Blasphemia Ii: Deus Vult

Judith Magdalena knew what she was. Anyone remotely sensitive to the powers of faith could tell at a glance she was half-angel, half demon. A Nephilim, an unholy union the likes of which hadn't been seen in thousands of years. But she did not know

who

she was. The names of her father and mother were unknown to her, nor did she have a scrap of memory to go on to seek such answers.

This, however, did not bother her. Despite her nature, the Church had raised her, given her purpose. Judith was a Knight Templar, a warrior of an order dedicated to the service of Catholicism and the Lord. Her purpose was to seek the heretic, punish the wicked, and slay the demonic. She was, in many ways, far greater at this than any of her human comrades, her strength, speed and resilience beyond what their frail mortal forms could produce, even when trained to the extreme.

Such advantages were the only thing keeping her alive at the moment.

A smash of the demonic creature's tail sent Judith careering through several pews, the hard lacquered oak atomizing with the impact of her body upon it. She hit the ground and rolled, getting a hand underneath her to slow her skid across the tile. Her heterochromic eyes looked up just in time to see the creature blur across the church towards her. She sprang up into the air. The beast crashed down where she had been standing, looking around with one of it's heads for her.

Judith grabbed a hanging chandelier and reached out a hand. Her silver sword whistled through the air and found its way back to her hand like a loyal dog. The handle was warm and slick with sweat and blood, but the power of faith imbued in the blade kept it firmly in her grasp as she hung above the carnage below her.

The small rural church had clearly stood for hundreds of years. Faith's might seeped from every beam of the ancient structure. Yet despite generations upon generations filling the space with their revery, it had not given them the shelter they needed to avoid being torn to pieces by... whatever this

thing

was.

Judith had killed many demonic creatures, but never anything as grotesque as this. The Nightmare looked something like a horse with a birth defect, bloated to grotesque proportions until it was twice the size it should be. It galloped with a limp, yet could almost move faster than Judith's eyes could track. But when she did catch a clear sight of it, the visage got all the worse. It had two heads, one jutting from the neck of the other like a tumor. The first head had a line of eyes rather than two, where the second had no eyes at all. Unless you looked where it's teeth should be, bloodshot pupils quivering as they flitted around inside its jaw. Blood dripped from it's twin maws, the only remnants of those it had devoured. Those that weren't strewn all over the floor at least, trampled into paste by it's thunderous hooves.

The creature looked around wildly before letting out a screech and looking up at her. Judith's lip curled in disgust, and she let go of the chandelier, letting gravity do the work. She fell dagger-first, driving the point deep into the skull of the head with no eyes. The beast screamed, the sound pressing in on Judith's ears like knives. She gritted her teeth against it and wrenched the dagger, trying to dig it into something soft and important. Something made a squelching crunch, and she allowed herself a small smirk of satisfaction at the screech of pain the thing made.

Then it bucked her off into a statue of John the Apostle ensconced in the wall, the old carved marble pulverising underneath her body and armor. A chilly feeling blossomed in her back at Judith rolled over with a groan. She reached back and yanked a chunk of masonry out of her lower back, feeling blood between her fingers.

The Nightmare whinnied and bucked, it's mutated head flopping limp at it's side. Judith's strike had put one part of it out of commission, but it seemed as though further damage was needed to put the thing down for good. Judith reversed her grip on

Celerity

and concentrated on her feelings of faith and belief in her free right hand. The lines of scripture inked into her skin began to glow ivory white, a physical manifestation of her devotion.

At the mere sight of the glow the Nightmare went berserk. It screeched and charged her, fury written across it's grotesque features. Judith sneered and dodged it's manic charge. The beast crashed into the wall of the church with the sound of a tenderizing hammer on a flank of beef. Judith overhanded her sword at the Nightmare's exposed neck, the point of

Celerity

digging deep into the tainted meat. Black blood burst forth like pus from a boil. The spray tagged the wall near Judith's head, the ichor melting the stone in seconds.

