“So aren’t you going to ask me why?”

“Why what?” replies Hailey through gritted teeth.

“Well,” replies Soneillon in a factual tone. “First there’s why I chose this church, I didn’t know you went here after all. Second, why I haven’t revealed your secret to everyone? Third, I’m sure you’re wondering why I made you eat the lamb’s blood? Oh and I bet you’d like to know what my long-term plan is, right?”

Sitting behind the screen of the confession booth, Hailey can only imagine the cruel smile on Soneillon’s lips. But the mere thought is enough for her. Snarling she replies, “I’ll muddle about in ignorance, if you’re alright with that!”

“Tut, tut,” replies Soneillon in a chiding tone. “Temper, temper little girl. I find you fascinating and wonderfully entertaining, but this childish anger is just boring. Where is that snarky attitude you displayed while in costume?”

“That was before you threatened my family, my friends, and my church.”

“Things have gotten a little personal, haven’t they?” sighs Soneillon. “How about this, as a gesture of peace I’ll truthfully answer one of the four questions I posed earlier, deal?”

“I’m not making any more deals with you, demon!” snaps Hailey.

Sniffing disdainfully, Soneillon replies haughtily, “Well then I shall deign to deal with you, witch. I’ll tell the most entertaining truth first, since you’ve no appreciation for how the game is played. The bit with the lamb’s blood is a perversion of the Passover rite.” His voice rises in excitement as he adds, “Really you should be honored that I used it on you. It’s an impressive bit of devilry that took me years of study to perfect.”

Interrupting him, Hailey replies, “So what? I get it, you’re evil and all, no need to keep reminding me.”

“Well,” answers Soneillon, “what’s rather more pertinent is what the rite does.”

“Which is?”

“It’s a perversion of Passover!” Soneillon replies excitedly. Then he teasingly adds, “Guess!”

“No,” answers Hailey in a flat voice.

Soneillon sighs and says in a depressed tone, “Man, you’re such a Debbie downer! I drowned the last Debbie I dealt with; don’t make my fingers itch so much little witchling!” Then, the mirth receding, Soneillon continues. “Since you aren’t interested in guessing, I suppose I’ll have to simply tell you. Passover is a protection ritual, this one does the same.”

“Protection,” asks Hailey, confused, “why would you offer me protection?”

“Simple,” answers Soneillon with a smirk. “I’m protecting you from the influence of nasty whispering spirits, all spirits.”

Gasping, Hailey blurts out, “Belinda!”

“Belinda,” replies Soneillon, tasting the name. “That’s your spirit companion? That does ring a bell, I believe Athow mentioned the name one or twice in his rantings. Frankly, the man bores me however. All his power and he wastes it on some unrequited love? What a waste of talent.”

Curious despite herself, Hailey asks, “What do you mean?”

“Well he’s been sitting in that prison of his for what borders on eternity now, you’d think he’d find a new obsession. But no, he’s still hopelessly devoted to the idea of her.”

“To who?”

“Princess Belinda!” replies Soneillon.

“I didn’t know he loved her,” Hailey begins, “or that she was a princess.” Her tone is introspective and uncertain, for the first time in the conversation finding herself on new ground.

“Of course she was!” chuckles Soneillon. “That’s why he became a wizard in the first place, after all. But I digress. After all we’re here to talk about you, aren’t we?”

“Wait!” interrupts Hailey, “what do you mean? Tell me!”

For a few seconds, nothing but silence comes through the paneling. Then Soneillon says in a fascinated tone, “You care this much about his history? What will you give me in exchange for information?” A dark undercurrent runs throughout his voice, one that is inhuman.

Recoiling, Hailey remembers with whom she is speaking. “Nothing!”

“Disappointing,” replies Soneillon in his Father Sonny voice once more. “Well I suppose we can leave things like that then, if it’s how you want to act. When you’re done being a petulant child let me know and we can continue our conversation. In the meantime,” at this, his voice perks up, “don’t forget to come to Sunday School!”

“I’m not in Sunday School?” replies Hailey confused, her question apparent in her tone.

“You are now,” Soneillon replies cheerfully. “I’m going to teach everyone how to spot a witch, riveting stuff really. You should be there since you never know who might be a witch. After all, it might be someone in your own family!”

“More of your bigoted hate-filled proselytizing?” spits out Hailey.

Sagely, Soneillon answers, “Well, if you were listening earlier, I did mention that hate is a sin. So I do take umbrage at your implications, though I can understand the sentiment behind them. Now, shall we have a little fun with your friends and family? I’d love to meet the folks, so to speak. I didn’t notice your father, however, is he here?”

“No,” answers Hailey, clamping down on the fear of the implied threat to her loved ones. “He’s on a business trip.”

“He does that often, does he?”

Confused, Hailey asks, “Why do you care? He does something in finance. It involves a lot of travel to meet with clients and stuff.”

“And stuff,” muses Soneillon. “Is that what they tell you? Well I wondered. There’s some resentment in your heart against him, the kind of thing that might blossom into hate if nurtured properly. I’m always on the lookout for potential you know,” he adds in a jesting tone. Then, cruelly, he continues saying, “But in this case, I’m far more interested in the seed your mother has growing inside her. Do you know your parents hate one another?”

“N-no,” stammers Hailey, shocked. “This must be a trick, you’re lying!”

