--Book of Shadows: Sanctuary-
Chapter II
"Witchcraft does not operate from Human Malice alone." – Malleus Maleficarum
The church was not what Robin had expected. It was nestled between several high rise apartment, buildings, it's faded white steeple a little lopsided, and ancient place forgotten by time. Squad cars surrounded the dilapidated building, but the uniformed officers milling around seemed ready and eager to leave.
As she and Amon approached, one man broke away form the group and came over to meet them.
"I'm Officer Miyazaki." He said, inclining his head politely. "You must be with the STN." Both Robin and Amon nodded slightly in reply. The officer eyes Amon curiously, the turned to survey the crime scene.
"It's a pretty bad one," he commented. "Perhaps the young lady had best wait..." his voice trailed off as Amon and Robin filed past him, ducking under the yellow police tape and heading toward the church. As they neared the entrance, one young officer came stumbling out, running for a nearby garbage can. Robin averted her eyes as sound of retching reached her hears. Just what was inside that church?
Amon entered first, pausing just inside the doorway, blocking Robin's view. She attempted to peer over his shoulder, partly to see what he was looking at, and to see the expression his face.
"Robin, perhaps you should wait outside," Amon said stoically, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. Robin frowned and glared up at him angrily, surprising Amon with her sudden display of defiance.
"I'll be fine," she replied, an edge in her voice that clashed with her usual soft tone. Amon quirked an eyebrow at her, then stepped aside, allowing her to pass in front of him. Robin did so, taking a few brisk steps forward, before stopping in her tracks.
The entire front of the church was covered in. . .blood. The floor, the altar, the beautiful stained-glass window, all were splattered with blood, bright red and glistening in the dark. Robin felt her mouth open in shock and horror. What had happened here? Amon had said there was a murder, but she couldn't see a body.
It was then that she noticed them. Scattered around the floor were several small, white pieces of cloth. She looked down and noticed one directly at her feet. She bent down to examine it, driven back by the pungent, metallic scent of blood that came from it. Amon stepped forward, as if to stop her, but Robin was already prodding the cloth gently with one outstretched finger. She drew it back immediately as the cloth became soaked with blood, the small stain quickly spreading over the material.
Robin stood up quickly, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. She covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes darting wildly around the room. These covered things. . .they were the body. . .or what was left of it. . .and she had. . .
Amon stood silently in the aisle as Robin darted past him and out of the church.
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Robin sat at the counter of Harry's bar, staring sullenly into the cup of chammomile tea he had given her. He had listened intently to her as she had recounted the events of the early morning, then encouraged her to drink the soothing brew. But right now, Robin didn't feel much like eating anything.
She had made a point of insisting to Amon that she could handle whatever was inside that church. But she hadn't been expecting such. . .violence. Such carnage. And in a house of God, no less. She had seen crime scenes before, they were a regular part of witch hunts, and been around her share of dead bodies. But the victims had never been in pieces before. Their blood had never been splashed on the walls like a twisted child's finger painting.
Robin buried her head in her arms. She felt so embarrassed, so immature, acting in such a way, and in front of Amon. He already thought poorly of her, and this wouldn't do anything to better his opinion.
Her situation wasn't helped by the fact that at that moment, Amon joined her at the counter. She immediately raised her head, though she continued staring into her teacup, trying to hide the sudden heat that flooded into her face at his presence. Master walked over and smiled and the Hunter, who inclined his head in greeting. Master placed a cup of espresso on the table in front of the man, then walked back to the far end of the bar.
"Amon, I didn't know you liked espresso." Robin commented without thinking. She mentally cursed herself for speaking to him, when she'd been trying to avoid doing so. Amon glanced at her coolly, then turned back to his coffee.
"I don't mind it." He replied nonchalantly.
"Did you ever live in Italy?" Robin asked hesitantly. She knew Amon didn't appreciate being prodded for personal information, but she never seemed to be able to help herself.
"Yes." Amon answered curtly after a long pause. He set the empty cup on the table a little harder than was necessary, indicating to Robin that the conversation was over. The two continued to sit there in silence, Robin occasionally taking a sip of her tea. She was surprised to find it's warm, mild taste really did settle her nerves a little, and she began to feel more relaxed.
Amon suddenly rose to leave, just as quickly as he had appeared. Before he had gotten out of earshot, Robin turned to him.
"Amon."
He paused, prepared to listen, but didn't turn back around. Robin mustered her courage, and spoke.
"I apologize, for earlier. . .at the church."
Amon slowly turned to face her, looking at the top of her golden- chestnut hair as she lowered her head ashamedly. She couldn't see his face, or she would have noticed the sudden softening of his stony jaw, and the almost gentle expression that warmed his stormy gray eyes. The look vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, but not before Master had a chance to smile knowingly and continue cleaning glasses.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Amon said quietly, looking down at her, his face once again a mask as her brilliant green eyes met his. "Your reaction was natural, instinctive. The police officers were behaving no differently. You saw that."
Robin recalled the anxious pacing of the men, and that as soon as Amon had left the church, they had all practically jumped into their cars. When she realized this, her reaction to the sight of the crime scene didn't seem so bad. She looked up at Amon to thank him for allaying her discomfiture, but he was already gone.
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A/n: Thanks to those of you who have reviewed so far, and everyone who reviewed the first book of this story, which motivated me to write a sequel. Just letting everyone know, we're getting a new computer, so I don't know when I'll be able to update next.
