The Devil's Concubine Read online

  “I brought his hand to my lips and kissed it. Then I put his arm around me.

  “ ‘Right now it’s so peaceful here,’ I whispered. ‘Here, sitting on this bench, it’s hard to believe that many people may be saying good-bye to their lives in any street corner, victims of an epidemic or something similar.’

  “ ‘Does that bother you?’ he asked me, his voice delicate and calm. ‘Do you suffer for mankind?’

  “ ‘Only for innocent people. Because there are innocent people, Shallem, there has to be. Other people who have souls like mine, others who also tremble when they hear the word war, others who don’t understand how an intelligent species can’t live in peace among each other, or why man has to kill and why the insane rule the sane. The earth is so big and we are so little. And yet, if man could do so, he would even steal the air his brothers breathe. Have you seen those frightening weapons? The cannons? How can a human, with whom I share the same essence, create something so monstrous? I wish I could change them, Shallem. Be able to rid them of all signs of selfishness and evil. In the past, they must have been generous and good. Isn’t that right? Or has man always been as hurtful as he is today?’

  “ ‘Always,’ he responded immediately. ‘You speak so innocently, so naively... If only man could change! Don’t you think others have tried to change them? While man exists, he will always kill his brother or exterminate some other species from the face of the earth. He’ll be like this until the end of time, and no one, not even God, can change him.’

  “ ‘Why am I one of them Shallem?’ I asked him bitterly. ‘Why, if I’m not really like one of them? I’m a disassociated spirit in a body it accidently inhibits. A body that is a prison I can’t escape. What do I have in common with those tyrannical hordes, those bloodthirsty and destructive armies? I was never one of them, Shallem. I always felt different, far from them, even when I was a little girl. I never understood what was going on around me, I didn’t understand their conflicts, their prepotency. I was horrified to understand because to understand would mean I would have to accept.’

  “ ‘In the past, before we met and then after we were separated, I would have dreams I was struggling to fly. I would flap my arms and legs so I could soar farther and farther away from Earth and thus escape mankind. But I was never able to; I was never able to get far enough away. Gravity pulled me down as people tried to grab me with their hands, always too close, always grabbing me.’

  “We sat in silence for a long time, pressing against each other in delightful comfort and watching the sky’s immutable magnificence illuminate the cathedral.

  “ ‘Do you think I want to be like this?’ Shallem whispered softly, as though afraid someone could hear his most intimate and secret thoughts. ‘Do you think I want to eternally wander among these humans who I hate infinitely more than you do?’

  “ ‘Oh, Shallem! Why are we always thinking about them? Let’s stop, never do it again! We have each other now. Let’s enjoy each other. I’m sorry I even brought it up and made you sad.’

  “ ‘No you haven’t, Juliette. Sadness slept within me, waiting to be aroused and has now awoken. That is all.’ There was a painful silence. He lifted his gaze toward the stars.

  “ ‘Where do I belong now?’ he continued in a voice so sorrowful my entire body trembled. ‘Who am I now? Who am I other than an outcast condemned to exile in this hell, a wandering spirit in perpetual escape. My own brothers won’t let me return to the world I shouldn’t have left, the world where God banished us.’

  “ ‘Would you do it?’ my voice was barely a whisper, drowned by the slow discourse of the river. ‘Would you go back to that world? Would you leave me here in this hell all alone?’

  “ ‘No,’ he responded quickly. ‘I would never leave you.’

  “For some seconds we watched each other in silence. ‘Juliette,’ he said. ‘I’ve spent so much time thinking about going back to my Father. If I could go back to him, see myself in his eyes again! If I could redeem his love! I can’t keep living with this emptiness burning my soul. I don’t want to.’ His voice was a low plea that broke my heart. Looking at me with his angelic blue-green eyes, so full of innocence, he asked me, ‘Could I go back to him? Could I redeem the Grace of God?’

