"Yes."

"Why?"

"To study them. To learn from them."

"What could you possibly learn from a human being?"

I'm shocked when the question provokes an extreme response. First Numbria doesn't answer, and I make the mistake of thinking she has not heard the question, that she has dozed off. But when I repeat it, with more force, she gets agitated. She begins to thrash in the bed, threatening to open the wounds I've worked so hard to close. Obviously I have struck a nerve. I have no choice but to sedate her further, and soon she is asleep.

For a long time, I sit and ponder how I could have shared a world with the Telar and yet been unaware of their existence. To make matters worse, Yaksha clearly didn't trust me with the knowledge of their existence. True, I only saw him at the end of his life, but he could have warned me.

Was he afraid of what I might do to them? Or was he trying to protect me from them? Maybe he felt if they didn't know where I was, then it would be better for all concerned.

"But they know about Bloody Sita," I say aloud as Numbria sleeps.

Who was this Telar that Yaksha married? She must have been a remarkable woman to have captured his heart. Here, in my arrogance, I always imagined I was the only one he loved. The truth is sobering. No, worse, much worse, it breaks my heart. I don't even know her name. I only know the Telar killed her to punish her for being with Yaksha.

Long ago, I was his lover. But that was before Krishna entered our lives and forced him to take a vow to destroy all the vampires-including me. Krishna asked me to take a vow too. To make no more vampires. In return, he promised I'd always have his grace, his protection. Thus Krishna gave Yaksha and me contradictory vows. Leave it up to the Lord of the Universe to make our life's purpose impossible.

I'm weary. It's been a long time since I've rested, and my battles with the Telar have exhausted my reserves. I crave sleep but fear to stretch out on the floor and black out. Instead, I lock the windows and the door and sit in a chair facing Numbria, with a gun on my lap.

Long ago I learned to half sleep, where my mind empties itself of thought and my metabolism slows down, but I still hear what's going on around me. The practice has saved my life on more than one occasion.

Turning off my cell, I close my eyes and rest.

The devil does not exist. I do not believe he exists. Nor do I believe the old saying that the devil's greatest accomplishment was to convince the majority of mankind that he does not exist. For me, Satan and a literal hell are fables born of Christianity's desire to control humanity by increasing its fear of death. After all, I'm five thousand years old and I've never met Satan.

Until now, I fear. I feel he is close.

I do not feel like I'm dreaming.

It's all . . . too real.

Fire and brimstone. I choke on red smoke and squirm from the heat of surrounding flames. My eyes are neither open nor closed. I sense a number of creatures around me, but when I try to focus on them, something else takes their place.

I feel as if I stand on a precipice above an abyss filled with lava and demons. Yes, real live demons, who torture thousands if not millions of souls who have sinned during the course of their short lives. This precipice-I feel like I've been shepherded there by a being greater than myself. A malevolent being who knows all my sins and who can hardly wait to make me suffer for them. Far below, I hear demons applauding with ravenous anticipation when they see me waiting to be shoved inside.

Inside where? Hell. I'm standing at the gates of hell.

"No!" I cry. "Don't put me in there! I don't belong in there!"

My cries make the demons explode in laughter. They know that no one who has been brought to the gates of hell ever returns. The reason is simple. It's their master who chooses who enters this accursed region, and their master is never wrong because-even though he's opposite of Almighty God-he's almost as old as God. He's the alpha and omega, the one and the many. His names are endless-Devil, Satan, Old Gooseberry, Beelzebub, Old Nick, Lucifer . . .

For some reason, in this place of darkness and pain, the name Lucifer, "the Light Bearer," haunts me the most. I recall how in the beginning God created heaven and the earth, and in heaven he created the greatest angel of them all. Greater even than Michael and Gabriel. His name was Lucifer, and God placed him above all the angelic hosts by endowing him with the light of the Holy Spirit itself. With this light Lucifer felt he was the equal of God, and thus was poisoned with arrogance, the first and most damning of all his sins, for it led to all his other crimes.

