—†— CHAPTER NINETEEN—⸸—
It’s Just Sarah
I don’t know how long I sat there. It was long enough for the headache to fade though, and slip into a deep sleep. When I finally opened my eyes, the light outside had shifted, the sun climbing higher in the sky.
The office was quiet. Peaceful, even. The kind of quiet that made you aware of small sounds—the creak of wood settling, the faint whistle of wind through the window frame, and the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
I opened my eyes fully to find Sarah descending from the apartment. She was wearing different clothes. A simple skirt and blouse instead of the habit.
“Father Emil came by,” she said, noticing I was awake. “He brought food from Father Marcus. And these.” She gestured at her new outfit. “It feels so strange to wear normal clothes again.”
She looked different out of the religious garb. More vulnerable somehow.
“There you go again,” Az said in my head.
“Shut up,” I thought.
“How long was I out?” I asked aloud.
“Maybe a couple of hours,” she said. “I woke up about twenty minutes ago. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
She set a basket on the desk and started unpacking it. Sandwiches wrapped in cloth, a thermos of soup still warm, fresh bread, apples. My stomach growled at the sight of it.
“Father Emil also brought a message,” Sarah continued. “Father Marcus wants us at the cathedral before nightfall.”
I looked out the window and could see the sun well past its peak now, starting its descent toward evening. We had maybe three hours of daylight left.
“Then we need to finish,” I said, pulling the basket closer. “But first, we eat.”
We ate in comfortable silence. The food was good, the bread fresh, and I felt my strength returning with each bite.
When we finished, I cleared the desk and pulled out the boxes of forty-five ACP and thirty-eight rounds.
“Twenty rounds total,” I said. “Fourteen for the Colts, six for the revolver.” I pulled out the first cartridge and focused my Arcane-Inscription ability on the flat nose of the bullet. The familiar pull started immediately, that thread-like sensation drawing from somewhere deep in my core. The ward pattern burned itself into the lead, and I set it aside.
“Well shit,” I said, sitting back surprised. “This is going to cost about three points per round.”
“I don’t understand, aren’t these bullets smaller?” she asked.
“It’s because there is more mass in these bullets than there is in the coins,” Remy answered from the window.
Sarah nodded, understanding. “Jay, I don’t think you’re going to have enough Mana to do all twenty before we have to leave.”
“Probably not,” I admitted. “But I’ll manage.”
I worked steadily, inscribing round after round. My Mana pool dropped with each one, the pull steady and consistent.
By the time I’d finished twelve of the forty-five rounds, I was down to maybe five points of Mana and I could feel the beginnings of a headache forming behind my eyes again.
“Pace yourself,” Remy said from the window.
“Just two more forty-fives, then I’ll start on the thirty-eights,” I said aloud.
I inscribed the thirteenth round, felt the last of my Mana drain away, and reached for the fourteenth. The pull shifted immediately, drawing from my stamina instead. The sensation was different—like running uphill until the air ripped from my burning lungs.
I finished the last forty-five rounds and set it aside, breathing harder than I should have been.
Sarah was watching me with concern. “You should rest.”
“I’m all right,” I said, reaching for the first thirty-eight cartridge.
I inscribed the first of the smaller bullets. Then the second. My stamina was dropping faster than my Mana had, the drain more noticeable, more physical.
Third round. Fourth round.
Sarah’s hand covered mine across the desk, stopping me from picking up the fifth.
“That’s enough,” she said firmly. “You’re done.”
“Just two more—”
“No.” Her voice left no room for argument. “Look at yourself. You’re shaking.”
I glanced down and realized she was right. My hands were trembling, and the headache had gotten worse, a dull throb behind my eyes that made it hard to focus.
“We have enough,” she continued. “Eighteen warded rounds plus all the salt shells and coin shot.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to finish what I’d started. But the exhaustion was overwhelming, and pushing any further would mean pulling from my health. That was a line I couldn’t cross. Not now.
“All right,” I said, setting down the bullet. “You’re right.”
“She’s got more sense than you do”, Az observed in my head.
“Apparently,” I thought back.
“We didn’t get to the slugs though,” I said, looking at the box of shotgun shells. “The coin shot will work for the Stevens double-barrel. Especially since we packed them in around the rock salt, but we should have warded slugs too for the Winchester.”
“I can do those,” Sarah said quietly.
I looked up at her. “Sarah—”
“I know the barrier ward now. It’s in my memory. I can carve it onto the slugs by hand while you rest.” She pulled out the small file and one of the large shotgun slugs. “Let me help. Please.”
