The day started like any other day. Jasmine awoke from a nightmare. You know, some people in today's day and age would tell her that she really needed to go see a therapist for all the nightmares and stress she deals with but honestly, she couldn't take the time to do that. She had been doing this job for around ten years now and frankly, if she can handle it this long, she can continue to handle it another year more.

Jasmine slowly sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes of sleep and gave Bruno, her seeing eye dog, a loving pat on the head before she kicked her feet out from the bed. Bruno gave a deep 'woof' before he lazily stretched and rolled out of bed. Jasmine stood and reached for her cane that she kept folded up on her bedside table. She didn't need it when she was roaming her home but she always kept it nearby just in case she needed some kind of weapon. The knights had long ago made her a better suited stainless steel cane that she could use to defend and attack if she ever found herself in the need for it, so she kept it at her side always.

With Bruno by her side, she got dressed and picked up her cellphone. “Hey Google,” she said as she strapped the walking harness onto Bruno. “Read my messages for me.” She pulled a small case out of her coat pocket and slipped an earbud into her ear. Her phone began to go over the many messages she had received through the night. She got alerts about possible new angel born and demonic sightings. She used the google interface and her ear bud to respond to some as well.

She grabbed her keys and opened her front door, seeing a large man leaning against the doorframe. She paused for only a moment as a smile crossed her face. His aura was a deep royal purple with a hint of blue sparks that danced around his shoulders. “Good morning Rufus.” She said as her knight escort bend down to give Bruno a good pat on the head.

“Morning,” he said before he turned to offer her his arm. Her smile turned soft as she tucked her hand into the crook of his arm as he lead the way down the stairs. “What are our plans for today?” He asked as they turned down the street with Bruno happily leading the way.

“I need a cup of coffee before I really get started on anything.” She said and Rufus gave a laugh.

“I see that ear bud. You can't lie to me. You've already started. You need coffee so you don't go out killing demons yourself.” She gave a harsh laugh and a shake of her head. He was right, to a degree but they both knew she couldn't go out in the field anymore. She was lucky the knights even let her live out of the headquarters building but she refused to live in their compound. She needed a release from her work in some way and being able to go to her own home, turn off the phone, and snuggle Bruno at the end of the day helped her keep her sanity. She knew if she lived in the compound with many of the knights, she would never get a break. It would be work at all times and she would have lost her mind already. But of course, she does have a backup set up.

She has a second phone that is used only in emergencies and she knows that if that phone were to ever ring, she had to answer it, no matter where she was. That one remained in her purse and was taken with her everywhere.

Bruno knew where to go and lead the way on their fifteen minute walk to the coffee shop. It was his favorite place to be. They have a special whipped cream just for dogs and he always got his own little cup of it as a reward. When they arrived, his name was announced in excitement and Jasmine gave a shake of her head as her lips quirked up in a slight smile. He had his own fan club, this pup of hers.

There were a few people in the coffee shop and Rufus lead the way to the long line. Jasmine looked around the room. Even though she was blind and couldn't see anything around them, all the people in the building lit up in her sight like beacons. It was a habit she developed from her years out in the field. It's hard for demons to catch you by surprise if you see them coming. None of the people in the store looked to be demon possessed though, so she decided to to get some work done.

The store was louder than she liked, so released Bruno's harness to grab her second earbud and tuck it into her free ear. She instructed her phone to open her email as Bruno laid down by her feet. She kept her other hand planted firmly in the crook of Rufus’s arm as they waited. It was going to be a little while before they got to the counter. Might as well get some work done while they waited.

It was a beautiful morning. It was the type of morning that hymnodists could fill a psalter with and still have ink left over. After all, it was the glory of God that lit the sun, stretched its rosy fingers past the horizon and grasped the Earth tight with light. The soil of the Earth. The filthy soil of the Earth. Puriel swallowed hard, the bitter ghost of earl gray stewing on the back of Cherry’s tongue.

Caffeine is bad for your health, they conveyed. It was less talking and more conducting, waving the proverbial arm to guide the electrical web of the human brain into a thought. Sort of pathetic, really, how easily such things could be intercepted. But Puriel did not have a brain of their own on Earth, so it was Cherry’s they must deign to direct.

The aforementioned human snorted. Her tea was still a little too hot—she relished the weak burn of her palm against the metal of the thermos. What are you, Mormon?

Puriel did not dignify that with a response. They were tired of this boring stroll down the sidewalk. Cherry had lost sight of the prophet and her paltry guard at least three times—once bumping into another pedestrian, twice watching a police car blare down the street, thrice spotting a set of kitchen knives in a shop window. And that wasn’t counting the amount of times she had glanced down at her precious tea just as the prophet was about to choose one tine of a fork in the path. Honestly. Puriel understood there couldn’t exactly be a vetting program for demonic vessels, but the fact that they got stuck in this one had to be some kind of joke. It might have been, actually. One did not make a lot of friends in hell, especially not if one was an angel. Is an angel.

Focus, Puriel commanded. They’d really hoped to conserve what control they could exercise for the confrontation itself, but at this rate no confrontation would come to pass. They didn’t suppress her consciousness entirely—just enough to direct motor functions—but they received a valiant attempt at resistance nonetheless.

As they rounded the corner, catching a glimpse of the prophet entering a café, they smiled. And then schooled their expression immediately. Such a human instinct—Cherry must have been rubbing off on them. We will conduct our business outside, they said. I have no wish to involve the authorities and I doubt the prophet will either.

You never let me have any fun. Cherry tested her frontal lobes and Puriel loosened their grip on the reins.

Behave, and I may allow you.

Rolling her eyes, Cherry pushed open the door to the shop. A charming little bell announced her entry. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, platinum blonde and shining like the sunrise. So… where are they?

Resisting the urge to use the Lord’s name in vain, Puriel gritted out, Directly in front of us. The pair couldn’t be more conspicuous if they tried. The knight was alert but not on alert—clearly his sense of security had not yet been cored out. Likely armed, as well. His shirt was casually but importantly loose, allowing ample space for a gun or knife or vial of holy water. Or all of them. Yet he wouldn’t be the issue—knights seldom were, out of formation—the prophet would. If their sources were correct, she was uncannily adept at reading auras. The show would be on from the second she saw them. And she would be a fight, not an execution. Taking a deep breath, Puriel directed the body to tap the prophet on the shoulder.

“Hey,” Cherry said brightly, as if greeting a friend. “Jasmine! God, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Why don't we do a little catching up?" She gestured to the door with a hungry grin. "It's such a pretty day out.”

Alaina: Nephilim

Sleeping on the streets was dangerous, but less dangerous than sitting in a house with a cozy family and your feet curled under you while you watched the latest rom-com. That shit got people killed. And she couldn’t take the noise.
Tipping back the jack she finished the bottle as the noise faded and she tossed the empty into a corner to join the pile. Fuck! It was taking more and more everyday to drown out the voices. They just never shut the fuck up! Maybe tommy had some smack she could get from him. That shit would help for a day. And if it was pure enough, she might get two days!