WIth her right hand, Judith extended her will, imagining a flat disk around the pommel of her sword. She hammered down on it, driving the blade the rest of the way into the Nightmare's neck. It thrashed about wildly, it's dead head crunching limply against the wall in it's panic. Judith moved, hopping up onto a pew before springing up onto one of the wide columns that held up the church roof. She found handholds and shimmied up until she was high above the church floor.

The Nightmare staggered into view, twisting it's head to try to somehow, someway to get the consecrated sword out of it's flesh. Judith held out her hand. With a flicker of thought,

Celerity

heeded her call and burst from the neck of the Nightmare in a plume of gore. It hummed through the air back into her hand, but Judith was already falling, redirecting the power from her right arm onto the metal of her sword blade. It formed into a long, glowing extension of the sword, arcs of holy fire burning free as she fell. Judith pivoted and sheared through the knotted , disgusting flesh, severing the head and finally bringing the creature down.

As it's body fell limp, Judith took a few steps back to avoid the fountain of blood from the severed stump of the Nightmare's head. It ate into the carpet and the stone underneath, the dissolving matter creating a disgusting, noxious smell that made her eyes water. She coughed, moving away from the dead thing.

The altar was the sight of the thing that had almost cost Judith her life upon stepping through the church doors. A pile of bodies, mauled into shapes that were barely even recognizable as human. The Nightmare had quite literally bitten out the hearts of men and woman, it's flat teeth gouging out chunks of their chests and ribs. A dead priest lay sprawled in the center of the altar, his body crumpled and crushed. Above his body was a hole in the ceiling. It seemed as though the creature had crashed through the roof and crushed the man like a grape underfoot as it fell inside. Judith regarded his corpse for a moment, before kneeling down and picking up his rosary from where it lay in a pool of half-congealed blood. She placed it on the tabernacle, the blood seeping into what little white spots remained on the cloth there.

Part of her responsibility was to count a tally of the dead for the Vatican's records. But there was no way she was getting an accurate count, not with how mangled the bodies here were. Not to mention what might lie inside the Nightmare's stomach. But she wasn't about to slice it open and go look. The scribes would have to deal with it.

Celerity's

length flared with white fire to burn off the blood and ichor before it flitted into its sheath on Judith's hip. She turned and strode back towards the entrance of the church, where the rest of her equipment was.

The late-night Italian air wrapped itself around her as she stepped outside. Down the hill from the church, she could see the small town that had become the latest sight of a horrifying attack from the enemies of God. The fourth in the space of a month. Not good at all.

Judith knelt down and rummaged through the canvas bag she'd brought with her. She fished out her cell phone - there was no point in taking it into battle with her where it could easily be broken into tiny pieces. There were only a handful of numbers on the hacked piece of technology, and she hit the first one on the speed dial.

After ringing twice, her call was answered. "Paladin Magdalena," a smooth Italian voice said in greeting. "I take it the Lord has granted you fortune in your battle?"

"Yes, Archbishop," Judith said, looking up at the church facade. "More than I can say for the souls in this hamlet and it's church, however. The deed is done."

"May God have mercy on their souls," the Archbishop said. Judith could visualize the old man crossing himself. "What form did this one take?"

"A twin-headed horse," Judith said. "However, in this case, two heads didn't really think better than one. It operated with the same mindless aggression that all the others have." She paused for a moment. "This one had acidic blood though. Hopefully that trait is an exception rather than the norm."

"As if the beasts need any more horrifying traits." The Archbishop sighed. "Can the church be salvaged?"

Judith craned her head back to look at the blood-drenched interior of the building. "Likely not."

"Survivors?"

"Only a few. They barricaded themselves in their homes as I passed by."

"I'll route a team out there along with your extraction. As for the rest, burn it. Expunge the cancer from God's earth in fire, then return home."

Judith eyed the bricks in the canvas bag. "As you wish, Bishop."

"Go with God, Paladin. I will see you soon."

"Go with God, Archbishop." Judith hung up the phone and returned it to the bag. Then she grabbed four of the bricks from within the bag, along with a remote detonator. After another glance at the church, she grabbed another two just to be safe. The Knights Templar prefered to do things as traditionally as possible, but thermite could reduce accursed flesh to ash far quicker and easier than torches.

