Nathaniel’s church and what really happened there
Jason made his way to the front of a church in yet another somewhat seedy but very quiet area of town. The couple of blocks he had to walk from the train had little traffic, and few people on the roads. The church itself was an only slightly imposing structure, with concrete grounds and a couple of dustbins overturned near the back. The front doors were covered in graffiti, and there were more than a few broken bottles in the gutter in front of the tall thin building. The state of disrepair was noticeable.
The side door was ajar, and the entire area seemed abandoned. A faint wind whistled through the fractionally open portal.
Jason approached cautiously, and from within he could hear the sound of two or three people moving about with some haste. There were low re-echoing words like "hurry up josh!" and "C'mon, c'mon!".
Jason's immediate impression was that someone had broken into the church. Since he himself was not armed, he decided to be very cautious. He checked the door for signs of forced entry, and then peeked through the opening to see if he could sees anything or anyone. He was ready to get back out and hide someplace where he could see the entrance if he thought he would be in danger.
Jason slowly moved closer to the door. It did not look as if it were forced, but was clearly ajar. He moved up to it and looked through the opening. Inside he could make out little in the dark, and the voices sounded distant. Taking the chance, he snuck in and hid behind a column. He abruptly noticed a young man standing nervously by one of the pews on the far side of the entrance. His view of the door was partly obscured by a curtain, so he probably didn't see Jason come in.
The young man (more of a boy Jason realizes) was nervously rocking from side to side. "C'mon, Josh, let's get out of here." he said in a voice that carried in the open expanse of the church.
Jason heard something that sounded like the faint hiss of a serpent, followed by another youthful voice at a fair distance. "Not yet. I haven't got the mustache and beard right yet." The voice laughed.
Jason was certain as he looked about that there were only these two, and the one he had seen could not be older than 14.
Feeling greatly relieved that it appeared to just be a couple of kids playing a prank, Jason studied the one youth for later identification. Then, in a deep, loud, bellowing voice he called out "Who desecrates the sanctity of the Church of the Living God?"
"Shit!" swore the unnamed youth, as he spun and bolted for the door, making it through. There was a sound of running feet in the distance, and then another youth's head poked out cautiously from an alcove. He saw Jason, this one he assumes must be Josh, and he seemed to calculate the distance between Jason and the door.
He ran at Jason suddenly, screeching a terrible noise that reverberated many times in the confined space. He had a paint spray can in hand, and pointed it at Jason's face. Jason had a second or two to act before the youth was upon him.
If only I had more Essence, Jason thought, I'd show him my celestial form and make him repent!
Jason picked up a large (5" or 1.5 meter) standing candelabra and used it to keep the youth at bay, and out of spray paint range. This worked for the first few seconds, as the young man ceased using the spray can, and held it uselessly in his left hand. He hovered back and watched Jason angrily, face contorting abruptly in rage and triumph. He appeared to have no interest in the door what so ever.
The youth abruptly spouted one or two words involving Jesus and several animals that made Jason blink in shock. He grabbed the other end of the candelabra with his free hand to hold it down, and pelted Jason in the head with the spray paint can. Jason got his hand in the way in time, but the nearly full can hurt against his palm as it bounced away.
The young boy danced back sprouting obscenities, gesticulating with his hands wide. The light filtering through the stained glass windows became abruptly dimmer, and Jason felt an acute arrhythmic strain sounding muffled in the eather, originating at the boy.
Cackling maniacally, and moving just a trifle too fast, the young man grabbed the door and slammed it shut, spinning to block the way. He licked his lips, tongue stretching out to 15 centimeters. "We knew if We paid enough attention to your church you would come back here, liar priest. We wonder if it is the will of the Unnamable that you lie to all the flesh bags about who you are? Or did you take that on yourself? It doesn't matter. Master will be pleased We found you first." He started to move ominously closer, hands outstretched, mouth open, and supernaturally long tongue pointed and barbed, dangling loosely in coils on his chest, drooling.
