Matthew locked the shop’s door carefully, directing one last searching glance inside to make sure he’d turned off all the lights. In truth, though, the young man was operating on little more than autopilot, his mind occupied in an intense review of the events of the past hour, trying to make some sense of them.

Matthew shook his head as he turned and began to walk home. One minute, he’d just been reading to Erin from the book, and the next, his bitchy co-worker had been all over him. And he had just… gone along with it as if it had been the most natural thing in the world, rather than a freak aberration of normality.

Matthew had been sure, until tonight, that Erin despised and loathed him, and would rather eat spiders (which she was deathly afraid of) than touch hi in a sexual way. Now he wasn’t sure of anything. Had Erin really been attracted to him all this time, and had suddenly just crumbled? That didn’t make any sense.

‘My voice,’ Matthew thought wryly, ‘must be so unbearably sexy she just had no choice but to jump me.’ He felt laughter well up inside himself at the thought, but restrained it with an effort. If he started, he didn’t think he’d be able to stop.

That left Matthew wondering if it had been the book that had done something to Erin. But the young man dismissed that theory from his mind almost as soon as he considered it. Books didn’t force people to do things, that was just plain ridiculous. He decided to chalk the encounter up to temporary insanity on both his and Erin’s part. Still, Matthew resolved to examine the book closely when he got home. It was interesting enough from a theological viewpoint, anyway, and he wanted to determine whether or not it was the real deal, or merely a clever fake. He was betting on the latter.

But the young man could not stop his mind from straying back to Erin in all her unclothed glory… her full breasts, shaking with the force of his thrusts; the soft, smooth skin of her ass under his hands. Matthew had been a virgin before the event, and had always thought his first time would be slower, more unsure… nothing like what had actually occurred.

Matthew was so absorbed in his thoughts that he paid no attention to his surroundings, and thus started in shock when a heavy male voice called out, “Hey, loser! Where ya going!” from directly ahead of him.

Matthew stopped and looked up, cursing internally. He was, unfortunately, very familiar with the owner of that voice. Josh Harvey and his younger brother, Tom, stood in front of him, blocking his path, their girlfriends a little ways behind them. Both youths had powerful, athletic frames, denoting their physical prowess; smarts were not their forte. Both boys loved to torment Matthew, who was not only a social outsider, but had always far outshone them in the academic realm.

Melinda, Josh’s short, fair-haired girlfriend, looked at Matthew just as contemptuously as the boys; but Akemi, a black-haired girl of Asian descent, looked worried. “C’mon, Tom, just leave him, alright?”

“In a minute,” Tom replied easily.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” Josh asked mockingly, stepping forward and snatching the satchel from Matthew’s hands before he could react.

“That’s mine,” Matthew gritted through clenched teeth. “Give it back.” Somehow, this felt infinitely worse than when Erin had picked the book up; the young man felt a gnawing pain flare and spike deep within him.

“Oooh… scary!” Tom jeered.

“Watcha gonna do about it, buddy?” Josh inquired dangerously.

Matthew stepped forward and swung at him. Even as he did so, he knew it was a mistake. He couldn’t have taken either one of them even alone; both were fast, strong, and trained in martial arts. But the reckless strength still coursing through him after his encounter with Erin, combined with the visceral pain of his property residing in his tormenter’s hands, conspired together to take the decision out of his control.

Sure enough, Josh blocked the blow effortlessly, then jabbed his other fist into Matthew’s stomach, causing the young man to double over in pain. As he bent over, Josh punched him in the face, sending him reeling back. Tom advanced rapidly, and the last thing Matthew saw was a foot streaking towards his head.

Matthew woke sometime later to a pounding headache, sticky, semi-dried blood on his upper lip, and soft hands on his face. He gritted his teeth against the pain and opened his eyes.

A blurry face swam into view above him, and slowly came into focus. A young woman was looking down at him, a concerned expression on her face. Matthew recognized her after a moment. Samantha, that was her name, daughter of the Reverend Flynn. He’d spoken with her a few times at Church functions.