Being downtown was horrible, but Tommy sold to lawyers, interns, and the college students down the street. So she had to come to him to get what she needed. The bad part was the alcohol was fading fast and the voices in her head just wouldn’t SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

When Vincent "Vinnie" Barbarino the bum bumped into her she threw up, the voices screaming in her head about the bad things he’d done. The horrible things he wanted to do. She felt his hands roaming across her body for a second. Squeezing and caressing in a vulgar manner, the smell of old alcohol and stale cigarettes wafting from him.

She screamed at him to let go! Get off! Stop touching me! As loud as she could. Staggering away she heard Barbarino fall to the ground in a drunken stupor as she staggered away.

Tommy. She needed some smack to stop the voices. To get them to shut up!

The crowd parted around her as she zombie walked past the coffee shop and got to tommy’s corner. She scratched her head, drown the voices waiting for him to end his deal.
When he looked up and saw her, he cussed and dragged her away from his spot. He didn’t need her ruining business.

Thankfully he’d dosed her enough times he knew what she could handle, and when she was this far gone she needed the shit bad!

She’d confessed her story to him one drunken night and you didn’t need a fucking crazy doctor degree to know she was schizophrenic. Hearing voices all the time? Fuck that noise. But when she was on her game, she was a solid runner.

Leaving her propped up next to a garbage can and a red brick wall he went back to his corner. When she stabilized, she’d come negotiate payment. Which meant all his runs this afternoon would be covered.

She’d never put out for him or anyone else. Something about being close and watching people she cared for die. So, he’d never tap that ass, no matter how fine it was. He’d shared a room with her once, two years ago? Fuck she was damned sexy coming out of the shower. But she’d turned down the sex, and he’d ended up chokin’ the chicken in the shower after her. He could still remember what it smelled like. Apple Blossoms and Lilacs. And that was without any perfumes. He had dreams about her, and always woke up messy afterwards.

But her voices were getting worse, and he’d tried to get her into a hospital, before too long the smak in her arm wouldn’t stop the voices. She needed real meds, not the street stuff. But she’d vanished for a month after that fight, so he never brought it up again. Even though he knew she’d be dead, hell she should already be dead, she took more smak in one hit than anybody else took all day.

***

Twenty minutes later she was walking towards him and running her fingers through her hair. He’d almost called her name when he saw the shake of her head, and the look she gave the guy across the street. The guy had been reading a paper and never crossed over. Looking back at her he saw her eyes close and she started jerking like she was possessed.

Fuck! Was the smak bad? Had he been selling shit all morning? Was he being setup for a bad deal? The guy across the street was running, his coat flapping. Gun! Cop or Muscle. Shit was going tits up!

Turning Tommy ran, and he ran hard and fast. Straight into two guys with steel muscles and then the interior of a car. The vehicle pulled away silent and slow as Tommy stared at a silencer.

On the Street Aliana’s body was twitching blood running down her nose...

In the distance sirens rose in volume as the they got closer.

Rufus was a large guy. It was obvious he spent his time working out in the gym on a regular basis. Today, he was wearing a loose t-shirt with some long blue jeans and a black leather jacket. He had military grade boots on and a concealed carry strapped just so on his right hip. He had been Jasmine's escort for the past three months with nothing of importance happening. Routine spawn complacency and he wasn't as alert as he honestly should have.

When the girl walked up and tapped on Jasmine's shoulder, he could feel her get stiff next to her. He looked back to see the young girl standing there and a frown crossed his face at the sight of her. It was the look of panic that crossed Jasmine's face when she glanced over her shoulder that had him reached down and unclasped his gun at his hip.

Bruno picked up on his master's sudden mood change and stood up quickly, turning to face the new woman behind them. Jasmine slowly pulled the ear buds put of her ears and put them in the case with controlled patience, as if she had all the time in the world before she finally turned to face the girl behind them.

She could see the demonic aura compressing down on the girl's own aura. It was as if the demonic one was trying it's best to consume the human one. It had been awhile since she had seen one.

She reached down to grab Bruno's harness handle before she gave Rufus's arm a gentle pat. “It would seem, we have some catching up to do.” Rufus simply looked down at her before he lead the way out of the Cafe and towards the back of the building where there would be far less people to get in the way or hurt.

Jasmine knew this wasn't going to end well but the less people they could get involved in the mess, the better it was going to be for everyone involved. It was their fault for getting comfortable enough to not notice her before she literally walked right up to them and tapped her on her shoulder.

As they walked to the back of the store, Jasmine released Bruno's harness and slipped her hand into her bag until she felt her second phone. She slid her fingers along the screen in the well rehearsed pattern before sliding her fingers along like she was trying to draw something. She had long ago programmed gestures into the phone so she could use it in this very manner.

Within moments, an alert went out providing her location and asking for assistance from anyone nearby. She wasn't sure if anyone would be close enough to give them any kind of help but she hoped that they could hold out till back up arrived somehow.

When they finally were behind the building, Rufus released Jasmine and pulled his gun, stepping in front of her like a human shield. “What do you want? We all know it's not to just talk.” Jasmine extended her cane to it's full length and prepared for whatever might happen. She was in an unknown area now with the only information that she knew being the location of the demon possessed, Rufus, and her dog.

Avalon Laffay groaned as she rolled over to slince the alarm on her nightstand. She'd been having the best dream, a boring dream perhaps, but a nice one. Of sunshine and peace. Reality though came back with a crash as she opened her eyes to the bedroom of her apartment. The room was small, it's walls lined with white paint and the dawn light blocked by heavy navy curtains. It had little in the way of furnishings - a set of wooden drawers, a matching side table, the bed with its white sheets and blue duvet. A silvery grey throw sprawled across the grey carpet where it had been kicked off during the warm night. A pedestal fan whirred in the corner near the foot of her bed doing its best to cool and stir the warm air. A cursory glance around the room would find it lonely. The surfaces were almost all bare, even of dust, apart from doilies of lace that covered them to stop them from being scratched fromt he few items that laid upon them. A novel, a plugged in phone, and a lamp were on the nightstand whilst a Bible, a dagger, and a sheathed sword lay on the dresser. Amendment, it looked as though a serial killer lived here.

Pack lightly and be ready to leave at all times had been drilled into her from birth, and was not a habit easily broken. When one kills demons for a living, getting in the way of their objectives, one must assume that 'ere long one will track you down to your home to get you out of the way. Avalon stretched and kicked off the blanket, yawning her way to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

A wee while later Avalon was ready to go. Shoulder length raven curls tied up in a smart ponytail, the scrunched holding it decorated with a faux bow ribbon. A blue cotton polo shirt was worn loose over wide legged cotton shorts. The breat pocket had an embroidered sword surounded by a halo on it, and the shorts had wide legs with deep pockets to conceal an armoury of weapons. The dagger in its thigh Sheahan concealed by the shorts leg, with the pocket having a hole in it to be drawn through. The other pocket took a couple of vials of holy water and her phone, and she tucked a second dagger into a sheath in the small of her back by her waistband. A gym bag made for hockey concealed the sword for all but the handle, and the gem that would help her locate the demons in his realm. If one looked closely the bag had a symbol of a sword with angel wings behind it, within the borders of a shield.

