Grayson's Veil

The sounds of sucking and gulping made Phoebe clutch her stomach. It was nauseating. Never in her life had she felt so revolted by such noise.

Her reaction was initially delayed, but the fight or flight mode kicked in. With Grayson, her usual response to disassociate was replaced with a need to protect the friend in danger.

Although, said friend appeared to be more the aggressor than the agresse.

She ran to him and grasped his shoulders. Pulling, she realized his mouth was suctioned to the nun’s neck. With each tug, Sister Jane’s body jerked with Grayson.

With each gulp he took, the paler the nun’s face became. She had lost the will to fight, readily allowing Grayson to take what he wanted.

Continuing to pull, Phoebe was finally able to get him off of Sister Jane. The neck wound dribbled blood from the corners of the cut and bright red marks from Grayson’s mouth were visible.

A raspy breath escaped the nun’s open throat, a barely audible sound that only the priest heard.

Grayson licked his lips and hands that were covered in blood. He barely registered that Phoebe was still dragging him across the floor towards the door.

“Grayson,” she sobbed. “We need to leave. Your task is complete, let’s leave please.”

Blood had soaked into Grayson’s beard. He ran a hand through the coarse hair, enjoying the feel of the wet, sticky liquid coloring his facial hair.

“Avice!” Phoebe finally called as she opened the door slightly with her elbow.

The raven screeched from the rafters before flying down to the floor. Once she saw the scene she transformed into her human body, not caring that she was naked.

“Grayson,” she hissed, her teeth clenched tightly in anger. “What is wrong with you?” She grabbed his other arm and began to drag him too.

The priest stood in the room, watching Avice with fascination.

“How wondrous,” he murmured. “A shapeshifter of sorts.”

Avice ignored him and continued to help Phoebe yank Grayson out, who seemed to be feeling the effects of the virginal blood. His eyes rolled back as he sighed loudly through his nose.

“Come back whenever you like shapeshifter!” The priest called as the door was closing.

Avice glared at the priest. She paused for a moment, allowing the door to stop on Grayson’s legs and reached into the pocket of his pants. Finding the amulet, she threw it at the priest and watched as it landed at his feet.

“We are never coming back. And watch yourself. You are marked for the General and he is not a forgiving demon.” With that said, Avice nodded to Phoebe to continue their task.

“What are we going to do?” Phoebe asked, continuing to drag the heavy man down the aisle.

“We leave.”

The priest chuckled at the performance that had finally finished.

Blood soaked into the wooden floors where Sister Jane laid cold and silent.

Nudging her with his foot to make sure she was dead, the priest crouched down near her face. Her eyes were glazed over with her mouth open only slightly.

The priest moved a hair out of her face while gazing at her. “We have been through so much together.” He whispered to her, cupping her already chilled cheek.

“But if I had a chance to redo this moment over, I would not change a damn thing.” He smiled while straightening up.

“And this is why humans can be worse than demons if given the chance,” A low, harsh voice whispered in the priest’s ear.

The priest’s eyes widened and his skin paled at the voice.

“General. I was not expecting you,” The priest breathed out, trying hard to control his rapidly beating heart. “I did not think you could come to this side of the veil.”

A dark, dismal claw with green vines wrapped around it grasped the priest’s shoulder, not allowing him to turn around. The leaves of the vines tickled his face, making the priest try to move his head away but the movement only made the claw constrict more.

“Witches and their spells are quite useful to the demons.” There was a click sound that made the priest think the General was flicking his tongue around his teeth. “I was not expecting you to have the balls to have someone get the amulet for you either.”

The priest gulped. “Never hurts to try,” he attempted a laugh.

The General did not reply.

Instead, he made the priest step back.

“Your nun seems to have died.”

The priest looked over at Sister Jane’s body. “Yes.”

“She looks… not peaceful.” The General murmured.

“No. Her death was violent… by your son.”

The General seemed to still behind him. The claw on his arm tightened more to the point of the priest starting to whimper and bend his body to try to lessen the pain.

“I’m sorry! I was out of line!” The priest yelled.

A loud snap filled the silence, followed by the priest howling in pain from his now broken shoulder.

Ignoring the wails, the General spoke. “The amulet you had him retrieve is worthless, a pathetic attempt on your behalf. And he killed one of my gate guardians. Such a shame, that pet was my favorite.”

