Satan's Vessel

*

Kaitlyn gasped as a small golden light suddenly sparked into existence. It flared just below the base of his neck before spreading across his shoulders like flickering electricity. Then a bright white light yawned from his back. She stifled a scream as it spread throughout the room, engulfing the darkness, the bed, his watching companion. She tried to pull away but there was nowhere to go. All she could do was stand on the bed with her back braced up against the wall, her face turned away as she, too, was engulfed.

The light spread and spread. It grew brighter and brighter until it filled the room. And then she realised where it was coming from—wings. White wings! Feathered. Huge. Beautiful. They glowed! How bright they were!

'What's going on?!' she cried.

'Exactly what we told you,' Zeke replied. She couldn't see him; he was completely subsumed by the light. 'We are angels.'

Kaitlyn shook her head. 'There's no such thing as angels, just as there is no such thing as God.' Her voice shook. 'If there was ...'

'If there was what, Kaitlyn?' came Jacob's voice from somewhere amid the light. And it sounded so powerful. It seemed to echo in her bones.

Kaitlyn started to shake. Her eyes filled with tears. She tried to hold them back but they dripped down her cheeks.

'No!' She threw herself past them both, landing on the floor in her bare feet before charging through the door.

They didn't stop her. They didn't catch her. She ran down a short stone hall, took a turn to her right, then ran straight ahead. She was fast. She'd always been fast. She'd won medals when she'd been younger. Her heart pounded. Her thighs were rock hard with adrenaline. Light gleamed down a small stairwell leading up. She was right. This was a basement! Crazy fucking men. She climbed the stairs two at a time, her heart skipping beats.

She broke into a large room, a huge room. Pews. Altar. Podium. Stained glass windows. She was in a church!

You are in the house of the lord.

It ultimately didn't matter. Church or basement—it was all still crazy. The doors were ahead. They were closed. She kept running. Kaitlyn whipped her head around at the sight of a man to her right. The place was poorly lit and yet she could see him with impossible clarity as he stood in the shadows. Just like the others, he seemed to carry his own aura of light. Bare-chested. White pants. Long red hair tied up in a ponytail. Tall and muscular and achingly beautiful.

He watched her but didn't try to stop her. Still, she screamed, 'Keep away!'

'Stop, child,' came a gentle voice. 'Where are you going?'

Kaitlyn turned and paused. A priest stood by the altar, black robe, white collar. He was an older man with grey hair, and he was normal-looking. But she didn't trust him, just like she wouldn't trust the rest of them.

Angels.

She charged towards the doors, her feet slapping against the floor. Reaching them, she tried to push them open with all her might but they wouldn't budge. She pushed and pushed, sobbing as she did, but they were obviously locked. Finally, Kaitlyn dropped to her knees, hanging her head as her tears dripped onto the floor. 'Leave me alone,' she croaked.

They were gathering around her. She could hear them. She could feel them at her back. But she refused to look, facing away and keeping her eyes trained to the floor. 'Leave me alone.'

'We cannot,' came the priest's voice. 'You are a part of this whether you like it or not.'

She hiccoughed. 'A part of what?'

'A part of The Reckoning.'

She gave a crazy laugh. 'The Reckoning. Sounds stupid.'

'Call it what you prefer, then,' the priest said patiently. 'Armageddon. The Rapture. Whatever its name, the end of days is nigh.'

She lifted her face and dared to look over her shoulder. Three of them were watching her from around the room. The priest was the closest, standing in the aisle, his palms held outward in supplication as he gazed at her with an imploring expression.

'You're all nuts,' she spat. 'Let me go.'

'No,' said the priest. 'You are not just a part of all this, you are the centre of it. He is after you.'

'Who?'

'The man in your dreams,' came a familiar, husky voice.

Kaitlyn turned her head to see Jacob. He was standing by the podium, looking normal again. Well, as normal as he could manage with his gleaming green eyes and beautiful, bright face. 'Satan himself.'

Are you having dreams, Kaitlyn?

Kaitlyn stared at him as images flashed in her mind, all she could remember of her dreams of the man with the blonde hair: the touching, the heaving ... the pleasure. Her heart lurched at the thought: Satan. She laughed. Then she began to cry as she slid to her bottom and leaned back against the doors. She suddenly felt weak. She suddenly felt so tired. The long, horrendous shift. The chase down the street. The kidnap. And now all this.

'Whatever you say,' she said.

'My name is Alex.' The priest's knees creaked as he crouched to her height. He held out his hand, a kindly smile fixed to his face. 'Come ... come back to your room. It's not safe outside. I can get something to eat, or to drink, some hot chocolate, if you wish.'

'It's not safe inside either,' she snapped back. The priest dropped his hand. She covered her face with her hands.

'Leave her, Father,' Jacob said softly. 'Let her be. You need your rest. We'll stay with her.'

Nobody moved for a moment. Then she heard footsteps. They disappeared back down the aisle. For a long time she sat by the doors with her hands to her face, unwilling to move, unwilling to see. Her backside was aching against the hard floor.

She heard someone approach. A pew creaked as whomever it was sat down. 'You hate us.' It was Jacob.

Kaitlyn didn't move.

'You do, don't you? It's not that you're not a believer. You hate angels. You hate God.'

Kaitlyn lowered her hands. Jacob was frowning. She grabbed at her necklace but otherwise didn't answer. She started to tremble. It was always too quiet in a church, even when it was filled to the brim with people. How she hated it. The familiar sights and smells and sensations of a life long forgotten made her heart skip beats. The redhead and Zeke were watching from further down the nave. Jacob's eyes were too bright in his handsome face. He has wings. He has wings. Angels. Satan. Dreams.

The priest's voice rang in her ears: He is after you.

Kaitlyn wiped at her wet face with shaking hands. Then her whole body started to tremble, so uncontrollably her teeth chattered. She suddenly felt so cold. Goose pimples erupted down her arms.

Vaguely she heard Jacob ask someone to get her some water.

The room started to spin. She leaned over to the side as she gagged. She gagged again, then jerked back as someone attempted to brush the hair out of her face before she could vomit into it. She looked up to see Jacob. Or, at least, what she thought was Jacob, his face a bright smudge behind her tears.

She felt so weak. Darkness crept around the edges of her vision. She started to lean too much to one side but Jacob was there to ease her to the floor. He pressed his hand to her cheek. It was so warm. More tears dribbled out of her eyes.

'Have no fear,' he whispered. 'You are safe with us.'

It was the last thing she heard before the darkness swallowed her up once more.