Sam had always been friendly enough, if a little stiff, but was very reserved. She had a gorgeous face, with deep dark eyes and wavy masses of dark brown hair, but was always clothed in shapeless dark dresses that obscured whatever figure lay beneath.

“Are you alright?” Sam asked worriedly.

Matthew coughed, and struggled to his feet. If there was one thing he was deathly afraid of, it was pity. If people pitied you, you were weak, and weakness attracted predators. “I’m fine.”

“What happened?”

“I… slipped,” Matthew lied unconvincingly. Oh shit. Where is the book? The idea of losing the book filled him with total panic, and the young man started to shake before he realized Sam was holding the book in one hand.

Seeing him look at the book, Sam held it out to him. “Is this yours? I found it over-”

Matthew snatched it out of her hands, feeling a wave of relief spread through him. “Sorry,” he apologized to Sam, seeing a hurt look on her face. “Yes, it’s mine… I thought I’d lost it. Thank you.”

Sam nodded. “Your welcome. That’s a really… odd title. What’s the book about?”

Matthew raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You know Latin?”

Sam shrugged, looking embarrassed. “A little. My father thinks it’s important.”

“Ah. I’m… not sure about the book yet. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

Sam regarded him askance. “You’re not a… Satan worshiper or anything, right?”

Matthew felt the corners of his mouth twitch, and nearly laughed; but he could see the girl was really concerned, so he answered seriously. “No, I’m not.”

Sam sighed, looking relieved. “Ok, good. So, will we see you in Church this Sunday?”

Matthew grinned. “Who is this ‘we’ you speak of? Are you using the royal we? You’re certainly pretty enough to be a princess.”

Sam blushed and looked down. “No, silly. I mean my father and I.”

Matthew nodded. The truth of the matter was, he dreaded going to Church. He disliked the Reverend Flynn, a dark-bearded, intense man prone to very long and complicated prayers, and Sunday services bored him to tears. Still… “Anything for a pretty girl,” he told Sam, making a little bow. “Count on me being there.”

The Reverend’s daughter blushed again. “O-ok. Have a good night, Matthew.”

Matthew smiled. “You too.” He waved to her, and started home once again.

Checking his watch as he entered the house, the young man shook his head. It was nearly midnight. I’ll just scrounge something to eat, and then to bed.

Walking towards the large kitchen, Matthew noticed the light was already on. He entered cautiously, ready to leave if Mr. or Mrs. Mannel was there, but the room seemed deserted. It was only when he was fully inside that a slight scraping noise drew his eyes downwards to the room’s occupant.

A young woman was trying to get something out of the back of one of the large cupboards in the corner, and had gone to far as to get down on her hands and knees and partially crawl inside. This provided Matthew with a mouth-watering view of her tight, rounded ass, covered only by delicate white panties, as it wiggled temptingly in time to her efforts.

There is a God, and he does love me, thought Matthew as he stared down, his mouth open in shock.

After a minute, the young woman withdrew herself from the cupboard empty-handed, muttering imprecations; Matthew realized it was Elisha. Reaching up to grasp the counter, Elisha pulled herself to her feet and turned around… and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Matthew standing there.

“Good God!” she gasped, sagging back against the counter. “You scared me half to death, Matthew!”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve said something.” Actually, Matthew was fairly certain that would’ve simply scared while she was inside the cupboard, causing her to jump and bang her head, but that didn’t seem the politic thing to say. “Do you need some help?”

Matthew let his gaze wander down over Elisha as he spoke, and felt a steady warmth rising within himself as he viewed her state of undress. Elisha was clothed only in a small tank top and panties, both of white silk, and both exceedingly tight. The fine material molded itself perfectly over her small, firm breasts, and her nipples were clearly visible. Matthew had to force himself not to lick his lips.

“Sure, that’d be great…” Elisha let the sentence trail off as she got a closer look at him, his clothes all rumpled and dirty with blood on his face. “What happened to you?”

Matthew shrugged. “I had a minor disagreement with several budding moral philosophers. They maintained that possession was nine-tenths of the law, but I doubted the validity of their conclusion.” He scratched a bit of blood off his lip reflectively. “I think they won that debate. Anyway, what were you looking for?”