Seeing the demon for what it was, Jason backed toward the front doors using the candelabra to keep the demon at bay. He did his best not to underestimate the demon's strength or quickness. He attempted to use any 'natural' features of the church to prevent the demon from flanking him. While backing away he spoke.
"Sorry, my..." after taking an obvious sniff at the air he continued, "smelly friend. But I believe you have the wrong angel. You must have been looking for the priest, one of Laurence's boys. Don't worry though, I'm sure a whole gang of them will be here before you find your way home. IF you ever find your way home. I've already seen one Archangel in the neighborhood today, so I'm willing to bet someone already knows you're here. Maybe you can try repenting." A smile crossed Jason's face. "Want me to put in a good word for you?"
Jason (with his sizable perception) made sure he wasn't backing into anything or anyone.
Making use of the cluttered church to back away served Jason well. The figure was intently moving forwards but with no great haste. Jason judged the moment as best he could, and took a swing at the figure. It missed, as the youth ducked low, almost prostrate. Abruptly his tongue lashes out like a whip and snaps at Jason. He manages to get his arm out of the way in time, but lost his grip on the candelabra in the process. It clattered noisily to the stone floor. The figure took a moment or two to get over this impediment, and this gives Jason more breathing space, which he used to rush backwards towards the main doors.
The words he spoke seem to have finally sunk in as the figure climbed over the candelabra, and he paused, face contorting in unpleasant ways.
"Not... Not him? Not even flesh bag? Other Angel?" there was another pause as the figure seemed to recalculate carefully. "Who then?" he muttered.
Jason assessed his position. He was in the front alcove now, but would have to turn his back on the figure to get a look at the front doors. They were mere feet from his back now, though. The figure was standing in a quandary about ten feet away. There were one or two icons here, an offering box and many candles lit. Also a desk with several unlit candles, and a stone basin for holy water, mostly dry. A stairway to the balcony was to his left, and a back room door to his right, and they each allow other access from this room.
Finally the youth began to cautiously approach again. "We do not believe you, liar angel servant of Lawrence. You are worse than Balseraph. Say whatever and pretend as though you are still better than us. Hypocrite. But you will not protect you in lies. Master would speak with you, did not say you had to be in one piece to speak. We pay you for your lies in pain."
Jason might have enough time to do something with the front doors before the figure got to him. Maybe, depending on what he tried to do. Reguardless, he had a few seconds.
Seeing that his words were at least having SOME effect, Jason continued. "If I were the priest, wouldn't I have come in through the front door, instead of the side door?" With this he gestured to the side door, hoping the demon will look that way for a second. Jason then took a quick look at the front door.
On cue, the figure tilted its head and paused in its advance. Jason took the opportunity, and got a very good look at the old lock. The bolt was locked, and it was large and rusty. No immediate joy. It would certainly be possible to open if he had a minute. Unfortunately he didn't.
Regardless, he said, "I'd be pretty careful about bringing the wrong angel. Master is going to be pissed."
The youth looked back at Jason again, as though finally accepting his words. "Shit." he said briefly.
He muttered to himself, neither approaching nor retreating. "We thought this one was dressed funny for priest. No beard."
Jason took a hold of the opportunity, and rushed to the back room door. The figure seemed surprised, and chased him, but Jason made it easily, and slammed the door with some satisfaction in the youths' face.
The door would probably not hold by itself, and there was a serious clutter of things in the room. Music stands, chairs, blackboards, tables, curtains, boxes of candles, bottles of metholated spirits, cotton wool, a first aid kit, and so on filled the place. There were no doorways out of there, it being obviously some kind of storage room, but there were two small opaque windows on the far side, which could feasibly be opened.
The figure on the other side started beating at the rather solid door. "Come out and play, frightened angel." yelled the voice. "We just want to know what you are doing here, since you are not Nathaniel." It paused, musing. "You must have come to speak with him. What did you want to say? Are you messenger? Do you serve Lawrence too?" It rifled off questions at Jason.
