Abigail

Abigail had never been as happy to feel a blast of frigid wind tear through her body as when they made it out of the catacombs. Elias, despite his thrice-weekly sessions at the university gym, panted beside her. He shut the door behind them, but they had no means of securing it. The heavy, iron lock lay in pieces.

"Come on," Elias hissed. "The church."

With the moon above, her sight was better than in the utter blackness they had just emerged from — they had made their way out of the mountain by palpating the walls and the tombs around them. Now, distant snow-capped peaks stood watch over the valley and Abigail could just make out a small group of buildings. But she had no idea which one was the church.

Perhaps sensing Abigail's confusion, Elias grabbed her by the arm and pulled her after him. The church's wooden outer doors squeaked when Elias pushed them open.

"What do we do?" Abigail whispered as they stepped inside.

Elias shook his head and collapsed onto the back row of benches, gasping for breath.

The church was as cold as the air outside and the moonlight gave life to the saints in the stained glass windows. Once Elias' lungs recovered, he attempted to move one of the benches, but it wouldn't budge. Abigail, meanwhile, strode down the nave towards the altar.

"Do we just wait?" she asked as she sat down on the altar steps.

Elias picked up one of the heavy candlesticks on the altar table and sat down beside her. "How's your face?"

"It hurts." Now that the threat of imminent death seemed to pass, Abigail became aware of how badly her face was swelling up. She could barely move her lips without inflicting herself more pain. "Are we just going to wait here 'til morning?"

"There's no reception out here." Elias played with the candlestick in his hands. "Come morning, the monks will help."

"So this is a monastery?"

A screech, like a war-cry of some pre-historic beast, rumbled through the valley. The walls and even the steps they sat on vibrated. Elias jumped to his feet. A second screech, then another, and another, and another. The altar swayed and the remaining candlesticks toppled over. One rolled off the table and landed on the floor with a hideous clang.

Abigail's heart raced. For the lack of any better ideas, she followed her brother's lead and armed herself with one of the candlesticks. She wished they still had the gun. It had fallen out of her hand when she tripped over in the murk of the catacombs and they had been in too much of a hurry to waste time fumbling after a weapon neither of them knew how to use. Still, she would've felt safer with a gun rather than a candlestick in her hands.

Just as the ground stopped shaking, the screaming began. Abigail had never heard anything like it. She shifted closer to her brother. Were these the demons Najran had been talking about? Even Ramiel had looked afraid when Najran had brought up demons. We're going to die. Probably, in the next two minutes.

There was commotion at the entrance to the church. The doors groaned and three men ran inside, their footsteps echoing against the church walls. Elias and Abigail ducked behind the altar table, but Abigail shifted the tablecloth just enough for her to see the newcomers. One wore white robes, the other two were in darker clothing.

The smaller of the dark-clothed men collapsed on his knees halfway down the nave and began chanting. The other two, never saying a word, worked in unison. They lifted the very same bench Elias had been unable to move and placed it in front of the church's inner doors.

They were moving a second bench when the windows exploded. Amid the rain of multi-coloured shards and twisted iron were two dark shapes — half-formed and semi-transparent. One grabbed the praying monk and the white-robed monk carrying the bench.

Elias pulled Abigail towards him before she could see what happened, but they couldn't escape the monks' screaming. Whatever was happening, it wasn't fast. They begged, calling for God to save them — Abigail knew enough Italian to understand that much — and said a great deal more that Abigail couldn't parse out. She let her head fall between her knees; she was going to be sick. Just let it end. God, have mercy enough for that. Elias wrapped his arms around her and there they sat, for what seemed like an eternity, until silence fell over the church once more.

Although she was terrified of what she would find, curiosity had to be assuaged. Abigail nudged the tablecloth aside to see. The demons, or whatever they were, threw the bodies of the two monks into a corner by the door and turned their attention to their next victim — the remaining monk. Abigail clapped her hand over her mouth as one of the creatures lifted the man off the ground.

The doors were flung open once more, the bench the monks had repositioned to barricade them sliding across the floor. Light flooded the church as every lamp lit up. Abigail clenched her eyes. After the time they had spent in the moonlight, the brightness was unbearable.

"Set him down, you two," came a woman's voice. It was self-assured and tinged with boredom. "I want this one."

The monk was released and he fell to his knees, muttering something in a jubilant tone.

