Blind Faith (Book 1)

Chapter 53

"My Lord are you deceiving me, or are you testing me?

Thud Thud thud thud.

The heartbeat was...not the girl... Ashley... it had been him...it was...impossible. He was calling me?

A yellow beam of holy energy smashed into the first row of Daemons as they reached her side slamming them back and toppling into the next group of Daemons.

"Aimee for the love of Lord Uriel! Wake up you idiot, get over there and save that holy soldier, they are trying to kill him! Tiff and I will handle these meatheads and try and get to the girl!" shouted Bex.

Aimee opened her mouth to correct her, by saying that that it was not a Holy soldier but a lost foolish boy, but snapped her mouth shut and ground her teeth in frustration.

Why do you continue to test me, boy?

Thud...Thud...Thud

Ardour throbbed in time with Ashley's heart, in time with hers, as Aimee leapt forwards striking one Daemon after another, all turning to flames, creating a path direct to that foolish, time-wasting, gut-retching, pain in her neck of a BOY!

Two more fell before some of the Daemons peered over their shoulders, confusion in their blood-red feline eyes as to what was attacking them. To Aimee's right, she saw a small group of Monks cornered under the alcove of the stairs, fighting frantically against other monks, both groups in the Blue cassock, but these were holding the white blade of holy warriors against the red of the Daemons. Outnumbered but holding their own.

Tempted, she nearly went to help but paused as she felt a dark corrupted energy waft to her left, she anticipated the attack and twisted her blade away and stepped forward, the blade like an extension of her arm. She grinned, the move was masterful and she knew that her opponent would not see it for the speed and the twist of her body. However, someone did, striking her across the face with incredible brute force, knocking Aimee to her knees. Ardour fell from her grip from the impact as her vision blurred and she trembled from the trauma.

How? Impossible?

A shadow clouded her mind as she attempted to peer up at her attacker. She tried to regain her composure as she felt for the handle of her blade on the stone floor. A loan figure stared down at her, shirtless but skin filthy, wearing only bottoms. Her breath caught in her throat, trying to control her emotions and the churning of her stomach.

How did he do it? Of all the places to swoon like a teenage girl, why does he make my mind empty and my heart so...full

She growled in anger - at herself, but she didn't care if he thought it was directed at him.

"Sorry, I...I thought you were...sorry!" said a musical unearthly voice. His mouth moved but it didn't sound like Ashley's voice.

An alien taste seeped into her mouth as she gingerly brought a hand up to her lips and brought it to her eyes and for the third time, today witnessed the red of her blood on her skin. This time it had been a cowardly boy and not a sword master.

How could this be? I seem to be asking this a lot lately and talking to myself. My Lord Michael have you left me alone to finally punish me for my sins? When will you free me?

A deep guttural hiss to her right and a red blur flashed past her peripheral vision only for an arm to snap across her face, so close brushing her cheek, knocking the Daemons sword away. It was followed by a cracking sound and the cry of pain as a Daemon fell to its knees in front of her.

Aimee still in a daze could only stare at the creature snarling up at her. A fierce grip latched onto her left arm tugging her away. The strength was overwhelming, she did not have the energy to fight him, nor could she resist him when he placed Ardour back in her hand. The energy instantly poured in from the weapon. She opened her mouth to thank him but Ashley had spun away, to face a reforming line of Daemons regrouping for another attack. All red feline eyes in the shadows of their hoods focused on him -not her, they fear him more.

"Stay close and protect my back sister," he said. A command, not a request. She snapped back a retort at who was the leader here but became distracted by his voice, it chimed, more musical than normal and as if it were in her mind.

Sister? He called me...what?

Aimee didn't finish her thoughts as the Daemons attacked, yelling out in their dark language, curses and threats. Ardour burned and vibrated in anticipation as the first red blade came for Ashley's left flank. The Daemon was white fire and grey-black ash before his screams left his throat.

Aimee snarled and prayed for salvation at every strike of Ardour as wave after wave of attacks came for Ashley. Like a blur of fierce white fire, Aimee moved and danced with her Angel blade and fought like she had not for a very long time, especially together with another person to protect her back. It took them a matter of seconds before the chamber stilled and all Aimee could hear were her breathing and heart thundering in her ears. She did however feel the vibration of Ashley's breathing as they leaned against each other, together...

thud...thud...thud...heart rate slowing.

Then his weight intensified sliding down against her, Aimee spun to catch him in her arms before he collapsed to the stone floor. He was soaked in his blood, not just the inkiness of the Daemons. She clucked her tongue in anger, forgetting that he had fought all this time without a weapon. What was she thinking, cowering behind a young man, no more than a boy, as if begging for his protection?

Unforgivable...my lord Michael please forgive me and give me strength...

Aimee felt the Holy Aura of her friends, as Bex and Tiff neared. Aimee adjusted her grip around Ashley's broad chest, his heart slowing, beating against her hand. She stared at his face, brushing a few strands of brown hair away from his eyes. He held them tightly closed, his beautiful face tense and brow crinkled as if in pain. Even exhausted Aimee attempted to pull what was left of her Aura and let it flow into Ashley, to try and ease his injuries and give him strength. If anything the tightness around his eyes eased and his breathing slowed and became deeper.

Oh...what are you doing to me boy, what are you -

A deep guttural laugh shattered the silence and snapped Aimee back to reality. Father Thomas staggered to his feet, the small girl in his arms, in a pure white ceremonial robe hanging down to the stone floor. She appeared dead, her body limp, but as he gently placed her on the alter, she momently twitched and then remained still again. The High Priest moved her arms to her sides and lovingly arranged her clothes and long brown locks away from her pale face. She now looked asleep. Serene and at peace.

"So, you appear to have destroyed my army...and in a matter of minutes. A Hell Horde that took years to build and plan, is gone. Why did you have to interfere Samael? My plan was perfect, I just needed a little longer. But no, you decide to become all mighty and righteous, why now, why today!"

Father Thomas yelled that last few words, his tone harsh and accusing. He reached down behind the Alter and nodded to the last of his Guards, five in all. Each one grabbed a limb of the girl, a foot an arm, one cradled her head. Bex and Tiff fidgeted behind Aimee, as a hand gripped her shoulder and squeezed.

"A traitor? An imposter?" asked Bex in her ear. Aimee didn't reply as Tiff edged past to her left.

"No!" snapped Bex "Not yet, wait, we have to move quickly and need to ensure her safety first before we rush them, girl! Hold Soldiers of Gabriel!"

Aimee nodded as the last surviving Gabriel Monks made their way up behind them. She peered down again at Ashley, her heart almost overwhelming her. He did look more at ease. His lips were slightly apart...she swallowed down her emotions and the urge to touch those lips. Her hand had strayed from his chest and was now tracing his jawline.

So beautiful...Emma would want me to care for you.

The gasp from Bex made Aimee snap her hand back as if burned and peered up at the High Priest of Uriel, face afire in embarrassment, only to see her yellow gaze focused not on her and Ashley, but towards the far corner, past the High Priest, that now held a crystal chalice in his hands, but to another figure materialising from the shadows.

Cardinal Philip, a large red bound book under his arm. He no longer wore a scarlet fascia and zucchetto, but just a pure white gown trailing on the stone floor, as he walked over to Father Thomas. He did not appear old and fragile but a rejuvenated middle-aged man in his prime. Though this did not disturb Aimee, it was his eyes that did, revealing his true nature...black as black, pools of evil.

Baal...