While stacking some chairs and tables against the doors, Jason responded to the demon's questions.
"I think the better question is who YOU are and what YOU are doing here. You are taking quite a chance coming here, why? Tell you what, we can trade some answers." Once a decent barricade was created, Jason began to make a couple of molotov cocktails with the bottles of spirits and bandages from the first aid kit. He will lit a candle that he could use to light the 'fuses'.
Jason's barricade seemed to be holding quite well, and he was going to work on the second molotov cocktail as he got some answers.
The demon spoke as it beats futile at the door. "All right, you speak first."
"I am Jason."
"WE REMEMBER YOU!" said the voice, ceasing the impacts against the door for a minute. "You are that servant of Raphael, aren't you?" Raphael was the angel of healing, and Jason’s direct superior under Yves. "You never learned to fight in the last four thousand years? We remember Raphael's people simpering about the War trying to heal both sides. So you don't serve Lawrence!"
"Your name." Jason reminded him.
Pause. The second cocktail was almost ready, and the candle was lit.
"Azazel." said the voice almost reluctantly. "Then why are you here?"
Oh no. That was a name Jason remembered. Not just a Shedim, but a word bound Shedim. Before the fall It was the angel of Inspiration and a servitor of Eli. Jason was not sure who It worked for now. But by rights it could have possessed more than one form here... so why hadn't It?
"I was planning a philosophical discussion."
Azazel swears. "*#^@ Yves. We %$@# HATE Yves!"
Finally the door buckled, and Jason could make out the figure on the other side tearing at the boards. He did not have time to get to the windows, but the second cocktail was ready.
Azazel grinned at Jason. "Master will not be happy for not having Nathaniel to chat with, but we may yet salvage something."
Jason noticed that whatever shift in the symphony Azazel did before had just subsided. The light through the glass becomes clearer, and the discordant sounds faded, returning the symphony to relative normality. Jason was fairly certain now that that was a Celestial Song of Shields, and it only lasted for about seven or eight minutes.
Azazel began to climb over the barricade, stretching between objects.
Azazel's awkward position inspired Jason to light and throw his first molotov cocktail at the barricade. He threw a second bottle sans wick and held onto the other molotov cocktail while he worked on the window.
"I know how to fight, I just don't take so much pleasure in it. So who would accept a beatup old Shedim like yourself for a servant?"
The rapidly made bomb exploded into flame all across the barricade and indeed much of it splashed on the figure of the demon.
Jason rapidly made it to the window. The demon was screeching a terrible noise. He turned to face the thing, second bottle in hand, and was stopped abruptly.
In pain and triumph filled voice, the figure spoke.
"So, you can fight. If nothing else, the Rebellion put some spine in you bleeding hearts. Well, we have achieved something. An angel of Destiny making a mortal achieve its Fate." The grimace of pain becomes a mad grin. "Use your eyes if Yves has told you how to see, Jason. We are always careful of choosing our hosts. Realize what you have helped us to do."
The youth, burning alive, suddenly withdrew tongue to normality, and writhed about on the now blazing pyre, stuck between chairs and table legs, screaming with smoke filled lungs.
Above the figure Jason perceived a powerful shadow, a writhing mass of severed limbs, bleeding eyes and terrible, terrible exposed organs. A rip in the flesh coughed celestial bile at him, and spoke, "We are Despair. Your choice. Hurt or Save?" Jason realized that the form was thin, spread over a great distance, and weak because of that. Because he was alert for other forms nearby, he sensed that anything else that this demon was possessing was away at great distance. The thing began to recede from this place.
Jason had a few moments to act.
Jason watched Azazel begin to disperse, thinking how sad it was that such a noble Angel had fallen so far. But after a moment he got to work on saving Josh from the blaze.
Jason assessed the fire. It was gathering the dry fuel into itself rapidly. He cast about for a fire extinguisher or water but found none in evidence. Taking stock of the room and the way the flames were gathering, he decided that the safest thing to do was tear down a curtain, and use it to pull Josh out of the flames.