I wanted to argue, but the exhaustion was making it hard to think straight. And she was right. She could do this.
“All right,” I said. “But if you start feeling weak or sick—”
“I’ll stop,” she said. “I promise.”
“There’s one more thing we need to do before I can rest,” I said. “The locket. The concealment ward.”
She nodded. “Can you do it? With what you have left?”
I checked my reserves. Maybe seven or eight points of stamina. No Mana at all. The concealment ward was the most complex pattern I’d attempted yet. More intricate than the barrier ward, more demanding than anything I’d inscribed on the bullets.
“It’s going to cost me,” I said. “Probably all of my remaining stamina, maybe a little bit of health too.”
“Then maybe we should wait,” Sarah said. “Let you recover first.”
“It’s okay,” I said as I held out my hand. “Give me the locket.”
She hesitated, then placed it in my palm. The gold was warm from being held against her skin, and I tried not to think about it.
I opened the locket carefully, examining both the interior and exterior surfaces. The back of the locket was smooth and unblemished, perfect for engraving. When the locket was closed, the ward would be hidden from view, hiding inside the locket.
I pulled up the Codex and studied the concealment ward until I had every line memorized. Then I took a slow breath and focused my Arcane-Inscription ability, channeling the intricate pattern into the smooth gold surface.
The pull was immediate and strong. My stamina drained rapidly as the ward burned itself into the metal with meticulous precision. Each line had to be perfect, every curve exact. The pattern was far more complex than the barrier ward, requiring complete concentration to maintain the flow of energy from my depleted reserves into the delicate metalwork.
My vision started to blur. The headache got worse. But I kept focusing, kept channeling, watching the pattern take shape on its surface.
When I finished, my stamina was gone and I could feel the pull shifting toward my health. But the ward was complete.
“The Codex says the ward has to be attuned to whoever’s going to be wearing it,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
Sarah pricked her finger and let a drop of blood fall onto the ward, activating it. The pattern flared with faint golden light before settling into the metal. Then I closed the locket carefully, the ward now hidden from sight.
A System window appeared:
☿ ARCANE-SYSTEM: WARD ACTIVATED
Concealment Ward: Successfully Inscribed
This ward masks the wearer’s celestial essence from detection. While worn, angelic and demonic entities will be unable to sense the presence of celestial blood.
“It worked,” I said. “Put it on and don’t take it off.”
Sarah took the locket from my trembling hands and clasped the chain around her neck, tucking it beneath her blouse. As soon as she did, that faint resonance I’d been unconsciously aware of—her celestial essence—vanished completely.
“I cannot sense her anymore,” Remy said from the window. “The ward functions flawlessly.”
I slumped back in my chair, every muscle in my body aching. Four points of health wasn’t much, but combined with the complete depletion of my Mana and stamina, I felt like I’d been hit by a truck.
“Jay, close your eyes,” Sarah said firmly. “Rest. I’ll work on the slugs and keep watch.”
“Twenty minutes,” I said. “Wake me in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll wake you when you’re ready,” she said, which wasn’t the same thing at all, but I was too exhausted to argue.
I closed my eyes and immediately focused inward, searching for those faint wisps I’d sensed earlier. There—barely perceptible threads pulling something back into me from the air around us. I tried to relax into the sensation, letting my breathing slow, letting my mind quiet.
I heard Sarah pick up the file and start working on the first slug, the soft scraping sound rhythmic and almost soothing.
“You know,” Az said in my head, “she’s tougher than she looks.”
I know, I thought back.
I let myself drift, focusing on those tiny threads, feeling my reserves slowly start to climb.
Sarah worked carefully, filing the first slug smooth before pulling up the Codex window to reference the barrier ward pattern. She’d already committed it to memory, but she wanted to be certain. Each line had to be exact.
She began carving, her movements precise and deliberate. The metal was softer than the coins had been, She had to be careful not dig too deep or file too much off.
Az appeared on the desk beside her, watching her work with his tiny red arms crossed.
“It must be weird,” Az said. “Going from teaching little ones to carving wards.”
“Everything about the last two days has been weird.” Sarah set down the file for a moment and looked at the small demon. “Can I ask you something?”
“Depends on the question.”
“What happened to him? Before all this. Before he came here. He hasn’t talked about it. But I can see it in his eyes sometimes. Like he’s been through something terrible.”
Az’s usual grin faded. “That’s not my story to tell, Sister.”
“I’m not asking for details,” Sarah said. “I just want to understand him better. We’re supposed to be working together now, and I barely know anything about him.”