“I know my last box of chocolate covered cherries are in there somewhere, but I can’t find them.” Elisha wrinkled her nose and pouted at the cupboard.

“No problem.” Matthew kneeled down and surveyed the interior of the cupboard critically. For some reason, even with the bulk of his body blocking the kitchen lights from illuminating the cupboard, the young man was able to see the inside easily. He soon located the package, and brought it out. “Here you go.”

“Thanks!” Elisha rewarded him with a brilliant smile, then stepped forward and hugged him impulsively. Matthew nearly choked, but even as his body began to react to the slender feminine form pressed up against him, Elisha pulled away, dropping a light kiss on his cheek. “See ya!”

Elisha had a mischievous smile on her face as she slipped out of the room. Matthew stared after her in shock, then finally shook his head. Today has been really weird. I just need to sleep. Tomorrow, everything will be normal, and everyone will hate or ignore me again.

Elisha went quickly upstairs to her room, and managed to get in and close the door behind her before squealing in excitement. Charsi, her best friend, looked up from the book she had been reading. “What?”

Elisha grinned. “Guess who I just ran into?”

Charsi smirked. There was only one person who’d have such an effect on her normally calm friend. “Matthew?”

Elisha nodded, and flung herself down on the bed. “And he was totally checking me out.”

“Well, he’d have to be dead not to, considering what you’re wearing,” her dark-haired friend commented.

Elisha bounced upright, smiling infectiously. “Then I guess I just established he’s not dead.”

Charsi chuckled. “So what’d you do?”

“Oh, he helped me with something, so I gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.”

Charsi blinked disbelievingly. “That’s it? No accidentally revealing poses? No flirtatious comments? No sly innuendo? C’mon, Elisha! You’ve got to better if you want to get his attention!”

Elisha frowned, suddenly dejected again. “Yeah, ok, I hear you. But, Char, I get so nervous! I get all… tingly, and don’t know what to say. Besides, I know how he hates the rest of the family. He probably feels the same way about me.”

Charsi sighed. “Then show him that you aren’t like them! To do that, you need to talk to him, ok? Just say anything to get things started, and then it won’t be so hard. And when you do get around to propositioning him… please be direct. Guys can be incredibly dense about this sort of thing, and need to be hit upside the head with a metaphorical two-by-four before they realize what they want.”

Elisha blushed crimson. “Yeah…” she mumbled. “But… I’m a virgin, and he probably has loads of way more experienced girls going after him. How can I compete?”

“If he’s really as decent as you say, he’ll want a nice girl like you, and not some slut. Besides, being a girl’s first can be really attractive for a guy.”

Elisha threw her friend a grateful look. “Thanks, Char. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Charsi grinned. “Frankly, neither do I. But hey, what are friends for? But really, you’ve got to introduce me to Matthew sometime. You’re talking about him all the time, and I don’t even know what he looks like.”

“I’ll try. He doesn’t hang around the house much, though, for obvious reasons. But next time there an opportunity, at a decent hour-” here Elisha shot a quelling look at her friend, who was getting to her feet and heading towards the door, “I’ll make sure you meet him. For now, let’s finish the movie, ok?”

Charsi sighed and sank back into her cushioned chair. “Oh, all right. Spoilsport.”

Seraphina felt peace wash through her as she knelt. Looking on her Savior, gazing down on her with caring eyes even through the agony of his crucifixion, granted her solace and reaffirmed her faith. She was so weak, so uncertain much of time… so unworthy of the blessings given her. The young woman closed her red eyes and bent her head in prayer, her snow-white hair falling before her eyes.

Ex profundus Ego vox vobis, Senior

Senior, audite meus vox vocis

Permissum vestri ears exsisto officiosus

Ut meus clamor pro misericordia

Si vos, Senior, no libri offensus

Senior, quisnam mos sto?

