Death's Angels

Death doesn't act alone. Evil has it's demons and good has it's angels. But the gray neutral inbetween, death has it's own angels. Men and women in black uniforms, and their scythes sharp and ready. The reapers. But there's something brewing, and death will have to stop the conflict. Can they stop a war between heaven and hell?

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3. The Priest

"Martin! I missed you!" I shouted, and dropped to my knees to hug him. He laughs and burries his head in my shoulder, his blond locks falling in front of his sky blue eyes. "You were gone a couple of hours."

"Martin, I miss you every second I'm not with you." I corrected him, and he blushed as he jumped back onto his bed. "I miss you too sis. Stop embarrassing me!" he shouts, and I smile broadly and sit down on the bed. "So why are you in your room?" I asked, fearing the worst.

Martin walked over to the door and opened it, putting my fears to rest. "Martin dear, are you coming down now?" A female voice shouts up, her voice honey sweet up the stairs. The boy shakes his head and shouts down "No, mum, I'll be down when tea is ready."

"How's your mother been with you?" I asked, and he shrugged. "She's sent me to a pysch... Pyscyharist." My eyes opened wide and I shouted "She's sent you a psychiatrist! But you're perfectly sane!" Martin cringed and I softened my voice "Did you tell them about me again?"

"But you are real! You're stood right in front of me!" Martin shouts, his eyes pleading. He always wanted to prove I was there. To everyone. "Remember, I'm not real to them. They don't believe in me." I explained, and Martin looked up to me quizically, and asked quietly "Why don't they see you? Raven, you're a really nice person, you always help me. But whenever I mention you, my parents say you're evil. But you're not."

"Martin... I'm not evil. Your parents are scared of things they do not understand. They believe that I'm a demon." I said slowly to make sure it got through to the boy. He nodded slowly, and then a voice shouted from downstairs "Martin dear, there's someone here to see you!"

"Go on Martin, downstairs." I said, and he nodded and ran downstairs, while I followed him walking. There was a middle aged woman sat on the couch downstairs, holding a cup of tea in her hands. They had already started to wrinkle, and there were more on her face. Her eyes were a dull blue, worn from years of worry. As her son walked into the room, she gave a warm smile, and turned to the man in the corner.

"Martin dear, this is Father Laurance."

The man smiled slightly, and walked over. There was something strange about him, the priest uniform was almost too perfect for my liking. Maybe it was just my protective nature of him kicking in at that point. Maybe I sensed it. I don't know what it was.

But as Martin stood in front of me, he looked straight into my eyes, and smiled.

Nobody else but Martin should have known I was there.

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