Luke 16:10 (An Avatrice Fanfiction)

1 Peter 4:8

Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.

Ava never expected to set foot in Paris. She always imagined a stroll along the Seine at dusk, watching the city bathe itself in fluorescent lights. In her mind, there were a million cafés sprawled across the streets, and a new stranger to meet in each one. She would make silly faces at the gargoyles that guarded Notre Dame, or what was left of it. She would wander through the Louvre; absorb every detail of the relics of the past. She would stretch her tired limbs and soak in the early fall breeze. But all these were dreams at most—she never dared speak these thoughts out loud. Though her mind drifted, she never expected to leave the walls of St. Michael's, much less step foot into a café. She never even expected to walk again.

She certainly didn't expect to greet Paris while being violently shoved out of a moving van.

Ava's first taste of France is bitter asphalt, with a tangy aftertaste of her own blood. Beatrice pulls her to her feet before she has a chance to react. Ava wipes the blood off her face, flicking it into the ground. She glances up to see Shotgun Mary dash down a cramped alleyway. Sister Camila is right beside her; they both have their weapons out and scanning the road ahead. Lilith is next, racing after the other two at a supernatural speed.

Limbs once stiff now spring into action, thriving on adrenaline. Ava is sprinting, flinging herself across the street with reckless abandon. The Halo scorches her spine, pulsating with energy. It ignites her veins, ripping through her system to power her muscles. Beatrice keeps pace beside her, shouting directions that Ava can't hear. The ringing in her ears overpowers everything, like the ominous gong of a church bell. There's a blur of lamplight and the dusting of snow, and the dull throb of feet swelling in their boots.

Ava glances back. Their van lies abandoned on the side of the road; its doors are flung open. Several men swarm the vehicle—a few of them hop into the backseat where Ava was just sitting. The rest sprint after the Sister Warriors, flanking across the alleyway. There's a familiar hunger in their eyes, accompanied by a floating red mist.

Beatrice presses her hand against Ava's shoulder, pushing the Halo Bearer ahead of her. They turn a corner, and when Ava looks up, the other three Sister Warriors are gone. Her stomach drops. They must have turned the wrong corner, but it's too late to think of the consequences. She sprints across the sidewalk, shoving past any pedestrians that step in her way. There are a few shouts, and the crowd makes way for them. People run alongside them, diving into shops or out into the street. Nobody dares to go against the tide—they don't need to see the wraiths to know the danger ahead. Drinks are abandoned on outdoor tables, chairs flung to their sides. Beatrice's heavy breathing in Ava's ear is the only consistency in the chaos. Eyes bear down on Ava in particular, and she questions if they are running from her more than anyone else. Not only does the Halo glow for all to see, but the divinium sword rattles against her back.

Ava grips Beatrice's arm, leading her into another alley. She lets the nun go as they round the corner, but she stays close by. Adrenaline rips through their systems; it lets Ava and Beatrice fly. They stay together in stride. Powerlines chart their course, rushing alongside apartment buildings. There are a few shops out here, shut tight for the evening. It was quiet here before the two women showed up, but now the sound of pounding boots fills the streets. Ava rounds another corner with Beatrice on her heels. The setting sun floods the sky orange, glaring over the endless stream of buildings. The blinding light casts shadows on the path ahead.

Beatrice's scream pierces through the air. Ava halts, then whips back. There's an alleyway behind her she didn't notice before. It's swarming with men in combat gear, spilling out and clustering around her companion. One of them has a deadly grip on Beatrice's arm. She shoots her leg out, planting a firm sidekick in the gut of the man behind her. He reels back, coughing up a fine red mist.