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"Hello Constance, my name is Erin Den Adel. I know this is going to sound a bit strange and very odd, but is there any way we can meet? I must discuss with you some issues pertaining to your estate." He morphed his voice to sound very convincing, one not needing her to call her true lawyer. His voice and tone light and full of promise, to those who were pure would trust and believe. "It is most impairative i see you. further introductions can be made once we meet. Where can we meet?"

The Our Lady of Peace Catholic Church was originally a thriving centre of the community when it was built back in the fifties. These days, however, it was home to a single priest and only a handful of semi-regular church-goers, and though it was loved by those few who made it their place of worship, it was obvious that the glory days had passed. Today, however, it was host to something a little bit different...

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"Finlay, take your squad, secure the area and make sure nobody finds their way in."

"On it, captain."

"Jacks, get on the radio and let Fortress know we've secured the target and are deailng with it now."

"Yessir."

A half dozen more orders were issued, finaly leaving the worship hall empty save for two people. One of them, the commander of the small strike force that had taken over the church, took a quiet moment to contemplate the other... a girl, not much more than a child, bound to a chair in the centre of the room. He regarded her with pity, but not the pity of a man reconsidering his actions. There was no hesistation here, no doubt. He had committed to this course of action with every ounce of his soul. HIS soul. But there was still pity. And he could be kind.

"I'm sorry, Jennifer," he said at last. He could offer that much. There would be screaming, soon, and he knew there would be no forgiveness, not from her. But part of his strength was doing what he did despite knowing that there could never truly be forgiveness. Nobody would ever thank him for this. It had to be done, however.

"Why are you doing this?" She had a sweet voice, even marred by the sobs halting her speech. She was scared. And confused. She was a good girl, always thought of others before herself. How could she have ever imagined herself in a situation like this? "How do you know who I am?"

Seamus had time. His soldiers would return soon and it would be time to finish this, but he had time. He knew she wouldn't understand or accept, but he did owe it to her to try. So he braced himself, then approached her, his thick combat boots sounding loudly on the floorboards as he crossed the room towards her. Then he squatted to sit on his heels. "Listen very carefully, Jennifer. This isn't your fault. But you've been marked by... people... who would use you. Did you ever wonder why your life has been so blessed? Why you've never been sick? Why you're luckier than anyone you know? This is no accident, Jennifer. They can't very well let their host die before they have a chance to use you, after all."

"What are you talking about?" Her response was typical, and nearly hysterical. She'd concluded that she was in the company of a madman, and he knew it. He'd heard it many times before. But he still owed it to them. They were innocent, and deserved at the very least the truth.

"Jennifer, I told you to listen. There are forces at play here beyond what they teach you in school. And they use us. Like chess pieces on a board. You've been chosen as a pawn, but I'm here to free you. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

A hope, then. Maybe he was going to let her go. "Please? I just want to go home." And then she was sobbing again, confused. Not sure whether to be relieved or even more worried. There was an edge to his words that did little to comfort.

"Captain, Fortress confirmed our message. They've already got another lead for you to check out."

Seamus turned to regard jacks, rising up from his conversation. "Good. It's time to end this then." He turned to his pack, then, an old, worn but still serviceable hold over from his marine days. And from it he pulled out several items; a mid-sized notebook, chalk, salts of some sort. Some sort of medallion and a few other smaller relics.

"Captain, are you sure she's one of them? She's so...."

"Young? Yes, I'm sure Jacks." Seamus could still see the doubt, though. Jacks was new, he hadn't been a part of the mission as long as the others. His loyalty wasn't in question, but Seamus had, among other things, a good sense of the people about him. So he picked up his radio, thumbing the transmit button. "Harris, need you in here."

He hadn't long to wait. The church was small and Finlay had more than enough men, placed discreetly, to disuade any outside company. A firefight was highly unlikely, and Seamus had a better use for the company marksman. "You called, Sir?"

"Harris, shoot the girl."

Sometimes the chain of events in a given situation can get muddled. That is, it's hard, sometimes, to say which happens first, last, in the middle. Jacks would never really be able to piece it together. All he would know, later when he was thinking about it while trying to get to sleep, is that there was screaming.. from the girl, most likely... shock, mostly from himself... and of course the gunshot. Harris was good. In his short time with the company, Jacks had never heard of Harris missing anything. Jacks had watched as Harris had gone on to empty his entire clip. And not a single bullet touched the girl.

"They won't let her come to harm. She's protected, Jacks."

But Seamus knew a way around that protection. When the company withdrew shortly after, Jennifer Wilson's blessed life was over.

The Our Lady of Peace catholic church died with Jennifer. Nobody wanted to worship the Lord in a place where there were obvious signs of witchcraft and devilry.

The Wilson family never recovered. Jason was never able to live up to the example set by his sister, and his parents couldn't ever let her go. He ended up in juvenile hall, years later, and then was killed in the streets in a small gang scirmish. Her father drank himself to death, and her mother, though she survived, would spend the rest of her days as a mere shadow of a woman.

Somewhere, an Angel mourned the loss of his ward. And worried for the future of the world.

Tariel lounged regally in the pool house waiting for her newest guest to show up. She'd quite effciently gotten rid of her formal human wear, opting for her demonic lingerie she wore daily. Her thorny tail swished eagerly from side to side. If everything went well tonight she could easily stave off her hunger with the shining half of Spencer's soul until she could claim Constance's.

