And Blue Skies From Pain Read Free Page A

“Ahhhh, I see.” It held out a hand and muttered something again. “Some things can’t be forgiven. Stand, and together, we’ll make everyone pay.”
    Father Jackson stood.
    “Drop your weapons,” the tall demon said.
    To Joseph’s horror, he watched as Father Jackson did exactly that. They use your weaknesses against you, Joseph thought. A chill shivered through him, and he finally understood why Father Jackson had sent him upstairs.
    Kill the half-demon first. Joseph settled into position, assuming a two-handed stabilizing grip on the pistol and then carefully aimed the Browning at the Fallen armed with the dagger. He didn’t want to risk missing. He was near the limits of the pistol’s range. So, he aimed for the chest. I can do this. He’d scored quite high in marksmanship from the start, surprising even himself. However, this was the first time he’d actually pointed a weapon at a human be— Fallen. It’s a demon. It isn’t human. He took a deep breath, hesitating for an instant. This is it. There is no going back after this. I’ll have taken a life. He thought of the worst night of his life in spite of himself— this is why I lived and she didn’t —and slowly squeezed the trigger.
    The effect was instantaneous. The recoil sent a shock up his left wrist and arm. At the same time, the creature stumbled. Bright red blood splashed the wall behind it. Its knife fell away from Father Drager’s throat and clattered to the floor. Joseph didn’t wait. He placed two more shots—a second one in the chest and one in the head—then changed targets. The full-blooded Fallen whirled, searching for the source of the shots. There wasn’t much time. Joseph knew he’d be spotted in seconds. If the thing could control Father Jackson so easily, then he was certainly no match for it. Joseph steadied himself as best he could and fired another four rounds. The first went wide. The second clipped the demon on the shoulder. The last two struck home, creating dark patches on the creature’s chest.
    Six shots remaining.
    The demon looked up at him and grinned. Joseph fired twice more, hitting the creature again in the chest. It laughed. Someone screamed. Father Jackson hurled himself at the thing. Unwilling to risk being controlled or shooting Father Jackson, Joseph lifted the barrel of the Browning and dropped behind the balcony wall. He scurried in a crouch to a new position and peered over the ledge.
    Father Jackson had brought the thing down with a full body tackle. He lifted a fist and punched the demon in the face. The fallen angel didn’t resist. It laughed as its blackening face smoldered. Father Jackson hit it again and again. Its laughter didn’t cease even as the smoke thickened and dark red embers flickered underneath its cracking skin.
    Joseph scanned the area. Unable to spy any other targets, he decided it was safe enough to risk leaving his position. Something is wrong. He sprinted as fast as he could. By the time he reached Father Jackson the demon was a pile of stinking ash and burned clothing. Father Jackson knelt in the dust, blistered hands clenched around fistfuls of filthy rags.
    “Father?” Joseph asked. There were three doors along the wall to his left and two more on the right. He needed to secure them, but he was worried about Father Jackson. “It’s gone now. Dead. Father?”
    Father Jackson turned and wiped his face with a wince, leaving a smudge of foul ash on his wet cheeks. His eyes were distant. He blinked.
    “Father?”
    Father Jackson’s eyes began to slowly focus. “Joseph?”
    “Yes, Father. It’s me.”
    Father Jackson blinked again. Then he shook his head as if to clear it. “Yes.” He coughed and sniffed and wiped his hands on his shirt. Again he flinched. “Have you secured the perimeter?” He stumbled to his feet. The mask of professionalism had shifted back into place. His clothes were thick with dark grey dust but not burned. Apparently, the only skin affected was