Divinity

    Divinity

    This was different to anything she had done before. She had been told it was not a man that was the target this time but a monster. Not a monster kind of man. A real monster with the power to dilute human minds. It was more dangerous than anything she had had as a target before. She had done research, the same as with any other case, but without finding a single trace of the targets mere existence. All she had to go on was trust in the man that had asked her for this. A man that was in the shadows somewhere watching. She trusted him with her life.
    The pulse got stronger as she thought about it. Her kevlar-vest sat tight as the breath grew deeper. Heavy metal sat firmly in her hand, hidden in the pocket of her hoodie. He had helped her before but never asked anything in return. Always by a phone that he never could’ve known been there. Always with the exact information to perfect her solution. Always without her asking. This time he had asked and she would deliver.
    The target was dressed as a clergyman, walking the stair to the church port. She kept hidden amongst the trees surrounding the building. They were a fair way from any other buildings and had to walk a vague forest path to find it. The other had left her early on and vanished completely. Not much to her surprise. Had he not, she might have been disappointed.

    As the port closed, she moved out the tree-line and crossed the graveyard. Keeping low, keeping hidden. Crouching behind gravestones and watching the windows. She slowly lifted the pistol out her pocket, gently moving down the safety. She could see his shape move past one of the stained glass window. Had she been religious, she might have taken offence with the act that would be done. She might also have been committed to the act in the lords name. It felt more like an addiction at the moment. A thirst for the challenge to come.
    Moving forward, she gently touched the stones making the foundation as she sneaked beneath the windows. Trying to keep a check of the shadow cast inside. She could hear murmurs in a strange tongue, a language she could not understand yet sounded oddly familiar. The back door was locked but the old lock was easily opened. She checked the pistol once more. Everything moved the way it should, a bullet in the barrel. The door creaked lightly but the chant seemed only to grow louder.
    She moved through the rectory, ignoring the cloth and closets. Carefully she opened the door ever so slightly. Wide enough to see through the crack, she saw a man sitting on his knees before the cross of Jesus, holding his hands. There was some form of aura surrounding him, a weak light emitting from within him. She was in position and had to wait for the signal. The mans voice started to gnaw inside her mind and every attempt to clear her mind only seemed to make it worse.

    The door creaked open and she found herself crouching next to the priest. The song echoed in her mind even though his lips did not move. Wings of light seemed to weight heavy on his back and his eyes shone as he watched her. She was pitiful in his sight. She felt anguish for each time a bullet had been delivered into a target. Memories of every death played in front of her eyes. Scenes she had not participated in was showed, grieving widows and crying children. She felt sick from the burden. Her heart fell and the metal in her hand weighted of a thousand stones.
    Heartbeat.
    The church port suddenly splintered as another being entered the hall. With red glowing horns and a tail of fire. Sulphuric smell with the smoke from his mouth. A demons hand lifted and shot a ball of fire towards the priest and herself.
    Heartbeat.
    She forced her hand to move, though it felt like pulling an enormous weight. The angel turned towards the demon and rose his magnificent and glorious sword to the sky. Heavens retribution shot out of the walls. Hands and bodies of the angels themselves.
    Heartbeat.
    The demon used his bloody leather wings to ward against the divine light. Setting the world in hells dark fire. It was pushed to its hairy goat knees.
    Heartbeat.
    Fire did not harm the delicate angelic armour as he stepped forward. They spoke the pure language and the words created scenes.
    Heartbeat.
    The impure half-blood would return to the dark place of which it had been unleashed. Purity and sanctity was portrait as a sot-filled handkerchief. Spotted and dark. Only truly pure when folded and the filth hidden.
    Heartbeat.
    The world exploded in vain. Over and over again by her own hand. It was futile to think the apocalypse would be enough to stop either of them but something in her mind whispered beneath the song, convinced her to blow the world to pieces.
    Heartbeat.
    Angel disturbed and the demon got up from its grave. Bloody burning hands aimed for the throat. The armour broke to the touch and would not slow down its pace. Holy light shone as flesh separated from flesh and covered the demons hide.
    Heartbeat.

    As the priest fell to the ground the song ended. His head rolled across the midsection. Her friend stood, covered partly in blood, with a knife in his hand. Gently correcting his glasses he turned towards her and smiled. Thanking her for her resolve. She got to her feet, shaken but no more weighed down. Her pistol empty and smoking. He said a short prayer over the corpse, then walked over to her laying an arm around her and hugged her with the part of his coat not touched by the blood. Drying her tears with his sleeve. Safe. She felt safe.
    Later, after his change of clothes and while in the car leaving the church burning behind, he asked her what she had seen. After she had told him, he asked if it would stop her from aiding him again. “Hell no