D.C. loomed in the distance, and came into clearer focus the closer she got. Subconsciously, she also anticipated seeing Shane Logan again, but would never admit that to herself. Instead, she willed herself to focus on her mission, and pressed on.
Nighttime shadows covered the city in a dark blanket. Bright lights on the streets and in the buildings provided the only illumination. The National Mall, now covered in shades of silver and black appealed to her, because in the center of the Mall stood the Washington Monument, in the form of an obelisk. Ancient Egyptians and Babylonians worshipped the Sun God, Baal. The word obelisk, literally translated, means ‘Shaft of Baal.’
Walking towards this, one of several brightly lit monuments, whose reflections appeared in the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, her eyes glowed as thoughts of evil coursed through her head. Sexual Immorality, and perverting Lord Yehovah’s ideas of relationships and morals made the top of the list. Couldn’t hurt to deceive them about what Lord Yehovah wanted for them, either. Such love and care for these constantly failing humans made bile rise in her, amping up her anger, and sharpening her focus on her mission.
She walked up to the monument, fastened herself to it with her claws and tentacles, and climbed to the top. Noting the vast potential of the rampant immorality of the citizens of this nations capital, she cried out, “You are mine, Washington, D.C. I shall personally spread as much moral and physical destruction as I possibly can, and nothing will stop me; not even the petitions to Lord Yehovah uttered by his followers of The Light.” Moments later she alighted from the monument. Walking slowly on the ground, her highly heightened sense of smell sniffed out all signs of malicious acts committed, as far back as centuries earlier, when Native Americans fought each other and the European invaders who came to take the land from them. The long buried bloodshed energized her dark heart, filling her with bloodlust.
A long, loud peal of wicked laughter reverberated through the night, be it unheard by any human ears, as the evil deeds of generations of wicked humans encouraged thoughts of maliciousness. “Oh yes, by all wrongful deeds. This city is ripe for the taking, and take it, I will…”
The blackness of the middle of the night still hung in the air. Boredom and the need to seek out trouble moved her on as she flew over the still sleeping city. Her nose went into the air, sniffing out a clue of lasciviousness. “Wait…” The scent came from a couple of blocks over. “Ahh. There’s no mistaking that smell.” Her heightened olfactory senses breathed it in again. “Yes-s-s-s. What a delightful aroma.” Her trajectory changed towards the source, and she descended in an expensive room in a high-priced hotel, where she found what looked to be an older gentleman, probably in his forties or fifties, and a younger woman—no doubt the trophy—in bed together. A wedding band, undoubtedly the gentleman’s, lay on the table.
“Ahh, I couldn’t have done a better job myself. Being a demon is satisfying, but when you see sexual immorality take place on its own, it’s a rewarding moment.” The hotel room faded as she headed to the one place in D.C. where such liaisons took place on a regular basis: the Capital Scene. Even at three in the morning, the place vibrated with energy. She changed into a human woman in her mid twenties wearing a revealing outfit. Stairs led down to the main dance floor.
There, a bouncer blocked the entrance to the club. “You either need an paying escort or to pay a twenty dollar cover charge to get in.”
The thought of making him evaporate into nothing crossed her mind, but she settled for convincing him by mind manipulation to let her in. Eyes glowed red and aimed directly at his. “What you’ll do is let me in, free of charge and without an escort.”
He looked like he wanted to object but succumbed to her powerful suggestion and finally said, “Please…go on in. Enjoy yourself.”
“Thank you. You’re very accommodating.” The descending stairs led her to the dance floor. All sorts of strobe lights and even a crystal ball hung from the ceiling. People gyrated to the sound of music generated by computer synthesizers, repeating in musical loops. Power like that of a pressure cooker pulsed throughout, energizing her.
One young man in particular caught her eye. Tall, muscular, bronze skinned with piercing blue eyes stood in the corner, apparently with no young bimbo to keep him occupied, so she approached him.
“Hi. My name is Perri. Is there anything better to do than to be bombarded with loud, repetitious music?”
“Hi. My name is Chad, and you could always leave with someone you like, and get to know them better.”
“So what are you waiting for, Chad?”
“You’re serious aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
A few minutes later, Chads condo complex came into view. He led her to his unit, and invited her to have a seat on his couch. “Say, do you have any strong alcohol?” she asked.
“Umm, sure. I have some Everclear, which is usually used in baking. I make a mean vanilla cake.”
“My, but you’re domestic. How about if you give me some straight—no ice, no chaser.”
“Sure, Perri. I think I’ll just have a beer. Hold on, I’ll be right back. Returning with her drink in one hand, and a beer in the other, he said, “Wow, Perri. You’re awesome. What does a pretty girl like you do as a profession?”
“I’m an entrepreneur. I have many concerns I am invested in.”
“Wow. An astute business woman and a very pretty lady. That’s a cool combination.”
She smiled at having her ego
