Angel's Mark

Twenty-six

If I were an evil group of demon summoners, a church would be the last place I would make my home. I suppose this was the point.

Admittedly, I'd been surprised when the Silhouette had told us that the old theater near Caprice's club, the Destiny, was vacant once more. Ever since the demon gate had been opened and the Order had taken Nick prisoner, the remaining Silhouettes and fallen angels had decided they needed a new location. Somewhere no one would look for them.

Yet here Alan and I were. We had found them.

The church was at the edge of the city, far from the sloping hills that brimmed with colorful building after colorful building. Where San Francisco was a technicolor mirage in the distance, this place was a dismal, distant cousin. Gray and black. Overgrown with vines and shrubs. Cracked tile and dirty stained glass windows, a cross tilted towards the ground.

Alan kicked the dust at our feet. "I don't understand. How can you guys—"

"It is no longer consecrated," replied the Silhouette promptly. "It's far too old and far too secluded."

I scoffed. "I couldn't tell."

The Silhouette glowered at me, jamming his hands in his pockets. "I don't know why you're here. They're not going to be happy to see you."

"I'm not happy to see them either," I countered, "but I will figure out why my brother's name is so important to everyone, even if it means risking my life."

"You angels are too virtuous."

"And you aren't virtuous enough."

A moment passed where the Silhouette and I just glared at each other, until Alan cleared his throat, shoving the two of us apart. "Vinny, we're here for a reason," he reminded me, his hand lingering on my shoulder. "The sooner it's done, the better."

"Hang on," interrupted the Silhouette, curling his lip under. "What do I get for this? I brought you here, so I should—"

"Your life, idiot," I said. "If you hadn't agreed, I might have killed you where you stood. That's not good enough for you?"

The Silhouette swallowed, then shook his head and strode forward, scaling the church's cracked steps at a painfully slow speed. Alan and I shared a glance, as if we weren't sure if we wanted to go through with this. Either way, we were already here, and were going to face the consequences.

I took the first step forward, and Alan followed me.

The Silhouette hesitated at the church's heavy oak doors before flinging them open. The air filled with the thick scents of incense and candle wax, the chapel unpromisingly quiet. Shadows lurked in the corners, slithered against the walls. Every beat of my heart was a warning I couldn't afford to listen to.

There were whispers, human, yet not. Intruders. Intruders. Intruders. When I looked around, I noticed the Silhouette that had brought us here had vanished into the dark. The doors slammed shut behind us, and I jumped.

Then there were Alan's fingers, squeezing mine. "It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay."

The fact that he was human and was less afraid than me bothered me for a moment, until I looked into his eyes and realized he was just as fearful as I was. He nodded at me, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles. I let the rhythm of his touch rock me back to steadiness.

Intruders. Intruders. Intruders.

A figure appeared on the altar.

It was a woman, a knee-length black dress hugging her every curve, her eyes dark and reticent. She folded her arms and squinted at me. "An angel, walking into the hands of the fallen?" she let out a chuckle. "I never thought I'd see the day."