The Making of a Demon: The Race Trilogy, #0.5

The Making of a Demon

by Della Loredo

––––––––

"You were perfect in your ways from the day you were created,

´Till iniquity was found in you.

By the abundance of your trading

You became filled with violence within,

And you sinned."

Ezekiel 28:15, 16, NKJV

THE MAKING OF A DEMON

First edition. July 15, 2016.

Copyright © 2016 Della Loredo

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be copied or reproduced in any form or manner whatever, except as provided by law, without the written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

Written by Della Loredo

Cover by Daniel Añez

Dedication

For my favorite students—the Junior class that puts up with me every week at church.

Thank you for your enthusiasm, your curiosity, and that simple love for God that prompted Christ to say, Unless you are converted and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 18:3, HCSB).

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

Prologue

1: Jinsa #1.3350.007 (Earth-epoch 1.Year 3,350.Day 007)

2: Jinsa #1.3350.105

3: Jinsa #1.3350.126

4: Jinsa #1.3350.126

5: Jinsa #1.3350.144

6: Jinsa #1.3350.144

7: Jinsa #1.3350.177

8: Jinsa #1.3350.301

9: Jinsa #1.3351.062

10: Jinsa #1.3351.062

11: Jinsa #1.3351.062

12: Jinsa #2.0001.001

13: Jinsa #2.0001.008

14: Jinsa #2.0001.014

15: Jinsa #2.0001.015

16: Jinsa #2.0001.015

17: Jinsa #2.0001.055

18: Jinsa #2.0001.055

19: Jinsa #2.0001.055

20: Jinsa #2.0001.144

21: Jinsa #2.0129.073

22: Jinsa #2.0129.092

23: Jinsa #2.0129.092

24: Jinsa: 2.1275.106

25: Jinsa #2.1275.107

26: Jinsa #2.1275.108

27: Jinsa #2.1275.110

28: Jinsa #2.1275.110

29: Jinsa #2.1277.120

Epilogue

Appendix: Paradisian Vocabulary

Final Notes

Author’s Note

This novella is a prequel to The Race Trilogy—where, as Gabriel suspects in the Epilogue, we do see more of Juan Misi’s descendants—and is set in the same allegorical world. As with parables in general, this different viewpoint allows us to see God’s truth from a new perspective, perhaps one that’s more easily grasped by our limited understanding. However, parables are merely representations of truth—not truth itself. Consequently, they will always have limits beyond which they no longer represent the eternal God and His universe.

In this book, you’ll see evidence of this problem most often in the physical properties assigned to supernatural beings. For example, to create a cohesive story within this allegorical world, I found it necessary to invent societal constructs for the angelic representatives and to portray the Holy Spirit as a woman. These notions have no biblical basis and should not be used to support nonbiblical theories. They’re simply literary devices that allowed me to represent supernatural, even infinite, beings using finite characters.

The bottom line? Please be sure to compare any ideas or insights this story may inspire to the only true Word of Inspiration, the Bible. To make such research easier, I’ve included a list of biblical references mentioned in this book, as well as links to some excellent Bible studies, on my website (DellaLoredo.com).

A quick word about foreign languages. I do use some Paradisian and Rarámuri words in this book to help convey both setting and characterization (... and maybe because I think it’s fun to learn other languages too). However, communicating the meaning of foreign words to the reader can present a challenge. Footnotes or endnotes require readers to flip from one place to another, losing their place and interrupting the flow of the story. Parenthetical translations stuck smack in the middle of a sentence get annoying once you’ve learned the word’s meaning. I’ve compromised by placing translations at the end of the paragraph where you can sneak a quick peek at them if needed, or easily skip them if you’d rather.

Just to avoid confusion, let me say up front that Paradisian is a language of my own creation—it’s spoken by the inhabitants of the fictional Paradise Island. If you’d like to learn more about it, you can find its alphabet on my website (DellaLoredo.com), as well as more vocabulary, the basics of sentence structure, verb conjugation, and other stuff that probably no one but me finds interesting. I’ve also provided an appendix at the end of the book that includes a pronunciation guide for the names and vocabulary used.

