"Please, please you can't…" she begged.

"Of course I can, silly. I just did," her own voice echoed back to her. But not her voice. A more confident one.

"Please, you have to let me go."

"Why should I do that? Go ahead, make a convincing argument." It waited. "Go ahead, I'm listening." It waited still. Listening to her snivel and cry like a child. 'Give me a reason,' it thought, 'if you have one, that is. And perhaps I'll consider it.'

She couldn't come up with one. Instead she turned to prayer. It laughed a little too lightheartedly. "Stop now. Enough of that, you'll wear us both out." It reminded her of Sister Jude, but it was Godless.

She always thought the devil was a little red man with horns, but it wasn't. It wasn't anything.

"Stop. Don't be frightened. I'm not going to hurt you, contrary to what you might think."

She quieted, that little voice inside, as if hesitating and waiting for what might come.

"You know what I think?" it asked, with a voice like the purr of the lovely Persian her grandmother gave her as a girl. "I think…you have always been afraid, child. Afraid of what people will say, what they will do. Always the butt of someone's cruel joke. Am I wrong?"

"No," she whispered.

"You wanted to be favored, didn't you? At least by someone, but your mother thought you were shy and a failure no matter how hard she pushed and shoved, you never wanted to be in that kind of a position. And your sister, the feminist, she was a lost cause. Your father thought you were dear, but simpering and a little immature. Am I wrong?" it asked again.

"No," she said with less doubt.

"You've spent your whole life trying to do good, to be good, and at the first temptation to rebel—I've seen you, don't be ashamed—you've resisted. What has good ever earned you? What has goodness ever done? You're shut up here with the filth of the earth. They throw their feces at you, spit on you. Because they know you're a scared little girl with no authority. Am I wrong yet?"

"No. No you're not."

"You've been praying for some kind of salvation all these years, Mary Eunice. All this time, you've been waiting. I'm here to set you free."

She shivered. "How?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. You just let me take care of it. But together, you and I. Well, let's just say big things are beginning to happen around here."

Its voice was so smooth, so persuasive. She'd heard the allure and charm of the Devil talked about in Mass every Sunday since she was small and stupid, but the Bible hadn't even come close. This was a voice that squashed fear and hopelessness and doubt, just as the voice of God had done for Moses and Noah and every last disciple.

"Let's be bad together, darling."