Paradise Made

Twenty-Eight: Pray For a Miracle

The door to my prison flew open with a bang, revealing none other than Dumah. That one I hadn't been expecting. She and my guard were locked in hand to hand combat, too fast for me to make complete sense of it. But I did notice his gun, sliding away across the floor.

I made a move for it, though if my hypothesis was correct I didn't have the power to make this weapon hurt an angel or a demon. It was all very confusing. All the same, the metal shape in my hand made me feel slightly safer.

There was a yell of pain, and when I spun around Dumah had my guard pinned up against the wall. Her hand was around his throat, the other against his chest, her fingers curled, digging into his skin. After a moment of stillness she let out a grunt of frustration.

“Can't kill me, can you sister?” The Watcher asked.

Dumah's answer was a physical one, grabbing his skull between both of her hands, and holding his face close to hers. When she dropped him he was unconscious. All that fighting, and her business suit wasn't even wrinkled. She headed towards the door, and without hesitation I followed. Down the hall there were the sounds of a fight. We both took off running.

Down a set of stairs we found ourselves in the nave of a desecrated church. The cross was broken, satanic imagery spray painted on the walls. And there was Pen, his arm more than wrist deep in the chest of another man. As I watched, unbelieving, he ripped the heart from his chest. It dripped, blood red and still beating, in his hand. The corpse fell to the floor, and I had to grab the pew in front of me to prevent myself from following it. My head was spinning, what I'd just seen not registering.

“That's the last demon, I think,” Pen said, throwing the heart to the ground in disgust. “Any Watchers, other than Gadreel?”

Dumah shook her head. When Pen turned to see her answer he also saw me, pale faced and half an inch of will power from fainting.

“Xavier,” he greeted. “Sorry about all this.”

He was alright, part of me screamed. He wasn't in hell after all. But the relief was drowned out by the gore. A human heart, lying there on the floor. Pen's white sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, his right arm caked in drying blood. Dumah put her hand on my shoulder, and I felt a strange warmth. The dizziness began to pass, and I stood up straighter.

“You're okay,” I finally managed to get out. “I was with Kasdaye and Tamiel, we were-- we were trying to save you.”

Pen smiled. “Don't worry about me. I'm a master of getting myself out of less than optimal situations. Those two...” He paused. “Bringing you along. What were they thinking?”

“It was my fault.”

He shook his head, walking towards us. “Still, if it had been anyone other than Azazel to take you, I don't know what I would have been able to do.”

“Thank you,” I said. Then, turning to Dumah, I repeated it. “Thank you too. You've rescued me so many times, and I still don't know why.”