First update! I'm still getting used to being a 'published' author, haha.

Enjoy! This is one of my favorite chapters (:

Special thanks to Lucinda M. H. Cheshir for reviewing!

Chapter Two:

I Fight a Demon

The church of Saint George on Seventh Avenue does not look like the kind of place that would house a demon. A single blackened bell tower juts precariously from a steepled roof, which no doubt had been very impressive once, but now is crowded in from either side by drab office buildings. The church itself is fairly small and dismal, with Gothic stone architecture and a decent collection of leering gargoyles. Looking up at it from the sidewalk alongside Seventh Avenue, it seems to me rather like a weary old man who had once been among the best of his race but now sits forgotten in the modern age.

The heavy black doors groan as though they had been recently rescued from a horror film set when I shove them open, and the dusty, dim interior resembles a scene out of T.S. Eliot's Murder in the Cathedral. I hold my sleeve in front of my nose to protect it when the swirling clouds of dust and tiptoe cautiously up the main aisle to the center of the church. Worn marble statues of long-forgotten saints line niches in the stone walls, their ivory arms outstretched in welcome, expressions of serenity or joy on worn, sculpted features that still express the mastery of their artists. Faded splashes of color can still be made out on the steep ceiling, but what really catches my eye is the massive block of granite perched atop the dais.

I approach the alter with a trace of reverence, eyeing it curiously. The granite block could have stood there for centuries, unnoticed by erosion or decay, its gleaming dark grey surface still as perfect as though it had just been carved. Immense, motionless, mesmeric, it exudes an air of carnal savagery and fear. Suddenly I understand why the demon chose this particular place to haunt. The alters' bare stone surface seems to hold memories of a darker era, when evil was worshiped and humans were sacrificed to bloodthirsty gods.

A shiver runs down my spine. Here, in the gloomy light filtering through the dusty stained glass windows, the past and the present seem to war for dominance. A beautiful, faded Catholic Church…and a sinister reminder of the barbaric past.

So that's why the demon came here. Charlie said that the alter would be fatal to it, but the alter is exactly what drew it here. I look around at the shadowy stone walls. So where is the demon?

"Looking for something?" says a voice behind me. I jump. A young man strolls casually up the aisle towards me, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark jeans. He looks around twenty, cute in a dark, intriguing way, I suppose, with messy black hair and dark, piercing eyes.

"Not really," I say when I've caught my breath –all the thoughts of horror movies made me almost jump out of my skin when I heard his voice. "Just…admiring the view." I scrutinize him. "Are you the caretaker?"

The young man looks startled for a moment, then he glances down at his somber black shirt and laughs. "Something like that," he says easily. "What about you? Another tourist?"

I eye the dusty pews doubtfully. "Are there that many?"

"Not in ages." The stranger shrugs. "Even the priest is gone. There's talk of closing down the church for renovations." His mischievous black gaze meets mine, and he smiles. "I'm the only one left."

Ookay then. Something about his smile makes a flicker of unease surface in the back of my mind. I manage a half-hearted smile in reply and edge my way over to the nearest pew. "Well, I'm just going to explore a bit if that's alright," I say with as much innocence as I can muster. As an afterthought I give him my most winning smile –dammit, my acting sucks- and do the age-old trick of trying to learn someone's name. "It was nice meeting you, Mister…?"

The stranger taps his chin thoughtfully. "You may call me Damon," he announces after a pause. A faint smile twists the corner of his mouth. "Yes, I rather like that."
Well then. Make that a creepy old alter with an equally creepy crazy person. My smile grows a bit more forced. After an awkward moment of silence I turn and drop rather abruptly into a pew and bow my head in pretend prayer, waiting impatiently for him to go away.

He doesn't. Instead, as I watch him out of the corner of my eye through my dark bangs, he saunters back down the aisle and perches on the arm of the pew, watching me with disconcerting intensity. His sharp black gaze reminds me of a predator studying a new sort of prey it doesn't quite understand.

Minutes stretch on in silence. As far as I can tell, he never even blinks, staying perfectly still, his gaze never wavering. I am not so patient. As the seconds tick by all I can think about is my mission, how I need to find that stupid demon and how I can't investigate properly with a creepy young guy eyeballing the back of my head.

At last I stand again and casually wander over to the far wall, pretending to admire the nearest statue as I keep a sharp eye out for anything worth investigating. "Beautiful place, isn't it?" I remark.

The stranger shrugs and finally looks away. "I suppose," he says distastefully. "If you like places like this. I don't really like churches as a rule. Far too drafty, and the smell of incense makes my nose itch."

"Why do you come here, then?" I ask absently, focused on the shadowy space behind the dais.

"The alter." His voice changes almost imperceptibly. "It's…majestic, and filled with such good memories…"

An eerie suspicion takes root in the back of my mind. I look back at him, actually paying attention to him this time. "What kind of memories?"

He looks at me sharply. "Why do you want to know?"

