PROTECTED. Marcus Calvert

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СКАЧАТЬ ahead as he wondered what would happen to him. Would he just lose his shadow to this bank? Or his mind? Or his soul? The possibilities chilled the priest as he handed the paperwork over. His keen eyes noted a brief flash of malevolence in her gaze as the teller processed the transaction. Within his seized mind, the Jesuit prayed his last prayer: that the souls of these poor victims would find peace and that these demonic vermin would somehow suffer God’s wrath.

      The teller processed his transaction and started to hand Tolson the receipt.

      In unison, all of the bank cameras suddenly exploded into a shower of sparks and harmless debris. The female teller flinched as she sensed a divine presence nearby. Suddenly, her body seized up and split right down the middle. To the mortal eye, it simply looked as if the teller had been cut by an invisible guillotine. The bank patrons naturally gasped, screamed and/or gawked in horrid fascination as the blonde corpse fell to the floor in two halves.

      Unable to move, Father Tolson stood like a statue.

      Pesmarek glanced over at his short sword, which was now stained with the demon’s purplish ichor. Short and barrel-chested, the angel’s round, angry face looked to be in its early twenties, except for his gray eyes; they had lost their innocence after many eons of service. Floating over his curly brown locks was a gleaming silver halo (which denoted his warrior rank). Large, brown wings emerged through slits cut in the back of his matching duster and ran down to his shins. Like a gunslinger, Pesmarek flicked his duster open with his left hand to reveal polished silvery chest armor underneath. His baggy, gray pants were tucked into thick black metal boots. While he was invisible to most, the demons could see him just fine - as could Father Tolson (one of the perks of being an ordained priest).

      The warrior angel regarded Father Tolson, the source of the disturbing prayer that had just reached the Heavenly Planes. Billions of prayers were screened and filtered for a certain number of topics each day. Some prayers for aid – especially against real demonic threats – were always answered. God didn’t like demons roaming freely upon his world or possessing his priests. This particular breed of shadow demon – known as the Dentraag – had hidden itself too well. Somehow, they had managed to trick mortal customers into selling their souls via bank transactions.

      The adulterous male teller rushed at Pesmarek with an inhuman wail of rage. Pesmarek beheaded him with one neat swipe of his blade. Then, he glanced over at Tolson and waved free hand toward him. The priest blinked rapidly, freed from the guard’s hold. Tolson turned to tell the other customers to run. Half of them had already fled through the door. But then he noticed the guard’s vacant stool and looked around for the bastard. The guard had hopped over the teller counter with unnatural ease and rushed to blindside the angel. Pesmarek didn’t notice the guard as he gutted a third bank teller.

      “Behind you!” Tolson yelled.

      The guard roared as he leaped at Pesmarek’s back. Faster than a mortal blink, the angel spun around. His left hand closed on the guard’s neck as he snatched him in mid-leap. With a scowl, the angel pivoted to the right and then side slammed him through a short metal cabinet. Then Pesmarek then drove his sword through the possessed shell’s stomach with his right hand. He twisted the blade and was rewarded with a pitiful death shriek from the Dentraag inside. Crimson and purplish blood flowed as Pesmarek pinned the guard to the floor, until he died.

      Pesmarek ripped his short sword free. Then the angel hoisted the corpse and turned visible as he rose to his full height. The bank went silent as the remaining patrons simply stared at the honest-to-God angel who stood before them.

      “If you’re a regular human,” he announced in a strong, deep voice. “I’d suggest you run for the nearest exit … right now.”

      To emphasize his point, Pesmarek flung the dead guard’s corpse across the bank like it weighed next to nothing. The body smashed into a far wall, some thirty-five yards away. Six seconds later, Father Tolson was the only human left in the bank. While he moved closer to the door (in case he needed to run) the Jesuit eyed the carnage with open-mouthed awe.

      Pesmarek stared down the fifteen possessed shells - a mix of customers and bank staff - which also stayed behind. Suddenly, they all fell over, lifeless. The Dentraag rose from their host bodies. True shadow spawn, their featureless black forms solidified and willed assorted melee weapons into being. Each Dentraag was coal-skinned with a veil of thorny black bones across their featureless faces. Curved, nine-inch horns formed a V shape atop their narrow skulls. Their leathery black wings spread out as they gave him a fearsome group roar.

      “You might want to leave, Father,” Pesmarek urged as he walked through the teller counter and stood next to the priest. “This will get messy.”

      While he was scared to death, the Jesuit slowly shook his head.

      “I’m watching a straight-up fight between Good and Evil,” Tolson replied. “There’s no way I’m missing –”

      Tolson was interrupted by a foursome of violent and very loud sneezes, which echoed through the bank. The priest embarrassingly sniffed. The Dentraag swapped glances. Pesmarek eyed the priest with concern.

      “Sinuses,” Pesmarek said as he reached into his coat for some tissues. “Just … smite these things in His name, willya’?”

      “With pleasure.”

      The angel gave the Dentraag a menacing smile and then stepped forward to deliver God’s wrath. As began to move, the groaning sound of metal echoed through the bank. Pesmarek paused as the vault door began to slowly open of its own accord. A dozen more demons rushed out. They linked up with their kindred, formed a U-shaped battle line, and slowly advanced toward Pesmarek.

      “So the gate to your world’s through that vault door, eh?” Pesmarek guessed aloud.

      The biggest Dentraag in the group stepped up with a thick black fighting spear clutched in his taloned hands. Tolson looked over the eight-foot-tall monster and pegged it as the leader. For whimsical moment, the priest wondered if it doubled as the bank manager.

      “We’ll be happy to give you and your pet priest a guided tour of our home,” the demon scowled with a raspy, inhuman voice. “Of course, the trip will be one-way.”

      The huge Dentraag advanced. His twenty-six minions followed. Pesmarek raised his left index finger for a moment and calmly signaled them to hold up a second. The demons warily paused. With a grin, Pesmarek walked past Tolson and switched the bank’s two-sided OPEN/CLOSED sign from OPEN to CLOSED. He then willed his wings to withdraw within his body, lest they take damage from the impending fight.

      “Now, where were we?”

      “You cannot defeat us all, Heavenspawn,” the spear-wielding demon mocked.

      “Actually, I could,” Pesmarek replied as he looked down at his armor then stepped forward to fight them. “But why should I have all the fun?”

      A golden light flashed behind Pesmarek as eighty-seven warrior angels rushed through the front of the bank - and Father Tolson. Their assorted melee weapons were drawn and gleaming. Each of them bore the same silvery halos and dressed like Pesmarek. They formed up behind their fellow angel and turned solid. Tolson laughed at the Dentraag as the other angels retracted their wings in unison and slipped into fighting postures.

      The outnumbered, once-cocky Dentraag fearfully began to back away. Pesmarek gave his fellow angels an appreciative nod.

      “Slay them all,” he sternly commanded. “Their hell portal’s on the other side of the vault СКАЧАТЬ