Father Brown was just about to close up the church. It was late and nobody would come until morning, allowing him time to get some much-needed sleep. He had closed and locked the doors and was just about to go home when someone approached him—someone in a long black cloak with a hood that hid their face.
"F-Father?"
Father Brown jumped and whirled around, staring at the hooded figure in horror. Who was it? How did they know who he was? Perhaps it was Death, coming to take his soul. Or perhaps…Perhaps it was a memory from that one time that he had sinned…
"Father, please, I need your help," the figure said and pulled off their hood, revealing a woman with frightened blue eyes. Brown relaxed.
"Of course, my child; but couldn't it wait until the morning? The church is closed, you know…"
"I'm sorry; it can't wait. It's really important."
She must have seen that he didn't believe her because she leaned in really close and whispered,
"It's about a demon."
A minute later, they were sitting in the church, drinking tea. Father Brown examined the woman as they sat. She didn't look much like she would be a demon's prey. Demons always went after young, beautiful women; Brown knew that; and while this woman had very lovely blue eyes, the harshness of the rest of her face severely diminished the effect.
"Well, my child," Father Brown sighed after finishing his tea, "what is it? What about a demon?"
The woman paused for a moment, staring down at her cup.
"I have a friend," she said in a low, scared voice, "and this friend has suddenly discovered that—through no fault of her own—she's married to a—a demon, Father."
Father Brown shot up several feet in the air.
"Married to a demon? But that's—But that's horrible! Why did she do that?"
"She had no choice. She only learned that he was a demon recently. She doesn't know what to do, Father," the woman stared up at him with pleading eyes. "Please help her."
"Well, what is this demon doing? Is he…hurting her? Abusing her in any way? If that's so, then perhaps she could escape it by calling the police…"
"N-No, the demon has only really hurt her once and that was a long time ago. It hasn't happened since. Ever since then, the demon has been very polite to her…almost kind…"
"My child," Father Brown said, grabbing her hands, "let me make this very clear to you so that you could make this very clear to your friend: demons are not kind. They haven't the least scrap of kindness within them. They are horrible and evil and all they care about is devouring pure souls and dragging the innocent down to Hell. And it's even worse for women—demons delight in taking a woman's purity, usually by force, and they won't show mercy or compassion and—above all else—they never fall in love. My child, get your friend out of this relationship as quickly as possible! Don't hesitate, don't assume that just because the demon is kind now it will always be kind. It's just part of his trickery. It's all part of his act."
The woman had looked as if she was going to burst into tears, but she rose up with a nod and quietly thanked Father Brown. She turned to leave, then stopped and turned back.
"By the way, Father, do you know a pastor? A pastor Jeremy Rathbone?"
"Pastor Jeremy Rathbone?" Father Brown repeated. "No, never heard of him. And I know all the priests around here.
The woman nodded again.
"That's what I thought."
Then she quickly left the church, pulling her hood back up over her head, as if frightened that someone would see her.
