Devil's Den: A Gripping Supernatural Thriller (A Nephilim Thriller Book 1) by Jeff Altabef

Author:Jeff Altabef [Altabef, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Evolved Publishing LLC
Published: 2018-11-04T16:00:00+00:00

The door is unlocked, so I step inside the old church. Considerably darker than outside, only a few candles add to the small traces of natural light filtering through the windows. I pause and soak in the sanctuary, absorbing the smell of the wooden pews, the vaulted gothic ceiling, the artistry in the windows, and the sanctity of the altar. This place feels special, as if it’s connected to another realm. Perhaps it’s the echo of all the prayers spoken in this building, or the flickering candles, or that it’s empty.

It’s apparently not completely empty. Father Paul steps from behind a pew and into the center aisle. He smiles at me like we’re old friends and waves me over. I’m in his place. To refuse would be rude, and besides, he seems genuinely happy to see me. How many people really want to see me? I can count them on one hand. I tuck the Smith and Wesson back into the holster at the small of my back, and stroll to him.

When I stop a few feet away, he grins and says, “So good of you to stop in and visit once more. I’d been hoping we’d see each other again.”

What can I say? That I came close to screwing a freaky-looking demon in the alley and found this door by accident? Probably not my best option, so I settle for the easy. Sometimes easy is best. “I thought we might talk. I have some questions I’m hoping you can help me with, Father Paul.”

He crosses his arms against his chest and frowns at me. “You really disappoint me.”

What does he mean? I’ve done a lot to disappoint a priest. Does he know about the demon gang member whose head I smashed to oblivion, or Mr. Frosty, or Brad, or the thing named Raven in the alley, or Cindy, whom I would have hurt if Kate hadn’t been with me in Darleen’s apartment? With so many bad acts to choose from, I don’t know what to confess to, so I add befuddlement to my voice and wait for the verdict.

“Disappointed?”

He smiles, and I know he’s not going to bust me for any of my recent sins. “I thought we’d become friends, and my friends call me Paulie. Father Paul sounds so stuffy.”

I breathe easier. Why do I care what the priest thinks of me?

“Come,” says the affable young man. “Let’s sit and I’ll make up as many answers to your questions as I can.”

He sits in the first-row pew, and I settle next to him. “So, what’s on your mind this time?”

I need to talk to someone about my rising demon problem. It’s not going away on its own. “What do you know about demons?”

Father Paul looks at me for a short while; the silence thick between us, a grim expression creases his face. Finally, he says, “There are all types of demons. Personal ones we fight, and then others.”

Leaning forward, I ask, “It’s the other ones I’m interested in. Real demons, sent from hell.

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