  “I listened to him astonished, confused, understanding for the first time the true magnitude of his exile, of his pain. His eyes sparkled, like the stars, as he impatiently awaited my response as if it really mattered. I managed to give him the answer he needed, the only one he could handle at that moment.

  “ ‘God is merciful. All fathers... want... to regain the love of their sons, however angry they may have been. Sometimes they love their misguided children even more. Didn’t Jesus say something like this? The shepherd who leaves his flock to search for one stray sheep. I’m sure he wants you back. Who wouldn’t want you back?’

  “I told him this with the greatest conviction, disguising my surprise at the wish he had expressed. He was impelled to cling to my words because of his urgent need to alleviate his pain.

  “ ‘You’re right,’ he said, his expression vigorously reaffirming this belief. ‘That’s right.’

  “I looked at him astounded as I tried to tear down my preconceptions, to readjust my way of thinking. Was he a demon? Isn’t it assumed that all demons worry about is deceit and leading man to perdition? But his heart was so fragile, so vulnerable! It was so full of mortal doubts, fears, wishes, and pain. And now he tells me he can’t live without redeeming the Grace of God, without being able to see the love in his face again! He wanted to be a good angel again, go to heaven, and stand next to his Father!

  “ ‘Could he do that?’ I asked myself as we hugged in the peacefulness of our bed. I tried to think of someone who could give me an answer, however, no soul on earth would be able to so.

  “From that night, it was obvious he began trying to redeem himself. He would awkwardly and with difficulty start conversations with people when we entered stores to shop for food, books, or decorations for our living room. He would speak to the tailor or dressmaker, who in the past he only spoke to when it was strictly necessary, he would regale them with a smile that could charm any mortal, get close to them, in short, behave nicely.

  “He became tolerant of the beggars who frequently waited for us outside of our home on the wealthy Saint Denis street and would usually carry a small pouch filled with coins that he would distribute among them.

  “Little things like that had the virtue of making us feel better. Maybe it made us feel less alone and closer to the reality of our surroundings. Everyone knows it feels better to give than to receive. And alleviating, although minimally, the hardships of those around us made us create new, false and farfetched hopes for the future. Not only about our future, but the future of all mankind, in whose breast we lived.

  “Unfortunately Shallem’s generosity became well-known by all the beggars in Paris. They flooded our street and clustered around our door making it impossible to leave the house. This made our rich and noble neighbors angry. It didn’t take long before they had to resort to force to clear their homes of those bothersome, foul-smelling vagabonds with corroded teeth.

  “However, these same neighbors were fascinated by us. I suppose we seemed like an extremely beautiful and magical married couple, distant and mysterious, whose secrets they decided to unravel. Because of this, we were invited to many social gatherings and parties celebrated in Paris; this other and small part of Paris which still had the luxury of dressing elegantly and bringing the most exquisite delicacies to their tables that were served by servants who they treated like slaves. Of course, Shallem wanted us to live on the fringe of society, he declined all invitations. But I, the vain human, managed to convince him to go to some. I needed an excuse to wear my most beautiful dresses and jewels. I wanted to enter the room on the hand of my prince charming, hear all the womens’ whispers of admiration. See their eyes fixed on his majestic elegance. Nevertheless, and in spite of the fictitio
us luxuries that surrounded them, the nobility was, in its own way, almost as impoverished and full of problems as any other class. Soon I grew tired of their cumbersome political debates and we stopped our visits.

  “In our new saintly state, we decided to enjoy watching the meager entertainments available to common people. We would frequent the open-air theater underneath the then forty year-old Tour de Jean Sans Peur. The common folk were just as tired as we were of watching repetitive plays about the English versus the Parisians. In the Square de Temple, we would enjoy puppet shows, poets, singers, and street musicians or jugglers, painters, and troubadours on the banks of the Seine. In popular taverns, we would taste my country’s exquisite wines.

  “These were little pleasures that allowed us to watch life from a more enjoyable viewpoint; they allowed us to mingle with people without being bothered by them.