The rest of her apartment looked the same as the bedroom. White walls, navy curtains. The fridge had some local take out menus and not much else. She stepped into some sensible but pretty sneakers before she stepped out into the world at large, locking the front door and placing a line of salt under it. You can never be too careful.

She opened her phone as she started walking. Coffee and breakfast from her favourite was the first order of the day, and the first move her mother would admonish her for. Routine mad you lazy and dead, the voice echoed in her mind but today was just that kind of day where you needed your favourites. Some instinct in her just knew this. "Instinct is the gift God gave us," she muttered under her breath back to her mother - albeit just the ghost of her imagination.

The walk from her apartment wasn't long, but the day apparently was getting started with or without coffee in her system. She rounded the corner to see a girl start seizing, falling directly to the pavement, with another guy booking it away from her and dragged into a car. With a cry Avalon rushed over to the girl, trying to get the attention of someone. Anyone. "Help, someone!" She shouted, "Someon call 999... sorry 911!" She screamed trying to get anyone's attention. Fumbling her own phone out of her pocket she went to call them herself when it lit up and alarmed like a top tier security system.

That alert would only mean top brass was in trouble. "Shit!" She swore fiercely to herself. She looked at her phone, the co-ordinates were literally just around the corner from her - Jasmine, the prophet. "Shit, shit, Satan and witchcraft" she swore again. She thrust her phone back into her pocket and tried to drag the girl out of the thoroughfare at least and against a wall. The only good thing about it was that Mistreaver was blissfully dull. "I'm sorry I have to leave you, but I'll come back for you I swear. And until then may God bless you and keep you safe from harm." Then she took off at a sprint around the corner, gym bag bouncing against her back. She all but skidded to a halt as she approached the scene. Jasmine faced off against a girl, Bruno and a body guard - Rufus. She'd seen him around HQ a lot, he was always nice to the new recruits. And very handy at repairing the coffee machines that kept the Knights going.

The gem in Mistreaver's hilt began to glow, the girl must be a demon-possessed. She palmer a vial of holy water in one hand, and the hilt of her pocket dagger with the other. She gave Rufus the Nod, to say she was ready, making sure to stand in a way that kept the demon-possessed between them but so he could see the emblem on the bag. She dared not speak the Knight's Geeting aloud, incase the demon picked up on it and escaped. She hoped it was enough. She prayed she was enough.

"It is way too early for this", Jasper whispered as he slowly dragged his feet across the ground. His hand reached for the little pocket in the back of his shirt to put the dagger back, completely covered in a mix of his own blood and someone else's. Both his shirt and his shorts had splatters on them. This would be hard to clean again, but he didn't mind at all. Even though he often complained about Kalan's actions, deep inside he loved every part of it with every fiber of his body. Sometimes he simply didn't like admitting it out loud. The guy's neck is already thick enough. Complimenting him or even thanking him wasn't necessary at all. His left index finger reached for the cuts in his lips. "How long is this going to take to heal?" He asked Kalan, knowing full well that the guy wasn't much of a talker. He didn't seem to have the highest impression of humanity as a race, so it made sense for him not to want to talk much, especially since he's already living in a 'weak' human body.

Jasper was walking back to his own house, one he had paid for with his parents' money after Kalan ended their lives to essentially set Jasper free. However, on the way there he witnessed an unfamiliar couple ending their relationship. The woman was very passionately telling the guy what he did wrong and that she was in the right to search love in someone else. Oh, so she cheated, but she blames him? Not quite original, is it? Jasper wasn't too amused by this couple fighting in public, but he knew that Kalan loved to see such a passion in someone. And he loved crushing that energy, that spirit. "Again?" Jasper asked. "Watch and learn, kid." As Kalan decided to take charge, and Jasper wasn't planning on telling the guy no for once, the human body started walking faster as to block the woman in her path after the guy had finally left her alone. When she walked to another direction, pressing her handbag against her hip, the body moved towards that direction faster. The only way he allowed her to go was in an alley. No one else on the streets seemed to bothered by it. It must have been because of her fighting her now ex boyfriend in public. People didn't consider that in this moment a guy was indeed bothering her.

The woman did exactly what Kalan wanted. She went into the alley, walked towards the end and pressed her back against the wall. The scared eyes were fixed on Jasper's creepy wide grin and large eyes filled with excitement. His face hardly looked human anymore. The fact that his body was already covered in blood splatters didn't help either. In a single movement Jasper took the dagger out of its pocket and put it horizontally in his mouth. His tongue was licking the sharp parts of the weapon as he looked at his next victim. These kind of moments he enjoyed so much. The woman tried to beg Jasper to go away, knowing full well that there was no chance she was going to leave this place alive. She tried to get her phone out of her handbag, but Jasper immediately threw a spike made out of his own blood at her hand. The spike went completely through it, causing the woman to freak out even more. This time she was becoming loud, so Jasper had to act fast. He used the blood from the woman's hand to make spikes out of her own blood, even going inside her own body instead of only hitting her from the outside. The woman stopped breathing. Her heart stopped. The lovely moment was over.

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

Etiquette is not a priority, Puriel said. Get on with it.

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 no. 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. Shit. 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?

And you said I was stalling, Cherry grumbled.

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

When the girl introduced herself, Jasmine quickly got to work on her phone. With a few gestures, she set her phone to record and tucked it into her pocket. “Well Cherry, if you know of me than you know of my reputation and the mistake you and your little demon friend made.” When she started on a little rant about how God was probably too busy to speak to her directly, Jasmine let a sneer cross her face. This wasn't the first demon that brought up the far too busy for you ploy. It's not as if Jasmine had not pondered it in her life a few times. Everyone does but when you literally get visions from angels and magical gifts from God, you can't exactly deny him. Yes, he may not directly answer her but his angels do and that's proof enough for her.

When the girl grew silent, Jasmine saw a shift in their aura. The girl's aura reduced even more in size and the demonic one swelled to almost incorporate the body's whole form. In that instance, Jasmine understood that it was the demon in control now and not the girl and when the demon spoke about her releasing Bruno because he was innocent and wasn't deserving of harm, she allowed her eyebrows to rise in surprise. It's not every day you found a demon that still cared about such things as innocence or worthiness. However, before she could answer the demon, Rufus spoke up first.

“Did he just call me a dog?” Rufus asked Jasmine without taking his eyes off the demon. Jasmine felt her lips quirk up in a hint of a smile, reaching down to give Bruno a gentle pat on the top of his head.

“I believe he was talking about Bruno.”

“No, I think he was talking about me. It's rude calling people a dog, you know,” Rufus said as he addressed the demon once more.

Jasmine turned to face Rufus, her lips perched together like she just tasted something sour. “Why would he call you a dog?”

“Cause I'm deviously handsome and free of sin, you know, the usual.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes before locking them once more on the demon in front of them. “No one is free of sin, Rufus.”

