Cherry put her hands up, looking down the barrel of the gun. “Geez, and people say [i]demons [/i]are bloodthirsty. It’s rude to rush into things like this, you know.”

[i]Etiquette is not a priority[/i], Puriel said. [i]Get on with it.[/i]

With an irreverent curtsy, she ignored the command. “I’m Cherry, by the way. Demon in my head doesn’t want me to say that, but I think you deserve to hear your killer’s name. Though you probably know it already, don’t you, Jasmine? Must be cool, all that prophetic magic shit. Does God talk to you? Nah, I bet he doesn’t. He’s got a lot on his plate, I imagine. Say, how many prophets does He have milling around anyway? You’d think—”

Puriel grabbed Cherry by the brain stem and yanked. Hard. Her expression went blank for a blink, quickly replaced by neutrality. Puriel did not like the feeling of the tongue in the mouth, nor the teeth in the jaw, but such indignities were necessary to properly formulate speech. “I intend to cleanse the Earth of your presence. The dog is free of sin—dismiss it, and we may conduct our business without harming the innocent.”

Suddenly, another figure rounded the corner. This alleyway was getting rather crowded. Puriel took a step back, keeping an eye on the gun and suppressing the urge to lash out now. Now. Now now now [i]no[/i]. No. This new arrival was clearly not on their side—with one hand on a weapon and something clutched in the other, she was ready for a fight. Either this was a burglar of remarkable confidence or Jasmine called in reinforcements. [i]Shit[/i]. If Cherry didn’t love hearing herself talk quite so much, they could have struck sooner. The faster the better—they were not going to win a battle of attrition outnumbered. Adjusting the structure of Cherry’s inner ear, they disregarded her mental wince. Pain was not damage. Hopefully this way they would be able to hear anyone else coming before they arrived. 

Turning to keep their back towards the wall, they inspected the woman more closely. Signs of mild exertion—must have run here. An angelborn come to defend her shepherd? Unlikely. Her stance was steady, practiced, and experienced; she was almost certainly a knight. Which meant two trained soldiers and a prophet to lead them. Shrugging off a prickle of dread, they cracked their knuckles. What was one more foe?

[i]And you said[/i] I [i]was stalling[/i], Cherry grumbled.

Puriel strangled a sigh and looked the prophet dead in the eyes. “My terms are reasonable. Obey them.”