It was a simple matter to place the thermite charges on the support pillars and rig them to blow. Judith saved the last one for the dead Nightmare simply tossing the incendiary brick on it's bloated, diseased flesh. She regarded it one last time, this time with a critical eye rather than disdain.

A year ago, Judith had learned many things about the nature of demons, when a pair of upstart denizens of Hell branded her with a rune that robbed her of her free will and made her pliant to their desires. The experience had taught her one thing - demons were not creatures of mindless violence. They were dangerous for certain, and still to be hated and fought at all times. But they were not the kind of beings to shapeshift into a nightmarish two-headed stallion and go on a bloody rampage through a rural town barely a hundred miles from the beating heart of Catholicism.

So what then were the grotesque creatures that kept showing up all over the world and wreaking havoc? Judith had a hunch, because she knew there were things out there far worse than the demonic. But she could never, ever voice such heresy. Not after what had happened to her.

So she stepped outside the church, casting her eyes over it's visage and memorizing every detail of it's beautiful, old facade. Then she closed her eyes, whispered a short prayer, and squeezed the detonator.

The thermite explosions blew out the stained glass windows, tongues of fire bursting out of their apertures before curling inward and upward. Anything that could be ignited was, wood and flesh burning alike. As Judith gathered up her supplies and slung the canvas bag over her shoulder, the smell of cooking meat began to waft around her. She gritted her teeth and turned her back on the burning church before walking down the hill.

The helicopter picked her up an hour later, a surplus buy from the United States military. Only the pilot was aboard, his helmet stenciled with the coat of arms of the Swiss Guard. He acknowledged her with a brief nod of his head as Judith stepped up into the compartment.

Another helicopter touched down next to them a moment later. It's door slid open, allowing an ensemble to disembark that would be utterly baffling to any mundane person. Several members of the Papal Swiss Guard in their dark blue duty uniforms, each of them with an M16 slung over their shoulder, stepped out first. They were followed by several cardinals in their crimson robes. Finally, a man in a black suit with a cross pinned to his lapel stepped out, holding a briefcase at his side. All of their eyes were immediately drawn to the church burning far in the distance, with many of them crossing themselves.

One of the Swiss Guard took notice of her sitting in the adjacent chopper, his eyes widening in recognition. Judith's jaw clenched slightly and she looked away.

Funny how I can face a creature such as the one I just slew, yet this boy makes me feel ashamed.

She grabbed the handle of the door and drew it shut with a heavy click before smacking the bulkhead with her palm. "Let's go," she said.

As her helicopter lifted off, she saw the small group walking towards the village who's church she had just turned into a funeral pyre. Paladins like her didn't do the delicate mop-up and after-action business after repelling an attack from the forces of Hell. They were there to subdue and dispatch the threat. The cardinals and representative from the Vatican handled the rest - namely ensuring silence. If word got around that the Vatican couldn't keep a lid on demonic beasts running amok, well, it would be quite the PR nightmare for the Church.

Judith shut her eyes for the flight back to Vatican City, murmuring prayers for the dead as well as to stay awake. She could feel exhaustion pressing down on her, and knew that as soon as she debriefed and cleaned up she would need coffee. Anything to keep from falling asleep. Maybe the Bishop would already have a new assignment for her.

After they touched down at the airport, Judith passed off her bag of military hardware to a waiting Swiss Guardsman, then climbed in the back of the black car that was waiting for her. The driver said nothing to her as she was driven into the boundaries of Vatican City, down a nondescript side alley and parked in front of an antiques store.

Judith got out of the car, and the driver slowly rolled away. She approached the facade of the antiques store and ran her finger around the rim of the lock on the door. Latin script glowed for a moment before fading away as the door unlocked. She eased the door open, locked it behind her, then walked further into the stuffy shop. It was one of many scattered throughout the city that housed hidden entrances to the Sanctum Templar.