Chapter II
"Witchcraft does not operate from Human Malice alone." – Malleus Maleficarum
The church was not what Robin had expected. It was nestled between several high rise apartment, buildings, it's faded white steeple a little lopsided, and ancient place forgotten by time. Squad cars surrounded the dilapidated building, but the uniformed officers milling around seemed ready and eager to leave.
As she and Amon approached, one man broke away form the group and came over to meet them.
"I'm Officer Miyazaki." He said, inclining his head politely. "You must be with the STN." Both Robin and Amon nodded slightly in reply. The officer eyes Amon curiously, the turned to survey the crime scene.
"It's a pretty bad one," he commented. "Perhaps the young lady had best wait..." his voice trailed off as Amon and Robin filed past him, ducking under the yellow police tape and heading toward the church. As they neared the entrance, one young officer came stumbling out, running for a nearby garbage can. Robin averted her eyes as sound of retching reached her hears. Just what was inside that church?
Amon entered first, pausing just inside the doorway, blocking Robin's view. She attempted to peer over his shoulder, partly to see what he was looking at, and to see the expression his face.
"Robin, perhaps you should wait outside," Amon said stoically, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. Robin frowned and glared up at him angrily, surprising Amon with her sudden display of defiance.
"I'll be fine," she replied, an edge in her voice that clashed with her usual soft tone. Amon quirked an eyebrow at her, then stepped aside, allowing her to pass in front of him. Robin did so, taking a few brisk steps forward, before stopping in her tracks.
The entire front of the church was covered in. . .blood. The floor, the altar, the beautiful stained-glass window, all were splattered with blood, bright red and glistening in the dark. Robin felt her mouth open in shock and horror. What had happened here? Amon had said there was a murder, but she couldn't see a body.
It was then that she noticed them. Scattered around the floor were several small, white pieces of cloth. She looked down and noticed one directly at her feet. She bent down to examine it, driven back by the pungent, metallic scent of blood that came from it. Amon stepped forward, as if to stop her, but Robin was already prodding the cloth gently with one outstretched finger. She drew it back immediately as the cloth became soaked with blood, the small stain quickly spreading over the material.
Robin stood up quickly, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. She covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes darting wildly around the room. These covered things. . .they were the body. . .or what was left of it. . .and she had. . .
Amon stood silently in the aisle as Robin darted past him and out of the church.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Robin sat at the counter of Harry's bar, staring sullenly into the cup of chammomile tea he had given her. He had listened intently to her as she had recounted the events of the early morning, then encouraged her to drink the soothing brew. But right now, Robin didn't feel much like eating anything.
She had made a point of insisting to Amon that she could handle whatever was inside that church. But she hadn't been expecting such. . .violence. Such carnage. And in a house of God, no less. She had seen crime scenes before, they were a regular part of witch hunts, and been around her share of dead bodies. But the victims had never been in pieces before. Their blood had never been splashed on the walls like a twisted child's finger painting.
Robin buried her head in her arms. She felt so embarrassed, so immature, acting in such a way, and in front of Amon. He already thought poorly of her, and this wouldn't do anything to better his opinion.
Her situation wasn't helped by the fact that at that moment, Amon joined her at the counter. She immediately raised her head, though she continued staring into her teacup, trying to hide the sudden heat that flooded into her face at his presence. Master walked over and smiled and the Hunter, who inclined his head in greeting. Master placed a cup of espresso on the table in front of the man, then walked back to the far end of the bar.
"Amon, I didn't know you liked espresso." Robin commented without thinking. She mentally cursed herself for speaking to him, when she'd been trying to avoid doing so. Amon glanced at her coolly, then turned back to his coffee.
"I don't mind it." He replied nonchalantly.
"Did you ever live in Italy?" Robin asked hesitantly. She knew Amon didn't appreciate being prodded for personal information, but she never seemed to be able to help herself.
"Yes." Amon answered curtly after a long pause. He set the empty cup on the table a little harder than was necessary, indicating to Robin that the conversation was over. The two continued to sit there in silence, Robin occasionally taking a sip of her tea. She was surprised to find it's warm, mild taste really did settle her nerves a little, and she began to feel more relaxed.
Amon suddenly rose to leave, just as quickly as he had appeared. Before he had gotten out of earshot, Robin turned to him.
"Amon."
He paused, prepared to listen, but didn't turn back around. Robin mustered her courage, and spoke.
"I apologize, for earlier. . .at the church."
Amon slowly turned to face her, looking at the top of her golden- chestnut hair as she lowered her head ashamedly. She couldn't see his face, or she would have noticed the sudden softening of his stony jaw, and the almost gentle expression that warmed his stormy gray eyes. The look vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, but not before Master had a chance to smile knowingly and continue cleaning glasses.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Amon said quietly, looking down at her, his face once again a mask as her brilliant green eyes met his. "Your reaction was natural, instinctive. The police officers were behaving no differently. You saw that."
Robin recalled the anxious pacing of the men, and that as soon as Amon had left the church, they had all practically jumped into their cars. When she realized this, her reaction to the sight of the crime scene didn't seem so bad. She looked up at Amon to thank him for allaying her discomfiture, but he was already gone.
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A/n: Thanks to those of you who have reviewed so far, and everyone who reviewed the first book of this story, which motivated me to write a sequel. Just letting everyone know, we're getting a new computer, so I don't know when I'll be able to update next.