Blind Faith (Book 1)

Chapter 41

I still hold out for you my Lord, don't lose faith in me...

Aimee scowled at the colour of the water spurting out of the top of Saint Michael, the flow designed was to look like a halo. She always loved sitting on the side to listen to the trickle while she either read or meditated. But now, the view brought bile to her throat, and she shook with rage, as the halo was blood red, from one of her brethren, a Monk floating face down in the water.

She reached to see who it was but stopped as her sapphire flashed a warning that she was not alone. She slipped out the holy collar from her back pocket, letting her Aura flow into the device. It burned white and began to vibrate.

"Do you like my lovely little display Faithless? Do you not think the red brings out the beauty better and adds more impact on your false Saint's true nature?"

Aimee snapped her gaze past the fountain to a Saint Michael's Monk kneeling in prayer on the steps of the little chapel, their face hidden within the heavy hood.

She ducked suddenly behind the statue, as an arrow ricocheted off the cobbles where she had just been and dived to her right, flinging the holy collar up towards the smoke billowing out of the burning chapel roof. The device connected with a Daemon sentries neck, instantly paralyzing him and making him drop to the ground with a sickening crunch.

"I said she is mine you worthless scum, hold your fire!" screamed the monk, jumping to its feet and silencing the groaning Daemon in one swift swing with a small sword. The monk's Hell blade burned red for a moment before switching back to dull black.

Aimee's gaze searched the burning buildings all around for more guards, but found nothing, dropping her white-fired stare back to the small monk.

Yes, I should have known it was him...

"Biggs, you are the traitor...I should have ended you the last time we met," she cursed, edging slowly around the fountain, careful not to get splashed by any blood.

The monk, Biggs, laughed a high-pitched cackle, the sound like the witches in children's fairy tales. It made the hairs on her neck stand on end.

"You know nothing Faithless...nothing," he replied, flicking off his hood to reveal what she already knew, a pair of blood-red feline eyes.

"How are you hiding your corruption from us? Why couldn't I sense you and all your minions until now?" she asked, continuing to ease closer to the little worm. Who laughed at her again, though the eyes did not change, remaining fixed upon her.

"You think I would tell the likes of you? Don't be a fool Faithless, all you need to know is that the end of you and the Order is nigh and soon we will have regained control of the accuser, the destroyer. And then blood will flow throughout the world as his wrath pulls mankind apart. Submit to Baal or die you holy slut!"

Aimee frowned at his words, trying to decipher anything useful from his little confession. She knew who the accuser was, a key Archangel that Fell and became a pinnacle leader of Lucifer's legions in the war against Heaven. Only the capture of the Accuser's sister stopped him from crushing Michael and the Heavenly Host. But how and why...

Like a thunderbolt, it came to her, and she trembled at the realization, the fear almost paralyzing her. She snapped her gaze back at Biggs. She knew what she had to do, and was forced to pause as the little Daemon clicked his fingers, for two of his guards to drag out a badly injured Father Liam, his face covered in blood and his white cassock ripped at the front exposing deep bleeding cuts. The guards threw him to the floor and Aimee tensed, eager to go to his aid, but controlled her instincts to save her friend.

"What will you do Faithless?" asked Biggs as he snatched Father Liam's head and placed his blade under his throat.

"Let him live and surrender yourself to the future. Or...DIE trying!"

Aimee edged forwards, weighing up her chances of getting to the High Priest before the blade severed his throat and at the same time, somehow avoiding the arrows of the two guards behind Biggs. Both notched and pointed at her.

"Go on Faithless, just try it, and let's see how good you are?" teased Biggs pulling Father Liam's head up higher, exposing his throat, a small trickle of blood trailing down to his chest.

As Aimee watched, Father Liam raised a shaky hand in front of him, causing Biggs to laugh.

"There is no use Father, you cannot win this fight," he said.

But Aimee didn't think the High Priest was trying to get free, he was pointing at something and Aimee followed his finger to the fountain, frowning in confusion.

Biggs cackled. "He won't save you now; all is lost for you and your damn Order. It is over!"

Father Liam began mumbling a word, a single word, over and over.

"What is that? You want your mummy," taunted Biggs, slapping the Priest's face.

Aimee shook in anger and crouched ready to pounce. But this was just what Biggs wanted.

"I can't hear you! Speak up!" said Biggs grinning from ear to ear.

"Ardour!" Father Liam cried then collapsed in exhaustion in the little Daemon's arms.

"Huh, what are you -," said Biggs looking up, confused at what Aimee was doing

But she understood instantly and leapt for the statue's sword, her hand grasping the handle, the bust of Saint Michael crumbled away as the ground shook and rumbled.

The Holy power soared through her body, the weapon flared white, blinding all who would look and the energy, burning through her, the power intoxicating as it was terrifying. Standing up to her knees, in the blood of her friends, Aimee scowled at Biggs and his two Guards. She would have laughed at the little Daemon's expression, had she not wanted to rip his throat out. He dropped Father Liam and stepped back, grabbing the two Guards, and pushing them forward.

"Kill her, kill her!"

Aimee didn't wait and was on them in a flash, Ardour, the flame of God a blur as she struck, dancing past arrow after arrow, her fierce gaze focused on Biggs. In two quick movements, the two guards disintegrated into dust as the Holy blade burned their souls back to oblivion leaving a terrified Biggs kneeling at her feet, trembling as a black liquid flowed out from under his cassock, staining the chapel steps.

"Pissing yourself again are we?" she cackled, her hand trembling as Ardour screamed in her mind for the Daemon blood.

"P-please, have mercy on a-"

"You don't deserve MERCY!"

She cut off his plea with a single swing, decapitating the traitor, his head disintegrated into ash before it hit the ground, small flakes left to blow away in the wind.

She dropped down to the unconscious form of Father Liam and checked his pulse. It was there, but very weak. He appeared to have stopped bleeding, and at a quick inspection would likely live.

A part of her wanted to stay with him and also search for more survivors, but her duty came crashing down upon her shoulders like a mountain, she still had her mission to complete, and after the arrogance of Biggs, revealing what the Prince of darkness was planning, she had to find this accuser quickly, to stop them creating Hell on Earth.

She trembled at the thought of another world-shattering war and steeled her insides, as the earth would not survive it a second time.

With a heavy heart and that everlasting binding guilt in her stomach, Aimee kissed Father Liam's cheek and said a quick prayer for him and fled into the trees, straight in the direction of the Manor House of Gabriel.

I pray Lord Michael...that I am not too late...