It was still within her grasp though she’d have to stretch taut to reach it. She wasn’t sure how much it would really help, but figured if it bought Tyler another moment or two of breath the chance would be worth it.
Carefully, she inched her good arm forward, reaching out for the gun while hoping, no praying that the demon’s attention stayed at the front of the stage, allowing her to get the gun and bring it to bear. Her finger’s go inches from the handle, close enough to feel the cold radiating from the steel, when she noticed Al.
He was walking across the church with purpose, stepping through the aisles like a security guard looking to take down a rambunctious kid at the mall. He moved swiftly, yet with deliberate steps that kept his noise to a minimum. At his pace, Al would be on the demon in a few seconds. She wasn’t sure what he had in mind, but needed to have the gun ready when it happened.
Her fingers grasped around the handle, muscles tensed at the thought of the last time she had touched the thing. In her left hand the gun felt foreign, pressing down on her wrists with enough tension to make the bones ache. She knew she could hold the gun, but the better question was if she could shoot. It wasn’t so much a question of whether or not she could pull the trigger, but whether she could aim worth a damn. Hitting the demon anywhere but the head had shown to be pointless, and even then the odds weren’t great. But having the weapon was better than nothing, giving her the chance to distract the demon for a moment. Perhaps long enough for someone else to do something.
Al lowered his good shoulder as he got close, preparing to put every ounce of his weight into a tackle. He wasn’t looking to kill the demon, he knew better than to believe his action would do any good in the long turn. But this was about giving his people a chance to stand up against the demon in hopes that the others saw his example and joined in.
The demon turned his head, noticing Al’s tackle too late to do anything about it. Their bodies collapsed in a sickening crack of broken bones and mangled flesh. On their way to the ground, grabbed Al and twisted his body, gripping the older man under the cuff of his arms. Al hit the tile floor first, the weight of the demon’s body landing hard on top of him.
The demon’s lips twisted into a snarl, his jagged white teeth flashed brilliantly against the soft light of the church. He stared down at Al, licking his lips through his teeth, tasting the blood from a fresh cut.
Released from the demon’s grasp, Tyler fell like a marionette with freshly cut strings, limbs twisting in every direction as he hit the floor. Two of the bottles of water leapt from his pockets and rolled away as a reminder of how his luck had changed for the worse.
He held his position for a moment, not wanting to push his strained muscles any more than they already had. The feeling came back to his limbs the longer he sat, easing the tingling numbness with every heartbeat. After the soft burn of his arms eased, he chanced moving his right. Once he realized nothing bad would happen, he followed it with his left and his legs. Before long he was still bent over, but on his hands and knees like a young infant learning to crawl.
He felt the soft touch of flesh against his arm. Jerking his arm away, he nearly rolled off the stage before he stopped his momentum, preventing the fall. To his side he noticed the preacher sprawled out across the stage where he’d fallen just moments ago. Blood still oozed from his hands where they’d been impaled on the cross. The meat of his palms looked more like strips of beef jerky than a functioning hand, yet still gripping a blood covered bottle of water.
“Take it,” the preacher whispered with a raspy breath.
Tyler’s eyes widened at the sight. Was this what he thought it was? He wanted to open the bottle to make sure it had been blessed, but didn’t dare risk it a moment before he could.
The demon pelted Al with a vicious right hook, sending a fine mist of spittle and blood into the air. He followed up with nearly a dozen more, each bruising Al’s face more and more until it looked like a balloon, stretching his skin well past its limits.
The demon stood up, brushed the dust and some of the blood off his shirt and turned to the stage in time to see the water bottle cartwheeling in the air, water spraying from the loosened cap at every twist. He caught the bottle on the third flip, a spray of the water splashed on his clothes, washing some of the fresh blood away.
“Water?” the demon laughed. “Let me guess, blessed?” He studied Tyler’s expression, hoping his features would give it away. Tyler’s expression was stone, and difficult to read, but he took his extended silence as confirmation. “Dumb ass preacher told you he could make it, yet never told you how to use it. Priceless.”
“I have a good idea,” Marcy said, gun held steady against the pew. The demon’s eyes went from amusement to one of terror as the gun roared, sending the hot, stinging lead through the plastic bottle and into his heart. A spray of holy water spread out from the bottle as it exploded, dousing the freshly opened wound, causing it to steam and boil.
The demon dropped the bottle to hold the wound in his chest and roared in pain. As his legs gave out, he dropped to his knees, held there long enough for his screams to end, then collapsed.
Chapter Six
Marcy dropped the gun to the floor and pulled herself up as fast as her crushed hand would allow. Once to her feet she charged the stage, nearly tackling Tyler to the ground with a rough yet friendly hug.
“Are you OK?” Marcy said.
“Going to be sore in the morning, but I’m fine. How about you?”
