I knew as soon as I walked into the room that this was not going to be the simple, open-and-shut case I had expected.  I almost turned to the two women behind me to tell them they needed an exorcist, not a PI.

I can smell a demon a mile away. Well, maybe not a full mile, and it isn’t really the sense of smell, more like a tingling in the back of my head - a sour tingle.  It’s hard to describe.  That tingling hit me hard as soon as I passed through the door and saw Monique sitting on the chair next to her desk.

The teenage girl I had come to interview turned slowly and fixed her brilliant emerald eyes on me.  Probably her mother and sister behind me could not see it, but I could see the reddish glow behind that green, one of the signs of the demon-possessed.

Even worse, I knew that the demon within her was aware of my true nature.

Calmly, she rose from the chair, her hands clenching into fists, and faced me with legs spread apart, as if bracing for a physical effort.  Suddenly, almost too fast for even me to see, her hand whipped around and an orange fireball laced with tiny white lightning streaks was hurdling through air at my head!

Two things happened in the split second after the fireball left Monique’s hand.  First, I instinctively launched a fireball of my own.  It’s a good thing that my reflexes are sharp, because that was the only way to block a fireball.  You have to hit it with another fireball.  Which also means you have to have good aim.  I did.  Fortunately.

The two fireballs met about three feet in front of me.  There was a very nice explosion and a wonderfully loud bang - if you like that kind of stuff - followed by a rain of red sparks falling to the floor.

The second thing that happened was that I began changing into my demon form.  That is instinctual and a defensive/protective thing.  Had the fireball hit me in my human form, it would have done a lot of damage.  A whole lot.  Maybe even killed me.  But in my demon form, it would have only singed a little.

I was ready to launch another one, but Monique’s eyes rolled upward and she collapsed to the floor.

Behind me, the girl’s mother, Sherry, gasped loudly.  I turned around in time to see her back up against the wall in the corner by the door, slide to the floor and begin screaming.  Not an unusual reaction for a human.  Not only had there been a nice display of pyrotechnics but also there I was, standing in my demon form, looking as evil as Hell itself.

I knew better than to try to go to her to calm her down.  That would have only made things worse.  Instead, I tried to change back as fast as I could.  Which, unfortunately, was not very fast.  When we get shocked and do a sudden switch into demon form, it’s like a human getting a sudden jolt of adrenaline.  It does not go away as fast as it came.  I knew it would be a few minutes, maybe more, before I was human looking again.

Meanwhile, there was this hysterical mom sitting on the floor, pointing a finger at me and yelling her head off.

“I won’t hurt you,” I told her.  Then I backed away until my legs bumped into the bed.  I kept my hands down by my side, trying to look as inoffensive as possible.

I don’t think she bought my innocent and harmless act.

The woman’s other daughter, Laura, was standing in the doorway, mouth hanging open and eyes wide as she stared at me.  At least she wasn’t screaming.

As to what they saw, it was still a humanoid form, two arms, two legs, one head, all the basic stuff.  And I was just as tall as before but more slender.  In my demon form, my skin and other parts are denser than in a human.  But I still had the same amount of matter in me, so I slendered up.  I once heard a term that described the whole thing: conversion of matter.  You might change the form of matter, but you can’t change the amount.  I still weighed the same, just in a more compact package.

Oh, and I was covered with a scaly skin.  At least, that is what it looked like.  It wasn’t really scales, just looked like it.  My skin was a very pleasing shade of metallic blue-green, edging into a nice turquoise in places.  Colors in demons came in various shades, just as in humans.  My face takes on a different shape, almost a short snout.  The ears become pointed, which may account for the descriptions of demons having horns.  I did not have horns.  No way.  Only the arch-demons have horns.  And, of course, Himself.  He’s really horny.

Did I mention the fangs?  I tried to keep my mouth shut, but when you have a very lovely and functional set of canines, it’s hard to hide them.

Like I said, I was actually considered a very beautiful demon – back down in Hell.  My breasts still bulged and my waist was slim and my legs shapely.  Not bad, really.  But up here, humans tend to have different standards for beauty.

Did I mention the claws?  No?  Well, don’t worry about them.

I could feel myself filling out and changing back.  The best way to hurry the change, I had found, was to try to relax and not push it.  Trying to force myself out of the demon form makes it want to fight back.  Defensive thing again, I think.

When I was pretty much back to human form, Sherry’s screaming reduced to a few mild gasps.  She was shaking all over, poor woman.  Meantime, Laura just stood there, staring at me.  When she finally said something, it was: “Cool!”

I guess it’s harder to shock teenagers these days.  Too many horror movies.

I went to Monique’s lifeless form on the floor by the desk to check on her.  I was pretty sure that all she was suffering from with demon withdrawal.  It can shock the human body when done suddenly.  She was breathing okay and I could sense that the demon had left her, fleeing back to wherever its body was.

When we possess a human, we leave our bodies behind.  As a precaution, we usually hide them when we’re not using them.

This one was gone, I was sure of that.

“You didn’t hurt her, did you?” asked Laura as she tried to help her mother to her feet.

“Monique is fine,” I told them.  Then I sighed, a really large-sized sigh.  “I guess you’d like an explanation.”