Abigail's eyes watered as she reopened them. In fact, there were two women present. One had bent down and was speaking to the monk. Abigail couldn't make out the words. This woman was in charge, that much was clear. The creatures that had killed the other two monks now stood exposed in the bright light, their heads bowed in subservience. And the second woman was no master of the moment either, her gaze flicking from one spot to the other and her shoulders rigid with tension. She was also the only one dressed in normal clothing. The two men were in little more than rags and the woman speaking to the monk wore a heavy, maroon cloak.

The monk nodded nervously and the cloaked woman made a dismissive gesture. He climbed to his feet and without so much as a breath, fled the church.

"Go you two," the woman said to her two underlings. "I hear there is something yet left."

They said nothing as they too left the church. Abigail glanced at Elias. His face was filthy and pale, probably a reflection of her own. In movies, during moments like these, the two protagonists always had something to say. A quip or a confession of love. Abigail had nothing. Even a rudimentary "I love you, Eli" couldn't slip past the tight knot at the base of her throat.

"And you, nephilim, are you going to come out?" said the second woman.

Elias spat out a strangled laugh. "Yeah, all right."

Abigail gaped at her brother as he threw her a crooked grin and climbed out from behind the altar table. Sure, they were unlikely to make it out alive, but he was acting like he had lost the plot entirely. She tried to pull him back, but he shoved her away.

"Look, I have no clue who you are and no idea what I'm doing here. Whatever you want you can have it." Elias inched towards the first row of benches. "You can even kill me. Just one request, if I may."

The cloaked woman turned to the second female, who said, "Watch your tone, mortal. This is Ashoga, a lieutenant of Hell you are addressing,"

"Please to meet you, your... lieutenantship," Elias replied.

A dozen curses ran through Abigail's head. Her brother was an idiot. They were in a ridiculous, unbelievable position, sure, but that didn't excuse his flippant tone and the way he was still moving towards the two women. Or was it two demons? Or a demon and a... Oh, thank you, Ramiel. Thank-you for getting us into this mess. Abigail tried to will her hands to stop shaking. She failed.

"What is the request?" Ashoga ran her tongue over her bottom lip.

Elias shrugged. "One of the shitty things about being human is that you can't have any fun without consequences. There is this drug — heroin. Apparently, it's amazing. The bitch is, it's all downhill after the first time. It's just never as good as the first hit and there is the problem of addiction, which is really inconvenient. I figure if I am going to die, I should have some fun before I do."

"I do not understand."

"He wants to try a substance that creates a sense of euphoria in humans when taken," said the second woman. "A dose of pure pleasure before he dies."

"Exactly. And I'll be too dead to feel the aftereffects, let alone develop an addiction."

Ashoga shook her head. "What nonsense."

She shifted the folds of her cloak aside and drew out a scimitar. Elias raised the candlestick, but he drew into himself. The candleholders were silver — a soft metal in no way a match for the weapon in Ashoga's hand. She released the clasp that held the cloak in place and let it fall to the ground.

No, no. Abigail jumped up. Not Elias too.

Row by row the benches were flung upwards. With a mad cacophony of crashing and splintering wood, they came down, piled into a barricade between Elias and Ashoga. Abigail rushed over to Elias.

"We need to run!" she yelled.

A hand wrapped around Abigail's throat. It was the second woman. Whoever she was, she knew what she was doing.

"Give that one what she deserves," Ashoga barked.

Abigail thrashed about as the woman crushed her windpipe. She tried to hit her with the candlestick, but dazed from the pain, Abigail lost her grip on it. As the woman pressed her fingers deeper, Abigail's vision began to blur and Elias' screaming turned to hollow ringing in her ears.

Something heavy smashed into the woman. She fell to the ground, taking Abigail down with her and her grip on Abigail relaxed momentarily. Elias kicked the woman in the face, then pulled Abigail out of her grasp and helped his sister to her feet.

A dark shape moved in the corner of Abigail's vision. She didn't have time to turn and see who it was. A hand rested on her shoulder and the world spun.

Colours humans had yet to name flashed past them. The wind screeched. When Abigail had been seven they had visited their relatives in Queensland and caught a Category Five cyclone making land. The wind, as it chewed through roofs and even entire houses, had been a monster out of darkest myth come to life. This was worse.