It was because of arrogance Lucifer strove to replace God in heaven, and rallied the bulk of the angels to his side by promising them a share of his light. These angels who joined him did so because Lucifer was so bright, so enchanting, and the Lord had never promised to grant them such a wonderful boon.

When the war began, Lucifer had numbers on his side, but when he rose up against God, the Lord chose not to fight. Instead, God bid his servants to save heaven and earth. He commanded Michael and Gabriel, and other archangels-whose names have long since been forgotten-to strike down Lucifer and his rebels.

How long this battle waged, no mortal was ever to know, for it was fought in a realm outside of time and space. But eventually Lucifer fell into the pit that God had prepared for him, and those angels who fought with him also fell, and became known as demons, and they hated the pit almost as much as they hated their master, who had promised them glory but instead led them to eternal damnation.

But it is said by Michael and his brothers that they did not defeat Lucifer, for he was too powerful. Lucifer was defeated for another reason. As he fought to claim heaven for his own, he had to call more and more upon the light of the Holy Spirit for strength, and the deeper he dove into the light, the more he realized the light had its origin in God.

Therefore, Lucifer realized a terrible irony. In his quest to destroy God, he saw that he was fighting against himself, for his light was not only of God, but his very being had been created by God. And Lucifer saw he was God, as were all those fallen ones who fought beside him.

Yet in the end, rather than share this truth with his demons, he chose instead to descend into the pit. It's said he traded eternal bliss for endless agony, all because he could not stand to admit the truth to anyone else.

It is this same Lucifer who stands before me at the gates of hell. He asks if I understand why I'm here, and I cry out, "No!"

He laughs as he replies, "But Sita, you have also fallen. Even when you have seen that my light is no different from the light of your precious Lord?"

I try to answer but cannot speak. My fear is too great. I scream as his shadow engulfs me, and weep as he throws me into the pit.

But God does not hear my cries. For I am forsaken.

I awaken on the floor of the motel to the screams of Numbria. She thrashes on the bed in agony. She cries for another shot. As if in a dream, I reach for the needle and fill it with opiates. Yet as I turn back to her, I can't help but notice the blood soaking through her bandages. Its smell seems to penetrate to the core of my brain, and I feel I have reverted to a yakshini, a devil from the deep, a reptile consumed with hunger. There's no sympathy in me. How can there be? After all, Lucifer is right, I am forsaken.

"Sita, help me," Numbria cries. "There's something wrong with my mind. There's something inside me. I can't stand it. It's killing me!"

I sit beside her on the bed and lick my lips and smile.

"Do you want me to stop the pain?" I ask.

She glances at the needle in my hand. "Yes! Stop it!"

I raise the needle in front of her eyes and squirt out a few drops.

"But the pain adds a certain sweetness, doesn't it?" I ask.

Numbria stops thrashing and stares. "What are you talking about?"

I squirt out more of the drug, wasting it on nothing.

"It sweetens the blood. There's nothing like a meal when the victim screams for mercy, before they realize there's no chance. The pain is only going to get worse." My grin widens. "You must know that by now?"

She shakes her head. "This isn't you talking. It's this thing in my head. It's in your head too. Listen to what you're saying. You're not a monster."

I grip her wounded arm and twist it so that she cries out.

"But I am, the worst monster of all. I'm a demon. That's why I've lived so long. That's what he told me. I live in his light and I feed on his darkness." Pulling at her arm, I use my nails and rip off a chunk of skin. Her blood flows so bright, so warm, so dripping, I can hardly wait.

"No, Sita! Don't do this! I don't want to die!"

I open my mouth and lick. I bite and laugh out loud.

"Then you should never have been born!"

It's been too long since I've fed. Her screams make it so sweet.

There's an explosion at the motel door. Blinding light pours in, and for a moment I cannot see. A person, it is a human being, rushes to my side and grips my shoulders. I don't know who they are or what they want, but I hate to be interrupted, and I'm going to kill them. How dare they touch me!

"Sita, it's me, it's Seymour. Can you hear me?"

I smile, my face cracking with dried blood. I don't know why it's dry. I feel as if I was feeding only a moment ago. No matter, I will feed again off this one.

