SIX YEARS AGO

Twenty-one guns went off at Hector Ortiz’s funeral. His fellow Providence PD officers, the same ones who’d betrayed and killed him, saluted their fallen comrade as snow fell from the sky and buried everything in sight. 

Cass stood next to her mother, a widow’s veil covering her face, her badge a golden crest on her Class A uniform. Juanita Ortiz was an Internal Affairs officer- her face never showed anything it didn’t absolutely have to. As the men who killed her husband for reporting on their corruption walked by, barely restrained smirks decorating their faces, Juanita gripped her daughter’s shoulder so tight it left five pinprick-sized bruises. 

Eventually, her mother left, silently. Cass stood alone before her father’s grave as the driving snow threatened to bury her along with him. 

***

FOUR YEARS AGO

Cass’ mother threw her out of the house for telling her no. She’d screamed at her, demanding to know how any daughter of hers could be so ungrateful and defiant. When Cass refused to answer the question, simply went silent as she always did, her mother pointed at the door. 

“Your father would be ashamed of you,” Juanita said as Cass stood in the doorway. “His own daughter has the power to investigate his death, bring the men responsible to justice, and she refuses to do anything. Unbelievable.”

Cass turned around, looked at her, and opened her mouth. 

“Well?” Juanita glared. “Gonna finally say something, little puta? Or are you going to run off to one of your little boyfriends? Or maybe your precious Bishop?”

Cass’ heart tore like paper in a rainstorm, and she walked out into the snow. She transformed, not caring who saw, and she took flight into the blizzard. 

She flew until she reached her father’s grave, and in front of it she fell to her knees and she wept from the depths of her soul. 

A yellow speck approached from above and landed on the other side of the tombstone.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Amy said as her feet touched the ground. 

Cass looked up at her, teardrops half-frozen on her face. 

“Come on,” Amy said, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where?” Cass whispered. 

“Let’s go flying for a bit. I know the weather isn’t great, but there’s some people I want you to meet.”

They flew through the storm for twenty minutes before touching down outside a coffee shop, next to a blue minivan. They untransformed, and Amy shepherded Cass into the back seat of the car. Inside it was a black woman in her forties, as well as a black girl about the same age as Cass, perhaps a bit older. 

“So, you must be the Cassandra I’ve heard so much about,” said the woman in the driver’s seat.

“Cass,” she replied in a small voice. “I… I go by Cass.”

“Well then, Cass, this is my Mom and little sister Debbi,” Amy said. “We were wondering if you wanted to get something to eat with us? Have a bit of a girls’ day?”

The tears on her face unfroze, and through the sobbing, Cass nodded yes.

***

NOW

The demon sidestepped Cass’ glowing fist, causing Cass to lose her balance. She stumbled, and the bullet narrowly missed her shoulder as a result. Veronica cocked the gun once more, her green eyes gleaming behind her devil’s mask. Cass screamed as she shot the most powerful telekinetic shove she could muster, and Veronica went flying through the air. The gun slipped from her hands, and Veronica landed on the soft-side of her elbow. A sickening snap reverberated through the foggy air. 

“GAHHH!” Veronica howled. “You bitch- I just got healed!”

Cass scanned the fog for her mother’s body. A leaf crunched beneath a boot directly behind her.

Cass dodged just in time for the knife to merely graze the shoulder her mother had once bruised, that had days prior been injured again. She winced, but grabbed her mother’s hand and started to summon Holy Light.

… Only for a gunshot to rupture the stagnant soundscape, and a bullet to find its way into Cass knee. She screamed, and the fog all around her rushed away. Her mother’s body was thrown about wildly, and through the parted fog and her own agonizing pain, Cass saw another masked figure- Archie. He marched towards them with a rifle in hand. “You okay, babe?” he asked his girlfriend.

“Been better,” Veronica grunted. 

“Well just let me handle this.”

He walked over to Cass, the demon wearing her mother standing next to him, pillars of evil in the overpowering fog. A knife and a gun pointed at her, Cass lay bleeding on the ground. 

I’m an idiot, she thought as her hands started trembling, as her breathing grew haggard, as the world began to spin faster and faster around her. It was like she was about to fall off the planet itself and tumble through the black eternity alone forever.   

“Now then,” the demon with her mother’s face started, “Winona wants you alive. Still unclear on why, but that’s that. Now, the operative word there is ‘wants.’ Not ‘needs.’ ‘Wants.’ So you have two options: you can cooperate and come with us, and you can serve a higher purpose for once in your life; or we can kill you. I’d make a decision fast if I were you. And if you die, I’ll slit mommy dearest here’s throat just to spite you. So come with us. It’s the only way you’ll save two lives today.”