“The dog is.” Rufus said as he nodded his head towards Bruno.

Jasmine pinched the bridge of her nose and gave a deep sigh. “Then he had to have been talking about the dog, yeah?”

Rufus narrowed his eyes on the demon as he pondered what she said before he responded. “Touche.” Jasmine shook her head deeply. Sometimes she just couldn't with these people. Maybe if she asked the demon nice enough, it would dispatch her right then and there. However, before she could say anything more, another came barreling into the alleyway. Jasmine could hear the footsteps as the girl came around the corner and her eyes locked on the girl who appeared. Her aura was alone, so not demon possessed. She could see small flickers of magic coming from something on her hip and from the shape of it, it looked like a sword. So a knight, possibly. Someone came to their aid and quickly as well. Jasmine gave a pleased nod before she turned her eyes back to the demon. Now her odds were much better. They could do this.

Except that right at that moment, she felt a presence on her shoulders and she shuttered. Her grip on Bruno's harness tightened until her knuckles were white. No. Not now, damnit. Her eyes fluttered closed and her body stiffened as a vision flashed behind her eyes. She saw the angel born, convulsing on the ground, blood flowing from her nose. She watched as the girl who had just joined them had dragged her out of public view and blessed her before running to them. Voices sung to her, spoke to her about the trials of the girl, about her troubles and how she needed them right at that moment.

Rufus peered back at her for a moment before he stepped more in front of her to block the demon's sight of her. “I'm afraid you're going to have to go through us if you want to get to her.” He could tell that Jasmine was having a rather intense vision at that moment. It wasn't unheard of for prophets to get visions at inconvenient times but to get one right before a fight and for it to be so intense, the angels usually knew better than that. It did no one any good if the prophet was killed in mid vision because they couldn't defend themselves while receiving the message. It must be pretty important for her to be getting it right now.

Avalon carefully advanced down the alleyway. She was not in the most prime position with her back exposed to the open portal to the street but it couldn't be helped. Steel threaded through her grey eyes as they locked onto the three. Her whole body honed in, ready to explode into action. Insincts and muscle memory both at play. Carefully she got the long dagger ou of he pocket, holding it loosely at her side, keeping the vial in her pocket, out of view of the demon.

She caught the end of the conversation about the dog, a stalling distraction manoever if ever she heard one. Although, in Rufus' defence they were trained to fight and protect, not be diplomatic with conversation. Pretty words were more than domain of the Prophets and the Angelborn. For her, and her fellows, they were taught strategy, and how to fight. How to defend, how to keep all senses trained on the target, your charge, and constantly assess for other issues. And one of those issues was going to be noise drawing attention of onlookers. This would have to be fast.

Or not at all.

She continued her slow advance, focusing on keeping herself between the demon and its path to freedom. But more than that, she noticed the change in Rufus' stance, blocking the prophet completely from view. Tension radiating further through his body. She could also no longer see the Prophet, but she knew it wasn't good. She could make an educated guess at the situation, and she hoped that there was a good reason for this exact moment to be blessed by Heaven. And not, say, five minutes either side.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." Avalon muttered to herself what seemed to be the pertinent verse of the psalm until she was in close range of the original group. Then directing her focus to Rufus she told him in a low voice, "You need to get her out of here. Protect the radiant host."

Because he did. She could tangle up the demon long enough for them to get clear. His duty was to Jasmine, hers was to rid the world of the demon scourge or dying trying... at least until she got an assignment that wasn't just patrol. And that was exactly what she would do.

Alaina: Nephilim

So many voices screaming in her head, Alaina joined them screaming in her head at them to shut up. Just shut up and leave her alone! She didn’t feel her skin and clothes being dragged across rocks and concrete, didn’t feel broken lass digging at her skin as she was hauled into an alley.

And there was silence. Peace. Quiet. The voices were gone. It was like falling. Like the wall she’d always had there, pressing against her was gone. Wobbly as a whore after a 12 man bachelor party she used a wall to haul herself upwards.

Once on her feet she saw the shit going down in the alley. Looked like four against one? Didn’t matter, not her problem. Then the wind shifted, and heat ripped across her like an inferno in the middle of a blizzard.

Flashing back to the night of the massacre, she screamed, as she relived the sight of the demon ripping into flesh and bone. The ground shook, windows shattered, and the steel garbage dumpster buckled and collapsed in on itself. Crushed from within.

Iron escape ladders bent and twisted as security doors contorted from hinges. Gasping for air she sighed, “Demon.” before she collapsed. Spent. Let the demon kill her, make the voices stop finally. Let it be over.

Tommy the cutie. Tommy the one guy she'd thought about maybe, well, maybe never mattered. He was gone. The voices never stopped. The monsters never stopped chasing. Let them just kill her and end it.

Puriel barked out a harsh, one-beat laugh. “An honorable man would not espouse such hubris. You are a dog, yes, but a vain beast cowed by no master. To speak so frankly with your prophet is a disgrace.”

With a sidelong glance at Jasmine: “Collar his corpse.”

They struck swiftly. There must be no hesitation—Puriel now shared in their human frailty. Cherry dove forward, ducking beneath the gun with supernatural speed and slamming her body into his left shin. He stumbled but did not fall, twisting to a more advantageous position—yet in doing so, he lowered the gun just slightly enough for her to grab the barrel and yank it down. A shot went off. Cracked the cement. Echoed down the alley. Christ, they'd gotten too used to silencers… damn knights and their glory. Fingers burning around the metal, she wrested it from his hands using the momentum from a roll to the side. Puriel detested the way she fought. Brutish, instinctive, wild—she couldn't name an actual maneuver to save her life. Though they doubted the street fights of her youth ever taught her one. In this brawl as in others, they yearned for the vicious discipline of a sword… but this was no time for daydreaming. A wave of adrenaline crashed through her veins, loosed from the tap by Puriel. No use spending magic when there were biological bolsters available.

With a gleeful screech, Cherry cracked the barrel across the man's face. Infernal flame peeled from the bullet-seared chamber, boiling the skin-cartilage-blood of his nose. He cried out. Punched her in the stomach—excellent form—and followed it up with a slash from some unseen blade. Cherry giggled and hit him again. His nose was going to fall right off his face at this rate.

Guns contain bullets, Puriel advised flatly. You might consider using them.

Cherry ignored them, high on combat. Sighing internally, they let her fight (bam bam bam liver damage bam bam ulna fracture bam knuckle contusion goddamn it was gonna take a lot of effort to heal her), turning their attention to the prophet. But it was not their target their gaze caught on—rather, the body slumped at the entrance to the alley. Shit. How had they not noticed that? They were becoming as reckless as Cherry. Speaking of recklessness: she could probably handle herself. They needed to confirm the figure was not an enemy.

Unfurling a mental tendril towards the woman, they heard her speak more through the mind than the mouth. “Demon.”

Excitement fizzled through them. Could it be…?

Horrific images overwhelmed her, strobing like an epileptic's nightmare. Demons. Demons that she was helpless to stop. That she did not understand. Oh, how they wanted to probe deeper, but could not. This was no mortal mind.