The room filled with smoke, and his vessel began to choke. Jason moved passed that, the needs of the present more important. He wrapped his hands in the black material and grabbed at the writhing boy in the centre of the fire.
Josh was only weakly struggling at this point, and Jason carefully extracted him from the burning wood. He hoisted him onto his shoulder, coughing all the while, and moved to the closed window. He grabbed a chair leg, and swung it at the window, breaking out the glass. Then carefully, almost gently, he climbed out of the smoking window.
A few paces away from the building, he looked about. A couple of youths were staring at the building wide eyed. Jason took a breath of clean air, coughed and then hollered at them to get the fire department. Seeming glad of being given directions, they rushed off.
Jason turned his attentions to Josh. His expert medical knowledge told him immediately that the situation was not good. The exposed portions of his skin had third degree burns, and he was wearing some kind of tee shirt with a plastic transfer, that had melted into his skin. His eyes were in the worst state.
Almost without thinking, he summoned the last of his essence and released a pure harmony of rejuvenation, channeling the boy as the focus. For a brief moment there was Light and Purity in the church grounds, reverberating throughout the Symphony.
But it was not enough. Jason looked at the boy, and saw that he would survive, thanks to the Song. But even with the best of modern medicine, his sight would be damaged, if he ever saw again.
He did what he could, regardless, wrapping the damaged eyes. And then there was someone helping him, assisting him bind the wounds carefully. He looked up with thanks after a few moments, as the sounds of a siren approached. The androgynous youth holding the boy's hand looked back. He/She was dressed in simple jeans and sloppy joe, and there were blood smears on Her/His cheek, and deep cuts along His/Her forehead.
It was Raphael.
She/He nodded at Jason at first without words, and then sighed. "There is so much Wrong today. But even so, I heard Azazel, and I heard you bring harm to a mortal, even by accident." He/She looked at the boy sadly. "He was to be a painter. An important painter. I am without energy, else it would be a simple thing. So many hurts today, too many."
She/He turned to Jason again, tears running gently down perfect cheeks, mingling with blood. "Would you consent to be my guide until the dawn? I cannot bear this, even if it is the only way I can do anything."
Raphael, if She/He choose, could absorb the wounds of others onto His/Her self, if there was no essence to be had.
"Thanks for coming, and for helping, Raphael. I will do *anything* I can. There is much I would like to talk to you about as well. Many odd things have occurred today. I fear it will not be the last such day."
Raphael looked at Jason sadly. "Would that your fears be unrealized." He/She kneeled over the prostrate youth and rests a perfect hand upon the bandaged eyes. Jason noted a gash upon the back of the hand, slowly weeping blood. She/He blinked once staring at the boy, and then a smoky, milk like film clouded over His/Her eyes. There was a faint Symphonic welling of sound gradually building like a wave. Burns formed about the beautiful face, until finally, Raphael removed Her/His hand, and reached out to Jason's shoulder. "It is done." He/She said wearily. Sirens sounded, approaching fast.
"Take me where you would. I must rest. So tired. We may talk as we go." She/He looked about blindly.
Jason realized as he held Her/Him, that Raphael bore many, many wounds. He had assumed that the sloppy joe must have been burgundy normally, but now from close range, he realized that it was dried blood. Each of the wounds was open and slowly blood seeped from them. The jeans, too show wet stains.
"You are the first I have found of those whom serve Destiny on this day. None who heal have found me. And I have looked far to find any. As I walked, so many ills and woes crossed my path, and so many were untimely, ill fated. Celestially caused. Since last night, it is as if the gates of Hell had opened. Perhaps they have..."
Jason guided Raphael away from the immediate vicinity of the church when he was sure that the sirens were close enough that Josh would be taken care of. Jason at all times kept a hand on Raphael and kept up a conversation so that s/he did not feel alone.