  “During one of our outings we met little Jean Pierre. He was a charming little boy who was endowed with a dark face full of captivating sweetness. He wasn’t even six years-old and slept on the streets. He slept on any street where twilight might catch him unawares. His only friend in the world and his only treasure was a skinny white dog who always accompanied him.

  “The first time we saw him he was crossing the Tournelle Bridge carrying his dog. We were leaning against the handrail, gazing at the sun’s evening reflection on the water and at the fields that became visible at dusk beyond, but not far from, the houses on the outskirts of Paris. The fields were enormous and blurred pale blotches outlined beneath the blinding, gigantic sun. Beside them were dark shadows in which you could make out the silhouettes of trees.

  “He stopped next to us and gave us a huge open smile. He radiated peace. Peace, kindness, innocence, love...

  “He didn’t say anything. He didn’t ask for anything. He just watched us with that sweet smile. We watched him drift away on the wooden bridge, we watched his funny gait of a playful little boy and his threadbare clothes.

  “I couldn’t get his face out my mind for many days. It’s interesting how the most intense emotions, those that affect us profoundly, always occur in the silence of a look. And how powerful those looks can be! As if through the eyes, the soul would reveal its most hidden essence and communicate a thousand times more efficiently than through words.

  “I looked for him for several days, ashamed I had done nothing at all to help him. We walked through the city again and again while I invented absurd reasons to justify my insistence on taking those walks. I didn’t want Shallem to know my intentions, which, in actuality, I myself didn’t exactly understand.

  “Finally, I found Jean Pierre sleeping next to a house close to the Louvre. He was sitting on the cold ground with his back against a wall. Then, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. We stopped beside him and I turned to Shallem and said:

  “ ‘I would be just as alone if I didn’t have you.’ He squeezed my hand. We always held hands when we walked. ‘You can see his soul, Shallem. He’s not an ordinary child, right? He seems so good-hearted... He’s different, isn’t he?’

  “Shallem seemed very upset when he looked at me.

  “ ‘Isn’t he?’ I repeated.

  “ ‘Yes, he is,’ he whispered reluctantly. ‘He’s a guide. So what?’

  “ ‘A guide?’ I asked.

  “He looked at the child with a peculiar mixture of hate and admiration and then he looked away. Evidently, this was one of those forbidden “life after death” topics he refused to speak to me about. He started walking and tried to drag me along by the hand, but I resisted.

  “ ‘Not this time. You have to answer me.’ I tried to appear firm and determined.

  “He moved his head in different directions but looked at nothing. How he suffered every time I asked him something he didn’t want me to know! He let go of my hand, crossed his arms and covered his mouth with his hand. What a sweet human gesture of nervousness!”

  “ ‘It is someone whose soul has already been saved,’ he said through clenched teeth. I could barely hear him but I tried hard because I knew he would never repeat what he was saying. ‘He’s free. He can go anywhere he wants to, travel the entire universe. But he decided to come back to Earth so he could guide humans. To help them in any way he can... if they don’t destroy him first.’

  “That revelation left me completely speechless. To think there were souls like that! Souls so full of love they would come back to Earth, when they could have been free and happy, to continue what they undoubtedly had already begun in a past life, or past lives! Such an idea amazed me.

  “I took a good look at the child. I looked for anything abnormal I may have missed but he was a completely normal human being. He wasn’t endowed with any extraordinary power or majestic divinity that would make his mission easy. He was a common, ordinary soul with no more advantages than I. All you had to do was look to see what he had become, a homeless, completely defenseless poor little boy.

  “ ‘Does he know?’ I asked. ‘Does he know who he is and why he’s here? Can he remember anything?’

  “ ‘I could give you a long answer,’ Shallem said in a low voice so as not to wake him up. ‘Does he know? He knows. Does he remember? No, he doesn’t have any more memories of his past than any other mortal.’

