The Crow

Fallen Angel

Chapter Four

Starting to Love This

She sat on her front porch, Vincent sitting next to her, smoking a cigarette. He had taken a trench coat that had belonged to Christopher from the closet and slipped it on. She never realized how dashing he looked in the jacket and it broke her heart that it really wasn't him. She sighed and looked up at the moon. It was full, bright. Perfect for the task at hand.

"Are you ready to go, Erin?" He asked, standing up and flicking the cigarette butt into the yard. He looked at her and she sighed, nodding her head. "You know, Erin, I've been thinking. Most of the time, I call my duties the Angel of Death, but I think I have a new name from you."

"Yes?" She asked, standing up as well, following him to the sidewalk as he moved along.

"Yes. I've decided I'm going to name you a Fallen Angel instead. You've been here too long; you've been affected too much by the world to be an Angel of Death. You're a Fallen Angel. Besides, it sounds much prettier."

"Yes, it does." She said softly and he looked at her.

"Is something wrong, Erin?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"You look like Christopher, walk like Christopher, kiss like Christopher, but you're not him, you don't sound like him. Hearing someone else's voice coming out of Christopher is…odd."

"I offered to change back. Would you like me to change back? I will."

"No. Stay like this. Please. You're all of Christopher I have left." She said and reached her hand out to grab his hand, squeezing it.

He sighed, squeezing back. "Once you finish this, you'll be able to be with him again, you know. You won't be trapped in this dimension any longer. He's been waiting for you, all these years."

"He has? Where? Is he in Heaven?"

"A place that is much like Heaven, yes. Only the purest of souls may go there, the ones filled with true love, compassion and loyalty. God is not what you think. Or who you think."

"Oh? Who is He then? What is he?"

"That I cannot disclose. The sheer knowledge of the true form of God in a human mind is deadly. That is why you have to be dead before you can see God or even truly comprehend him. If He had simply come to Earth himself instead of sending his son, the Bible would be a whole different book." He looked at her and she simply nodded.

"Now come along, Erin, we're going to your killing tonight."

He led her to a bar, large, loud and rowdy. It was called Le Chat Noir, French for The Black Cat, she knew that. She sighed and looked at Vincent. "Who is in there that I need to kill?" She asked and he smirked, sliding a cigarette between his lips and lighting it.

"Everyone."

"Everyone? But I don't remember there being that many people…killing me."

"No. But they were all intentionally involved in your death. There was a vote, in their little guild, their little society, about whether or not they were going to kill you and Christopher. They had full knowledge that you were pregnant, as well as completely innocent of any other crime. But everyone in that bar still chose to rape, torture and kill you and your husband."

She tensed up at the words and frowned, sliding one of the guns out from the holster that rested on her hip. She pulled back the safety, eyes narrowing. "Would you like to watch?" She asked and he laughed.

"I thought you'd never ask, darlin'." He said, taking a drag. "But wait. Don't kill the girl behind the bar. She is an innocent. If you kill an innocent, your mission is over and you're either going back to the mental institution or perpetual purgatory."

She nodded. "Don't worry about it." She said and moved into the bar slowly, hand on her gun. She moved to the bar, seeing a young girl, with gorgeous blue eyes. "Hey, over here." She said, lifting her hand as if she wanted a drink. The bartender sauntered over, stopping when she saw her odd makeup.

"Uh...um…what can I get you?" She asked quickly, swallowing hard.

"Go out back, love, I don't want you to see this."

"See what?"

"Go out back." She said, eyes narrowing and the girl nodded her head, moving from behind the bar and out the back door quickly.

Erin lifted herself up on the bar, standing, and a few men whistled when they saw her outfit. She shot her gun up in the air, letting out a yell. "Hey!"

The bar quieted down and all eyes turned to her. "Good evening, gentlemen, ladies, if there are any. My name is not important, but a few are. Is anyone by the name Lefty, Mooney, Albino, Dasher, Roach or Killer here?"

Silence fell over the room, like nothing she had ever heard before. "Don't make me repeat myself, God damn it! Tell me if any of these men are here and maybe I'll see about killing you all nice and quick." Her eyes scanned the room for Vincent, but she couldn't find him.

A voice piped up. "I know where Roach is." There were whispers, angry sounds.

"Where?"

"He hangs out a hotel, the Rochester on 7th Street." The man said, stepping forward slightly so she could see him. He was disgusting, dirty, and probably high.

"Thank you." She said, lifting her gun, aiming it at his head. She pulled the trigger, the bullet hitting him between the eyes. He fell to the ground and she smirked. "No honor among thieves." She heard guns being pulled and she stood up straight. "Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant taste of death but once."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means, my dearest coward, say hello to the Fallen Angel of Death." She began to shot into the crowd, her shot amazingly on, hitting and killing all the men she aimed at. The men pulled out their guns, beginning to shoot at her. She dropped down behind the bar and Vincent smirked at her from his spot there.

"I barred the doors, front and back. The bartender is safe. You can do whatever you want."

"And the windows?"

"There are no windows. The evil like their darkness."

"Excellent." She reloaded her gun and grabbed a large bottle of vodka. She threw it onto the ground, watching it shatter.

She did quite a job at dispatching the men, some of them turning on each other as she jumped off the bar. One man lay injured on the ground, bleeding out. She looked down at him and he held his hands up, crying. She tilted her head to the side and watched him.

"Please, please don't kill me! Let me live, I will do anything you want, anything!"

"Save a thief from the gallows and he will cut your throat." She murmured before pulling the trigger on her gun, killing him instantly.

She let out a loud gasp when a bullet punctured her stomach, but the wound quickly healed. She turned to look at the man, growling as she lunged at him.

The fight loomed on and she was winning. There were only about a fourth of the original men left, Vincent taking a few men out from behind the bar. She hopped back over the bar to join him, grabbing his cigarette and taking a drag. She licked her lips quickly before tossing the lit butt into the puddle of vodka, watching it go up into flames. She quickly exited with Vincent, baring the door up again.

She leaned against a wall in an alley next to the bar and he looked at her. "How was that?"

"Fun. Kill a man, and you are a murderer. Kill millions of men, and you are a conqueror. Kill everyone, and you are a god." She said with a smile. "I'm really starting to love this."

"Good. Because we finally know here one of the men who killed you is. Let's go get him."

"Let's."