Nephilim.

God must have misplaced a miracle. Here, before them, an angelborn (an angelborn!), untouched by the corrupting hands of the knights. Blessedly ignorant of God's lies. That He could demonstrate the deadly sin of pride, that He could wipe His angels’ memory and expect them to follow nonetheless… that was proof enough that the principles, not their creator, must be followed. This angel would understand. Puriel would make them.

Tuning back into the body, they gave pain a clinical ackowledgement. The knight was beating the shit out of Cherry, and having his shit beaten out in kind. Good to see humans playing fair. Puriel seized Cherry's arm, pulled the trigger, and blew his brains out with a bullet of pure brimstone.

“Hey!” she cried aloud, as if thinking it at them wasn't enough. “He was mine!”

We have a new directive. We will obtain the nephilim.

The what?

Hissing through Cherry's teeth, Puriel took a heartbeat to consider. They had killed the knight in a matter of seconds. The others would be on them in less than that—it was the grace of Lucifer alone that had allowed them what little time they'd stolen. The prophet had to die. And yet. And yet and yet and yet… they would not be granted this opportunity again.

They dashed towards the angel.

Everything happened so quickly. One moment Rufus was beating on the demon girl and getting his shit beat in just the same then the next, he was staring down the barrel of his own gun. It was like time stood still as his whole body froze. Well damn. He cursed himself at the sight. Knights know better than to let their weapon get away from them and instead of focusing on getting it back, he focused on trying to put the demon down as quickly as possible. Now he stared his mistake in the face, the metal, round, and deadly face. A loud crack of death and Rufus fell onto a heap on the ground, his head a bloody mess of unrecognizable gore.

Jasmine was trapped within her vision, getting far more information than she needed, that was until the crack of a gun shot rang out and her eyes snapped open. She was in a mid phase, still trapped somewhere between vision and recognition of the world around her. It was disorienting and she could still feel the weight of the angels' hands on her shoulders. They tried to continue the vision but she struggled to pull from it, looking around herself. She didn't see Rufus anymore, dread quickly piling in her chest at the thought of what could have happened. Her eyes quickly scanned the area, skimming over the other knight, the demon, and then a blinding presence there on the ground at the entrance of the alleyway. For a moment, even the weight of the angels lessened as realization dawned on what she was seeing. Angel born!

More information was thrust into Jasmine's mind from the angels that now understood the situation far more than she could hope to. Aliana. The angel born they had just been instructing her about had arrived and exposed herself to the demon. They needed to protect her from the demon. The demon that was just now turning towards the girl, carefully stepping over Rufus as she did so.

Jasmine turned her eyes towards the demon possessed, a wind kicking up around her. She had to protect this child and keep her safe at all costs. This was her purpose in life. This was why she was given visions. This was why the angels spoke to her and why she blinded herself all those years ago. The wind picked up, her hair swirling around her as if she was trapped in a gale. She gave a whistle command and Bruno ran off away from her to go plant himself against a wall of the nearest building.

She cut her hand through the air in front of her and a wave of wind followed it's path, cutting through the air like a knife and heading directly towards the demon. She continued the assault as she waved her hands back and forth, up and down, sending cut after cut of wind knives directly towards the demon. With each new move of her hands, she took a step towards the angel born. The angels remained on her shoulders, filling her in on her path, telling her if there was any debris along the way, instructing her of anything that may stop her from protecting the angel born.

Being stuck in this half vision form was painful. She could feel the back of her head on fire like back of her brain was combusting but she knew that this information they were giving her was essentially in this battle. Rufus was dead, she wasn't sure how skilled the other knight was going to be, and this angel born was not ready to fight. Jasmine could not see the damage she had done to the area around her but the angels had instructed her and she understood. Aliana was a strong nephilim but she had no control. She would need to be sealed and slowly released as she gained control before her powers destroyed her from the inside out. But first, Jasmine had to make sure they all got out of this alive, or at least the few that were left alive anyways. Mourning would have to wait.

Alaina: Nephilim

A long long time ago in a city far far away….

Sunday
It was her birthday and during mass she started to bleed. Her brother made fun of her. She was freaking out that she was dying. Her father was embarrassed, her mother was mothering her. They left Mass early and she didn’t get communion.

Monday
She saw the weird guy standing across the street from her school staring at the building. She reported it to the nun and even pointed at him. The nun told her to stop making things up, no one was there. The headache came on suddenly, and hard enough that it was like a billion bees inside her head.

Tuesday
A strange lady, one she’d never seen before followed Seraphina and her friends to the bus stop, she even got on with them. And of course Becky had to sing her name like it was a game. But every time she did the woman winced and clenched her teeth tighter. Becky got off the bus and the woman moved closer. And then Seraphina was off the bus and she ran the two blocks to her house. She took four aspirin for her headache and cuddled around a hot blanket as her skull tried to exploded.

Wednesday
She saw him again, on the far side of the street, but this time he was watching her. And he was angry. So angry. His face twisted into a scowl of rage and hate. She went inside and pointed him out to the Pastor. Father Thomas said he’d come by the house that night but never did.

The buzzing in her head had her throwing up that night, but her father insisted she go to school. He wasn’t going to baby her, she was a woman now. Time to act like it.

Thursday
The man was back at the school, Father Thomas hadn’t come in today. The woman was at the bus stop when she got home and tried to grab her, but she’d twisted out of the way. Another was standing at the door to her house so she ran around the back and went in through the garage. Dropping to her knees she prayed for her parents to get home soon. They’d called the cops and made a report, and she’d told them about everything happening during the week. She was told ‘you’re imagining things’ and the cops left. She could hear them talking about ‘stupid hysterical girls’.

Good thing she didn’t tell the cops that the woman and men had seemed .. off… like their faces were fuzzy and twitchy.

Friday…
No strange people at school or nearby, but Father Thomas was still out. He’d always looked out for her, she was his favorite pupil. He’d told her once that he was ex-military and if she was ever in danger or felt unsafe, she could call him. He’d protect her.

The Lakehouse was on tv and she had a blanket and bucket of popcorn. Her parents were on the couch,snuggled together and her brat of a brother was in his room playing video games. Probably something their father would disapprove of.

Popping a few kernals into her moth she watched Keanu painting the deck as the dog ran across the wet paint. Spitting out the popcorn – it tasted nasty – she winced as the background buzzing in her head burst into words.

She could her her mother talking about what she was going to do to her father later – with her mouth. He was talking about work. Her brother was screaming DIE!DIE!DIE! YOU FUCKING CHEATER! And someone was ringing the doorbell. Kill Everyone, and make sure that bitch takes a while.

Grumbling her father answered the door, it was two cops. Not the same ones. She saw their eyes. Like burning coals of hate and rage and pain.

One of the cops grabbed her fathers arm and wrenched him off balance, dislocating the shoulder and kicking him in the knee. She could hear him screaming in her head! It hurt so much. Vomiting popcorn and soda she hit the floor as her mother screamed at the cops.