I giggle. "Yes! I hear you. I know you. Seymour, lovely Seymour." I reach out a hand and stroke his face. Such a pretty face it is. Too bad I will have to rip it to pieces to get what I want. "My, you're so warm, so tasty. Can I have a little bite?"

"No. Sita, you're caught in a spell. You're-"

"Yes!" I scream as I yank him closer. "You're supposed to say yes to me. No one says no to me! Certainly not a pathetic mortal like you! Do you know what you are? You are meat! Bloody meat!"

He does not struggle the way the other one did.

His eyes remain calm as he stares into my eyes.

"Krishna," he says. "Think of Krishna and it will stop."

I feel as if I have been stung by something burning.

I strike him, and he flies across the room and hits the wall, crumpling on the floor. His eyes stray to the motel door. For the first time I realize there is another one there.

"Shanti," Seymour gasps. "Run."

But this Shanti creature does not run. Instead, she walks slowly into the room. Her eyes remain focused on me-she doesn't even glance at the meat on the bed. At first I'm annoyed, but then I'm glad she's there. The more the merrier. She is smaller than the male. I'll eat her first, in front of him, draw out his terror, and then start . . .

"Sita?" this Shanti says.

"Ah." I grab her by her shoulders and shake her roughly. But she shows no fear, and that annoys me. It does something else to me. I feel suddenly dizzy and weak. She's draining my power! I raise my hand to strike her, to kill her . . .

But she reaches up and strokes the side of my face.

Her touch stings. Like that damn Krishna word.

"It's all right, Sita. Don't be afraid. I'm here. I love you."

"Stop it!" I yell. I will kill her, she's hurting me. But I can't keep my arm up. All the strength falls out of it and it drops to my side. She continues to stroke my face. Her hands don't feel as awful as they did a moment ago. Actually, it's kind of nice, her touch.

"That's right, Sita. It was just an evil spirit, and it's leaving."

I blink, I recognize her. "Who are you? What are you?"

"Shanti, your friend. Seymour's here too. We both love you so much."

"But you're . . . you're meat!"

Shanti shakes her head. "The spirit told you that. It lied to you. Let it go, let it leave. Remember Krishna and it will go."

I grip my head. "No! Don't say that word. It hurts."

"Krishna is soothing, like my touch. You know him. Tell me something about him."

It's a question I hate to answer. But I don't want her to stop touching my face. It lessens the pain inside. So I say a few quick words. "He carried a flute. He played it. . . . I remember. . . . The music was nice."

"What else do you remember?"

"His eyes. They were blue. A beautiful blue."

Shanti puts both hands on my head. "Say his name aloud. You're almost back. You're coming back."

"Krishna. Krishna." The warmth of the name and her palms washes over me like a healing balm. So soft, so soothing, so comforting. I feel as if my mind, which was locked in a black box, has suddenly been returned to me on a gold pillow.

"Shanti," I whisper.

"That's me."

"Seymour."

"Over here," he says from his place on the floor. "You okay, Sita?"

I feel a smile on my face. "Yes. I'm fine. I'm Sita."

Then I'm all the way back inside my body.

I sense a black cloud flee the room. It leaves behind a faint stink, but the more I focus on who I am, and my friends, and Krishna, the more I sense a perfumed odor fill the room. I remember everything.

The memory gives me the strength to look at the bed.

At what remains of Numbria.

A mass of torn flesh. It leaks onto the floor.

I feel I will be sick. "No," I moan.

Shanti and Seymour both hug me. I hear him talking.

"It wasn't you, Sita. It was the Array. Brutran and her cronies waited until now to attack."

"But why? How?"

"I don't know how," Seymour says. "But I think the why is becoming clear. All this time we've assumed we were dealing with a single enemy. We were wrong. The IIC is composed of normal people who have stumbled onto some great power. These others . . ."

"They call themselves the Telar. They're immortals."

"The Telar are their enemies. It makes sense. That's what Brutran was offering you in her home. Protection from the Telar. But you turned her down, and it pissed her off."

"I wonder what she wants in exchange for her protection?"

Seymour turns and steps toward the open door. He's going to close it.