, it could just as well be a sweet liquor; you never know with these types.

"It did, not in the way she intended, though.  But it did come true.  It only works out in your favor about fifty percent of the time," Abere explained.  "The wish is always granted, one way or another, though."

"What ever happened to her?  Do you know?"  He continued his interview, wanting to know more about Abere's past.

"She became a prostitute, then shortly after, a madam.  That's about the only thing the bastard child of a king could become back then."  Abere said, trying to discern the man's line of thinking through his eyes.  It was almost impossible; after all, he was a professional and knew how to conduct himself during interviews.

"She was really good at math, though.  That's why she probably became the best madam in all of Ancient Greece.  I am really proud of the person she became."  Abere smiled as she remembered her old friend.  She couldn't hide the hint of sadness in her eyes.  At least recounting her past to this inquisitive man would allow her to remember her old friends.

"I miss her.  She was my first true friend.  We were almost inseparable  until she moved away about thirteen years after we met."  The man could tell that revisiting her past wasn't exactly easy for her.  He slowly moved the box of tissues towards her in case the memories became too much for her.

"I saw her many years later when she was seventy-two.  She was shocked to see that I hadn't aged a day since we first met. That's the thing about aging extremely slow.  Everyone you know and love grows up and dies so quickly."  She turned her eyes towards the ceiling.  She did not want to seem too weak in front of him; it took all she could to fight back the tears welling up deep inside her.

"It must be hard, watching your close friends go like that."  The man tries to sympathize with her.  He wasn't unfamiliar with those feelings of loss himself.  Nothing a nice bottle couldn't help with, he knew.

"You get used to it.  I've been seeing a psychologist since Freud.  It's amazing how much has changed in that field since his time."  Abere quickly regained her composure and deftly wiped away the tears from the corner of her eyes.  She was ready to move on from this subject.

"I'm sure it has.  He was from Austria, right?"  He knew she was trying to deflect, but he was okay with moving on with the interview.

"Yeah," was all she responded.

"Did he speak English?"  He was eager to keep the story going, and he knew the best way to do so was by prodding her with more questions.

"Not well.  I mean, he was okay, but my German was excellent.  So we were able to communicate well."  Abere said, her previous smile working its way back to her lips.

"How many languages do you speak, Abere?"

"All of them.  You've got to when you buy souls all around the world.  I even speak Galako, the lost language of those island people in Southeast Asia that are isolated from the rest of humanity.  Didn't you ever wonder why they were still isolated?"  She let out a hearty laugh.

"That's because of you?"  He said, unable to stop himself from smiling.  She might have been a demon, but her joy was infectious.

"You bet," she said.

"Now, you said in your email that you had many treasures.  What did you mean by that?"  Ever the professional, he calmly sipped from his drink again.

"What don't I have?!  The Ark of the Covenant..."

"Wait. You have The Ark of the Covenant?"  He almost choked on his drink from this revelation.  He couldn't help but lose his composure a bit and interrupt her.

"Yep."  That devilish grin beaming across the desk at him.

"Where did you get it?"  Abere notes more than just investigative journalism in his voice, but personal curiosity.

"My mom's old boyfriend, Jacques de Molay, entrusted it to me for safekeeping when the King of France and the Pope went after the Knights Templar.  It was kind of my fault, though.  I may have let it slip to the Pope that Jacques was fucking the Queen of Demons."  A tinge of embarrassment on Abere's face.

"I was drunk at the time.  Can you really blame me?  That fucker was an asshole, though!"  She was getting a bit angry while retelling the tale.  He couldn't help but notice that the shade of her skin was getting a bit darker.

"He was always going on and on, 'You need to get your soul saved!  Please get baptized!'  That shit would have killed me!  What a fucker!" Abere yelled while slamming her tiny fists onto the desk.  He was worried that even with her tiny frame, her demonic strength would be enough to break his desk.

"So, you caused the fall of the Knights Templar?"  He knew that if he stoked her ego, it could help to calm her down.

"Not on purpose.  I figured that the Pope would just go after Jacques.  I didn't think they'd take down the whole fucking organization."  Abere said.

"I tried to redeem myself by creating the Freemasons with some of their ancestors, but after ten years, they kicked me out for being a girl.  Fucking sexist."  Her anger was starting to boil up again; he knew he had to do something to calm her.

"So, the Freemasons were created by a demon just like the old legend says?  And not just that, a female demon at that."  He asked, feigning his surprise.

"Yeah, it's technically true.  The Masons didn't know I was a demon, though."  Abere explained to him.