Cass’ insides twisted with fear and dread and panic. This was it. She was dead. Nobody knew she was here. Nobody was coming for her. She couldn’t help these people- she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she did. Did Mom deserve to die for her sins, though? 

“No,” Cass whispered.

Archie groaned. “You’ve gotta be shitting me! Just say yes, ya’ stupid bitch!” 

He cocked the gun and pointed it at Cass head…

… Only for a glowing claymore of Holy Light to hack through the fog and stop just short of Archie’s neck. “The lady said no,” the boy from the alleyway said. 

Cass blinked rapidly. The boy had come from nowhere. He had his hood down, his hair damp from the fog, his gray-blue eyes practically blending into the mist. The bat he turned into a Holy Sword was an extension of the mist itself, the wrath of their surroundings hammered into a single, deadly object. 

Veronica screamed as she ran towards them, baying for blood. The boy pivoted and hacked off her good arm at the shoulder. She screamed as the ground below her was painted crimson. Cass seized the opportunity, grunting through the pain, trying desperately to focus, as she shoved Archie back with her telekinesis. It was like she was being shot again as she used it, but it worked: Archie stumbled back and dropped the gun, while Cass threw her bleeding body at her mother. Her mother stabbed her in the gut, but Cass buried her fist in the woman’s face and surged white light into it. 

Cass had fantasized about punching her mother in the face many a time. This wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured it though. The demon was released in a flurry of black smoke, while Juanita’s nose crunched under Cass’ fist and she fell down unconscious. 

Cass landed on the ground in a bloody, beaten, exhausted heap. She saw the boy hack off both of Archie’s arms and then rush over to Cass. 

“Hey, hey, stay conscious, don’t go into shock, don’t fall asleep,” he said, ripping a sleeve off his sweatshirt and wrapping it around Cass’ bleeding knee. 

“Tough ask, pendejo,” she said with a weak smile. 

He chuckled, then replied in Spanish, “I told you not to call me that.”

Cass spoke in Spanish, “Well what do I call you, mystery man?”

“Matt,” he answered. “My name’s Matt.”

“Nice to meet you, Matt. I’m Cass.”

“Okay, let’s get you to a hospital or something. Crap, I didn’t really plan for anything like this. I don’t have a phone, but I’m not sure about moving you- plus there’s these three-”

Cass looked up through the fog and saw it parting as two broomsticks lowered. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” Amy said with a gasp equal parts relieved and horrified. 

“Hey, sis,” Cass replied. 

“God, what the hell happened?” Debbi said as she touched foot on the ground. “And who are you?”

“He saved my life,” Cass said. 

“I was just returning the favor,” Matt said.

“How’s that?” the three sisters asked simultaneously.

“... Look, I can tell you about it later. For now, we’ve gotta get her an ambulance.”

“We’ve got something much better than that, assuming she hasn’t gotten herself into any trouble,” Amy said. “As for the others… I’ll call an ambulance. One of us should wait here…”

“I’ll handle that,” Matt replied. “Get her to safety. Please.”

“Don’t have to tell us twice,” Debbi said. “We’re gonna wanna talk to you again, though.”

“Sure, um- I don’t own a phone, though.”

“Meet us at Saint Joseph’s Cathedral in Boston,” Cass said. “We can talk there.”

Cass’ aching, bleeding body was placed on the back of Amy’s broom. She put her arms around her sister’s waist, and they took flight. She stole one last glance at her mother, lying unconscious on the ground, and wondered if all this had been worth it. 

“Amy?” Cass asked. 

“Shhh, try to keep your strength up while we fly,” Amy said gently.

“Thank you,” Cass said. “For everything.”

“... Of course. Happy to help.”

***

Saint Joseph’s came into sight, and the cab pulled over by the door to the basement. Nicole and Heather hurried out, and made it all the way to the front door. An electric buzzing ran through Nicole’s skull: bolts of lightning shooting about her brain, trying to warn her of something. 

They opened the door. 

“Hello, ladies,” Aidan said, standing before the altar. Sister Quinn lay unconscious at his feet, and Father Gonzalez was nowhere to be found. He held a goat’s skull in his hands, with the words ‘For Azazel’ carved into the forehead. “Well, lady and gentleman, I suppose.”