Remy materialized on the other side of the desk. “What the demon means to say is that Jarek’s past is complicated. There are things he has endured that would break most mortals. Things we should not discuss without his permission.”
“But I will tell you this,” Az said, his tone unusually serious. “The man you see now? He’s not who he was before. Whatever path he walked, whatever mistakes he made, he’s been given a chance to start over. Same as you.”
Sarah looked down at her hands, at the slug she was carving. “I was going to take my final vows,” she said quietly. “In six months. I’d been studying, preparing. It was the only path I’d ever wanted.”
“And now that path is closed,” Remy said gently.
“Yes.” She picked up the file again, and continued working.
“Does that make you angry?” Az asked.
Sarah thought about it. “Sad, maybe. Scared definitely. But…” She paused, searching for the right words. “Not unhappy. Is that terrible?”
“Why would that be terrible?” Remy asked.
“Because I dedicated my life to serving God. To the church. And now I’m sitting here making bullets to shoot angels, and part of me doesn’t even care that everything I worked for is gone.” She looked up at them. “What does that make me?”
“Human,” Az said simply. “It makes you human.”
“The path you believed you were meant to walk and the path you were actually meant for are not always the same thing,” Remy said. “I spent millennia believing I served the Creator’s will, only to discover I had been deceived. That everything I thought I knew was built on lies. It shattered me.”
“But here you are,” Sarah said.
“Here I am,” Remy agreed. “Walking a path I never imagined. And yet I find purpose in it. Perhaps more purpose than I ever found serving the Powers.”
Sarah thought on this for a second before glancing back up and looking at me while I slept in the chair.
“She likes him,” Az said suddenly, grinning at Sarah. “Admit it.”
Sarah felt her face grow warm. “I barely know him.”
“That’s not a denial,” Az said.
“Azazel,” Remy said, his tone warning.
“What? I’m just saying, she’s not exactly heartbroken about working with tall, dark, and brooding over there.”
“He’s been kind to me,” Sarah said quietly. “When everything fell apart, when those angels tried to kill me, he didn’t hesitate. He fought for me. Protected me. And now he’s pushing himself to exhaustion trying to keep me safe.” She looked at both of them. “Is it so wrong to appreciate that? Maybe I want to help him the way he’s helped me?”
“No,” Remy said. “That is not wrong at all.”
“Just be careful,” Az said, his grin fading. “He’s got a lot of demons. And I don’t mean me.”
“We all have demons,” Sarah said, returning to her work on the slug. “That doesn’t mean we can’t move forward.”
She finished carving the first slug and activated it with a drop of blood and her tea. The ward flared golden, then settled into the metal. One down.
She started on the second slug, the conversation settling into comfortable silence.
“Can I ask you something else?” Sarah said after a few minutes.
“Sure, I guess,” Az said.
“Why do you take that form? You’ve already shown me that that’s not what you really look like.”
Remy and Az exchanged glances.
“Honestly?” Az said. “When we were cast out and cursed we were made out to be monsters, and don’t get me wrong, Sister. Plenty of us deserved what we got. But when it seems like all of creation sees you as nothing but a monster for as long as we’ve endured you start seeing yourself that way too. It starts to feel normal, it grows on you until it eventually feels like your own skin. Do not think me soft for showing you my true nature. I have committed countless atrocities. I’ve tortured souls and hurt the innocent. I wear the skin because it’s a prison. A punishment. One that I feel I deserve—”
“But,” Remy interrupted, “we are not what we once were.” He hopped down and approached Azazel. “We are now Nephilim. Bound to each other and anew. I, too, have hurt the innocent and committed atrocities. Worse yet I did these things with righteous condemnation. On behalf of those who are just as much monsters hiding in shining armor. But no more. If this really is a chance to start again that’s something new then we can choose the path that we walk.”
Az sat quietly thinking about what Remiel had said. “That I choose to burn it all down,” he said, angry and through his teeth. “I choose to break the system of corruption and lies. I want to bring them what they fear most.”
Sarah stopped working for a moment and looked over at Az. “What could Heaven and Hell possibly fear?”
Azazel looked up at Sarah with a predatorial grin. “You, Sister. They’re afraid of you. And the others like you.”
“Yes, brother!” Remiel stood. “Let’s save as many of them as we can. Help them grow in power! Let the Host and Hell tremble in the face of their Ascension.”
Sarah smiled despite herself. She finished the second slug and started on the third.
