Picture Edom, Magnus had said. James now tried the opposite—he pictured his study, the familiar little room, the fire, the books, the painting over the mantel. But though he could conjure a memory of it perfectly well, it refused to take on life or realness. It was an image only, adrift against the back of his eyelids when he shut his eyes.

“As I thought,” Belial said, reaching for James. His fingers seemed to have grown longer, like spindly crab’s legs. They flexed, white and sharp-tipped. “You have no power here—”

The explosion rocked James back on his feet. He had moved so quickly he had barely felt it himself—his hand under his jacket, the metal against his fingers, the recoil of the gun. The scent of gunpowder mixed with the metallic scent of the air.

He looked at Belial wildly; he knew the shot had not gone wide. Belial hadn’t moved. He stood with his teeth bared, his hand outstretched in front of him, closed into a fist. As James stared, Belial opened his hand slowly. James’s heart sank. In the center of Belial’s palm lay a bullet, glowing red.

“You fool,” Belial said, and flung the bullet at James; James heard the sound of fabric tearing as the bullet grazed his upper arm. He staggered as something caught hold of him—it felt like a great, invisible hand—and sent him flying. He landed awkwardly on his shoulder, the gun spinning out of his grasp. He rolled over, agony shooting up his arm, and began to crawl after it.

The same invisible hand caught him again. He was flipped over onto his back, gasping; he stared up at the figure that towered over him. Belial seemed to have grown to a height of ten feet. He was grinning, his face cracking like old wallpaper. Through the cracks James glimpsed a terrible infinity—flame and darkness, agony and despair. In a low, mocking tone, Belial said, “You truly sought to kill me, James? ‘Behold, I am alive forevermore, and have the keys of Hell and of death.’ ”

“I have read that quote,” James said, struggling up onto his elbows. “But I do not think it was about you.”

Belial turned to look at the horizon, such as it was. It was a relief to James, if a small one, to no longer have to look at his grandfather’s face. “They are meaningless words, James,” he said. “The truth interpreted by humans is fact seen through a cloudy glass. Soon enough, you will agree to my terms. You will let me possess you. And I will rule the Earth—we will rule the Earth.” He turned back to James; he looked fully human again, calm and smiling. “You like to save lives. A peculiar hobby, but I will indulge it. Join with me now, and there need be no more death.”

James rose slowly to his feet. “You know I would rather die.”