Go find the human. Find him. Now. The voice is serpentine, melodic in it's own way, but screams of deception and malice. The voice speaks to a dark being, standing still in the heart of Venice, Italy. The monster twitches at the order, coming to life, it seems. There are no questions of who the human is—the demon knows full well—it has noticed the acts the man had committed against his king, and the demon is on his way. He walks with leisure, white hands in his coat pockets. A heavy rain is falling, and it beats against the demon's hat, offering slight protection from the elements. Nothing is heard in the demon's mind but the echoing of the voice—his king. The order.

The demon didn't need to ask what came as the latter after he found the human. An evil smile spreads across his lips, relieved his king recognized him and gave him a chore to do. His lord was of the more patient types, yet if a job could be done in less time than need be, it would happen sooner. The demon finds this to be a delicate procedure. Destroying the Exorcist clergyman in the dead of night was not a task to be taken lightly. He soon comes to a canal with no way to cross. The demon pauses in his monotonous stride, and looks across the river—sees nothing. Then looks to his left. Through the black of night, he sees a sleeping old man in a long, slender river boat. The demon pauses in his mission, now, and questions his king what to do.

Ask it for a ride—be polite, and I will make him give you a ride through using a sleepy mind. As soon as you reach the edge, kill it. Nothing that comes in your way from now on in your mission is allowed to live. Do not be reckless. The demon's spirits darken in pleasure.

"Yes, my king." He murmurs. He treads softly on the cobble stone walk toward the old human. And in the process, licks his lips in anticipation of murder in the next fifteen minutes, watching the dark, leathery skin that has seen no more than eighty-five years in the Italian sun. Its healthy, the breathing steady, and lean muscles moving as it's chest lifts softly. The demon chuckles, imagining ripping this body apart, just to revel in the strangled, husky cries reaching out from the man's very spirit reverberating through the street. What great pleasure that would be. Yet his lord's exact order was do not be reckless. He would do well not to disobey orders form the Prince of Destruction.

Kneeling down, the demon slowly brings the man to rise from his pleasant slumber.

"Hello, good sir," says the demon in the Italian tongue. "Perhaps, out of kindness, would you please ride me to the other side of this canal. I fret to get wet crossing any planks that aren't anywhere near my destination. I have a very pressing appointment that has to be very timely."

The man grunts, and stretches, some bones popping. The demon almost lost it, fighting the urge to make them pop more. "Of course, stranger. Yet for waking me, my price has to be hefty in return."

"Of course, sir," The demon cannot stop the low purr that escapes his throat. He doesn't bother wondering if it heard. It would be dead in twelve minutes, now. "Very hefty, indeed."

The human didn't hear. He was too busy untying his boat's rope from a ring attached to the path. The boat would have capsized anyone else who attempted to walk as this human did on such a slender thing on unsteady, shifting waters. After many years of experience, the man's hands were calloused from working the rough rope, sun spots also showered his toned arms and legs. Three minutes later, the man beckoned the demon, and grasped the long pole at the bottom of the boat. The old man thrust the pole deeply into the soft, murky ground under the water, thinking the man who was dressed so immaculately in a trench coat and a black pinstripe French suit could not know how to get into a boat without a small steadying of the pole. The old man was mistaken, for he only watched in astonishment as the man hardly rocked the boat as he crosses it with the greatest lithe of a cat.

"You're quite easy on your feet, aren't you?"

The demon smiles. "But of course. I have had experience on many ships in my time."

The old man nods knowingly, but is still confused. This man cannot be more than twenty. How could he have any experience on ships? Perhaps his father has taken him on a few ships and his youth. He thought. He was satisfied with the answer he conjured up, so, he continues to move with efficient, skilled strokes of the pole.

How utterly stupid this human is. How weak. The demon scoffed and smirked, glancing at the human. How easy it will be to break him...

All too soon for the old man, unfortunately, they reached the end of the river. The demon pulled the old man roughly from the boat to the bank. He pulled the man's frightened face to his, and chuckled.

"Such a frail, pathetic creature." The demon pressed a long, thin finger to the man's sagging cheek, poking the soft skin. The demon graced the man with a smirk, and without hesitation, snaps his neck, and throws him into the murky water. The demon stares at the river. "Hm, that could have been more exhilarating," he murmurs. He shrugs, and continues on his way, darting between the closely compacted stucco houses. His breath never hitches, for he is not subject to exhaustion. The only thing heard from the demon was the soft thud of his boots as they smack the cobble stone pavement. The ground is unlevel, going up and down, following the land's ways instead of plowing though it. Soon, he arrives at a large Basilica. The Basilica of Rendae.