It took her a moment to find the hidden floor latch that opened a trapdoor that she could hop down into. The tunnel had been hewn hundreds of years ago, shorn up over the centuries with brick and mortar. Judith walked down a long slope using her phone flashlight to light her way, doing down and down until she was even deeper than the sewers and subway tunnels. The further down she went, the more touches of modernity there were, steel walls instead of stone and light strips glowing with soft light. At the very end of the passage was a simple lift, humming idly as it waited for her. Judith wondered if someone had sent it up for her as she threw the lever with a series of heavy clicks. A groan came from above her before the elevator cables lurched to life and sent her down to the Sanctum.

The Archbishop was waiting for her when she arrived. He was an older man, his graying hair slicked back along his scalp. He wore priest's vestments, the collar cinched tight around his throat. His glasses had thick frames and tinted lenses, and always seemed to catch the light no matter which way his head was turned. Despite his unassuming appearance, Judith was acutely aware of his full measure. The Archbishop had no domain other than the Templars and their hidden base under Vatican City, to the point where he renounced his former name and was identified only by his title. And one did not get to his position without being well versed in all manner of the Templar's work.

"Welcome back, Paladin," the Archbishop said. "How was your journey?"

Judith knelt down in front of him, allowing him to cross her. "Uneventful. Would that I got there sooner to prevent more lives being lost."

He nodded gravely. "Our warning networks are sorely in need of improvement. I hope this most recent attack impresses the need of His Holiness to allocate the appropriate resources."

Judith rose, standing at parade rest. It was then she realized that there was another person there behind the Archbishop, standing dutifully with a thick hardback Bible against his chest. He wore glasses too, though Judith could see his blue eyes behind the clear lenses. They were the color of spring water, and held a mixture of emotions as he looked at her: curiosity, trepidation, a little bit of fear. "Who's this?" she asked.

"Ah!" The Archbishop patted the younger man on the shoulder, even though the assistant was half a head taller. "My new aide, Luca, fresh from the Matthew division."

A librarian and scholar then, despite the way he was built. Even underneath the collared shirt and tie Luca looked like he could fight a brick wall and win. He dipped his head in acknowledgement. "A pleasure, Paladin. Your reputation precedes you."

Judith couldn't keep the scowl off her face. She knew damn well what her reputation was. "Charmed," she said. Luca actually looked a little taken aback, holding the Bible tighter against his chest.

Not much of a backbone, no wonder he's a Matthew,

Judith thought. She closed her eyes and took a heavy breath. "What would you have me do, Archbishop?"

"A debriefing in my office. Luca, follow us." The Archbishop turned on his heel and strode off, his shoes clicking on the linoleum.

Judith followed, walking abreast with Luca at her side. Her practiced eyes kept picking out little details about him. His skin was a few shades darker than the normal European complexion. Greek perhaps. His hair was a deep black, with little curls to the ends of his bangs. Her eyes lingered on the broad expanse of his chest a little longer than was chaste, tracing the lines of his pectorals that were visible through the cotton shirt. The Matthew division was the research division, manned by Templars too old or too injured to continue field work along with clerics and paladins who displayed an aptitude for the work but lacked the physical capabilities. How in the world did Luca fit into their ranks?

The Archbishop held his office door open and ushered the two of them inside. Inside was an antique oak desk with a simple chair behind it, along with several more in front of it. "Sit, please," he implored them.

Judith did as she was bade, folding her hands in her lap. The Archbishop pulled a thick volume off a bookshelf behind his desk and passed it to Luca. "Luca, for your last task today I'd like you to record Paladin Magdalena's account of today's events."

Luca nodded. "Yes, Archbishop." He opened up the volume to a blank page and produced a pen from his pocket.

"Now then, Paladin," the Archbishop said. "Leave nothing out."

Judith did such. It was easier to recount here in this space, away from the smells of blood and death. One of the first things she had learned during the decade-long training to become a Templar paladin was how to suppress her natural human impulses in dedication to her duty. Grief for the dead was easily made into abstraction.

At least, it had been until the incident in America a year ago.

When she was done, the Archbishop leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his stomach, saying nothing for a time. Luca held his pen above the page, ready to take more notes at a moment's notice. His blue eyes flicked to her briefly. There was wariness in them, and Judith wondered it his discomfort stemmed from the amount of detail she'd gone into.