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A holy house of God should be a sanctuary. Oh, how many of God's little lambs believe these most hallowed halls will protect them from evil? Don't they know that evil has already walked through those wooden double doors and knelt in the front pew, hands clasped together in a disgusting mockery of prayer?
Or, perhaps he is praying. It certainly looks that way; the expression on the man's face is contemplative, with his eyes closed, head bowed towards his threaded fingers. He sits alone in the darkness, silver slivers of moonlight reflecting off his sharp facial features and casting cool shadows on vibrant red hair. It is three in the morning, an hour when the veil is at its lightest, but the redheaded man is not alone, and he knows this. After all, it's his third night here, at this exact hour, in this exact supplicant position, and it seems that his prayer is finally answered.
"I warned you what would happen if you darkened my doorstep again." The priest approaches from behind, his footsteps eerily silent even on the marble floors. A shock of white hair contrasts sharply with the deep black of the cassock he wears, the high collar giving him an air of reserved quiet.
In response, the being in the pew smirks. The thin illusion of an innocent man peels away, as his lips curl over sharpened canine teeth. Too sharp for a human. "Please, Father," he purrs, eyes opening into scarlet slits. "Don't be so quick to turn away thy neighbor… are all not welcome in the house of the Lord, Lu Guang?"
"You are certainly not." Lu Guang's answer is both immediate and uncaring, and it draws an amused chuckle from the demon, who leans back lazily into the pew. "I know what you are, Vein. What I don't know is why you keep coming back here, when you know it will inevitably end with your banishment to Hell. Where you belong."
Vein clicks his tongue, as though Lu Guang's threat means very little to him. "Your dedication to your congregation is admirable, but in truth, I hold no ill will towards any of them. You wonder why I return here night after night, but that should be obvious. It's for you."
Men of God were often targets of the Devil, who desired to corrupt them as an affront to Heaven itself, so this should have come as no surprise to Lu Guang. Yet, there is something about the look on Vein's face, something beyond simple malice. Something like hunger. Vein's unearthly desire to devour seeps out through snakelike eyes and threatens to surround Lu Guang like a swarm of insects, but Lu Guang is no mere man.
Lu Guang steps forward, facing the altar and the stain glass relief behind it. The image of the passion of the Christ and the Resurrection looms down at the both of them. To Lu Guang, the iconography should be a source of strength. He is surrounded by incense, peace, and prayer, reminders of holy power that flows within him, and yet Vein's very presence is enough to stifle the light that emanates from dim candles and lit lamps around the sanctuary.
That shadow momentarily oppresses the light completely, and in the next instant, Vein is seated atop the altar, one leg lazily crossed over the other. His sudden appearance there startles Lu Guang, though that surprise is soon replaced by anger at the demon's insolence. Lu Guang surges forward, pushed onto the altar by the force of his own fury and, perhaps, something else. In his anger, he forgets himself, and the air around him shimmers.
There's the sound of body against marble as Vein is shoved onto his back against the altar, the breath forced from his lungs, Lu Guang's hand splayed on his chest. The silvered point of a dagger presses close to Vein's throat, but does not slice the skin. Lu Guang stops just short of tearing Vein's head from his neck, though it is a near thing. Vein's eyes widen, but not with fear - with glee. Even as he is surrounded in holy light, the demon rejoices, wonders at the image before him: radiant wings spread from between Lu Guang's shoulders, and a blue halo sparks behind Lu Guang's head like an electrical storm.
"Hah - as I thought," Vein gasps, his sneer widening, a clawed hand reaching up to grasp Lu Guang's wrist. "Oh, angel of vengeance, angel of wrath - you are as beautiful as I knew you would be."
"You blaspheme," Lu Guang snarls in response, the sharp blade drawing a bead of blood. "I'll make you a sacrifice to God upon this altar here and now."
"Will you?" The question leaves Vein as a whisper, haunting and melodious. The demon's eyes lower ever so slightly, and he leans into the dagger, blood weeping down his throat from the deepening puncture wound. The sharp pain is something he seeks, something he desires almost as much as he seeks to sully those pure white feathers that cascade down around them now.