The room was getting darker, the lights going out, the tv was static and then black. Her brother came out of his room wearing his boxers and carrying a baseball bat. He swung at a cop but the man just grabbed the moving bat like it was motionless, absorbing the speed without blinking.

Then he beat her brother to death with it. But he didn’t just hit his head. He broke his legs and arms, then went to work on his chest. The first cop was.. eating her mother. Ripping fingers off to chew before swallowing. A dark haze was sliding across their skin. Like they had two skins. She new what they’d do to her. They were talking about her like she was a main course.

She ran. Barefoot and wearing shorts and t-shirt she ran. She didn’t stop to open the back door, she went through the glass and hit the ground rolling. Falling into the pool she climbed out the far side and kept running. She heard a splash behind her, and then screams that weren’t human. Father Thomas had told her once he’d blessed the pool so she couldn’t drown. Had he really blessed it ad turned it to holy water?

Going over the fence she kept running, crossing the road behind the house she could feel the demons ht breath on her neck as she darted through traffic. A squeal of tires. A crunch of metal and glass.

She ran. When she stopped to breathe her side hurt like she’d been stabbed. But she wasn’t bleeding and there wasn’t any cut. Looking around she headed for Father Thomas. He could help.

The Rectory door had been closed, but it wasn’t locked. Slipping inside she called for the Father, but the place was cold and silent. She found him in the living room. He’d been crucified upside down. His head had been taken and his blood used to draw nasty symbols on the floor. She never saw the hidden room behind the bookcase, or the armory within.

Sonny didn't like what he saw when he saw the woman and what looked like her boyfriend leave the coffee shop with the pup...and the other two. There was something about them and the rest of their party that smelled off. His brain was suggesting for him to be invasive about the situation. It was almost like what happened that supermarket, except he was concerning himself with keeping an eye on them. It was as though they were all on their way out of the shop as soon as they came in.

He waited a while to collect himself. Around here, listening to this gut instinct gets you labeled as a weirdo who can't mind their own business. There was little to nothing to work off of for this baseless concern either.

But, then again, there was what happened at the supermarket. What if someone got seriously hurt? It's not like that group seemed to be friendly. The one with the dog looked disturbed --- whatever the look could be called. It seemed sort of complicated. She had a lot going on in that moment, it seemed, when the others concerned themselves with her.

Maybe he needed to call the cops.

He replayed the moment they all left the shop in his head all over again. She didn't look like she was going to leave, she seemed like she was in a pretty comfortable position and was going to be there for a little while longer for work or something like that. She was clearly blind but the ear buds gave the impression things would be a while. There was also that guy with her who didn't particularly seem to be in a rush.

As Sonny waited in line to submit an order, he kept replaying what he saw of the group in his head trying to justify the perturbances with the smallest behaviors he can recall. From the placements of their arms, their distances from one another, and the looks their faces had while engaging each other; he made certain to overthink the situation. He may have been a failing comedian, but, he could read a room full of books just as well as a pro at his level in the game. The problem he had wasn't the social side of things. Sonny just sucked at making people laugh.

It definitely wasn't a stretch to say only the woman and the man she came in with weren't friends with whoever that was that put them on edge. It was totally accurate, in his brain, that there was clearly a problem between the person who approached that blind woman. There had to be. What blind person reacts to someone being there with that kind of timing? It was like it was out of a story or something like that.

Maybe Sonny was just being a creep. Sure, he people watched from time to time trying to understand them and their business he could rarely hear. For fun, he'd fill in the details on his own. He relished in grand assumptions and mad libs. So, perhaps, he wasn't being entirely creepy...aside from watching people like a pigeon waiting for its bread. If he could, he'd make money doing this kind of stuff. He was stuck in fiber optics though. He was just a dude who did nothing for long periods of time on the job, like he was doing now, off the job site, waiting until the managers get freaked out by a heads up from the company V.P. who ran the whole racket.

What a racket.

When he grabbed his coffee from the counter there was a gunshot.

Sonny had a feeling.

He ran outside and there was an alley.

He called the cops and gave them the location. Like the snitch he always was.

He was scared to go into the alley, but he walked to the corner of it anyways.

There was the man who was with the blind woman. And everyone else.

Kyle could always recall the grip of worry. It belonged to him. And later he learned it was abnormal. In a way he had always feared the fear. That ‘almost knowing’. The odd things that followed the fear. That reinforced his gut feelings. It was a vicious cycle of bolting then resting, then running once again. It had become a way of life to run. To escape from the sense of dread that crept over him. It had tangled itself so deeply in his being Kyle wasn’t sure he could ever be free of it. Summer coming up and this new gig that was sure to change that. He would do personal study. Maybe learn a language. Make something of himself. Steel his gut and this intuition! It would be grand! A new future on the horizon. A turning of a page! An unwritten chapter! He would be-

A pang struck the lad and he practically tossed himself up a light pole. The picture of a frightened cat. Clung to the metal, coppery scented at the contact of his sweaty palms. The worn rubber soles of his running shoes slipped as he scanned his surroundings. He swallowed thickly, absently adjusting his grip, looking for the source of the ache in his gut.

Had he overreacted again. The street was relatively clear aside from a few people tossing him odd looks. Kyle could tell this feeling of detached vitriol did not belong to them. It was a strong feeling. Near overwhelming. Despite wishing to rid himself of the feeling, he focused on it for a moment. Just to try and decipher it. But as always it was just a feeling. An urge to get away. Something or someone had to be nearby with a nasty attitude. Hopefully just that. It pained him to think about picking up and leaving this place so soon. It had only been a week. The position at Saucy's started in less than thirty-hours.

The ache worsened as the teen slid back to the ground, careful to observe where exactly his toes touched down. Sighing so deeply he saw stars for a moment. The twitchiness began rapidly, fingers clenching and unclenching at his side, near jogging in place.

This is not good.

Not good indeed. God he was going to be sick. He knew that smoked salmon bagel smelled fishy this morning. The feeling wormed its way up his spine, gripping the sane part of his brain and tossing it to the wayside. Ears locked on to the distant sound of a bang. It couldn’t be more than a few blocks down, by the coffee shop on third. Fire ripped through his gut like never before, panic holding him hostage for as long as it could manage before he was running.

Bolting down the uneven sidewalk, easily hopping a bike rack and dodging the people up early, heading to their mundane morning meetings. It always awed Kyle how little they could tell was happening around him. And right now they had no clue he was running straight into the clutches of hell itself. But he knew. Kyle could tell this was the worst idea he ever had.

It proved right. Rounding the corner to the alleyway behind a quaint little unassuming coffee shop, near bumping into an older man. The scent of espresso could not save him from the distinct smell of blood. Unable to stand still. Quickly cataloging the people before him.

Good.

Good.

Passed out?

Dead.

Neutral.

Bad.

Scratch that. Really bad. Cute but clearly very not good.

“You shouldn’t be here old man!” Kyle shouts announcing his presence at the stout dude near the entrance of the alleyway. “It’s dangerous!”