Tamen vobis illic est venia

Proinde vos es vereor

Ego exspecto Senior, meus animus exspecto

Quod suus vox Ego loco meus spes

Meus animus exspecto pro Senior

Praeter custodis exspecto oriens

Praeter custodis exspecto oriens

Israel, loco vestri spes Senior

Pro per Senior est eternus diligo

Quod per Senior est plenus redemptio

Is sui mos redemptor Israel

Ex totus suum offensus

(Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord

O Lord, hear my voice

Let your ears be attentive

To my cry for mercy

If you, O Lord, kept a record of sins

O Lord, who could stand?

But with you there is forgiveness

Therefore you are feared

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits

And in his word I put my hope

My soul waits for the Lord

More than the watchmen wait for the morning

More than the watchmen wait for the morning

O Israel, put your hope in the Lord

For with the Lord is unfailing love

And with him is full redemption

He himself will redeem Israel

From all their sins)

“Sera.”

Seraphina sighed and opened her eyes, not looking towards the speaker. She knew her comrade was standing in the aisle behind her, his tall, spare frame ram-rod straight. She could see his close-cropped, fair hair; feel the weight of his grey eyes on her back; smell the perspiration he always worked up after a bout of spell crafting. Just another blessing bestowed upon her for being the Vessel of Amariel… or curse, depending on your point of view. Seraphina never could decide.

Durrant was a rarity; a magician in service to God, wielding white magic in service to the Most High. He had been put in a Seminary by his family, though that had never been his wish. There, he had fallen in with a bad lot, and began to dabble in magic. Durrant and his friends were discovered before they did any real harm, and severely chastised for their sins. The priests realized that Durrant would never be able to stop using magic, though, so after much soul-searching, they eventually sent him away to learn magic from an experienced white magician. Durrant had excelled in his lessons, and on his graduation, was given the honor of being assigned to a Hand of God to aid in the grand design.

“Is it time?” the young albino asked quietly.

“It is time,” Durrant confirmed.

Seraphina rose smoothly, her leather creaking just slightly at the motion. The young was dressed in all in black; her duster, pants, and thigh-high boots all of leather, and a simple, tight cotton tee-shirt covering her chest. Seraphina liked how the darkness contrasted with the snow-white of her skin. It made her stand out; marked her as different, exotic. And she was different; Seraphina was a Hand of God.

“You know where he is?” Seraphina asked, pivoting smoothly on her heel and stalking towards Durrant, one hand idly caressing the silver hilt of the sword that hung at her side. She was referring to Martel, a dark sorcerer they had been pursuing for some time. They did not know much about him, but the young woman burned to bring him to justice. Martel had murdered the first Hand of God who came against him, a man who was the Vessel to Tarumael.

Durrant nodded, and fell in beside his comrade as she left the small chapel. “I found him at last. A motel on the other side of town. I’ll drive.”

Seraphina nodded. It was critical to maintain her shallow trance state, meaning she could not afford to split her attention. She had heard of Vessels who Embraced their Lords without the proper frame of mind out of desperate necessity; and while it was not usually fatal to the Vessel, Seraphina had no desire to live out the rest of her life as a vegetable.

They made the drive in silence. Durrant only broke it to announce their arrival as he turned into the seedy motel’s parking lot. The place looked like it was slowly falling down, and the lot was a mess of ruptured pavement and wind-blown trash. Seraphina exited the car swiftly with Durrant following. This close, she did not need to ask Durrant the sorcerer’s location; she could feel his corruption with her mind, like a black stain in the fabric of the world.

Seraphina paused at the door to draw her to draw her blade; then shuddered ecstasy, biting her lip until the blood flowed as the Embrace took her. Amariel flooded into her mind and soul like a flashflood, washing all that she was into the back of her mind as He possessed her. The young woman knew that her eyes were now golden, her lip had healed over, and her skin shed light as if it could barely contain the glorious being now confined in her body. Seraphina’s awareness rose to a fever pitch, every sensation magnified ten-fold. But He sorted through the clamor effortlessly, homing in on the one sound that mattered; the slow, drumming heartbeat of their quarry in the room beyond.

Amariel smiled ferally in anticipation. Touching the door lightly, He infused it with a small part of His celestial power, and watched in satisfaction as the door groaned loudly before bursting open with a sharp crack.

