The Price of a Soul [Chapter 5.2]

Last Line(s): “...So it doesn't affect you?” she guessed, awkwardly standing beside him as he sat down in one of the pews. She already knew the answer to that question. Issac was just as calm here as he always was. Even knowing that he was secretly a demon trapped in a robot's body, she couldn't shake the image of him sitting among the church's weekly visitors.

“Even if it did, this body would likely protect me from it,” he said. He gave a small, almost bitter smile as he sat down on the nearest bench. “Being forced into this body does have a few benefits.”

After a moment of hesitation, Quinn sat down next to him.

“I thought holy items were supposed to harm demons,” she said.

Issac shook his head and faced the front of the church. “Demons were around since before Christianity,” he explained. Quinn tried to follow his gaze, but her eyes fell back down to her lap. “People seek explanations for what frightens them. When those explanations still make them afraid, they find comfort in hollow traditions. I can't say for certain if God truly does exist in the sense that humanity believes in, but he has nothing to do with demonkind.”

Quinn studied the floor.

It was just as worn as the rest of the church was. A few of the floorboards looked like they needed to be replaced; others had reminders of the regular churchgoers in the form of fading footprints. “Then why did we come here?”

Issac let out a quiet sigh that ended in static.

“Because churches worships other things than God.”

Quinn finally looked where Issac was staring.

There was a mural painted on the wall behind the alter. It reminded her of the paintings in the Sistine Chapel. Whoever had painted it must have devoted a significant amount of time to it; Quinn kept noticing new details about it the longer that she looked. But while the focus of the painting was on Jesus and his disciples, what Issac focused on the most was the angels off in the corner of the piece. When Quinn squinted, she could see that angels had been depicted with the same care as everything else: she could see each feather, could see how the light hit their glowing skin, and could see exactly how many angels – three – were looking over the painting's subjects.

She suddenly remembered the conversation they had on the bus.

“You said there were three place that demons came from,” she realized, glancing over at him, “but you only described two.”

Issac nodded.

“Most demons come from Earth or Hell,” he admitted.

A heavy feeling formed in Quinn's gut. Issac hadn't confirmed her guess yet, but she knew that solemn look on his face. In the back of her mind, she could even recall a passage from the Bible about angels that had followed Lucifer out of Heaven. It wasn't just religion that had taught her that, either. In almost every story about demons that she had ever seen or heard, demons were fallen angels. And while she knew that there must have been a good reason for them fall in the first place, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of kinship. She knew what it was like to leave an unforgiving place that was a home in the name alone.

“The other demons are fallen angels, aren't they?”

It was a moment before Issac replied.

“They are,” he confirmed. He let out another sigh, looking more tired than he ever had. Quinn had been so focused on the mystery of where they were going and their arrival at the church that she hadn't realized he had brought Adam's file with them. It was only when he rested the packet against the pew in front of them that Quinn realized it hadn't been left in the hotel room. “Angels serve no god. They serve themselves. If one of them does something the current ruling class disapproves of, they are expelled from Heaven. Their former angelic family and friends scorn them for rebelling, and everyone else in the supernatural community avoids them.”

The pit deepened.

“Why would do they do that?” Quinn asked. She pretended she didn't already know the answer as she gripped the edge of the seat. She tried to ignore the dark thought emerging from the corners of her mind as she stared at Adam's smiling face. “Why would what the angels decided influence non-angels?”

There was another tense pause.

“Humans aren't the only ones who fear the unknown,” Issac finally said.

“Do the angels say what they did wrong?” Quinn questioned, an almost hopeful tone to her voice.

Issac shook his head so slightly that Quinn wasn't sure if it intentional or just a little robotic twitch. “They never share. It's not unheard of for rumors to start surrounding the fallen angels. Even other demons usually despise them for whatever crimes they supposedly committed.” He looked around the church, one hand hovering over the bible in the pocket of the pew before them. “That was why I wanted to come here. I could have explained it in our room, but I...wanted you to see what they lost.”

Quinn looked at the church again.

She saw the empty pews and imagined them filled. In the vision playing out before her, she could see a sea of people flipping through hymnals and singing hymns that praised the Lord above – and the angels that served them. Even away from Heaven, angels must have felt a sense of comfort peering into churches like this one. It must have felt good to know that a dedicated group of people loved them just for existing.

But fallen angels had lost that.

They didn't have anyone. They didn't have other angels. They didn't have the backing of religion. They didn't even have other demons. She knew she should have felt angry about that. She wanted to feel angry. But all she felt was sad at the thought of everything that they had lost. Even if Heaven hadn't always felt like a home to them, it must have been better than being completely turned away. If she hadn't met Issac when she ran away from home three years ago, she was sure she would have felt just like them.

Her gaze fell to Adam's photo.

“...He was one of them, wasn't he?” she guessed. “A fallen angel?”

Issac handed the file to her. It felt heavy in her hands, like she was holding one of the church's bibles instead of a few sheets of printer paper.

“That was what Nolan assumed.”

She hesitantly started leafing through the packet again. “Is that why his history was so vague, and why he was so desperate for hours?”

“It probably was,” Issac agreed. “The older members of the supernatural community tend to fabricate their histories, but they usually have other people they can rely on for their stories. If Adam fell recently, he would only have himself. He would need any money that he could get.”

The paper crinkled in her hands. She blinked away the tears threatening to form at the very corners of her eyes, but her vision was still a little blurry. Being sad for Adam wasn't going to help him. She had to figure out why he was missing, and if he was d...

She didn't want to complete the sentence.

“Would a hunter care if he had been an angel?”

She watched as Issac reached into the pocket of his black dress pants. A moment later, he withdrew a small packet of tissues. It was her turn to shake her head when he held them out to her. She did appreciate the thought, even though she knew he was partially doing it because he felt guilty about making her upset. 

He slipped the tissues away. “I doubt they would be aware of the distinction. Hunters usually see us as one collective group. If anything, they would likely be more concerned with him being a demon.”

“So a hunter could be responsible,” she concluded, “but it could also be someone who figured out that Adam was from Heaven.”

Issac nodded.

Quinn wasn't sure which explanation she wanted to be true more.