I picked up Monique and set her on her bed.  She was a very nice looking teenager of eighteen, almost fully a woman but still looking sweet and innocent.  I looked that way once.  For about a year, then I grew up and got hard.  Well, life was hard back then.

She had the prettiest long blonde hair, sort of a golden blonde.  Her mother was more of a dirty blonde, so maybe Monique had chemical help.  Laura’s hair was a shade closer to a mild auburn.

“She’ll be fine,” I repeated.  “Just let her rest.”

Sherry staggered over on shaky legs and checked out her daughter.  I noticed that she stayed as far away from me as possible, and was still shaking.  I helped by backing away.

When she seemed satisfied that her daughter was alive, she looked at me again.  No mistaking the fear in those eyes, but that was normal.  Laura’s reaction was the abnormal one.

“Let’s go downstairs,” I suggested.  “Maybe have a cup of coffee?”

Humans instinctively reach for booze or coffee when under stress, I have noticed.

Sherry busied herself with the ritual of making coffee, which was good because it helped her resume normalcy.  We sat at a breakfast nook table, Sherry as far away from me as she could.

“Like, what are you?” asked Laura.

I sighed again.  “I’m a demon,” I told her, trying to keep it from sounding too scary.  “But a good one,” I quickly added.  “I have no intention of harming any of you.”

“What did you do to my daughter?” Sherry finally spoke.

“I did nothing.  Look, you called on me because when your daughter began changing, you thought maybe she was messing with the wrong kind of people or drugs, and you thought maybe I could find out who and do something about it.  Well, she’s gotten in with the worst sort, all right, but it was not her intention or fault.”

I sipped the coffee.  I really don’t care much for it, but I have learned that drinking that bitter black stuff is as much a social ritual as anything else.

“She is suffering from demonic possession,” I told them.  “A demon was slowly taking control of her.  And it would have gotten worse.  The foul language and the smoking and the rotten attitude were just the beginning.  As his hold on her gets stronger, she will change even more.  All depends on what the demon wants to do.  She could become suicidal or extremely violent.  Believe me, there’s a lot of very bad things that can happen to her.”

“Gee, I saw a movie like that once,” Laura cut in with.  “This priest was trying to force the demon out of a girl.  She was floating up by the ceiling and vomiting on people, and fire came from her mouth.  Along with a lot of nasty words.  It was really gross!”

“Sometimes Hollywood gets it right.  All those things could happen.  Depends on what the demon wants.  Most don’t go in for really dramatic special effects like that.  They’re more likely to turn a victim vicious.  Like maybe make them slit their family’s throats while they sleep.  Or go on a killing spree.  Those sorts of things.”

“Why would a demon do that?” Laura asked.

I did not answer for a few moments.  “Because we’re evil,” I finally told her.  “It’s that simple.  Demons are a personification of evil.”

I put the coffee cup down.  “Let me explain a few things.  First off, true demonic possession is very rare.  Why?  Because there are very few demons.  But there are a lot of humans.  What’s the world’s population now, six billion or something like that?  There are only a few thousand demons, not all of them up here trying to spread evil.  Let’s say there are five thousand demons, although I think that is pretty much on the high side.  That means that there is less than one demon per one million humans.  And not all demons are up here at the same time.  It varies.  As I said, demonic possession is rather rare.”

“Why has this happened to Monique?” the distraught mother said.  “What did she do to deserve it?”

“She was good,” I told her.  “You told me that Monique was a straight A student, always helping people, raising money for good causes, that sort of thing.  And she was very religious.  That, believe me, is a prime target for a demon.

“Look, if you understand the purpose of demonic possession, you’ll understand.  Demons, being evil by nature, want to corrupt the very good.  They want to push kindly, God-fearing people to do terrible things.  The results?  More evil spread around the world, and more souls condemned to be rejected by Heaven.  Even if it increases the over-crowding in Hell.”

“And you don’t want that?” Laura asked.  That girl was smart for a sixteen year old suddenly introduced to very strange new concepts.

“No, I don’t want to corrupt humans,” I told her simply.  “Not any more.”

Her eyes lit up.  “But you did?” she blurted out.

I sighed yet again. “Yes, at the beginning I was as evil as any demon ever to fly out of Hell.  I ruined many a person’s life and thought I was doing a pretty good job of it.  But then I began to change.  I began to feel for those people I was driving into madness and eternal doom.  Then I didn’t want to do it anymore.”  I paused to take in a breath, but it was also a good place for a dramatic pause.  “That’s why I was kicked out of Hell.”

“Gosh!” Laura exclaimed.

Being a concerned mother, Sherry was less fascinated by my account and wanted to get to more practical matters.

“You stopped this demon, right?” she said.  “He won’t come back, will he?”

It was my turn to sigh again.  “I can say with great certainty that he will be back,” I had to tell her.  “Once a demon begins corrupting a soul, that is all he wants to do.  It is a driving passion, the only reason demons exist, well, aside from being the jailers and chief tormentors down in Hell.  He will be compelled to finish his task just as a drug addict is compelled to take another fix.”

“Oh, my God!” she whispered.  “What can we do?”