If you take anyone else, I will kill you. Your stupid acts are jeopardizing my plans. Just take the Believer. NOW!

The demon broke into a sprint. Cutting in between two pillars made of decorative stone, into the Basilica of Rendae. The demon almost tripped at the ferocity of the voice. Apparently the job could be done sooner. No caution. No delicacy. No room for mistakes if his king was as urgent as this. Flitting across an open area lit with orange light, he goes unnoticed by wandering late-night Italians, as only a creature of darkness can.

"Almost," whispered a young man, watching with golden eyes as the dark figure passed across the open square. The young man of three-hundred sixty-eight pressed his back closer to the inner wall of the Basilica he had initially been leaning against. Although he was sure the demon wouldn't spot him through this rain, he decided a low profile would serve him well against this hasty beast. He continued to glare with a calculating gaze. Before the demon reached an overhang, he stopped abruptly and spun around, his black, abyss-like eyes focusing on the young man. "Curse it all." he muttered, and darted after the evil before him, seeing his 'cover' was blown. Rain splashed against his face, muddling the image of the fleeing demon.

Turning a three-sixty, he made sure—as well as he could—that no bystanders would see him rip a menacing three foot sword out of it's scabbard before heading in the general direction of the demon. With his free hand, he wiped as much water from his eyes as possible, knowing it was vain hope to do it in the first place, for the rain was immediately replaced with it's kin. Reaching the overhang the demon had passed under mere seconds ago, he continued right, where he thought he saw the being's shadow flit. No room for mistakes, he thought. He reached a crossroads of stairs before he took the case closest to him, seeing that they both led to the same landing. The rain fell from his face at every hard, quick foot fall up the stairs. No need for silence, now. The chase was on and the young man was ready for anything the demon threw at him.

Until he hears screaming followed with abrupt silence. Immediately, adrenaline fuels his motions, making his strides ever longer, and more powerful.

A seething growl hisses between his lips when he finally reaches the demon's location in a narrow hall with doors lining symmetrically either side. A single door is open, and the demon stands next to it. A clergyman is lying broken on the floor. Dead, obviously. The demon smirks at him, leaning with his back to the wall. His hand is on fire. The young man stiffens. No.

"Hello, Cephus. How are you?" The young man doesn't answer. The demon continues. "I was sent here with a job to do. My lord has also told me to burn this whole, monumental place to the ground." He gestures around him. "You must think it a shame."

"Are you to go down with it?" Cephus asks, sheathing his wicked blade. A forced smile plays his lips. The demon nods ruefully, it seems.

"Naturally. My king is quite...sacrificial. What of you? Why are you here?"

"I don't have time for small talk. Excuse me while I save these humans from ridiculous wrath." Cephus uncrosses his arms and walks past the demon through the open door—who spat at him. Cephus paid no mind, didn't bother to brush it off his shoulder. Passing a plaque that says PREGHIERA CAMERA 1224 (Prayer Chamber 1224) on the door way, the smell of incense assaulted his nose. Pine wood and cinnamon—a toxic combination.

"E nessuno?" Cephus calls in Italian.

"There's a girl. I assume you heard her screaming—this was her father." The demon chuckles. "What sweet sorrow..."

Disgusting...vile creature! Cephus' soul was deeply troubled for the girl already. It also burned with hatred toward this ugly creature.

"Bambina! Sono qui per aiutarti!" Cephus makes his way deeper into the house the darkness of the room is cut through dimly by the honey glow of candles every few feet. It had an eerie feel to it, this room. He hears terrified sobbing from the corner of the large room. "Bambina?" He says again softly. Following the voice to a tight cluster of furniture—obviously the little girl did this—he starts to peel away furniture from the fort of safety for the girl. He hears her terrified whimpers. She is praying for a merciful entry into heaven. Cephus' heart lunges sorrowfully toward her. Soon, he finds her scrunched figure pressing into the corner of the room.

The only evidence of her face being there are her wide, dilated eyes. He slowly reaches his hand out and whispers reassuring words—when suddenly, she darts like a frightened mouse over the furniture toward the door. He falls back in surprise, careful no to let his body hit any furniture harboring a candle. Scrambling, he gets to his feet when he hears her scream again. His eyes immediately register the lack of light in the hall—the only part of the Basilica with any electricity for artificial glow. It's gone now. He doesn't even see the orange glow from the demon's melting limb. He tears through the room, reaching the door in three strides. Grabbing onto the door frame, he swings with the momentum of his body weight to a stop. Looking left, he sees nothing. Looking right—there!