An interlude with Spencer foreshadowing her interlude with Te made the gorgeous demoness simply quiver with excitement in the darkned room alight with candles throwing their flaming shadows everywhere.





Constance streched lazily in her four-post bed as her alarm started chiming calling her out of her sleep to start her day. Throwing her lithelegs out of her bed, she squidged her toes in the plush carpet before padding over to the grand bathroom of her suite. A philanthropist she might be, but the young Georgian had no problem indulging when she in the states. She was sure all her charity work compensated for her small luxuries she took in her accomodations.

Letting her satin nightgown slide to the floor, She stepped into the steaming hot shower washing away the cobwebs of the night and tried not to think about the steamy, sexual dreams she was having about Teanna Westwood. Part of her really had the wiggins fro them, the other part of her was completely ready to let Teanna have her wicked way with her.

In only took her about an hour to finish her shower, eat, and quickly change into a sharp, cream business suit that set off her naturally tan skin nicely. Wrapping her hair up in a lose bun, she grabbed her purse and made her way out of her hotel before calling a cab. She wanted to check on one of her projects while she in town. Ashford Youth Center.

A petulant frown formed on her lips as she saw the community really didn't look any better then the last time she was here. She'd specifically delegated funds to be used for both the youth center and to help the community! Huffing annoyingly, Constance quickly paid her driver and got out of the cab in front of the Youth Center only to be awarded with a never ending smile. A tired grin came to her face, "I never have to worry about being upset around you Tuyen. Always here to cheer me up."

"Cheering you up is the least of what I wish I could do to repay your kindness to this community Ms. Ashford."

Tuyen's fine brow furrowed slightly for a moment, the meaning of her words hitting her only after his sincere response to them, and he looked to her with concern clearly showing in his eyes.

"It's not my place to ask about your troubles Ms. Ashford, but is there something I could do to help?"

Tuyen had always felt that Constance was the exeption to that upper class and did not think herself above those that her money was sent to help. This was why she travelled to the scene of her donations herself, this was why she immersed herself in the details of planning and making use of her donations, and this was why she knew many of those who worked at her community centers by name.

Teanna Westwood was at home, like always, sipping on a fine glass of champagne when it happened. It was a flicker from the corner of her eye, the ghost of a figure, and when she turned to scrutinize it there was nothing. A glare settled over her features as she continued to stare down the corridor simply daring it to manifest once more.

Te had done too many things and seen too many others to assume that it was a trick of the light or the champagne. In fact she also knew that it was that same mentality that got people killed. So, instead of ignoring it and continueing on she set the champagne down on the stand closest to her, bee-lined for the study that was just around the corner, and seized the iron stoker from the fire-place.

She could feel the cold despite the fire and so when she turned and came face to face with the apparition she was not surprised at it's presence. What did surprised her was the face of the boy she had killed, or rather, sucked the life out of, mere nights ago. She refrained from a gasp when he reached for her and instead cut through his form with the stoke, the pure iron shaft causing the image to disperse, and then she dropped it as her confusion gave way to anger.

There was no danger to her from the spirit alone except for its presence. Well versed in enough hoodoo Te had adequately sealed her mansion home off from unwelcome intrusions of any paranormal origins, the importance of such a task only more important when she had Tyriel frequenting her home and the risk of spirits riding in on her manefestations ever present, and so that meant that either her hoodoo had been disturbed or something was happening on the other side of the veil.

Yes, Teanna Westwood knew far more about such matters than the average person. It came with the territory when one sold their soul to a devil in exchange for otherwordly powers of her own and more monetary wealthy than anyone could dream possible.

Of course she knew one other who had more knowledge than she during such matters and she was now on her way there with the stoker back in hand, hurrying her pace to be there before another apparition appeared, and hoping that Tariel was still in the pool house.

Erin waited with patience while the young recpetionist acquired the information he needed, as well as Miss Constance to acknowledge him. She was a bright young lady, who in his eyes would pass through the gates of heaven with ease. Her aura comforted even him. She must be busy thinking of the things she has on her agenda and he would be there to make sure she could not fall into the grip of hell.

He then looked to the young man, and surveyed him closely. He had a strange aura about him. His was much like hers, only more pure. Another Angel? Could he be the lost angel fallen to earth years ago? Erin could not be sure. He would need to investigate into the matter. If he was the angel Erin thought about, then matters could be slightly complicated, or made easier, depending on how brainwashed he has been by the humans.

It would not be long before she would make her self known once more. For the past year Amelia, lived hidden away from the world preparing for the day she would emerge from the shadow of her former self, a Queen. She took care to have the construction on her new mansion supervised only by her, and built by few. It was almost finished and the men she had were just amazing, both on and off the job. They never went unrewarded for the work they did, and she felt it an incentive to complete the job thoroughly and timely. One man found out that if he did not do his job she would not give to him what he wanted, but a death so slow and painful the other men had a small fear of her.

Fear took the backseat as she would easily ignite the pleasures their bodies yearned for so desperately. They had told her it would be only a month before the mansion stood completely finished. Now the time came to send out her invitations to her open house and re-emergence into the world.

She had sent a list of names to her personal assistant, instructing him to make sure each name was printed right and the addresses made out perfectly.