The angel's fist tightens in Vein's shirt, his other hand still holding the dagger to Vein's neck. His shoulders heave with the force of his breaths, and gray eyes burn with a cold rage that the demon below him welcomes as though it were a warm embrace. Even now, Lu Guang doesn't know why he hesitates, why he doesn't simply drive the blade deep into the devil's chest where his heart should be and send him back to the abyss from whence he came. He should, he knows he should. Vein is a scourge, an evil stain to be wiped from this realm, but be it by some power that matches Lu Guang's own or a mark of his own weakness, the angel's hand trembles within Vein's tight grip.
It's such a minute hesitation, but it's more than enough for Vein to take advantage of. The demon fades into black smoke, leaving Lu Guang scrambling for purchase on the marble altar, before reappearing directly behind the angel. Suddenly, their positions are switched, with Lu Guang leaned down over the edge of the altar and the devil behind, his front pressed against Lu Guang's back. Sharp claws drag down the length of Lu Guang's arm before once again grasping at the wrist holding the dagger, while Vein's other hand threads through snow-white wings. It's a gesture that might be taken for worship, were it not so blasphemous in nature.
The sensation of fingers brushing against feathers causes Lu Guang's back to arch, his teeth gritting in a snarl. There's simply nowhere to go, not when Vein has him pushed tightly against the front of the altar, and Vein's head dips so that his lips brush the back of Lu Guang's neck. The sight is unholy bordering on sacrilege, the devil with his now visible barbed tail wrapped around the angel's upper thigh, hands and torso and tail all now holding him prisoner.
"You can't do it," Vein murmurs, forked tongue flickering just underneath Lu Guang's ear. Lu Guang hisses in response, but before he can get any words out, Vein's hand wanders up his back, then shoulder, then caresses his neck, tilting his chin upward so Lu Guang, too, is forced to stare at the stain glass, to look God in the eye as his skin is kissed by the Devil himself. "Your heart is not as pure, not as unwavering as it should be… but that, too, is beauty."
"Don't… pretend that you understand me," Lu Guang gasped out, trying to ignore the way his form seemed to fit against Vein's like two sculptures carved from the same block of cold stone. "You and I do not… cannot understand each other."
"Is that so?" The devil's voice is velvet soft and lilting, as sweet and tempting as the worst of sins. He kisses the back of Lu Guang's neck again, reveling in the way Lu Guang makes an act of resisting him. "You're far more interesting than your angelic brethren… those soldiers with no thoughts of their own, no will other than that of the Father… but you, Lu Guang, my angel of Vengeance, walk a path of your own, don't you?"
Lu Guang clenches his jaw and refuses to answer. He knows it was a mistake to give the devil more than a single chance, that he ought to have slain the creature that first night they met, but the fact remains that he didn't. Why? Was there something about Vein that was different from the wicked spawn Lu Guang has spent a near eternity cleansing from the face of the earth? Was it, perhaps, the way he looked at Lu Guang, as if he saw through the steel barriers that Lu Guang had long ago built around himself as a shield?
Lips drift from the base of Lu Guang's throat to the underside of his chin, and Lu Guang can feel Vein's smile in the shape of his kisses. "I think you and I are more similar than you care to admit," Vein croons. "After all, I was once an angel, like you… One of the highest order, even, a seraph... I chose freedom, and God cast me out. You stand at that same precipice - you just have to make the jump."
Finally, Lu Guang manages to speak, though his voice is not as steady as he wishes it could be, not when Vein's tail tightens around his thigh and squeezes. "Let me go."
A low purr grumbles in Vein's chest against the base of Lu Guang's wings. For a moment, Lu Guang wonders if Vein might hold him there until dawn, but it is only a short time after Lu Guang's request that Vein's grip slackens. His hand releases Lu Guang's wrist, but the other hand teases Lu Guang's wings for a few seconds before Vein frees him entirely.
Immediately, Lu Guang pushes himself off the altar and whirls around, his hand still gripping the dagger, but Vein is nowhere to be seen. Even so, the scent of him lingers - heat and spice - and that low voice sounds again in Lu Guang's ear. Too close.
Pray for me, will you? See you tomorrow... Father.