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Quick kills No. 2

THE PARISH

Back when this all began...

I was confused, naturally, you're not supposed to enjoy seeing others in pain, let alone causing it. And yet, there was nothing like it, no greater pleasure for me than being the engine that churns one to transpire. To see and FEEL the life bleed from them, especially those whom would predate the innocent, I would predate the predators, and I would love, every, last, second. This revelation did not come easily, I spent years grappling with the idea before accepting myself, the monster of monsters, or. . .

"The wannabe saint." I chuckled every time that title walked over the inside of my noggin. Even with a positive twist, a decision had to be made, would I forsake any remaining bit of warmth for the sterile cold resolve of a morticians table? Or would I find some new calling, a new love, or pack mates to fill me with belonging and some pseudo sense of family? A spiritual checkup was needed, I'd been seeing beings, deities in my dreams and they often didn't leave me forgetting them in the waking hours.

*****

St Lutherans cathedral, as modest as any other gem in the lords robes, a living Victorian icon for a modern flock. It's rounded nave possessed a single large glass pane, marking the head priests office, watching all who approached. Today its curtains were shut, I admired the vibrant rosy crimson, holding my hand up and smiling while trudging inward.

Little did I know that just behind that curtain I marveled, a young girl was being scolded by two overly devout parents. One at each shoulder, asking the head priest to console their woes, to banish the demons afflicting their young daughter whom had just begun to blossom. With interlaced fingers, bent forward over his desk, long rabbit ears twitching, he assured,

"Leave her with the parish and I for the day, upon this evening your daughter will be one with the lords will again." He smiled, a warm friendly feigned reassurance that unfortunately, was accepted. The little raccoon sat, hands gripped upon her purple dresses brim, head hung low and somber.

*****

I passed a rather uptight looking church couple on my way in, their weary look of disbelief was how I expected today to go. A devil? in the CHURCH!? seeking guidance no less, the absurdity of it. Riff raff deemed worthless by most polite society had only one place it belonged, the dumpster, not worshipping in gods house.

And yet, I understood their pious sexuality and the desire to keep any unwanted, free and clear of it. Not for me, obviously, but these churches were always a nice visit. They emanated a feeling of warmth and welcome very few places did, especially, when empty. Solitude and a magnificent dose of holy feng shui were a match made in... well. My boots clopped a large red carpet, all the way to the front where I had my pick of any empty bench space. Before me stood a giant marble statue, as a scene from the crucifixion, surrounded by crosses and an army of burning candles. Behind that, a monumental stained rendition of the lord with open arms. While admiring the masters craft all around me, the thought struck,

"It's so quiet." Peace and solitudinal bliss are one thing, but an eerie quiet like this didn't belong. This empty golden solace I purviewed, it wasn't holy, it felt, familiar, a mask for insidiousness to hide. There should have been someone, anyone, tending the floor. To usher me out hurriedly, to try and convert one from below to his following, yet, nothing. No this was too perfect, a pristine house on a model plot and spotless insides, with cockroaches as insulation.

"Time to explore." I grinned at the thought, what was waiting to be found? My tail swayed in anticipation. I made my way off left to a stairway door, claws slowly wrapping it up to find the thing unlocked. Stairs going both up and down greeted me,

"Up or down?" Thoughts wandering to that magnificent red curtain I spied earlier,

"Oooooh, let's go see what the priest is up to." I could feel a naturally held grin, reinforced with a shiver that set my dorsal scales on end. The view was awfully lovely from several flights up, like an arena waiting to be filled with lost souls looking for answers, hope, direction. It was in this moment of marveling I heard the faintest squeal of agony, followed by what could only be splashing water. Unless the desire is to draw a devil near, one shouldn't commit such heinousness, like a moth to a flame, what I longed to savor was right where I thought it'd be. The Parish office, still bore old time key holed doors where I could peep a decent tom. Now, I'm all for a good time at the expense of another, so long as they be deserving, and of age. What I saw made my blood boil,

"In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit, WE CAST YOU OUT DEMON!" Six priests, all outfitted for an exorcism, all shouting cliche bullshit that never has nor ever will, work. Waving holy artifacts over a tied up, preteen girl, ball gagged and soaked, her fur blistering in patches and steaming. I saw one of them, moving to retrieve another hot pot, it had been awhile since I threw myself threw anybodies door, but just like riding a bike.

Both large parish office doors exploded inward, twisting off at the hinges, catching everyones guard. I followed up with a small fire blast, rearing back and launching it, cleaving the bears kneecaps, paws dumping a roiling pot of retribution all over his chest and face. He kicked and fought the air, screaming as his skin opened up, water marking the end of this medieval scene.

