Many more people had come to her mountain since those first two, but none as near as powerful. Spirit had kept a watchful eye on them, ignoring the others, the weak ones, kept her olfactory core trained instead to the strong ones' scent, which was easy now that she had the nose of a canine.
That night, when she had crept close to observe the light one as the being had floated in a steaming pool, she had not realized she had been sensed. She had learned, learned at those first few encounters that they could feel her like she could feel them, so she had tried to go discretely, but it had not been enough. The light one had investigated her, and Spirit might not have known except for a powerful thought had emanated from the being. A thought about Azazel.
Out of fearful instinct, Spirit had retreated, and out of fearful instinct had done the first thing come to mind: she had stolen the body of the nearest demon.
The creature was a harmless one, in the form of a small and fur-covered animal. It could do little aside from provide a place to hide, but she made use of it all the same, steering it hither and thither, following her powerful pinpoints up on the mountain.
She had not intended to draw them to the bodies of the men who had summoned her. The demon she had stolen had been frightened of the dark one, and some of its fear had infected Spirit and caused her to run, but she did not see that it had done any harm to have had the bodies found. It had given her more beings to study. More things to learn.
Spirit did not know how she knew, but she knew she had already learned the most important thing that night with the light one in the bath. The demon Spirit had stolen—she felt it still, its consciousness, writhing within her, but that was what she had learned.
She was a demon who could possess demons.