Marcy stepped back and smiled. “Not going to be opening pickle jars any time soon.” She lifted her hand to give him a better look. A deep purple bruise had already set in, causing her fingers to swell to the size of small sausages. Without help, she would likely not use the hand again, but she didn’t care. She was happy to be alive.
“How about the others?” Tyler asked. “Al, Judy, Winston?”
Judy and Winston got up from their spot against the wall, neither looking any worse for the wear. But there was something about Judy’s expression that suggested something else was wrong.
“Where’s Al?” Tyler asked again, this time searching the room for the old man. He found him a few minutes later, face bruised, nose broken, and his eyes were swollen shut. In short, he looked like he’d gone two rounds with Holyfield and lost. Tyler knelt down at his side and placed a hand on his chest. “He’s breathing.”
Judy’s arms slumped, as the weight of her husband’s death lifted from her shoulders. She quickly took Tyler’s spot and lifted her husband’s head into her lap. “Oh my god, honey.”
Al’s eyes opened a hair’s breath. “Did we get the bastard?” he asked through swollen lips.
“Marcy did.”
Al let out a faint nod and collapsed into his wife’s lap.
“Let me see him,” Winston said as he stepped around the pew. He walked with an air of confidence that none of them had seen from him before. Tyler remembered seeing him cowering against Judy earlier, yet now it looked like that had been a front.
“You’re just a kid,” Judy protested. “You don’t know what to do.”
Winston smirked. “You’ll have to forgive the vessel. It was the purest one in the room.”
“Vessel?” Marcy asked.
“Yes, a vessel. My kind are not allowed to take a body by force, like him.” He pointed to the smoldering body of the demon in the middle of the church. “I promise you I’m on your side, but you must let me see him before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?” Judy asked, eyebrows lifted.
Tyler reached down and took her hand. “Let’s find out.”
Judy took his hand reluctantly and allowed Tyler to help her to her feet. She took a few steps past his feet and turned around, wanting to be close in case the kid did something wrong.
Winston knelt behind Al, knees resting on either side of his head. He held his arms out, palms down towards the man on the floor. Winston closed his eyes and started speaking below his breath then his
hands began to glow.
He finished his words a few seconds later and placed them on Al’s chest. The light penetrated the man’s chest, sending lightning flashes of energy through his skin. His exposed hands and feet gathered the energy, holding in in place for a moment before releasing it into the air, but his head was different. Most the light coalesced on his swollen cheeks and face, swirling into the dark bruises like a whirlpool. In the opening minutes the light looked to be losing the battle, but after a few minutes Al’s skin started to lighten and the swelling went down. After five minutes Al looked like nothing had ever happened.
Al’s eyes bolted open, pupils focused on the kid sitting hear his head. “What the hell is going on?”
Judy let out a jubilant cry and dropped to her knees. She helped her husband sit up and held him in her arms, tears of happiness drenching his shirt.
“Looks like that boy I saved was hiding a little secret,” Tyler said with a smile.
“No secret. He gave me control while you were occupied with the demon. Winston is still here, just hidden away.”
“Hidden?” Al asked, confused.
“I’m afraid I don’t have time to explain if you wish me to heal the rest of you.”
“You can do that?” Marcy asked, sparing a glance at her mangled hand.
Winston nodded. “Most of you will be fine though there are two that concern me. One more than the other.”
“The preacher,” Tyler said. “He’s still alive.”
“What?” Marcy asked. “We saw him die?”
“I’m not sure how, but he managed to hold on long enough to bless that bottle of water.”
“He is near death. I’m afraid there might not be enough after healing the other.”
“Me?” Marcy asked. She stared at her hand.
“Your injury is minor. It’s his I’m more concerned about.” Winston’s head moved to the front of the church, stopping on Matt.
“Impossible,” Al said. “The demon broke his neck.”
“He did, but it didn’t sever the spine. His injury is severe, but it will take a lot out of me.”
Slowly, the other survivors gathered around Winston, each staring in awe at the sight of Al’s healed body. One of the women stepped close, leaned in and ran the back of her hand along his face.
“What are you?” Tyler asked.
“An angel. And I’m here to help your kind.”
The end of Season one
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The Demontouched Saga
Demontouched - The Complete Saga
Demontouched - Book 1
Fallen - Book 2
Reaper - Book 3
Vessel - Book 4
Sacrifice - Book 5
Risen - Book 6
Echoes of Tomorrow
Season One
The Demontouched Saga
Demontouched - The Complete Saga
Demontouched - Book 1
Fallen - Book 2
Reaper - Book 3
Vessel - Book 4
Sacrifice - Book 5
Risen - Book 6
The Nephalem Files
Sparked
Vampire for Hire
Dead of Night
Astraea Renata Books
Far Too Young to Die
Echoes of Tomorrow
Season One
Echoes of Tomorrow Season One: Episode Eight (Echoes of Tomorrow: Season One Book 8) Page 4
