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“Mind your own houses!” Abitha cried. “You are all naught but a gaggle of clucking cunts!”
home. Devils at home, devil in the woods, devils at church, devils everywhere, is there no escape?
“That is not what you want, that is what you need. You are not made out of needs, you are made out of your dreams and desires. What is it you wish and dream of?”
“Why does her mother not ask the Christ God to heal her child?” “She has. We all have. Many, many, prayers.” “And this Christ God does nothing?” Abitha shrugged. “We shall see. Sometimes God helps, sometimes He does not.” Samson shook his head. “They need a better god.”
“You were not always the Devil; you were once a great forest spirit and the wilderness was your kingdom. It is the wildfolk who twisted you, they who set the demons to you, they who begged Mother Earth to make you so.”
But this belief, this absolute conviction that this evil they were doing was good, was God’s work—how, she wondered, how could such a dark conviction ever be overcome?