"Prescott Bush, who was part of the Skull and Bones, figured out that I was the one who started the Masons and that I was a demon.  He was the one who started the legend.  It quickly spread like wildfire.  He didn't know that Alphonso Taft, one of the co-founders of the Skull and Bones, sold his soul to my brother Jack for funding to create the Skull and Bones organization."

"I tried to tell people, but they just wouldn't listen to me.  Being a woman back then was definitely difficult.  That all changed recently, though. The bill came due, didn't it, fuckers!" Abere erupted into joyous laughter again as she started pumping her hands towards the ceiling in celebration.  She would take any wins she could get, no matter how overdue or how minuscule.

"Damn, Abere," the man couldn't help but burst into laughter with her. "I guess the lesson here is not to mess with you, huh?"

"Now, why don't you tell me a bit about your brother, Jack?"  He knew he needed to strike while the iron was hot and she was in a jovial mood.

"Jack isn't around anymore... At least, I don't think he is.  There have been a few rumors floating around."  Abere's words were laced with suspicion and loneliness. Despite what her relationship with her brother might have been, he could tell she missed him.

"Someone may have dug him up.  I don't know, and I can't be sure of anything yet."  He could tell this thought had been on her mind before.

"What do you mean 'dug him up?'"  The man was even more curious now to learn about her brother.

"You must know something first; my brother was not right in the head.  He was born in 1632, in New Amsterdam."  She turned her attention towards the rain-splattered window.  She had seen many a noir film before; she knew this was the right way to increase the suspense for her captive audience.

"New Amsterdam?  Where's that?  I've never heard of it," he said.

"Seriously?  You go to Harvard and live in New England and have never heard of New Amsterdam?  Fucking schools these days.  They aren't what they used to be."  Abere was mad that her attempt at somber acting was ruined by this man's stupidity.

"Time for a little history lesson with Abere.  New Amsterdam is New York City.  That's what it was called when the Dutch owned it.  It was named New York after the British took over."  She was mad at herself for forgetting her glasses at home; she felt like she could really drive the point home of the sultry professor if she had her glasses with her.

"I'll always know it as New Amsterdam, though.  Jack was born there.  My mom, Lilith, and my sister Gretchen were living there at the time.  Jack's dad was a man named Willem Kieft.  He was the director of the Dutch West India Company.  He had an affair with my mom, and soon after, Jack was born.  His wife was not happy at all when she found out."  Abere let out a slight chuckle, remembering the chaos caused by the mere birth of her brother.

"Anyway, throughout his early years, Jack was a skilled soldier.  The thing is two centuries of killing made him numb to it.  So, he started killing for fun.  His time came to an end in 1888."  Her wry smile belied an air of sadness in her voice as she recounted the tale.

"You may have known him as Jack the Ripper.  He got caught after being shot while running from the police.  When the police shot him, and he didn't flinch, they knew there was something different about him.  After they caught him and brought him back to the station, they quickly learned of his immortality after they tried to execute him."

"So what did they do?  They buried him alive at Stonehenge, of course."  Abere was frowning; it was clear to him that she was annoyed at how they treated her brother.

"But it's fine; someone will dig him up one day.  Especially with all the studies happening at the Henge right now.  Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if it's already happened."  He could tell there was a small twinkle in her eyes as she said this.  She must really miss her brother.  Even if he was the literal Jack the Ripper, he couldn't help but hope they would meet again.

"How many people has he killed?"  The man asks, trying to remain professional.

"Hundreds of thousands, at least.  History says that more people have died by his hand than almost anyone else in history.  He would have loved to work with Hitler, Stalin, or Mao.  He was always ambitious about his kills, and they would have been right up his alley."  She said while looking at the floor.  She wondered if she would ever actually see him again.  She held out hope that she would.

"He sounds like a monster," the man whispered, barely audible.

"He really was," Abere retorted, thinking it was a compliment.

"What made him like that?" the man asks.

"The Lenape Tribe tried to torture him to death, but as you already know, it didn't work.  All the torture did was snapped his mind.  He had an insatiable hatred of tribal people."  Abere said, forgetting her manners and spitting on the floor at the mere mention of the people who tortured her brother.

"Damn," was all the man could say.  He was surprised to see her snap like this.

Clearing his throat and getting back to his notes, he asked her.  "You said you have a sister named Gretchen.  Can you tell me a bit about her?"

