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If only there were a way, he thought, that every living creature could survive without doing injury to any other. The world had been constructed along bloody lines, of that there was no doubt, and it remained a puzzle at least as baffling as the unified field theory he had been seeking so long.
he had lost himself in his true home: the beautiful, and infinitely consoling, realm of thought alone.
“Dead,” Crowley reiterated, to no one in particular, his voice barely audible now. “I’m telling you, the man was clinically deceased.”
What none of these faiths—even the Hindu—did was doubt for one moment the existence of dark spirits, or their ability to jump from one living presence to another. Demons were considered parasites, infinitely malleable and indefatigable, hitchhikers of the soul, and as she read, Simone could see that her father had been trying to unify all this material in some way, with many arrows and notes and cross-references.
His hand had been scrawling equations on the blackboard in his office, or onto the sheets of the notepad, without hesitation, as if he had simply been a scribe taking dictation. Who, however, had he been taking them from?