With little thought, Kyle is darting in between the onlookers. Sliding to his knees beside a young girl. He almost retches at the viceral feeling of horror that overwhelms him upon touching her. He hauls her up as if it is nothing, sprinting back towards the opening of the alley. Wind whipping against his back. The feeling of teeth at his throat urging him. Not allowing him to falter.

What the fuck am I doing? I should leave. Leave. Leave. The negative energy coming off the girl across his shoulders tightened the muscles there, filling him with stress.

A few sharp corners and loud apologies aimed at businessmen later, Kyle sees it. His knight in shining armor! Cocopuff, the 2001 Toyota Corolla in all its aged glory.

“Holy shit!” Kyle’s leaping haphazardly over a railing, hitting the ground hard on the other side. Near crumpling at the impact and the added weight tossed over his shoulders. And all he can do is stagger them into the side of his car, nearly throwing the woman's body across the hood. Luckily the alarm died out long ago. The door squeaked open and he managed a sheepish wave to a woman and her puppy across the sidewalk watching in horror as he unceremoniously threw the unconscious woman in his passenger seat. Leaping over the top of the car to hop into the driver's seat quicker.

“Seatbelts for safety.” Kyle said to the woman. Jamming the key into the ignition and then– Cocopuff stutters, rumbles. Doesn’t turn over.

“No. No, come on. Not now! I just kidnapped a woman!” A feeling of dread is creeping up his spine yet again. Calling to him. Asking where he will go now. How he will escape.

The vivid image of a gun in the hands of that not quite human looking woman strikes him with nausea. He’s trying again. Attempting to do anything. To rectify the situation he had gotten himself into. Kyle couldn’t leave her. Could tell the others were defending her. He should have stopped to think, but God was he bad at that.

Movement at the mouth of the alley drew Avalon's attention sideways, away agian from the demon. The girl from earlier seemed to have recovered, and had hauled herself upright. 'Praise God for his mercies,' was her first thought, relief that the girl was ok. Avalon was prepared for a lot. Always. Being a legacy from a long line of legacies she had Knighthood in her blood, and aimed to live up to the expectations of that legacy. The moment of relief was almost immediately followed by one of trepidation, 'why couldn't she have stayed out cold for another 5 minutes?' And then a combo of terror and frustration as the alley tried to crumple in on itself, and the figure screamed the word demon loud enough for the world to hear before fainting once more.

And that moment of distraction for her meant she missed the start of the actual fight. The gun shot was loud, if the girl screaming bloody murder hadn't drawn attention then that would. This fight was now on a timer - 'why didn't he use aa silencer, the fool!' - and Rufus was not doing nearly as well as she hoped. The second shot left no room for messing up. Rufus was killed, by his own firearm no less - rookie level error. No time to focus on that though. No, she had a Prophet in the middle of Prophecy, and an Angelborn who was as vulnerable as a babe. She was going to have to choose, hellspawn it.

The demon was closer to Jasmine, and the head of this Chapter was her main priority. Losing a new angelborn wouldn't be great but losing Jasmine would be worse. Decision made she moved to engage the demon and rescue Jasmine when the demon changed its tracks. Great, it had noticed the angelborn too and was going for the tastier treat. She moved to intercept, lobbing the vial of holy water from her pocket in a way that it would hit and smash directly in its face, sending it with a quick prayer that the demon wouldn't notice until it was too late. The vial was swiftly replaced with the second dagger from her waistband, and she was very aware not only of the cumbersome bag on her back, but that she had brought knives to a gunfight and she wasn't even wearing protection.

'Today,' she mused internally, 'is just not my day.'

But maybe Heaven did smile on them, as Jasmine seemed to come to, guided by the angels and flinging cutting wind at the demon, even as Avalon engaged, a whirlwind of sharp, rune etched, blessed steel. Each cut causing terrible pain to demonkind. Even as she compartmentalized Rufus, and had to let the woman snatcher take her precious Angelborn as she dealt with the problem in front of her. Instinct told her that the girl would be ok. Heaven has its plans.

Cherry screamed bloody murder despite the fact that she was not the one being bloodily murdered. Yet. The prophet seemed intent on remedying that. Blades rained down on her, fast as drops in a deluge, agonizing and overwhelming. Weapons hurt, but holy weapons hurt; each slash cut right through mortal flesh to Puriel themself. It was a blinding pain. Cherry stopped mid-stride to swivel towards her assailant and raised a hand—but no magic came.

Puriel! she cried, trying and failing to dodge the blows. Jesus fuck, a little help here?

It had been quite some time since the demon was subjected to holy power. Whatever callus they grew had long given way to raw skin. All they could do was think, childishly, that it hurt.

Puriel!

Ah. Clawing at their magic reserves, Puriel chided themself. Humans were not a permissible source of pain. This was a disgrace.

In an effort to remedy the situation, Puriel ripped out Cherry's ribcage and pulled the ribs up around her torso as morbid armor. Dense muscle shielded the slats—bone was expensive. They were going to need a lot of calcium after this. The fact that Cherry didn't complain about them ruining her shirt was cause enough for concern. Against her instinct, Puriel lurched the body forward, continuing to run towards the angelborn. Dodging was useless. They could only hope the armor wouldn't be shredded before they reached the girl.

What the hell are you doing? The prophet's gonna kill us if we don't kill her first!

The nephilim must not escape. We will not waste time eliminating threats when we can withstand them.

But the whole reason we came here was the prophet! Are we really just—

Holy water hit their face in a searing arc, evaporating all thought. Puriel retaliated instantly, unhinging their jaw and firing a full set of teeth in the knight's general direction. They gasped. Pushed further into a sprint. A waste of resources—they would have to pray they met their mark.

Puriel refocused, stopping short just before the girl.

But the girl was there no longer.

Wrenching their gaze up, they caught a man running away with their prey. Shit. Shit! They could not let him get away. Picking up the pace, Puriel tore after him, feet pounding against the asphalt and out of the alleyway. A siren blared in the distance. Puriel stumbled, a dozen contusions and double the slashes screaming with every step they took.

You're still conscious, Puriel said, more command than question.

Fuck, Cherry replied.

They hissed a rushed exhale. They had started the fight with a perfectly healthy body, and the prophet had nearly incapacitated it in seconds. The fact a knight had accompanied her at all seemed ridiculous, in retrospect—Puriel would be offended if they were her. That knight was a fucking joke by any standards, but compared to the prophet? Goddamn.

The body staggered again. Unacceptable. Puriel reversed the ribs and stretched them into long, spindly arcs. Like a spider's legs. They used them as such, body dangling a good six inches off the ground as they skittered down the street. Screw discretion. The neighborhood could rationalize this however they damn well pleased. Puriel was gaining on the man, but not fast enough—he ducked into a car and dumped the angelborn in the passenger seat before they could reach him. They screeched in fury. The engine stalled. The engine stalled.

Without hesitation, they dove into the right rear window and shattered it, sliding across the seat and hitting the opposite door with a thunk.

Hallelujah.

“Be not afraid,” Puriel gasped, chest heaving. “I will do you no harm. Just drive.”