"Oh, you mean the Whore of Babylon?  It's not just hyperbole; she was the real deal.  She was the literal Whore of Babylon.  She's not a mere Crossroads Demon like me; she's a succubus."  Abere, ever the boastful demon.  She took pride in all of her family's accomplishments.

"Wow!"  The man couldn't help but smirk as he imagined what she must be like.  Abere was already a sight for sore eyes; how much more beautiful and lustful could her sister be?

"Don't even think about it!  She'll suck you dry.  Don't fall before you've even begun," she warned him.

"I wasn't thinking of that at all."  He tried to hide his lecherous smile as best he could.

"Just don't do it.  If you summon her, it'll be the end of you.  She feeds off men.  That's her job.  Some last longer than others, but they all eventually fall at her knees.  Looking at you, you wouldn't last long."  She knew that ultimately her warning would fall on deaf ears.  Men are always the same; they only have one thing on their minds.

"Hey, I'm strong!  I could handle her."  She wounder his pride with her words; as a man, he couldn't let that stand.  He put on his best tough guy attitude and responded to her accusations.

"You're a computer nerd!  How tough can you really be?  How many times have you had sex?  Four times, probably less, right?"  Abere couldn't help but mock him; he was such easy prey.

"Two," the man said, barely audible.  This time it was his turn to stare at the floor in shame.

"Yeah, you wouldn't last three seconds; trust me.  Ron Jeremy lasted four minutes with her; what makes you think you can last more than him?"

"The point I'm really trying to make is, have you seen him recently?  That's her.  She did that to him."  Abere knew she had to nip this in the bud before he got any wild ideas into his head.

"Holy shit."  He realized that maybe it was best to heed her warnings and not go looking further into the subject.

"John of Patmos fucked her once, and he had a vision of the end of the world.  That vision would later be known as The Book of Revelations.  He named-dropped her in the book for good reason.  Stay away from her.  I mean it."  She could tell that he had finally gotten through his thick skull.  She hoped that he would actually listen to reason and not his dick.

The visibly flustered man made a huge show of re-arranging some of the papers on his desk.  It was clear to her that he was trying to save face.  Finally, after having reorganized all the clutter littered across his desk, he turned to her.   He asked, "So, where is your dad right now?"

"He's off-world at the moment.  He's been working with a man named Grant Shippman on some shit.  I've met this Grant guy before.  He seems really sketchy if I'm being honest.  My  dad doesn't see it, though."  Abere couldn't hide her concern for her father.  Deep at her core, she will always be his little demon.

"More sketchy than the Devil himself?"  He asks, incredulous.

"Yeah.  This dude is up to no good.  I can just feel it," she said.

"Now that I think about it, his last name reminds me of someone.  I wonder if they're related?"

Area 51, 1950

"Damn it, Jerry!  You're such a loser.  You're never gonna get laid.  You're gonna be a cuck forever."  Abere reprimanded the wimpy alien in front of her.

Jerry was your typical Roswell alien stereotype. He had blueish green skin and blue hair.  Jerry was scrawny and unassuming, standing at around five foot eleven.  He was a total pushover.

"Shut up!  You're a virgin, too.  Also, you're over twenty-three-hundred-years old.  What's your excuse?"  Even his attempts at mockery were weak.

"Hey, I'm cursed, you dumbass!  I can't have sex because my partner will die; that's a valid excuse.  You're just a fucking cuck!"  She took little joy in mocking someone so weak as him but also couldn't help from belittling him.

"Kiss my ass!"  He crossed his arms and looked away from here.  He knew he lost this battle, like all the others before.

"Will you two cut it out?!"  The disgruntled employee at the table across from them yelled.

"Just let me drink my soda in peace. It's called a break room for a reason."  He wanted to relax after a hard shift at work and not listen to two virgins whine about their issues.

"Sorry, Vannevar." Jerry apologized to his hardy coworker.

"You help create the A-Bomb, one of mankind's greatest inventions, and what do you get?  Forced to live here with these freaks!"  Vannevar says to himself.  Abere wasn't so sure that his drink was just plain cola soda.

"Hey, I heard that!  You shouldn't have sold your soul to be a genius then.  That was your choice, Vannevar Bush!  Nobody forced you to do it."  Abere didn't take kindly to being called a freak.  Jerry the Cuck was a freak; she was a demon.  They are not the same.

"Yeah!  Yeah!  Yeah!" Vannevar says to Abere.

"So, when is he going to get here?"  Abere didn't want to anger the disgruntled American anymore and thought it was best to move on from the topic.

"He should be here any minute now." Vannevar took another sip of his 'soda' and offered a curt response.

