Blind Faith (Book 1)

Chapter 41

Aimee

Aimee eased out of the water like a shadow, step by step, creeping up behind the unsuspecting Gabriel Guard. Who had foolishly leaned against one of the rowing boats moored on the pebble beach, unprofessionally placing his bow inside the small vessel, stretching his arms above his head. The air was thick with smoke, and the crackle of the fires that tore up Saint Michael Chapel was a constant noise, smothering every other sound, including Aimee - not that she made a sound.

Saint Michaels's power surged through her veins, like the fires around her and she feared nothing but her own failure. She paused to blink the water from her eyes, pleased that her hair, now soaked, behaved itself and stayed slick down her back. Her sword vibrated and burned white in her hand, lusting for Daemon's blood, and she could feel the evil seeping from the guard.

The Fallen had truly infiltrated the Order and the foul thing in front of me is proof...

Just as the guard dropped his arms, it must have sensed her and went for the sword on its back, only to gurgle a cry as Aimee cut its throat and knocked him into the boat, quickly covering him with a grubby green tarpaulin.

She crouched low and waited, searching the immediate area with her eyes and heightened senses.

Clear...

Another wave of guilt struck her and images of her sister's pale face loomed up before her eyes, changing to the death stare of Leon.

She snapped them shut and shook her head the clear her mind. In frustration she lashed out at the boat, putting her fist straight through the hull.

It worked, the pain and anger burned away the regret deep in her belly.

Snapping back she picked out the splinters and wiped away the blood, her hand already healing, the earring burning in reply. She slipped off her soaked jacket and hid it under the tarpaulin with the Daemon. She breathed in deeply and readied herself for the next stage of her mission. Liana knew her better than most, yes she wanted revenge, and she will have it, but her duty to St Michael, the Order and her friends on the Island were paramount.

"Duty first, revenge second," she said sprinting to the next line of undergrowth, protected by an overhanging willow tree, its long slim branches swaying and dancing in the breeze, blowing across the lake from the nearby mountains. Aimee shivered from the bite, more from the dampness of her clothes than the cold. She peered at the afternoon sun and watched its rays bounce off the lake, like millions of sapphires all collected in one location.

Now is not the time to admire the scenery...

She focused back on her task and on the fire burning in her chest, the earring of Michael throbbed in time with her heart and her sword. She was one with her holy Aura, one with Heaven and the great Lord.

Are you finally listening to me, my Lord Michael?

Keeping to the shadows she sped as fast as she could from building to shrubs to trees, always following the intense corruption like a beacon, drawing her in, leading towards the Chapel at the back of the Island. Killing Daemons as she moved, her foes did not know what hit them until she returned them to hell.

She snapped Daemon Sentries' necks to silence them and then cut their throats to ensure their demise. If only she had not lost Ardour, the sword of Michael last year. Similar to Liana's Lucena, a cut from Ardour would disintegrate a Daemon where they stood, stopping the need to hide the bodies. The last sentry she threw into a burning building, unable to find anywhere suitable to hide the corpse.

As she sneaked up along the edge of the Library building, still untouched by flames, she peered out upon Saint Michael Square, a small cobbled clearing ten meters by ten meters, with a beautiful ornate fountain in the centre, a replica of the statue of her Lord Michael inside the Chapel. Water spraying out from the top of his head, the sword held aloft beautifully crafted and painted, its blade glinting in the sun like it was real, the gold pommel and hilt, crusted with a single white crystal that when hit by the sun's rays on winters solstice, sent a magical rainbow over the chapel door. The legend has it that when you enter the Chapel on that day, you can feel Michael's love and kiss on your cheek, though he had not acknowledged Aimee in a very long time, she refused to give up hope.