A bouncing, erratic flame dances around the faint illuminations of the demon on the girl. It seems he was mistaken for calling her 'little.' She was a little shorter than the demon, the evil being gaining half a head on her. There was nothing else really to see other than height. The girl struggled in the grip of the demon, forcing him the alter his positions for want of a better grip. The two seemed to seep into the far wall, but Cephus knew they passed into a hallway. He turned his head behind him, down the dark gloom, and cupped both his hands around his mouth, calling, I'm coming for you, in Italian. Then he made his way quickly and quietly toward the captive and demon. Right when he rounded the corner into a large alter room lined with rows of pews, he realized his mistake too late. The demon had been waiting for him.

A sharp flick of the demon's wrist against the young man's chest sent him airborne into a large crucifix, hitting his upper back into the iron knees of Jesus. He cried out, feeling a bruise form before he even hit the rough carpet of the floor. His cry echoed throughout the room, along with a high exclamation of fear. The girl. Cephus groaned, his back shuddering in indescribable pain. Pushing himself up, he was immediately pressed down with a boot to his bruised back.

"Ah!" Cephus' arms lost what little strength they had left. His head fell forward and landed uselessly by his arms with a soft thud. The demon pressed down further. Cephus hissed in pain. Tears darted in his eyes, and spots—he started to see them: black, blue, yellow, red...they all danced webs, electric and arching over his vision.

No. Was his silent plea. Have to...save her. He opened his eyes dully—he hadn't known he closed them—and lifted them to watch her in the faint glow of the candles in the room. He was surprised. Now that he had a good view of her, he noticed that her hair almost exactly matched the color of dying embers. Her facial hue was a deep red. Keeping his darkening vision on her furious, bordering-on-insanity expression, he knew what was coming next.

As if brought on by his thoughts, her rantings began. Tears trailed down her cheeks, and as passion grew, so did her vocal volume. She screamed in Italian, spitting words no clergyman's daughter should have in her vocabulary.

"Such foul language," said the demon to the girl. Cephus vaguely felt movement next to him, and suddenly the evil's plutonic eyes met his. "She going to die in the next three minutes if you don't stand to fight me, angelo uova." The demon said this in English, so as not to waken the girl's fight-or-flight instinct for her life—yet, didn't the demon also say something in Italian, too? Cephus thought long and hard, trying to translate. It was difficult with his fading coherence, but he managed. Angelo uova...angel spawn. Cephus felt burning wrath. Demons were forbidden to speak of his identity to mortals. The demon backed away and smirked, his eyes on the struggling young man. He is too weak. What a sorry impersonation of his fallen father. He was once great. The demon's amused gaze twitched slightly when the angel's son stood shakily and unsheathed his sword.

"I was—argh—going to spare you, fiend. No second chances for evil." The demon's eyes widened in mock surprise, although he was surprised.

"Oh, no! Whatever shall I do?"

The girl watched, her hands fisted close to her sides. She succumbing...any moment now. Too much was happening at once. There was nothing else to do other then let go...

Out of the corner of his eye, the girl crumbled to the ground in a heap. Good. No distractions are good. Cephus started a slow, predatorial circle around the demon. It's whole arm and part of it's chest was engulfing quickly in flames while it followed in his steps, smiling smugly, always staying just opposite of him. There seemed to be no end to this evil's audacity. Cephus raised his sword higher, and thrust forcefully, attempting to hit the demon in the stomach, but he only skipped away from the advancement.

Immediately, Cephus spun around, bringing his blade down with a quick slash. It hit nothing but air next to the evil's face. He didn't have time to back away before the angel spawn used his own velocity to swing the blade back and slice his midsection horizontally. The demon hissed as his black blood squirted from underneath his coat. The blood was pushed away from the fiery arm and chest of the demon, acting like a magnetic dis-attraction. But now that the blood hit the oxygen of the outside world, the fire would spread...and engulf.

"Nooo!" The demon screeched, trying to back away from his wound. The blood immediately caught fire, hastening the process. The demon stared up at where Cephus was standing with blood-shot eyes. The angel spawn wasn't there anymore. He was standing near the girl, picking her up with difficulty from his injury. The demon advanced.

"You shall perish with me!"

"If you come any closer, fiend, I will use this!" He shoved a silver horn a foot long into the air. The demon hid his face from the holy instrument and screeched inhumanly.

Still in pain, knowing the demon's minutes were limited—which meant his and the whole of Basilica's were limited—he only saved one. He only had enough time to save one. The unconscious girl breathing calmly against his chest as he ran from the Basilica—the now exploding Basilica. The girl he didn't know the name of. The girl who knew his identity. The girl who would be silenced for a long, long, time.