“Honestly, I was only curious,” she said as she paused her work for a moment. “But I guess we’re all starting anew aren’t we. Az, you should take whatever form you feel comfortable in. But just so you know I don’t see you as a monster. I see you and will always see you as an angel, bit of an asshole sometimes, but an angel.”
“Well thanks, that’s very sweet. If I could throw up I would,” Az said as he curled up on the desk in his demon form. “You’re good for him, you know,” Az said quietly.
Sarah looked up, surprised.
“Yeah well I don’t feel like I’m good for anybody right now. I feel like I’m barely holding it together.”
“Yet you are here, Sister,” Remy said.
“Here I am,” Sarah smiled.
“Also I’m not a Sister anymore. I’m just Sarah.”
“No,” Remy agreed. “You are something more now too.”
With the third and fourth slugs done, she reached for the fifth. The headache got worse with each activation, but she pushed through it. On the sixth slug her hands started to tremble, but she kept carving.
“You should stop,” Remy said gently. “You are depleting your reserves.”
“Two more,” Sarah said. “I can do two more. Unlike Jay I’m actually watching my stats as I go instead of going by feel.”
She finished carving the eighth slug with shaking hands, each line taking more concentration than the last. When she activated it, the pull had been immediate and strong, draining what little stamina she had left.
She set down the file and leaned back in her chair, exhausted but satisfied. Eight warded slugs.
“How long should I let him rest?” she asked, her voice tired.
“His Mana’s climbed back to maybe ten points,” Az said. “Stamina’s at about twelve. It’s not great, but functional.” He looked at Sarah with something that might have been respect. “You pushed yourself harder than you should have.”
“He needed the help,” Sarah said simply.
“Thank you,” she said to Az and Remy. “For talking with me. For being honest.”
She waited another ten minutes, watching the sun sink lower through the window, then gently shook my shoulder.
“Jay. It’s time.”
I opened my eyes, blinking against the light. “How long?”
“About three hours,” Sarah said. “I finished eight slugs.” She looked tired, her face a little pale. “How many slugs did you say you made?”
“Eight,” she said.
“Sarah, how much of your Mana did you use?”
She looked away. “All of it. And some stamina.”
“Christ, Sarah—”
“You pushed yourself to keep me safe,” she said firmly. “Let me do the same for you.”
I wanted to argue, but I could see the determination in her eyes. She’d made her choice.
I checked my reserves. Not full, but better than I’d been. As long as we had an easy walk to the cathedral my stamina and man will continue to rise.
“All right,” I said. “We need to load the shotguns and get moving.”
I pulled the Winchester Model 1897 and the Stevens double-barrel from where they leaned against the wall. The Winchester would take the warded slugs Sarah had carved. The Stevens double-barrel would get the coin shot.
The remaining salt shells and regular buckshot went into my inventory along with both shotguns and all the extra ammunition.
I pulled the Colts from their holsters and loaded two mags with the warded ammunition. And pulled the other spare magazines out and reloaded them as well. Then I pulled the revolver from my inventory and loaded the four warded rounds we’d managed to complete, filling the remaining two chambers with regular ammunition.
“Here,” I said, handing Sarah the thirty-eight. “Keep this on you.”
Her hand dropped slightly at the weight, “I’ve never fired a gun before.”
“Point it at what you want to hit and pull the trigger,” I said. “The recoil will kick your hand up, so aim a little low to compensate. If something comes at you that I can’t stop, don’t hesitate. Just shoot it.”
She nodded, tucking the revolver into the pocket of her coat.
I holstered the Colts and grabbed my own coat from the rack, shrugging it on over the shoulder harness. The weight of the guns was reassuring, familiar.
I took one last look at the office and slid my hat on. The desk was covered with the remnants of our work—file shavings, empty boxes, scattered tools. The salt line was still visible across the threshold. The ward was still active on the wall, faintly glowing in the fading light.
Then I stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind me, Sarah following.
The sun was already touching the horizon, painting the snow in shades of deep orange and purple. We had maybe forty-five minutes of daylight left. Maybe less.
The cold hit immediately, sharp and biting. Our breath misted in front of our faces as we started walking toward St. Marys.
The cathedral loomed ahead of us in the distance, its stone walls dark against the fading light, its stained glass windows glowing faintly from within like embers in a dying fire.
“Whatever happens in there,” I said quietly, “we face it together.”
Sarah’s hand found mine and squeezed once. “Together.”
We walked through the snow-covered streets as the sun sank lower, the shadows growing longer with each step. Whatever Father Marcus was hiding in that church, whatever the spirit had been protecting all these years, we were about to find out.
And something told me that once we walked through those doors, nothing would ever be the same.