The General paused as if thinking of his next words. “All was for not, your fate was sealed that night you strapped that nun down.”

The priest whimpered while tears streaked his face.

“I was just trying to end my suffering. I did everything you asked of me. I sent men, women, and children to you and Uphir, to build your armies and to help your physician understand humans while I was slowly going insane! I lost my humanity because of you!”

The General tsked. “Do not blame me for your humanity. You could have kept it, but you were too greedy. Erasing your name, trying to hide yourself from me, only letting Sister Jane become known with a new name so she could take the downfall while you slipped away into the shadows. It was a devious plan, but not the best.”

The priest felt the General’s icy breath on his neck, making him feel like his skin was going to freeze.

“Father Charles,” the General spoke the priest’s name that he had not heard for many years. It made him hiccup and sob as his heart seem to seize at the mere mention of it. “Your death awaits.” Sharp teeth clicked together in the priest’s ear.

“No,” he whispered. “I did everything you asked of me. Please, let me go. Let me live.”

Pushing him forward, Father Charles stumbled over Sister Jane’s body.

“How many times did you hear that from your victims,” The General laughed, not caring that the priest was in agony from getting dragged by his broken bones.

When they stepped outside the church, there were no signs of Grayson or the rest of his group, making the priest sag more at the loss of hope from no one coming to his aid. The cold wind howled loudly around them, making Father Charles shiver and clutch at his body.

“Are you cold?” The General asked. “Let me start a fire.”

Before the priest could respond, the General snapped his fingers. The church burst into flames, making him gasp and stumble away from the fire that was already trying to lick at his clothes.

“My home!” Father Charles yelled. He struggled to release his shoulder from the General’s hold so he could diminish the fire, but it was too late. The flames burned too hot and the church was too old to even attempt to salvage a piece of it.

“Now you have nothing!” The General yelled over the chaos. “What are you going to do now?”

Father Charles stared at his church. He felt total and utter devastation at losing his one place of peace. He felt a whole in his chest open and begin to grow. He did not feel regret for trying to survive. He felt nothing when he thought of those people who wanted his guidance, only to be guided to their demise. He felt like he was on top of every single body he ever sentenced to death, building his way up and away from his own expiration. But he got too high.

It was time to fall.

The priest stared at his church as he put up his arms, not feeling the pain from his broken shoulder anymore. He did not notice that The General had stepped aside to watch him, doing nothing to stop him.

As he lifted his head to see the top of his church, he jumped backwards. He felt the wind pass between his arms and legs, felt his hair move to cover his face. He felt weightless, like there was nothing wrong anymore. Like he did not live on the demon side of the veil but lived in the world before he met the pregnant nun.

Suspended in the air, he forgot what happened and lived in that moment of flight.

Until he felt the first step collide with his head.

A sickening crack was barely heard when he rolled down the stairs. When he finally stopped at the bottom, his head was at an unnatural angle with his body lying flat on the ground and his face turned towards the sky.

The General walked down the stairs and stood above Father Charles. He watched as the priest’s eyes dilated and the body slumped into the ground.

The priest was dead.

Smirking, the Demon General looked back at the collapsing church. He felt the magic that was intertwined around his body start to fade, signaling to him that it was time to return to his side lest he die a horrible death too.

With immense satisfaction, a sharp tooth smile was the last to disappear in front of the dead priest and the burning church that held nothing but pain and betrayal.

Far off in the distance, sitting on top of a cliff sat a Lycan. He had a perfect view of the church as he watched two people exit out of it while dragging a third. It seemed with enough persuasion, the third finally gave in and grabbed two horses. They raced away from the church, with one less person and a bird following them.

The Lycan’s fur lifted with the winter wind, reminding the creature that it was colder up near the mountains.

Putting his nose up in the air, he sniffed.

There was a scent of soap, blood, and sulfur lingering lightly from the escapees.

This made the Lycan growl at the potential threat.

He lifted his head and howled as loud as he could. He was warning every Lycan that there was a predator in the area and needed to be on alert.

After howling, the Lycan stood on his feet and shook out his fur. He glanced one more time at the two escapees, before turning his tail to them.

It was time for him to go back to his master and report what was seen.