Posession is nine tenths of the fine print
The trick was finding a human who would blend in. Teenagers decked in black to the fingernails, crystal readers, people with an axe to grind – the world was already on guard against them. As soon as something unusual went on in the life of someone with an acknowledged connection, no matter how tenuous, to the dimly lit shadow of the supernatural, people got wary.
Of being conned, if nothing else.
No, demons had always been choosy about who they inhabited. They had to be: pitchforks hurt, but so did being thrown into Bedlam and left to the earnest experimentation of so-called doctors. The secret to success in demonology was less what you knew of true names and arcane rituals, and more of being the right sort of vessel, at the right time, and too focused on your goals to balk at the deal you were going to make.
But in these modern days of smartphones and the internet, there weren’t a lot of people who were that desperate for something beyond the human ability to obtain. Sure, there were a lot of people who would sell their soul to win the mega million and become the first billionaire in the United States to pay taxes, or to become a rock star, but those weren’t good long term bets. Rock Stars and overnight millionaires stood out. You could get away with a lot with a rock star and some greasepaint, calling it stage magic, but putting in the effort of maintaining that persona even if the body’s original owner was trying to burn you out with MDMA didn’t leave a lot of time for advancing the demonic agenda. Plus, the shelf life of a rock star was pitifully short.
Keep reading
Day late, but not a dollar short
