Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

142. Hail Mary

---

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death. Amen."

---

A tiny, surprised yelp escaped my throat when the bus shook violently beneath me, and I grabbed onto the metal bar closest to me as the bus hit another pothole. And another.

The first sign that we were just entering the Pentagram.

I felt my phone vibrate in quick, clipped bursts several times inside my purse, and I reached inside to find it and check my notifications. Opening my phone, I saw that I had received a small string of texts from Stolas:

Good morning, my owlet! Did you sleep well?

I arched an eyebrow, but scrolled down to read his next two messages:

I'm sorry! That was meant for Octavia!

But good morning to you, too, my other owlet! How are you doing today? :)

I smiled at the final message and began formulating a reply, but paused. Should I tell him the truth? Or should I just send him something quick and polite so he won't worry?

Letting out a small sigh, I typed out a response, repeatedly deleting and editing my words until I felt it was suitable, then pressed send:

I'm okay now. It's been a really rough few days, to say the least. Can we meet up to talk some time this week?

I pursed my lips and waited for his answer, which came less than a minute later:

Of course! I have a previous engagement on the day of the full moon, but is Wednesday alright with you? We can have tea and cakes and watch Hellanovellas. <3

My smile widened into a toothy grin.

You're so sweet, I love you! Yes, Wednesday works fine. The usual time?

He responded with a short and friendly, That's perfect! See you Wednesday, my sweet! just before I heard the automated voice announce over the bus's loudspeakers:

"Now arriving: Pentagram City, central."

A minute or so later, the bus jerked to a halt and opened its doors, and I hopped up from my seat and followed several other demons off and onto the sidewalk. I looked around—I was dropped off in the center of the city, where the Heaven Embassy was located, and I could see its shiny golden steeple peeking over a few blocks of tall buildings.

With my shoulders hunched, I kept my head bowed as I briskly made my way through the dirty streets of the Pentagram. I held my breath at some point, when the noxious stench of shit and sex and cheap booze filled my nostrils, and drew a hand to my face and covered my nose with the long sleeve of my jacket to block out the smell. A wolf-whistle sounded from a building nearby, followed by the slurred ramblings of a drunk gracelessly stumbling toward me.

I groaned softly. I'd made it almost the entire way to the embassy without incident—but I suppose it wouldn't be a trip back home without running the risk of being harassed by a random stranger.

"Hey, baby," the sinner drawled. "Your pussy as tight as those jeans?"

The heat quickly rose in my face, both out of rage and mortification, and for a split-second, I was tempted to turn around and give him a piece of my mind. But trying to confront someone in such a state (both physical and mental) would only encourage them to continue—I'd learned that years ago.