Rarámuri (also called Tarahumara) is a real language spoken by the very real tribe of Native Americans of the same name in northern Mexico. Since the tribe had no written language when the invading Europeans encountered them, linguists used various alphabets to phonetically transcribe the language, which resulted in some discrepancies in spelling. For this book, I chose the spellings that seemed easiest for an English speaker to interpret.  

Prologue

With keen interest, I surveyed the new arrival lying on a bench in the Observation Room’s balcony. He appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties by human standards, but, although his face was now relaxed in sleep, I recognized confident, determined lines that belied his tender years.

Who will he become? I wondered. What great work will he do? Humans who visited this place almost invariably became key players in the war. However, Crown Prince Joshua had told me little of this particular visitor except that he was running the 6,000-mile footrace that my king used to prepare new citizens for life on Paradise Island.

Touching him lightly on the shoulder, I murmured, Juan?

His eyes fluttered open—and then he immediately sprang up, whipped out a long hunting knife, and brandished it at me. "What do you want, aparúami wáasi owira?" (Rarámuri: Dangerous Bull)

Poor lad. Apparently he’d met my mirror twin, Stanley Moden. I had to admit, that was certainly an apt description of my brother.

"I’m not aparúami wáasi owira, I said gently, likewise speaking in the indigenous language of northern Mexico that was Juan’s native tongue. I’m his twin brother, Gabriel—General Gabriel Lanáj. I stand at King Doug’s right hand and am the commander of his army."

Juan’s ebony eyes narrowed. You’re King Doug’s general?

Yes. Hoping to offer him some physical evidence, I added, "Did you see aparúami wáasi owira’s chest?"

At his wary nod, I removed the red shirt that was part of my casual uniform. I watched his eyes go first to the poli on my left chest; my brother’s matching birthmark sat on his right. Next he surveyed my unmarked left shoulder and then his gaze slid to my right forearm, also unmarked; my brother carried prominent scars at these locations. The lad seemed observant, having noted well my brother’s identifying features. (poli: Paradisian—a particular type of birthmark)

Relaxing his offensive stance, Juan sheathed his knife. "I’m pleased to meet you, Gabriel, and I do beg your pardon. Bachí has mentioned you, he added, using his own nickname for Prince Joshua. A wry smile touched his lips. Although he didn’t mention that you were aparúami wáasi owira’s twin brother." (bachí: Rarámuri—older brother)

I acknowledged his legitimate confusion with a chuckle.

Where am I? His intelligent gaze swept the otherwise empty room.

You’re in the Forecaster’s Suite on Paradise Island.

Forecasters? he exclaimed. Although some humans regarded forecasters as tricksters or lunatics, Doug’s runners rightfully held them in high esteem. I often got this incredulous reaction when a runner realized he or she had been selected for that role.

Yes. Would you like to see? I moved to the railing that looked down onto the Observation Room. There forecasters from across the centuries, each garbed according to their particular time and culture, watched the proceedings in the War Room. Pointing, I said, There’s Daniel and John the Revelator.

Juan sucked in an awed breath.

I nodded in the other direction. That’s Deborah sitting there. Oh, and there’s Ezekiel—

This is impossible! Juan said. It must be a dream.

A vision would be the more accurate term. You’ll find that you remember everything quite clearly when you awake.

Juan surveyed the Observation Room for a few moments and then asked, Why am I here, Gabriel?  

I turned to face him. Doug loves your people greatly, Juan. He says, ‘Who will go for me? Who will tell these, my children, of my love for them?’

Juan’s athletic frame straightened, and he lifted his chin. I will go! he said at once. Send me, Gabriel. I will do it.

Are you sure, Juan? It won’t be easy.

"I am sure. Aparúami wáasi owira tried to kill me, but bachí saved me with his own blood. I will gratefully do anything the Deón ask of me." (bachí: Rarámuri—elder brother; Deón: Paradisian—Eternal One)

I liked this young man more by the minute. Humans often placed limitations on that statement—I’ll do anything he asks of me except ... or I’ll do anything he asks of me as long as it doesn’t interfere with ... But Juan was all in. He was exactly the sort of ambassador the Deón loved to bless. (Deón: Paradisian—Eternal One)

There was just one problem.

