Alex Bell - The Ninth circle

An extension of the myth is that Lilith is also a powerful Temptress, tempting mortal men to father demons upon her. Or, alternatively, seducing them in their sleep — the unacknowledged cause of embarrassing nocturnal emissions. She was said to take particularly malicious delight in having her way with pious, celibate Christian monks and virgins during their sleep. It became such a problem that, in the end, the unfortunate monks were forced to take crucifixes to bed, covering their groins with them, so that Lilith wouldn’t dare approach while they slept. I think it would be unwise to repeat this grand solution to Stephomi, for I know that he would laugh, and it’s really not funny at all.

Anyway, I can’t believe Lilith’s story is true. I’m sure God would never have allowed it. I mean, God would never condone a crime as disgusting as rape, would He? He would have punished Adam for what he’d tried to do, if the story really were true. It’s just an unfounded and unsubstantiated myth, that’s all. Adam was not a rapist and he did not have sex with animals… And yet this story troubles me, picking at my mind and tugging at my faith in a most unpleasant way. Unable to get the story out of my head, I telephoned Stephomi to ask him about Adam’s abandoned wife. ‘Have you ever seen her?’ I asked.

Why did I care so much about the answer? What did I want from Stephomi? Reassurance. I wanted him to tell me that Lilith somehow managed to put the misery of the past behind her. That she somehow managed to forgive men and angels for the great wrong they had done her.

Stephomi hesitated a moment before answering me, ‘Yes, I’ve seen her.’

‘Where?’

‘By the sea. She haunts sea-caves. Beaches are places of the In Between — where land meets ocean. When God sent angels to destroy her children… she wasn’t able to save them all. There were too many defenceless babies and too many self-righteous, avenging angels with large swords. She’s still haunted by that.’

‘What does she look like?’

‘Why the sudden interest, Gabriel? Yesterday you were quite adamant that she didn’t exist at all, that she was a myth. Because angels do not slaughter children, do they?’

I fell silent, not quite sure myself what it was about Lilith’s story that had so affected me. ‘Is she really a lascivious Temptress who comes in under the cover of night to seduce holy men in their sleep?’

‘Ah, now, Gabriel, you’re asking me questions that I can’t answer. Although, just a passing thought… If Lilith did entertain fierce, passionate demonic lovers for so many years in her cave by the sea, don’t you think there’s a very slight possibility that slumbering, elderly monks would be a bit of a disappointment to her? For such an accomplished seductress, it seems doubtful to me that pious priests would be able to satisfy her apparently voracious appetite. In fact, it strikes me that the holy hypocrites were probably just looking for a justification, an explanation, a rather pathetic excuse. After all, if Lilith is to be blamed for every child’s death, why not blame her for some old monk’s wet dream as well, eh? Assuming that’s what it was — monks are a horny bunch, you know.’

The bitterness in his voice surprised me. ‘You’re being vulgar,’ I said shortly.

To my surprise, Stephomi laughed. ‘Pardon me, Gabriel, but you asked a vulgar question, even if it was politely phrased. What is Lilith’s sex life to you anyway?’

‘Nothing!’ I said, suddenly feeling flustered. ‘I mean I… it’s none of my business anyway and I… look I just wanted to learn more about her, that’s all!’

To my horror, I have started to dream about Lilith. It’s become so bad that I find myself fearing to go to sleep at all. Perhaps the Lilith of my dreams is real. Perhaps she isn’t. How can I know for sure? But real or not, she is so incredibly beautiful. Actually, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s not natural for a woman to be that supernaturally stunning. She has black hair, reaching down to the small of her back. Hair that runs through my fingers like freshly-woven silk. And her white skin is marble perfect

… cool to the touch. But there is this sadness in her always, in her blue eyes and in the tears that fall silently from them… salty tears that drop onto my skin…

I forget, when I see her, that she is a demoness, for she looks like nothing if not a goddess. Beauty and eroticism and desire personified. She wears long black gowns that cling to her body, contrasting starkly with the whiteness of her skin. And she brings with her a velvety, soft heaviness that presses in all around with sweet, erotic promises that she refuses to fulfil.

I want to talk to her when I see her. I want to apologise for what Adam tried to do, for the threats the angels made and for the appalling way in which God punished her for not submitting to her selfish, disgusting husband. But her presence always pushes all nobler thoughts from my mind. And all I can think about then is how much I want her… how much I want to touch her, to kiss her, to make love to her all night. I resent her for having that power over me. What worth is there in lust? I am sure she does it on purpose. She teases; she loves that she can arouse me just by being there, in the same room. She revels in it. But she never delivers, oh no, though she may push it to the brink when she chooses. Always at that crucial moment her eyes will turn cold, her lips will tighten, and she will hiss spitefully in my ear that no mortal man ever again will take satisfaction in her body, for she belongs to the demons now.

I wish to God that Stephomi had never brought her up, for she now haunts and torments my dreams, real or not. In the end, I had to buy some medicine from a pharmacy to aid undisturbed rest; and, to my relief, it seems that Lilith is unable to invade drug-induced sleep.

Something very… strange… is happening. I left my apartment this afternoon and stepped into the corridor straight into this… this golden mist, that’s really the only way to describe it. I stopped dead in amazement, for one wild moment thinking I had somehow stepped straight into Heaven itself. I might as well start by saying that the mist was ineffable so I know that no matter how hard I try, I will not be able to describe it adequately here.

It wasn’t just the fact that the mist looked like sunlight made more solid — it was also the feel of it. Like a pure, ethereal beauty gently surrounding me. It felt warm on my skin and was scented — a very faint dusting of vanilla that settled on me softly as I stood there. It started right outside my apartment and trailed all the way down the corridor towards the stairs. Even as I watched, the mist around me was fading and dissipating, and I walked down the corridor quickly, anxious not to lose it.

I don’t know why I followed it. I guess I was just so captivated by it. It never really occurred to me that it would actually lead to anything, or anyone, and it wasn’t until I walked into a coffee house not far from my apartment block and saw Casey that I realised.

It was clinging to her, surrounding her, moving with her every time she moved. Clearly no one else could see this but I was mesmerised, for I had never seen anything so beautiful. Perhaps this was an aura all pregnant women carried with them and it was just that no one else could see it, but I hadn’t noticed it around her before.

She was stood at the till, four credit cards before her on the counter and a queue of people fidgeting impatiently at her back. I could see Toby nearby holding a tall glass of hot chocolate in one hand and a plate with a slice of cake on it in the other. He was stood unmoving at Casey’s side, head bowed in silent misery.