Nicole grinded her teeth. Here was the danger. But the sight of him didn’t scare her; it merely infuriated her, a surge of unyielding wrath that instantly consumed her entirety. It shoved logic to the side, only leaving room for the desire for satisfaction. 

This monster had hurt her friend. 

Nicole gathered her fingers into fists. 

“Where’s Gonzalez?” Heather spat. 

“He’s in the basement, torturing my father. It’s a shame, really: the old man is so close and yet so far away. And that goddamned jarhead priest is gonna take him away from me again!”

“I’m surprised you can even stand in here without bursting into flames,” Nicole said, marching forward. 

“Nicole,” Heather started. 

“Go help Father Gonzalez,” Nicole said. “The exorcism will take longer if he’s doing it the old-fashioned way.”

“Nicole, no-”

“One of us needs to distract this clown,” Nicole said, closing the gap further and further with each step up the center aisle. 

Aidan smirked, rubbing the ram’s skull while black flames began to burn inside the eyes. 

“Then I should be the one to-”

Nicole charged Aidan, transforming in the process. 

“Shit,” Heather said, running to the left and heading down the stairs to the basement. 

Nicole let the White Light flow through her hands, and threw a punch at Aidan. Every person she’d never stood up to flashed before her eyes, their smug faces and hateful souls bolts of lightning. The rage electrified her every cell, every molecule, every atom. 

He dodged, and Nicole stumbled forward, crashing into the altar and grunting. Aidan pivoted and launched a punch, and the pair danced together, boxing with fists wreathed in Holy Light and Hellfire respectively. The goat’s skull sat on the ground between them as they launched jabs and strikes and hooks at each other. 

“Not very Christian of you, all this!” Aidan sneered as his Hellfire hook nearly connected. 

Nicole dodged, and summoned an aura of Pink Light to keep herself shielded. Couldn’t expend too much, not here, not now, but still, a bit of coverage would go a long way. “Stop talking, demon!”

“Hey! Racist. I’m a cambion!” he said, his fist catching on Nicole’s shield. 

She kicked him in the gut, and he stumbled back off the altar. 

“That’s great for you, Aidan, but as far as I’m concerned, the specifics don’t matter,” Nicole said, leaping for him and missing narrowly as he rolled back and jumped to his feet. 

“Then what does?”

Nicole threw a punch, then another, then another. “You hurt Amy!”

He blocked, blocked, blocked. “Oh yeah. Why so I did,” he laughed. 

The electric rage tripled in voltage. “You broke into my home and hurt my friend!” 

“Oh, right. Your ‘friend.’ How’s that ‘friendship’ working out for you? She got her hooks into you yet? Has she started nagging you into doing what she wants? Crying when you don’t? Making you feel guilty about shit that’s her fault.”

Nicole’s face twisted. She punched, kicked, punched, kicked, but he dodged or blocked or sidestepped each blow. Still, at least she was forcing him backwards. The pool of Holy Water was just before the front door- if she could get him over there it would work to her advantage. “Don’t you try to play mind games with me, hellspawn!”

“Again, racist, you fucking tranny.”

Everything before Nicole’s eyes was red. She unleashed a flurry of strikes, pink and white light lacing together in her fists. 

“I don’t know what’s more pathetic,” Aidan said, effortlessly deflecting and dodging her sloppy attacks, “The fact that you’ve clearly never been in a fistfight before- I’m guessing a sissy little church boy like you always avoided ‘em because ‘fighting is wrong’- or the fact that you’re doing all this for a whiny whore who’s incapable of loving you back! I mean c’mon- you’ve gotta see what it is! You’re a workaround for her- a way for her avoid accepting the fact that she’s a fag on top of being a slut.”

Nicole’s White Light exploded out from her, and the edges of the Holy radiance singed Aidan’s skin. He jumped back, hissing, while his eyes went black and puffs of smoke billowed from his mouth and nostrils. 

“Ahhh there it is. There’s that tranny rage!” Aidan cackled. “Lemme guess- you think you’re defending her honor, like a white knight protecting his princess?! She’s a succubus, you moron- a sex demon. She doesn’t care about you, she just wants to feel like less of a disgusting freak than she is, and so she’s tricking you into caring about her!”

“SHUT UP!” Nicole screamed, charging him and swinging a punch and missing so badly her glowing fist tore through the wooden back of a pew.  