The look on those priests faces, oh it was priceless, merely suggesting that a demon caught them out on some truly wicked behavior. Their image would be permanently tarnished, oh the irony, I hope it wasn't lost on them. For one of the first times in my life I felt right where I belonged, purposeful. I could feel my eyes glowing, my anger flowing, this wondrous energy channeling through me, tongue speaking its own mind.

"Let the earth rejoice, as the wicked bathe in righteous fire." Smoke rolled from my nostrils, whipping inward while putting an arch to it. They panicked, splitting off in a group of two and one, attempting to escape their holy tomb. I unleashed, my fiery hell stream charring the immediate two then dragging it over the last. They kicked and screamed while trying to put themselves out, it was more harmonious than simply being downstairs. The little girl and the priest, sheesh, there's a bad joke hook if I ever heard one, were left stunned. Walls of walking fire and dead stood as an aisle toward the only way out, blocked by a devil. My head cocked, eyeing the priest,

"There's a window behind you, you're all mine unless you can break through." The vileness of my suggestion, it didn't miss as the priest began pissing himself, literally pooling the rug beneath him in rank urine. I walked to him, it wasn't until I was within half a foot that he began backing. His fur pressed the large pane, eyes as in shock and disbelief as they could be, complete loss of all faith, his world had truly crumbled.

One, then both hands found his throat, clamping down, forearms flexing harder, and harder, until I got my oh so satisfying snap. The priest immediately began choking on his larynx, eyes rolling up.

"Oh no, you don't get off that easily." My eyes glowed hot, blasting fire over his face until nothing but charred rabbit skull remained. Poetically, the glass cracked and gave, letting me send a flaming skully to a screaming public below.

"Now. . ." I turned, the little girl shivered in fear, her trembling intensifying with every boot drop growing near. Thump, thump.... thump my boot falls stopped, the poor girl was in shock, she'd soiled herself at some point and wreaked of it. One underhanded claw snuck the ball gags clasp loose, a second saw her free, last thing I expected from a pale shivering mess was to have her latch on. The exposed bits of skin I could see were angry, singing their trauma, she was in pain, her shaking hadn't stopped despite vice gripping my neck.

"You poor thing." I'm not sure what it was about that moment but I was awestruck, one of my last remaining embers of humanity came alive and I felt, heartache. Uncannily harkoned, cruelly, thrust back into a familiar moment of innocence lost, left with noone to trust, alone in a space where nobody knows, or worse, doesn't care. My arms wrapped her up as tightly as they could, wings following suit encasing us, wrapping one and a half times my torso, clasping the side belt loops.

"It's ok, you're safe now." I looked around admiring my work, a burning parish study full of charred bodies. It made me smile, but what the hell was I to do now? I couldn't give her back to such negligent parents, nor could I go outside and claim this mess. We snuck down the back stairs and to the basement, it was a slim shot in hell but hopefully there was an old lead into the sewer way.

The places underbelly was right out of a Freddy Krueger flick, rusty boiler lines leading right to the churches sweaty taint, and I was looking for it's asshole. Sure enough, following the main lines down to the boiler, tucked off to the side, a relatively over locked steel door stood.

"Bingo." And with some love it opened right up, I trudged through a mile and a half of watery fetid mess, holding her out above it, after all, she'd been through enough shit for a lifetime. This is where the fire station should be, I flipped my wrist, four am.

"Perfect, You still awake?" Her fore head hadn't left my neck scales but I felt a rubbed nod.

"I'm gonna leave you at the fire house, they're good people, they won't hurt you. Ok?" She shook her head no, I swore internally, Fuck I don't have time for this, I needed to hide and I damn sure wasn't taking a kid with me.

"What's your name?" I asked as softly as I could, it took a minute but,

"Candice." Her voice was meek, pained, made me wish I'd had more time with the priest.

"Candice, I'm Ezekiel, I promise to watch over you as long as you keep my name a secret, ok? You'll be safe." Slowly, she nodded, I bit a thumb and rubbed enough blood over the top of her head, sealing the pact as it faded. I didn't have my powers at this point but a devils deal keeps regardless.

Not many things from existence make me reminisce pleasantly but for the longest time, helping her did. Knowing the full breadth of my capabilities now, I wish I could've done more for her. I know I'd've turned that church into a monument of bladed wire, it's clergy skinned and crucified over the door. Kept alive and bound to their coils in a permanent state of fire for all to see. It's ok, god might not exist but karma does.

The church took a hit in popularity for awhile, rebuilt, restaffed with folks who publicly outcried any actions of their dead. Oddly it became popular again once Candice, after a long period of therapy and new homes, sold her story.

"How the Devil saved me from the church."

I'll have to visit her sometime, get my copy signed, see the church too, I'd like to put the fear in it's new priests.

AAAAAAAnd CUT! I'm enjoying this new direction, can you tell? Thoughts, comments, concerns! PLEASE do leave them below, I promise I'm rather friendly.