[Our Father, who art in heaven]
[hallowed be Thy name]
[Thy kingdom come]
[...]
The passage grew darker, and the three of them walked deeper, guided by Aileen's steady voice.
By now the cramped passage was only three metres wide; beads of water glistened on both walls.
An ordinary person would have felt clammy cold spreading around them.
But Hili, bringing up the rear, could have sworn the chill wrapped around him had warmed a fraction. He tilted his head, studying the Novice Nun ahead, and revised his opinion of her.
[...]
[Thy will be done]
[on earth as it is in heaven]
[...]
Hili wasn't the only one; Aileen, still reciting the prayer, felt the same. She stared at the broad back that seemed to bar the way, watching the fleeting white footprints Father Yorkes left, lost in thought.
Whatever the pair behind him felt, York now had his grenade-launcher levelled ahead.
The Novice Nun's prayer behind him was as good as stirring a hornet's nest.
Exactly what he intended.
The only chains that could bind a Nun were her own flesh and the controls planted within it.
He would clear every checkpoint, strip the demon of the negative power it fed on, and carry the blood of jesus right up to the fiend—just to announce his arrival.
Roar!!
A beast-like roar echoed from the depths, followed by a rush of pounding feet.
Bang-bang-bang!
This time even Hili and Aileen heard it.
The footfalls drew nearer.
Aileen's recitation faltered; she stared ahead, rigid.
From the rear Hili raised his SHAK-12, muzzle trained forward.
"I'm here."
Sensing their tension, York tossed the words over his shoulder. Magic welled in his eyes as he tracked the blurred shadow charging toward them, and he fired the revolver-grenade.
Boom!
A blaze of fire gouted from the muzzle.
A heartbeat later
the roar echoed again and, mid-air a dozen metres away, an explosion bloomed.
In that flash Hili and Aileen clearly saw a snarling Nun blasted apart—her upper body shredded, chunks spattering the walls, while her remaining legs toppled with a wet thud.
Darkness swallowed the scene as the light died.
Yet in the same instant
a fresh drum of footsteps began to sound in the gloom.
"Tch."
Through his spell-sight York saw a pack of gaunt, twisted Nun rushing them. He flicked a Holy Hand Grenade from his bandolier and, hearing the prayer falter, said calmly,
"Keep reading."
"Yes, Father."
Gazing into the devouring dark, Aileen quelled the tremor in her chest and resumed.
[Give us this day our daily bread]
[and forgive us our trespasses]
[...]
The sound of her voice made York smile; this was how it should feel.
With her recitation behind him he thumbed the pin, drew back his arm and lobbed the grenade.
Pop—hiss!
Propelled by inhuman strength the Holy Hand Grenade streaked twenty metres, clipped something with a metallic clink and rolled.
Then—
BOOM!!!
A white-gold bloom of sacred light lit the passage.
Hili and Aileen's eyes flew wide.
In that blazing instant they saw a pack of skeletal, half-human Nun torn to fragments that whirled away in all directions.
Darkness slammed back; a hot shock-wave hit them.
Before they could react York stepped into the blast, clenched his left fist and punched the air.
To conserve magic he let only a sliver coil round his knuckles, relying on raw strength for the rest.
Crack!
The white-crimson shock-front shattered against his fist; the remnants slammed into his broad chest without moving him an inch.
The back-wash tugged Aileen's hair into streaming banners behind him.
"Father?"
At her involuntary cry York slapped dust from his coat, eyes on the specks of light beginning to gather ahead.
"No harm done. Keep praying—see the Nun on their way."
He set off again.
Aileen drew a steadying breath, matched his stride and took up the verses once more.
[as we forgive those who trespass against us]
[and lead us not into temptation]
[but deliver us from evil]
[...]
Hili glanced at the SHAK-12 in his hands, muttered, and followed the Novice Nun's steps.
All he seemed good for here was flying helicopters; the seemingly fragile girl ahead had more courage and use than he did.
At least she could see what they faced; he could only feel unseen eyes watching.
[For Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory]
[for ever and ever]
Under Aileen's steady, gentle voice York reached the first spirit-Nun. The outlines of soul-Nun grew clear, faces serene, and he paused to sketch a cross upon his chest.
"Called to heaven—rest in the Lord."
The apparitions smiled; led by the Old Nun they pressed palms together, bowing as he passed. Beyond the last flickering soul he watched her burst into motes of light, sighed, and led the quietly praying Aileen and bewildered Hili onward.
Ten seconds later
another wave of racing feet echoed—only to be silenced by a single thunder-crack. Aileen's recitation alone continued.
After fifteen seconds the trio descended deeper; the last daylight was swallowed behind them.
The rough stone passage slanted ever downward, endless.
"Here..."
When a timber door appeared in the wall York halted, pushed it open.
He sensed something inside.
In the hush the wooden door screeched and burst inward.
Roar!!!
A Nun whose face had fused into raw meat hurled herself at him like a rabid corpse.
While Aileen bit back a scream and Hili snapped his rifle round, York leaned back from the flaying claws and pistoned a kick.
Power exploded.
The Nun was hurled, slamming into the far wall.
"My turn!"
Hili found his opening, raking the wall-bound creature with burst after burst from his SHAK-12.
Bang-bang-bang!
The shots shredded flesh but could not break the possessing hold; the Nun still twitched.
Hili's brief triumph guttered out.
"Father Yorkes—ordinary bullets?"
"Yep."
York answered, raising the revolver-grenade and blasting the rising Nun.
"You should've brought your own gun."
His double blessing worked for him alone; enchanted gear answered only to his touch.
In Hili's hands the SHAK-12 was just a rifle—fine against men or beasts, useless against the unclean.
BOOM!!!
The grenade left the muzzle and blew the charging Nun apart.
York' coat flared without wind.
A shield of magic deflected the flying shards and filth.
With a wet thud the ruined body collapsed.
Sensing no further life, York stepped into the stone chamber.
Dim light revealed shelves of books and papers lining the walls, a table and chair at the centre.
Easy to picture the Nun who had just died poring over those volumes.
He looked up at the glittering motes forming above the corpse...