Sensing this is a dangerous topic, I quickly switch subjects. "You know, I've heard rumors that this church is haunted. Maybe that's why it's abandoned."

"Really?" The stranger laughs. "Is that why you came?"

I shrug. "Partly," I say, and recklessly plunge on, "Have you ever heard any stories of demons living here?" I laugh, but I never take my gaze off the stranger.

The young man's expression darkens. He lets out a laugh even more forced than my own, which might explain why he was buying my act before. My smile grows satisfied. "I can't believe a demon would haunt a church, though," I go on carelessly, strolling around until I'm at the edge of his vision. He watches me, his dark eyes narrowed. "I mean, this is a holy place, right?" Another step takes me closer. "Good spot for exorcisms and all that, right? So why would a demon" –I'm only a few feet away now- "want to live here?"

The stranger twists to look at me warily, and I quickly turn to study the statue of a young girl standing beside a lamb, my mind racing. I hadn't expected it to be quite this easy, to be honest, but there's still the question of how to get rid of the demon if the alter is no longer an option. Charlie had mentioned holy water, but I want something a bit more substantial than a teaspoon of liquid.

Well, I suppose I'll just have to push some buttons first, just to be sure. It would probably be bad if I made a mistake and ended up stabbing an innocent guy by accident-sort-of-on-purpose. Not to mention that Faustina would definitely kill me, once she stopped laughing.

"Did you know," I say casually without turning, "that your name comes from the Latin word for demon?" The stranger tenses, his dark eyes suddenly alert. I turn and smile cheerfully at him. "Funny, that," I say. "Considering that there are rumors of a demon haunting here and all."

Damon stands, his gaze taking on a new intensity. "And why," he says slowly, "would you find that amusing?"

My smile betrays nothing of my thoughts. Acting may not be my strong suit, but I do know how to corner my prey once I've found it. "Oh, no reason. It's just that a certain angel asked me to exorcise a demon, and here I find you-"

He moves in a blur, fingers elongating into pale talons to slash at my face, but I had been waiting. With a shout of "Sephoris!" a silver sword materializes in my grasp and I bring it down hard.

The demon staggers back with a muffled growl of pain, his hand a bloody stump, his dark eyes blazing with hatred as he circles away. I bring the dripping blade up to bear, shifting into a fighting stance. "So silver does work on demons," I say with satisfaction. "I had my doubts about all those Hollywood movies, but they seem to have gotten something right, hmm?"

"Foolish human!" the demon growls, clutching his wounded arm. Black mist curls around the bleeding stump and is sucked back in to reveal his hand, whole once more.

"Nice trick," I say, giddy with adrenaline. "I wonder, will it still work when your head is no longer attached to your body?"

He snarls and lunges forward again, keeping a wary arm on the gleaming silver blade. I swing and he jerks back, his movements quicker and more fluid than any human's. I'm outmatched in speed and agility, I think grimly. Better not let him gain the advantage, or he'll tear me to pieces.

"I hate djinn," the demon growls. "Far too spicy, and they always give me indigestion."

"Good for you that you won't be able to eat me, then!"

It's a game of cat and mouse, and unfortunately I'm the mouse. No matter how much I jab out with the sword to fend him off, the demon has me backed against a column with nowhere to move while he lazily advances.

Perhaps I did not think this through all the way. Time to change things up a bit.

"Sephoris!" A silver dagger appears in my free hand. I fling it wildly at my attacker, not bothering to try to aim –I can't hit a sign from three feet away, much less a moving target. He ducks out of the way easily and eyes me with growing amusement. "You think you can drive me off?" he sneers, flitting past my next strike. "You can't even save yourself!" His pale hand snakes out and catches the next thing I throw at him. He stares at it. "A pencil?" he says in disbelief. "You tried to kill me with a pencil?"

"No," I say, and lunge forward to stab him in the heart. His dark eyes widen, then his edges blur and he silently dissipates into mist and fades away. I straighten up and brush myself off. "Not bad, if I do say so myself," I say with satisfaction, and turn towards the doors.

Looking back, I have no idea what made me duck. Maybe it was ninja-like reflexes I didn't know I possessed, or a sudden disturbance in the air behind me, but whatever the case, I managed to duck the swirling fist of darkness that appeared behind me to claw at the air where my head used to be.

The movement knocks me off balance. I flail wildly and topple forward with a startled gasp, instinctively tucking into a roll and somehow not managing to impale myself on my sword as I scramble to my feet. The roiling mass of shadow overhead echoes with evil laughter.

"Puny human!" it mocks, the young man's disembodied voice rebounding off the stone walls to echo around me. "To think that you could defeat me so easily! I am a demon, a lord of chaos, the creator of evil-"

"Yeah, yeah," I say, miffed about almost being decapitated by smoke. "Can we skip to the part where I kill you now?"

The voice seems to roll out of the dark cloud overhead, magnified a hundred times. "You cannot kill me, pathetic mortal!" it roars. "I am darkness itself! I have chosen this place for my dwelling, and you cannot prevent me!"

