Inside Lucifer's War by Byron J. Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

cool patients in his condition. Long after he had recovered, he couldn’t remember anything about the days or weeks before the cardiac arrest. I understand that feeling now. I try to replay the hours leading up to this encounter, but it is useless. It is as if my memory has been erased.
    “So let me answer a few of your other questions before I leave you,” he says. “Yes, my disciples and I will be watching you. Yes, I shall return, and no, you will not know when that moment will occur. Yes, you will awake in your own home, and we will not be there. However, before I leave, I need to give you something. I am going to place a mark on you, Thomas, so that you will know that this was no dream, to remind you of our agreement, and to mark you as mine, lest you dismiss this conversation and this experience and chalk it up to a government conspiracy. That is what you believed, is it not? I must say that your conspiracy theories are inspired, if misdirected. This mark will not heal.”
    Before I can say or do anything, he grabs my left wrist with clawlike grips. He twists my arm over, causing me to twist in pain and fall to my knees. The underside of my forearm is exposed while my arm rests painfully on the desktop. He removes a ring and places it on the underside of my forearm, near where the band of a watch might be. At the first touch, it seems cold, too cold. Then a burning sensation follows. It reminds me of scalding water. At first, the water seems cold, but quickly I realize it is hot water. It takes a moment for my brain to gauge how hot it is. It is the same with this ring. My flesh burns, and I scream out. He removes his ring and then bends over my arm and licks where he has touched.
    I stay crouched on my knees, holding my left arm. I don’t look at the mark for several moments. I stare at my desk. Not looking at him or his mark feels like a victory to me.
    “You will want to lie in your bed now,” he says as he leaves my office.
    I slowly get up and look at my forearm. The mark is a burn and a cut at the same time. I expect to see a blister, but there is none. It is as if the burn happened weeks ago. The skin is marked where it is burned, but it also has cuts through it, like a razor. It is the size of a penny. It looks like a pattern of writing within a circle. I stagger out of my office and down the hall. I am half asleep as I fall into my bed. I roll over in a daze. The walls and ceilings ripple and become fuzzy. Soon I am asleep.

C HAPTER 6
    A New Awareness
    The light breaks into my bedroom, awakening me to the new day. My bed feels wonderful. It is warm, the sheets and pillows are soft, and I don’t want to move. I slept very hard, not even getting up to use the bathroom, which I normally do at least twice a night. My dad used to tease me that I had inherited that trait from him. I press my head into a pillow and pull the other close to my chest. It’s been a habit since childhood. My mother called it “my snuggy pillow.” For a brief second—and only a second—the hours, days, or whatever just occurred are forgotten. And then they storm back to me.
    I sit up straight in bed and look around. I am safely in my bedroom, in my bed. Of that, there is no doubt. I look down at my left arm and see the hairy backside of my forearm. The underside hurts slightly. I don’t want to look, but I slowly turn my forearm over. The entire time, I am telling myself, It was just a dream. It had to be a dream. Please, oh, please, let this have been a dream.
    It wasn’t a dream, though. As clear as it had been the night before is the mark Lucifer had stamped on me. I clinch my hand into a fist and close my eyes. No, I say to myself.
    I will not cry this morning, though. Instead, I am filled with rage. Rage against what, I am not sure. I hate the fact that I am in this situation. I hate Lucifer for putting me in this situation. If there is a God, which painfully I may have to accept, I hate him for allowing this to happen