Father Merti glared at Father Claire as he walked past, “Father Claire, a word?” He was smiling at the de Nuovo brother, but there was nothing but pain in his heart. Julia, sweet beautiful Julia was wounded because of this wretch. He stared at Father Claire and Father Claire stared back at him.

“Si Father Merti? How can I help thee?” Father Claire’s face was blank as he spoke. He knew Father Merti was angry with him about something, what he did not know, he approached the other Father in a friendly manner. For all his life spent training under his father, Father Christine, he and his brothers were designed to adapt to a situation quickly. He could tell by Father Merti’s shaking hands and tense body language, something was amiss. “What troubles thee?”

Father Merti raised his gun, and pressed it to Father Claire’s forehead. 

The other Priest merely stared, unmoving.

He pulled the trigger.

Father Merti awoke with a start, grunting as he pulled himself out of the cot he was laying on. He was in the tents set up for the priests and he sighed, getting up to change his robes and grab his gun. After Father La Lomé had given his orders, Father Merti had gone to take a nap. He was exhausted from the constant worry of demons flooding into the makeshift camp the priests had set up.

He shook his head, standing in the small tent, within it was a cracked mirror, a bowl filled with water, a small stand, and his cot. He was currently washing his face in the basin, staring at the mirror. He was tired, bags under his eyes, his short black hair was a mess. He left the tent and walked out into the camp.

The other Fathers were hard at work, polishing both guns and swords, praying, preparing the V Protomen. It was a long hard journey for all of them and he was certain they would win. He believed in the power of God, in her word and in her glory, she would protect them all. They would weather this storm, because the power that flowed through him as he focused hard upon it, it whispered to him.

The whisper was like a heavy clicking sound, a clicking that brought him out of his thoughts. The screams of the priests surrounded him and he bolted through the camp, a demon with ice blue hair, naked as the day he was born came strutting into the camp. His hair was spiked through the nearest priests throats. His skin was pale white, his eyes golden and shimmering, his body flowed like water. He purred as the priests leaped to attack him, swords drawn.

They were quickly dispatched, bodies dangling in the air from the hair they were impaled by. Smirking, the demon stared at Father Merti, “I can smell your fear, your lust and your jealousy...” Maze spoke directly into Father Merti’s mind and he raised his shaking gun.

Just as quickly as he had appeared, the lust demon was in front of the stricken priest. He grabbed him by the face and kissed him harshly, tongue shoved, long tendril like and blue and black checkerboard in color, down his throat. When he was finished, his tongue slithered out and whipped around in the air once the kiss was broken, the demon then vanished into thin air.

Merti grabbed his own throat, gagging while falling to his knees. He did not hear his fellow priests bodies drop to the ground.