  “ ‘And if, by knowing his origin and his mission, we decide to help him carry out his mission and at least survive, if we become his guardians, won’t that bring us closer to redemption? You have an eternity ahead of you and you could become the guardian of a new superior race that could thrive with your protection. Wouldn’t God be moved by the guardian of pure, righteous, and saintly souls? Wouldn’t providing His children with protection be the greatest penitence? Let’s try Shallem! Let’s take him home with us!’

  “With those words I was able to convince him, in the same way I would have been able to convince any mortal lover, although perhaps it may have been easier.

  “After being with us for five days, Jean Pierre looked like a little prince. We dressed him in lavish clothes and he smelled like lavender. However, he didn’t look any more handsome or captivating than when his cute hair had been unkempt, when he had worn dirty, tattered clothes, and had soot marks on his face.

  “But, he? Shallem?” Interrupted the priest. “Accepted him that easily?”

  “Well, I already told you Shallem was a bit envious of the fact that a human had earned the Grace of God which he couldn’t. Nevertheless, he was also drawn to the child because he really wasn’t human. My lost angel, always torn between two contradicting emotions: love and hate. I was able to convince him only because he wanted to be redeemed and because he was anxious to reconcile with God and pay his debt. I skillfully convinced him of this but not because I truly wanted to contribute to the betterment of humans.”

  “Jean Pierre won his affections. He was a small helpless child who was physically underdeveloped due to malnutrition, but he was intelligent and sweet. He won Shallem over with his constant show of affection.

  “Anyone who saw us walking together, holding hands along the banks of the Seine or on an outing in the fields close to the Vincennes Castle, would have thought we were a perfect and ordinary family of French nobles.”

  –III–

  “For the next four months we lived in Paris and did nothing other than bask in our love beneath the sun and stars. We watched as Jean Pierre’s underdeveloped body grew strong and as his spirit grew more kind day after day. We were happy.

  “I felt invaded by a merciful amnesia that had, little by little, blurred my memories until they became nothing more than a vague recollection of an imagined nightmare. They no longer caused me pain or any grief. It was as if everything had happened in a past life, a past life that no longer existed. I had been a victim of a storm that could never harm me again because Shallem’s protection would let nothing in the world cause me pain. I thought my life would go on as simply and peacefully as the lives of all other mortals, that we would live with no other worries other th
an when our lips could meet beneath the stars.

  “I was so wrong!

  “The next tragedy occurred in February and came accompanied by the freezing northern winds that, every winter, turned the streets of Paris into an immense, frightening cemetery.

  “The light of the full moon reflected on the glowing opal cloudscape and, in turn, shrouded the dismal sleeping Paris in purple and black. A silver streak illuminated the horizon and ten seconds later, a distant thundering. In front of us, Jean was running toward our house with Omar tangled in his legs. We were on Saint Martin Street in front of the Saint Nicolas Des Champs Church when I noticed that we had lost sight of him. I didn’t want to wake the neighborhood by screaming his name since it was very late and in the winter in Parisians went to bed very early. There was little to do at night except be cold and use up candles or the oil in lamps. However, Shallem, fueled by a distressing premonition, screamed his name with as much might as his lungs would permit and ran down the street. A prophetic scream of terror. The sky grew darker and darker, more black and blue.

  “I could barely see a few centimeters in front of me until a brief and bright flash of lightening illuminated the street. During that instant, I realized I was alone. Shallem had disappeared and his screams, if he had continued screaming, were no longer audible, even in the distance. I was afraid.

  “One, two, three, four, five and then came the ear-splitting thunder. I continued running, taking advantage of the increasingly more frequent flashes of lightening, until I reached the intersection at Turbigo Street. From there, I heard an unnatural howl, a heartrending wail that burst forth with the strength of a thousand voices. The sky remained silent as if it were listening to a sound that dared to overcome its own voice. All of Paris trembled with emotion. I heard people’s voices as they appeared at their windows asking each other where the sound had came from. No one dared to come outside. It was extremely too cold.