"Watch me," I say, and dive into the side room behind the alter, kicking the door shut in my wake. "Holy water," I mutter, rifling frantically through the cluttered shelves and drawers until I find a small bottle marked with a cross. "Ah-hah!"

Something pounds on the door, making the thick wood tremble. I grab the bottle and burst out again just in time to see the narrow trail of smoke hurtling towards me. Without thinking I swing the sword up to shield my face and the smoke dissipates against the silver, but another is already diving towards me in its place. This time the sword slashes straight through and the black mist scores a line of burning pain across my left shoulder. I stagger back with a grimace, yank the cork off, and chuck the bottle of holy water at the looming darkness like a grenade.

The bottle passes through the cloud, spraying liquid everywhere, and falls back to the ground with a loud clatter. A few straggling wisps of smoke fade away weakly.

I curse. "Charlie, I'm gonna kill you!" I growl, and duck as another line of swirling smoke barrels past my head. That's when I notice the thin, almost invisible tendril of smoke stretching down from the broiling dark cloud to the alter. My earlier suspicions about the alter come back in full force.

The alter. That's what's keeping him here. So if I destroy the connection…

Dodging another smoke missile, I dive for the massive block of granite and hack at the stone with my sword. The silver blade shatters like ice, shards spraying everywhere. The alter isn't even scratched.

At least the demon/massive cloud of evil smoke seems fairly slow. Roaring in anger, it lashes out with a swirling black fist the size of a pew. I roll to one side, barely avoiding it, and shout out my focus word. "Sephoris!"

A giant spotlight like the kind used in football stadiums appears in the center of the aisle to pierce the cloud with a blinding column of light. The cloud shrieks and writhes, coiling in on itself. I use the temporary distraction to wish for a hammer –not one of those tiny little things you can hold in one hand, but a massive, heavy-duty mallet with a long handle like you see at construction sites. This time, a small crack appears when I heave the mallet into the air and slam it down onto the surface of the stone. The crack widens at my next blow, spreading to form a spider web of lines crisscrossing the dark grey surface.

In front of the alter, the demon finally recovers enough to smash the spotlight. The glass cracks, the light flickering and dying. The cloud billows back to its full height with a roar of triumph as I raise the mallet one last time and bring it crashing down onto the web of cracks. The alter cracks straight down the middle with a dull boom. I drop the mallet, panting, my arms throbbing.

The cloud shrieks. I yelp and clamp my hands over my aching ears as the shriek turns into a drawn-out wail that grows steadily thinner as the cloud is sucked in on itself, writhing and twisting into a swirling column until at last all that's left is a small wisp of smoke hovering dazedly a foot or two off the floor.

After a minute, I slowly get to my feet and walk over and look down at all that's left of the demon. Apparently destroying the alter shattered most of its power along with it. I grin evilly and say my focus word.

"A vacuum cleaner," Charlie says flatly. "You put the demon in a vacuum cleaner."

I grin and hold up the small, hand-held vacuum, still giddy over my victory. "Yep," I say cheerfully. "So, what's my reward?"

Charlie gives me another look, shaking his head in disbelief, as though it's my fault the stupid demon is in a vacuum cleaner. Well, alright, so technically it is, but hey, the stupid lord of chaos or whatever totally deserved it. Besides, my shoulder still hurts.

"He had it coming to him," I tell Charlie. "So, my reward?"

Charlie sighs. "The information you seek is relatively simple," he says. I frown. "Then why-"

"The rogue djinn are in Manhattan," Charlie says, cutting me off. "Look for the Twisted Candle Café. You'll find them there."

I'm still frowning. "Wait, if the information is simple, then why-"

Charlie smiles crookedly. "And one more thing," he says, ignoring my question. "A warning. The rogue djinn aren't the only problem you'll run into in Manhattan."

"That is…not incredibly helpful," I say. "When you say problem, do you mean-"

"Good luck, Emma," Charlie says, already turning away. "Be careful." He glances back and gives me his signature crooked smile. "And be on the lookout for an old friend."

The way he says that sounds rather ominous. I take a step after him as the breeze picks up. I smell rose petals. "Wait, Charlie-"

But he's already gone. The old man feeding the pigeons is carefully looking away in that way people do when you're acting crazy and talking to yourself. I grit my teeth. That's when I realize that Charlie never took the vacuum cleaner.

The pigeons scatter as I do some very creative Shakespearean cursing. The old man gives me a reproachful look that I ignore.

I glare at the vacuum cleaner. The wisps of smoke inside the clear plastic container flatten against its sides. "Bloody angels," I mutter, and stalk off back towards the city, still carrying the vacuum and muttering about annoying angels who think they're being helpful and cryptic messages and obnoxious Blue Djinns.

That's when I realize that I'll have to take another bus to get to Manhattan.

I take it back.

Today is officially the worst. Day. Ever.