“And like… I get that you’re an abomination in the eyes of God, and that’s fair ‘cause so am I, but still… Even you should have more self-respect than to get with that bitch,” Aidan said, Hellfire exploding in his hands. “I mean seriously, after what she said to you, after the way she’s isolated you, got you living with her… All you care about is making her feel better because you think if you do, then you’ll stop being a freak! You think if you’re nice to everyone, they’ll all suddenly see how good and important you are and accept you! That’s your thought process. News flash, fairy- they’ll never accept you. You’ll never be good enough for them. And if you get with her, you’ll never be good enough for her either. She’ll just want more and more and more of you until there’s nothing left! And giving her all that doesn’t make you a good person- it makes you a weak person who doesn’t care about herself enough to realize when she’s being used!”

Nicole’s chest heaved as she stared down her enemy, his words hacking through her resolve like a machete through dry vines. Her rage kept sparking, but it was starting not to be enough. She was exhausted- the amount of flying, healing, and fighting she’d done weighing on her like cement shoes. And this guy… He couldn’t be… Couldn’t be right about her. 

Could he be?

“Ah, there it is- the doubt,” Aidan said, traipsing towards her hunched over form. “No faith without it, as they say. But that’s kinda why I just feel sorry for you: you’re not only delusional enough to think you’re a woman, you’re delusional enough you think all this crap you’re putting yourself through will all be worth it eventually.”

Behind him, the goat skull’s black fire burned ever-brighter. The more Aidan’s Hellfire burned, the more the skull did. 

“It will be,” Nicole said. She summoned Holy Light into her fist, and tried to form it into a sphere on her palm like she’d done with her Healing Light. 

“Oh? And how’s that?”

“Because I’ve known people like you all my life. People who don’t believe in anything but themselves. And I don’t hate you, I just feel sorry for you.”

“... I’m sorry, you what?”

“I pity you,” Nicole said, the truth flowing from her mouth as an undammed river. “And I’m doing this because I think maybe there’s a slim chance I can knock some sense into you.”

“Then you’re even dumber than I thought,” Aidan said, eyes narrow, scowl occupying the lower half of his face. He stood over her, wreathed in Hellfire, the black flames consuming every inch of him. 

Nicole said, “Guess so.”

She chucked the White sphere, only for it to peter out after about five feet. 

“HAH!” Aidan said, looking behind him at the skull. “Is that the best you’ve-”

Nicole seized the opportunity, anger and shame launching her forward, Pink and White Light flowing together into a raging pyre. She tackled Aidan, and pushed all her light into him. She didn’t know what this would do, but… It had to do something. 

Aidan screamed with the pain of an animal caught by the leg in a steel trap. Nicole poured on more and more and more, her anger flowing from her, her body a stormcloud and her wrath like dozens of spears of lightning. 

His fire went out, and Nicole smiled… And then a spike of guilt impaled her chest. 

She let herself burn out, and she looked down at her opponent. 

His eyes were open. His pulse was still active. “Oh thank goodness,” Nicole breathed. “Thank…,” she stopped. His eyes weren’t moving. Nothing was moving. His breathing was fine, but everything else… 

He was in a coma. 

Nicole fell over onto the ground next to him, eyes wide, heart thundering. “What did I just do?” she whispered. 

***

Heather hurried to the basement and tore the door off the hinges. 

Father Gonzalez and Abe stood haggard and broken before Cyrus. The demon was within the sigil, tied to his chair, but breaking out of his bonds one limb at a time- his wrists were both free, both lacerated, and both shattered, while his ankles remained tethered and bloody as he struggled to tear himself loose. Father Gonzalez held a red tissue to his nose in one hand, a bible in the other, while Abe’s arms were limp as Holy Water lay stagnant beneath his feet. 

“Outta my way,” Heather said as she marched over. 

“Mija!” Father Gonzalez said. “Thank goodness.”

Heather’s hands radiated Holy Light, and she touched them to the Bishop’s flesh. 

The demon screamed. 

And nothing else happened. 

Heather’s eyes went wide with fear and panic. She grabbed hold of the Bishop and tried again, again, again, to no avail. All she accomplished was hurting him. 

“I see we have a weak link,” Cyrus whispered. “Guess someone’s faith isn’t strong enough, eh? Perhaps you’re in the wrong line of work.”

Gonzalez resumed his Latin chanting, and Cyrus seized. He tried to crawl his way out of the sigil, howling in agony, bleeding on the ground. Black smoke billowed out of his facial orifices, leaving only a battered and broken heap of a Bishop on the ground. 

Heather fell on her ass and stared at her hands. What the hell… Is my faith… Really that weak?