Information was coming in faster than Jasmine could process and she felt like her head was going to explode. Multiple angels were trying to get her to notice multiple things all at once. She focused on only the demon possessed, trying to keep her mind focused as best as she could. When someone came in and snatched the angel born, there was a loud blare of alarm that made her head ring like a bell at evening mass. She reached up and clenched her temple, whirling around to see someone with the same glowing aura of an angel born running off with her charge. She took a step forward but faltered as she felt like a blood vessel in her head was throbbing with each step. “Release me or kill me.” She told the angels. If this vision in between went on much longer, she was use she would have a brain aneurysm.

The angels pulled from her and her vision finally came to an end, allowing her to take a deep breath for the first time since they touched her shoulders. She wavered a moment, the gale around her finally coming to an end. The demon got away, the angel born was kidnapped, Rufus was dead. She had failed, miserably. Even with the aid of the angels on her shoulders, she had failed miserably.

The sounds of sirens off in the distance could be heard as police began to make their way to the scene. Jasmine gave a deep sigh as she slowly turned back towards Rufus and retraced her steps. She almost stumbled over Rufus on the ground before she dropped to her knees and began to dig around in his pockets and began pulling everything from him. She would leave the body for the police to find but they didn't need to know about the knights. She pulled his wallet out and fumbled with it as she began to pull card after card out, feeling each card for the laminated touch of a license. She was trying to work quickly but her hands were beginning to shake and her eyes were starting to tear up.

She wanted more than anything to throw everything to the side and curse the demon who did this to one of the nicest guys she had ever met but she had a task to do. They needed to get out of here and quickly. They now had two angel borns to find and the damn demon went chasing after them. Her hands shook with anger and grief just thinking about it. She found it even hard to focus on her task until Bruno walked over and laid his head down on her lap.

Her hand dropped down to his head and she took a deep breath. She continued to go through the cards until she finally felt the slick surface of the license. She pulled it and reached out to feel along Rufus, her hand finding his arm first. She followed it to his shoulder and then his chest. She rested the license in the middle of his chest but left her hand on his chest for a moment as she closed her eyes. “May God accept your soul and guide you to the gates so you may rest in forever peace.”

A small tear rolled down her cheek and she reached up to wipe it away, leaving a small streak of blood on her cheek like war paint. She packed all the things she found on his body in her bag before she stood. She reached into her pocket and pulled out an ear bud, tucking it into her ear. “Hey Google, send a message to Headquarters.” She grabbed a hold of Bruno's harness and prepared to leave the alley for the cops to find. “Gather the knights and the prophets. We have a mission.” She made to leave the alley.

The woman whose life Kalan had just ended, was lying motionless on the ground right before Jasper's feet. For a minute he thought of doing something about the dead body, but he knew that it would be a pain and that his fingerprints were nowhere to be found. There was no reason to do something that tedious. That's why he left the alley with both his weapon and his clothes being even bloodier than they already were. He put the dagger back in the pocket against his neck and started walking down the street. However, only a couple of minutes later he was already stopped by two police officers. This was a case of bad luck. Apparently something had been going on close by and him being covered in red splatters was very suspicious. They wondered if he had anything to do with it. Luckily, he already had his excuse prepared. Kalan quickly gave the control over the body back to Jasper as he knew that Jasper was better at getting out of these kinds of situations without using violence. Even an impulsive guy like Kalan was smart enough to know that using violence in such a public place was a bad idea.

"Good morning, officers. It's a beautiful day to take a walk outside, isn't it?" The officers weren't amused with his attempt at small talk. They wanted him to get to the point and explain the splatters on his clothes. They didn't seem to notice the weapon on his back. That must mean that Jasper did a good job at hiding the pocket and the weapon inside it. You couldn't even see a bump if you didn't know about it. "Look, I am but a simple artist who tries to make a profession out of their hobby. The fresh air and the beautiful sights are a great inspiration for my work. I have to admit that I do not always think before I leave the house, which is how I end up outside with my work clothes on."

At the front of his shirt was also a pocket on the inside. In this pocket were a couple of pictures of his latest works. "I can be quite clumsy, that's how I end up with paint all over myself and I am not always in the mood to do laundry. Currently, I literally have no clothes without any kind of paint on them and as you can clearly see, red is my favorite color. You might even have heard of me. The name is Jasper Raven." The name did seem familiar to one of the two officers. He once bought his work as a present for his niece, so he trusted the explanation Jasper had given them. They apologized for bothering him and left. Kalan was happy about getting away with the blood all over the body, while Jasper couldn't help but think about how angry his parents would have been knowing that he became a professional artist. The imagined angry faces of his mother and father gave him joy. He started walking down the street, while trying to ignore Kalan who was already on the lookout for his next victim. Jasper wondered how many lives it would take for his hunger to satisfied? Jasper loved the adrenaline, but a break couldn't hurt once in a while. However, he knew that he was never going to refuse Kalan. That was simply not an option.

Didn't have to tell him twice to leave. Sonny left, back into the shop.

If the cops wanted to talk with him they could do it in there where he could ease his nerves over another cup. He watched the line for coffee diffuse and the workers stalled in their workflows.

He sat there in silence behind the ambience of people startled and struck by the bystander phenomenon. The alley was too close for them all not to hear the gunshot.

Sonny just sat in silence.

It's the supermarket all over again except I wasn't being attacked this time, he thought, I can only hope someone saved them like I was saved. Hopefully no one is dead. It was a lofty want.

See: Rufus doesn't know he's a prophet. Because of that gift, he's just a regular person who sometimes gets strange inklings through dreams and waking moments. They can be small hints of things, or, they can be full on messages. He initially thought he was schizophrenic until those inklings and messages came to be with higher and higher frequency. So often they were not saying something that was supposed to happen immediately. There was a delay that seemed whimsical. However, it was those immediate messages that freaked him out the most.

He recently came back to faith. In the Book named Corinthians it states that in the nearing end times, which we all already live in from the moment The Revelation made certain to clarify we are, prophets would become common. The Gift of Tongues and the Gift of Prophecy, in Corinthians, is stated to be for the faithful and the faithful servants. Tongues was for evangelism --- spreading the word to save. Prophecy was to bring certainty to the future with God --- to bring clarity as to what will be happening and why. Together, Prophecy and Tongues awaken the soul from its blind slumber in the body it is bound to.

With that said, just because you have the gifts doesn't mean you're some magical authority. They don't belong to you, they belong to God, and if you use those gifts outside of God's work --- God's need --- then your soul is still asleep while the body is spewing both like an alarm clock that won't be shut off until the soul gets up.

Do YOU do God's work, or, are you being used by God so work can be done? Can you tell the difference between being used and being possessed by a demon whose task from Satan is to appear like a monolithic deity like God itself? Are you a wolf in sheep's clothing or a sheep in wolf's clothing? Sonny couldn't answer the questions on his own. He wanted to believe that he knew which from that, and, that from which.

Because of the gunshot the staff wasn't making more coffee. He left for his apartment. He should have known they weren't going to commit to work, that'd be crazy especially if someone died.