Solomon at Court

“Don’t ball your fist at me!” Thaddeus screamed.

“You mistake my balled fist as a sign of aggression,” Solomon replied. “I am holding her back.”

“Her? Who?”

“One of the many demons at my command. She slobbers at your ear even now.”

Thaddeus could feel a presence at his shoulder which he could not see, pressing heat, a radiation. “Listen, Solomon, it was not my intention to offend you. It was just business, you know?”

“Yes, old friend, I know; and so is this.” Solomon unfolded his fist and Thaddeus fell to the ground, shaking violently, eyes closed, head cracking against the stone floor of the temple.

Thaddeus stopped shaking and a pool of blood spread out underneath his head, a crimson halo. His eyes opened but he did not look out of them. The body sat up. The mouth stretched into a cruel smile, and the demon spoke.

“He is dead, but I can animate him for a time, master.”

“Drop him in the moat and leave him to the crocodiles.”

“But I won’t be released until the body is consumed.”

“I know. Let that be a lesson that you should never jump ahead of my signal again. I had to use the power of my will to restrain you. Not a considerable amount, because you are weak and stupid, but any amount is too much. Don’t make me waste my energy on you again, or the price will be your complete dissolution.” Solomon spoke coldly, calmly. He had no need to feel, let alone show, anger.

“Yes, master,” said the demon, but as she rose to throw herself to the denizens of the swamp that guarded this temple fortress, she glared at the exorcist, hating him with her eyes.

He did not even watch her go but turned and left the throne room.

She would not disobey again.