Demon Hunters: Book 1 Faith [editing]

Chapter 2

She didn't care that it was raining or that she had left her leather jacket behind at the club. In fact, the raindrops soothed the lingering burns she suffered on her back and on her wings.

She stopped and listened to confirm that she was indeed alone. She heard a cat digging through a trash can, foraging for food. Then the gentle hum of the electric plant off in the distance. Finally, the comings and goings of a few cars down the lonely highway, just about a mile from here. Zacharias knew how to find the best hideouts; he always went for seclusion. She didn't really want to think about him right now or what he might say.

She paused in the middle of a dark alley between two abandoned warehouses and savored the rain. She looked upwards to the night sky and closed her eyes. Her wings spread out widely, taking in each drop. She had never descended that far into the tunnel. Only fallen angels can survive that, they told her. It leads to the demon underworld where God does not exist. An angel's worst nightmare.

She gritted her teeth. So close. So close. She shook her wings, spraying water everywhere. The burning had all but subsided now.

She dragged her feet like a human, if only to prolong her return. Zacharias would be waiting for her. This would not be good. Not at all.

She sighed and folded her wings behind her. Just a few blocks away and she could already hear him nagging. Why don't you ever follow my orders? How many times have we've been bested by this demon recruiter? Are you just getting too cocky?

Three times. She pulled the small scrap of paper from her pocket and read those words again: You're too late. How did he do it? What did Ren know? Or was she just losing her touch?

They had been fierce competitors for well over fifty years now, ever since the Archangel Gabriel recommissioned the watchers to descend on the earth and to locate and exterminate this rising breed of demon-like humans, called scions. They are the descendants of the nephilim, the children born from the forbidden union of mortals and angels. These children inherited inhuman strength and elemental powers from their angelic parent.

One hundred angels disobeyed the order not to fraternize with humans. So, God, the Father, the Almighty had banished all of them, The Fallen 100, and then he sent the Great Flood to destroy all the nephilim. Not all of them died.

A soft voice floated about the wind. "Zoe, he knows you're here. Better come up now." Muriel was right. Zacharias could probably hear her breathing and her heart beating by now.

Zoe stopped in front of the abandoned apartment building and inhaled deeply to steady herself for the encounter.

She crept up the dark stairway until she reached the seventh floor where their apartment #77 was located. Zacharias was into the whole numbers lore, even though every angel (and demon for that matter) knew such numerology was a man-made invention. Angels often felt amused by these human antics.

Her fingers brushed the knob, which she knew wouldn't be locked, before she opened it slowly.

Inside, Muriel sat on a small sofa combing through a newspaper. She lowered the paper and brushed aside her blond hair. She mouthed the words, "Watch out. He's angry."

Zoe swallowed. The apartment boasted few adornments. Besides the sofa, two wooden chairs and a small coffee table occupied the living room. The dining room, kitchen, and small hallway were empty. Each of the three bedrooms contained only a cot, a chest and a closet the rest of the clothes. Zacharias was in charge of logistics, and he wasn't much into home décor.

Zacharias's bedroom also contained a large wooden table and three chairs. Zoe's black leather jacket, the one she left behind, laid draped over one of these chairs. She saw it instantly from the half-opened doorway. Zoe trembled like a fearful human child.