“Come now,” chides the demon, “I think we both know better than that. It is a bare, niggardly thing however. I doubt your mother is even consciously aware of how she truly feels. Still, a little hate is all it takes.”

“Takes for what?” asks Hailey in a morose tone.

Suddenly hissing with a hint of brimstone on his tongue, Soneillon replies triumphantly, “For me to work my way inside.”

Ashen faced, Hailey whispers, “No, please don’t hurt her!”

Soneillon chuckles darkly. “Oh I’m not planning on it.”

“Then what are you planning?”

“And now we circle back to one of the all-important questions from the start, don’t we?” Soneillon asks with a smile. “I promised one answer, not four. But maybe now you’re in the mood to guess?”

“Fine,” sighs Hailey in a small voice, defeated. “Well the second one is obvious, so long as you have my secret hanging over my head I can’t use my magic against you. But I have no idea why you would chose this church, we aren’t that big. Nobody important comes here, unless you count Detective Anderson. We don’t have any relics or anything you could corrupt or use either.”

“I consider the detective utterly unworthy of my time,” corrects Soneillon in a flat tone. “Detectives are the equivalent of middle management, and I don’t deign to spend my time with anyone other than the truly worthy. If he were a police chief, I might be tempted to spend a few minutes breaking his mind to prevent him or his minions from interfering with my plans but as is I couldn’t possibly care less if he lives or dies. But,” his voice brightens, “you are correct that I do enjoy hanging this secret over your head. Playing cat and mouse with you is so far quite enjoyable. You’ve this sparky little attitude I’m just quivering in anticipation of beating out of you once I drag your soul to Hell.”

Snorting, Hailey tries to inject a little confidence in her voice as she shoots back with, “You’re going to have a tough time finding the water to douse my spark in Hell, demon.”

“I was imagining that I would pinch it out, like the light of a candle,” he answers glibly. “But since you’ve made an effort, let me reward you. I chose this church for a few reasons. It has a high number of families who attend the school where Belladonna summoned me, and I found it poetic that I would use her actions to my own advantage. This high number of families makes it easier for me to enact my plan, so you can blame yourself for not finding a different place to duke it out with Belladonna as to why I’m in your church. Working through a church happens to be something I find rather poetic as well. Perverting God’s things to work against him has always been a hobby of mine, and,” he pauses, “well really it’s a hobby of all demons but I enjoy it more than most, I’m a sucker for symbolism. I also promised to give you a week, but I didn’t promise to remain idle during that time. Finding your replacement minister and,” Soneillon coughs delicately, “replacing him was something to do. I thought this sermon would be more of the same, a delightful way to occupy my time while I paved the way for our confrontation.”

“Of all the churches in all the towns in all the world I walked into yours, huh?” asks Hailey bitterly.

“It would be more apt to say the reverse; that I walked into yours. But either way the end result is the same.”

“So,” says Hailey, bitterness still evident in her voice, “are you going to answer the last question? What is your master plan?” she finishes in a sarcastic tone.

“Simple really,” replies Soneillon, “candidly I’m disappointed you haven’t figured it out already. I’m going to turn the good people of this church into a hateful mob of violent reprobates. It should be pretty fun, especially if I can get the riots to spread out through the rest of the city.”

“All that, just for me?” cuts back Hailey.

“Why win with ease when I could instead win in style?” Soneillon asks rhetorically. “When you die I want you to know how badly you’ve failed this city and these people. I want you to see the God-fearing good in them twisted into witch-fearing hate as they turn into the worst versions of themselves.” In an almost feral tone, Soneillon continues sending a shiver down Hailey’s spine with, “I want you to know that after you’re gone, Liberty City will tear itself to bits in a spiral of violence that you failed to prevent.”

The words chill Hailey to the bone, leaving her sitting in the tiny box of the confessional booth feeling vastly outmatched by the dangerous creature on the opposite side of the screen. Fear turns her saliva to ash in her mouth as she struggles to come up with a snarky response. Reflexively, she reaches out to Belinda but is met with nothing but silence, a stark reminder of the battle Soneillon already won against the pair in separating the two.

In a small voice, she asks, “How long will I be cut off from Belinda?”

“Be sure to tell me,” Soneillon answers with a smile, “I’d expect a week or two at most, but live data is hard to come by in Hell, for some reason.” Chuckling at his own joke, Soneillon pauses for a second before adding, “Well I do think that’s all for now. And would you look at the time? I’d love to speak with your mother, but I think I’d like to catch up with your principal first. But don’t fret, little girl, we’ll be seeing one another again soon enough.”

Then the sound of clapping hands comes through the booth as Soneillon adds, “Oh I almost forgot! This is a confession, and I need to assign you some penance. Well how about this, for all your horrid sins you’ll be one of my student helpers for the Sunday School lesson on witches this weekend. Now I know you think you’re getting off lightly, but I want you to remember that Jesus died for your sins. And soon, you’ll die from all of theirs. So there’s no reason to punish yourself prematurely.”

With that, Soneillon opens the door and steps out of the booth leaving Hailey alone with her thoughts. Promptly, the poor girl sags as the tension leaks from her body. Trembling, she leans against the wooden panels of the booth and stares blankly ahead, wondering how she will escape the slowly tightening noose round her neck.

Indeed, dear reader, the noose draws ever close next week as Hailey begins her assigned penitence in… “Summis Desiderantes Affectibus!”