"Cool, I can't wait to meet him.  It took him long enough, though.  I've been here for three fucking years!" Jerry whined.  He knew nobody would really care about his complaints, but he couldn't help but whine.

"Well, I've already met him.  In fact, Dwight and I are old friends.  I did some missions for him in the war," Abere said, proud of the work she had done.

"Hitler never would have fallen if isn't wasn't for me!  Hitler made a really bad deal."  Abere was always willing to stroke her ego if nobody else would do it.

"Really?  What are you doing here then?"  Jerry was confused. What was a glorified jarhead doing with all these nerds?

"I work here.  I've got two Masters in Engineering from Berkeley.  A girl has to make a living."

"Seriously?  You're not a captive?" Jerry was surprised.  After all, the only reason he was here was that he was a Prisoner of War.

"Is she telling the truth, Vannevar?" Jerry isn't sure if she's just trying to trick him again.

"Yep.  She's free to go anytime she wants."  Vannevar responds as he continues to nurse his cup of 'soda.'

"Hello, Abere."  They all turn towards the doorway to see a bald man walking into the break room.

"Hey, Dwight.  It's been a couple of years.  How have you been?"  Abere greets her old friend.

"Come here.  Give this old man a hug."  Dwight says with his arms open.

Abere walks up to him, wraps her arms around him, and settles into his warm embrace.

"It's so good to see you.  I'm still mad about Pearl Harbor, though."  He's happy to see her again but can't pass this chance to chide her a bit.

"I know.  I redeemed myself, though, didn't I?  I mean, you got back at Japan big time.  All thanks to me."  Abere, the very definition of one of the seven deadly sins: pride.

"Still.  It wasn't a nice thing to do."  Dwight continues to scold the little demon.

"Hey, I made a deal with Churchill!  It was the only way I could think of to help him.  What other choice did I have to get you all into the war?  You guys wanted to stay out of it, and I needed to bring you in!"  Abere releases her embrace and crosses her arms, and pouts at him.

"Still, I missed you terribly.  By the way, the offer to work in the White House still stands.  If you want it, that is."  Dwight can't help but smile as he watches Abere pouting.

"Nah, I like it here.  I get to use my brain."  She appreciates her old friend's offer, but she wants to spread her wings a bit.

"All right.  But if you ever change your mind, don't hesitate to let me know," Dwight says to Abere.

Abere notices someone standing behind Dwight, hiding by the doorway and observing their exchange.

"Who's this?"  She asks Dwight, staring into the stranger's eyes.

"Oh, this is Mr. Shippman."  Dwight had forgotten all about him; he was so enamored with his old friend.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Shippman.  I'm Abere Lucifer, the Crossroads Demon, at your service."  Having remembered her manners, Abere extended her hand in greeting.

Mr. Shippman returned her smile and took her hand in his in a firm handshake.

"It's nice to meet you, Abere.  My son is a huge fan of yours."  It was such a great pleasure to make her acquaintance; he knew his son would be ecstatic to hear about this.

"How old is your son?" Abere asks, happy to meet a fan of hers.

"Gee is eight.  He'll be nine next month."

"How does he know about me?"  She was confused as to how someone so young would know of her exploits.

Dwight turns to his old friend and says, "He's pretty smart for a kid.  Almost as smart as you, Abere."

"When Mr. Shippman needs some help with some of his equations, he asks his son.  In fact, he knows all about the project we're working on here.  Including the people involved, I'm pretty sure Gee will do great things in the future."  Abere could tell Dwight had high hopes for this kid, but she couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy about the whole thing.

"So, where do you live, Mr. Shippman?"  Abere thought it was best to learn more about him and his son.

"Alaska.  I've been living there for about eleven years now."

"It's cold up there.  Isn't it?"  Abere detested making small talk, but she knew it was necessary to learn more about him.

"It is.  It's really beautiful, though.  The breathtaking nature more than makes up for the cold."  Mr. Shippman is always happy to talk about Alaska and all its majesty.

After a bit more small talk with Abere, Dwight and Mr. Shippman take the time to introduce themselves to Jerry.

2002

"Nah.  It can't be him.  Can it?  They're probably related, though.  They are both from Alaska."  Abere thinks to herself as she stares out the window.  The heavy rain shows no signs of stopping as it continues to pelt the window.  The man takes this time to refill his cup as he stares at the pensive demon.  Wondering what other secrets she might be hiding.

End Of Chapter 1

Stay tuned for Chapter 2

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