Amariel entered the darkened room boldly, casting about with his luminous eyes for his prey. To His surprise, Martel, a very old man in a battered leather jacket, was seated simply in a chair by the bed, gazing back at Him calmly. The sorcerer made no move to rise or defend himself.

Seraphina instinctively tightened her muscles, aware of the extreme deadliness of the man seated before her, but then Amariel reasserted his control, and gently relaxed her, sending a reassuring pulse of love deep in to the heart of her being. The young woman lost herself in the haze of pleasure, and almost missed Martel’s opening words.

“You’re late,” the old man said evenly. “I lost the strength to properly mask myself hours ago. That’s a backwards dog you have clinging to your heels.” Martel nodded to Durrant, who was now standing in the doorway.

Anger flashed in Durrant’s eyes, and he opened his mouth; to cast a spell, no doubt; but Amariel quelled him with a single glance. Turning back to the old sorcerer, He smiled. “We’ve run you to the ground at last, Old One. Try what you like, but your dark powers will not avail you. I am an instrument of the Lord God, and in His name, I will triumph. In the end, I will sending you screaming to Gehenna, where you will be burned like the trash you are. Do your worst.”

To their astonishment, Martel let out a wheezing chuckle. “My powers?” the old man managed at last. “You pompous fool! My powers are gone. You see my face, my skin? I was a young man, not so long ago. But defeating Tarumael broke me. I have naught left. But at least that butcher will harm no more innocents.”

Amariel nodded slowly. “Turn over the Tome, then, and prepare yourself for Oblivion.” He hefted his sword eagerly.

But Martel laughed again. “Oh, no. Where did you ever get the idea it would be that easy? The Tome is gone, I have passed it on.”

Amariel bared his teeth in anger. “To who!”

Martel smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know. All you need to know is this; he will be greater than I. He will rise where I have fallen, and he will be your doom.”

Amariel snarled and stepped forward, sword upraised. The old man held up a hand. “Wait. I wish to know who is killing me. What is your name?”

“Amariel, the Morning Flower, a seraph in service to the Lord God,” He replied proudly, and drew His sword back for the death-stroke.

“No,” Martel said quietly, looking into His eyes with a strange intensity. “I mean you, girl. What is your name?”

A silent war raged within Him for a moment. Seraphina wished to reply, prompted by a strange feeling of respect for the old man’s last wish, and Amariel struggled to keep control of her vocal chords. For an instant, Seraphina managed to prevail, and whisper, “Seraphina,” before falling once again into the back of her mind, cringing as Amariel punished her for her transgression.

“Ah,” Martel said in a sad voice, as the sword swept down on him. “May you fly free once day, Ser-” The blade bit into his throat then, blood splashed forth in a crimson shower, and the old man was silent forever.

Amariel licked the blood off his lips, feeling the excitement of the kill thrum through him, causing the blood to sing in his veins. “Old bastard talked too much,” He muttered to himself.

“Come,” He said to Durrant, who was staring at the corpse with satisfaction in his eyes. “We have much to do. We must find whoever received the Tome from Martel, and end them before they can grow strong.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Durrant replied hoarsely, tearing his eyes away from the body to look at Him. Amariel had to hold back laughter; the lust in the magician’s eyes was plain to see, as was his manhood straining against the fabric confining it. The kill always excited him.

Amariel brushed by Durrant on the way out, reaching down and briefly squeezing his erect cock as He passed, causing the magician to groan. “Find this new one quickly enough, mortal, and I’ll give you a taste of this.” He ran his hands down over the girl’s firm breasts and down between her legs. “I’ll show you pleasures you can’t even imagine.”

Amariel did laugh then, amused by the magician’s slack-jawed, glassy-eyed expression. Within, Seraphina tried to retreat further back, shutting the world off completely. She hated not being in control of her body, hated what He was doing to her, offering her to Durrant like a piece of meat. But the young woman also knew that Amariel did the will of God, and His actions were above question. It was all a necessary evil, a test of faith, Seraphina assured herself… and wondered why that seemed such cold comfort.