***

Debbi led them into the church, where the three of them found Nicole staring at something a thousand yards away. Aidan… At first, Amy thought it was a corpse, but his chest moving up and down said otherwise. Nicole blinked in recognition of them, and Amy flew right over and set the bleeding Cass down next to Nicole. 

“Nicole,” Amy said, heart slowing to a crawl, “Are you-”

Nicole, silently, without looking, reached for Cass and healed her. Cass’ wounds stitched together within seconds, even the scars on her shoulder fading in the Pink Healing Light. Nicole’s shoulders slackened, and her eyes narrowed as she struggled to stay awake. Cass was simply unconscious on the floor, while Nicole silently stroked the younger girls’ hair. 

Sister Quinn appeared behind them, putting a hand on Nicole’s shoulder. 

Heather, Abe, Father Gonzalez, and Bishop Roberts emerged from the basement door. Nicole got up instantly and shuffled over to them. She stopped in front of the Bishop. Amy went up behind her and saw the Bishop’s eyes were back to normal. The rest of him was a battered mess, but he was free. 

“Nicho-” Roberts started. He stopped, then continued, “Nicole. Are you-”

Her hand glowed with Pink Light, and she extended it to him. The Bishop gulped, then took her hand and let the Light shine through him. His bloody wrists, lacerated face, severe limp, and bruised skin all healed, and within a minute he was a perfectly healthy older man again. 

He gasped, and said, “Thank you. My daughter.”

Nicole… Nicole just nodded sadly. Then she turned to Father Gonzalez and said, “I need to give Confession.”

Father Gonzalez balked. “Mija…”

“Please. I did something… Something bad. I… I have to make it right though. Please, I need to know what to do- let me give Confession, I’m begging you!”

“Nicole, no,” Amy said. “You need to rest-”

“No! I need to- need to… Need to make this right,” Nicole stammered. She turned her gaze over to Aidan, and she channeled her Healing Light again and marched over to him. 

Debbi and Heather formed a wall in front of him. 

“Move,” Nicole said softly. 

“Nicole, no- he will try to kill us all again,” Debbi said. “And again, and again. He’s still alive, and he could still wake up on his own-”

“He might not, though! And if so then… Then he’s just gonna lay there like a vegetable forever. I can’t… I can’t let that happen! That’s no life! At least with Veronica she was still awake, even if she couldn’t move. But him… There’s no way he can… No way he can repent! No way he can make it right! I took that away from him- that’s evil!”

Amy walked up next to Nicole. “Nicole, I don’t think someone like him is gonna repent.”

“But you did,” Nicole whispered. She took her hand and squeezed, and gave her a look of devastating hope. And something about that… About the implications of that, of how Nicole had seen her, of how she maybe still saw her… It was like a slap in the face. 

She’s right though, a part of Amy’s mind said to her, you’re a cambion too. If you can change, why not Aidan?

Tears streamed down Nicole’s face, and Amy felt matching ones coming out of her eyes. She swallowed. Nicole hadn’t meant what she’d said, she was just in shock. But at the same time… Amy wanted to run away. NO! No, for God’s sake, this is not about you! Your sister is hurt! The girl you like has been fucking traumatized! DO NOT MAKE THIS ABOUT YOU, YOU DEMONIC PIECE OF SHIT!

“Nicole,” Father Gonzalez said, “We will look after this boy. But please, I want you girls to get home and get some rest. We can regroup and discuss all this tomorrow. But-”

Nicole’s errant tears turned to sobs. Amy sat down next to her, and asked, “May I touch you?”

Nicole paused, but then nodded shallowly. 

Amy wrapped Nicole in a warm and soft embrace. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

“But look what I did! I took away someone’s ability to repent, to choose to be better.”

“You still have the choice,” Amy said. “You can still make up for it.”

“... You… You really think so?”

“I repented,” Amy said, swallowing her shame and her anger and her fear. “I changed. So can you.”

“Amy…,” Nicole trailed off. She went non-verbal as she buried her head in Amy’s shoulder. Amy rubbed her back and whispered, “You’re okay, you’re okay. God still loves, He still loves us all, I promise you.”

Amy looked at Father Gonzalez and Bishop Roberts and Sister Quinn, all nodding in approval to what she was doing. She looked at Debbi, holding Heather’s hand and giving her a look of half-pride half-anxiety; Heather herself simply looking utterly defeated. She looked at Cass, lying unconscious next to Amy’s monster of an ex-boyfriend. 

“There’s always time,” Amy said in Nicole’s ear. “There’s always time to be better than we were, better than we think we are.”