Anything? I said softly and cast a meaningful glance at his knife. Joshua had been trying to convince him to surrender it, for it had become far too important to him—a symbol of strength and self-sufficiency. Experience had taught me that such symbols, whatever form they took, were extremely difficult for individuals living in kanuf to relinquish. (kanuf: Paradisian—sin, evil, selfishness)

Juan’s gaze fell to the knife, and I could almost see the battle in his soul. He was refreshingly transparent for a human adult—undoubtedly one of the reasons Joshua loved him so. I could easily see pride edge its wily self right into his thoughts.

His hand resting on the pommel of his knife, Juan said, "With this knife I fought aparúami wáasi owira. And I cut him," he added fiercely, smugly, as he drew a finger over his left cheekbone.

My eyes widened in horror. If Juan had marked my brother’s face, Stan’s vanity would never allow him to forget the insult, much less forgive it.

Juan seemed to interpret my expression as one of awe. Yes, I did, he said triumphantly. He grinned as he patted the richly decorated sheath. 

"Then you have won for yourself an unprecedented measure of aparúami wáasi owira’s vengeance, I said gravely. For the rest of your life."

Juan’s grin disappeared.

It was not my place to contend with fallen mankind. I could claim neither Prince Joshua’s personal experience in human skin nor the Deón’s intimate knowledge of their hearts. But I could carry out the task I’d been given, and I now understood that the story Doug had asked me to present—my own sister’s rebellion—should have special meaning to Juan. (Deón: Paradisian—Eternal One)

Moving down the hallway, I ushered him into a small auditorium. "King Doug asked me to show you some jinsi—"

"Jinsi?"

"That’s the Paradisian word. Your native tongue has no word for them yet. But jinsi are visual records of events that have happened in the past. They’re imprinted upon a special type of crystal as they occur and, since they leave evidence of any tampering, they record events with irrefutable accuracy."

Juan stared at me as he might a two-headed dragon. Coming from the nineteenth century, he would naturally have difficulty understanding our technology. I doubted that his people even knew about photographs yet, so holographic recordings might very well sound like a fairy tale to him.

You can think of them as a type of storytelling, I offered.

Oh, he said with renewed interest.

"As a storyteller yourself, you know the value of history. This story tells how the Great War began, the war that aparúami wáasi owira is, even now, waging against King Doug. This knowledge will help you present a clearer picture of the Deón to your people." (Deón: Paradisian—Eternal One)

Excitement sparked in his eyes. "I will see how the war began?"  

"Yes, you’ll see it from the perspective of two individuals, my sister and myself. Unfortunately, my yushún has been front and center throughout the conflict."

"Yushún?"

"It’s the type of family we have here on Paradise Island. The Deón fashion an elder brother from clay and then use grafts from him to form siblings. We’re very close to all our siblings since we live together throughout our lives, but the Deón sometimes create siblings with even stronger bonds. Usually that takes the form of identical twins, like Stan and me—or aparúami wáasi owira, as you call him. On rare occasions, they create a linkmate for the elder brother, a sister with whom he shares a special sense that connects them in a unique way. Stan also has a linkmate—the only time Doug has given an elder brother both a twin and a linkmate. His linkmate rebelled with him. Her name is Kamíl." (Deón: Paradisian—Eternal One)

Juan’s eyes narrowed, and his hand went reflexively to his knife.

I see you’ve met my sister too. 

She’s beautiful, he said tightly. Like a stealthy mountain lion.

I chuckled. Another apt description. "The jinsi I’ll show you will document her story. We both had a very deep connection with our elder brother—aparúami wáasi owira. We were both initially appalled when he began to question our beloved father, King Doug. Yet we chose different sides in the conflict." (jinsi: Paradisian—crystal recordings)

Juan nodded. Thank you, Gabriel. You’re very kind to share this with me. I’m sure it won’t be easy.

You’re welcome, Juan. I