The stairway was surprisingly clean for a slum. A large window illuminated the heavy brown doors of the apartment complex, and the walls were scraped an off-white, splashing the landing in natural light broken by falling rain. But underneath the fresh layer of paint, the building still had a poverish essence that leaked through the cracks. It was cheap. Fake.

Their footsteps echoed as Norman led the way up the stairs, sliding his hand idly along the enameled wrought-iron railing. As they turned to the doors, he could see the shadows framed against the wall. His own, somewhat scruffy-haired and slouched from his lack of sleep. Blake's sloped-nosed profile flicked left and right as he gazed around. Gibbons' slim form seemed to hide behind Norman's, only obvious from the angle of her cap and the curl of her pony tail.

They paused on the landing, and Norman looked at each of them. Blake ignored him completely, his hazel eyes staring blank at the wooden door. Gibbons glanced at Norman, her brown eyes betraying a spark of nervousness that Norman shared. He gave a mental shrug. It was all up to him.

He turned and knocked on the door. A few silent moments passed by, feeding the anticipation. He knocked again, and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. After the speech he gave back at the office, it would be just his luck if the man wasn't even home. The seconds passed and reality sank in.

"He's not here." Norman bowed his head and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Shit, we wasted our time coming here."

Gibbons folded her arms and stared at the floor, her face betraying her relief.

"Maybe we should have a look inside anyway."

Norman turned sideways and caught Blake's gaze. Blake stared blankly back at him.

"There's nobody home," said Norman. "Let's just move on to the other suspect."

Blake's shoulders squared as he faced the door, and he cast Norman a contemptuous look. Then in one swift motion, he raised his boot and planted it near the knob, bashing the door open so that it bounced off the opposite wall.

Norman jumped back in shock. Gibbons stammered behind him. "That's… um… we can't… oh God." Blake disappeared as he strode through the doorway.

"This is illegal, Blake," said Norman. "We don't have a warrant."

A portion of Blake's bearded face appeared as he leaned back through the doorframe. "Call the cops." He disappeared again.

Norman threw Gibbons an exasperated glance and sighed. She widened her eyes and shrugged lightly in an "oh well" manner. At least Norman could say it was Blake's idea.

He stepped into the apartment, and the light from the landing vanished into the void of the living room. It took a moment for Norman's eyes to adjust, and he felt Gibbons move next to him.

"Jesus Christ─ um, literally."

The living room was empty except for a flimsy table against one wall. Something was hanging from the ceiling, and Norman circled slowly on the spot as he stared upward. His gut wrenched as the objects came into focus. The ceiling, the walls, everything. Covered in various crucifixes.

He followed one wall, analyzing the crucifixes. "Nathaniel must be very uh… religious?"

"The guy's a fuckin' lunatic." Blake's voice rang from one of the hallways. "Thinks the world is coming to an end, hears voices, that kinda stuff. A few months ago we had to round him up 'cause he was ranting in the streets. Accused me of being the anti-Christ or some shit."

Norman heard a sniff behind him, and turned to see the corners of Gibbons' mouth tense. She glanced at Norman and shook her head quickly, but he saw the smile in her eyes.

Gibbons moved past him and Norman followed, being extra careful not to touch the walls. They gave him a sick feeling as if they would poison him. They entered what appeared to be the kitchen, but it was as far from a normal kitchen as Norman had ever seen. Tall candles flickered in each corner, giving the crucifixes the illusion of dancing. Random portraits of religious figures dotted the walls where there was still space, and a small dining table rested in the middle of the room.

Gibbons moved toward it, and Norman watched as she ran her finger along the beads of a rosary which lay next to a Bible on the table.

"Can this man even go from one room to the next without needing to repent?" She threw a smile at Norman who gazed back at her, unsure of what to say. She coughed lightly and through the darkness, Norman saw her face straighten. "I mean," she moved away from the table, "this sure has psychopath written all over it."

"Psychopath, yes." Norman walked near the sink which was cluttered with grimy pots and pans. "But serial killer?" He clamped his hands together under his chin as he analyzed a scattered row of prescription drug bottles which lined the countertops. The labels were hard to make out under the rips and smudged dirt. He leaned forward, recognizing the majority as ordinary eye drops and multi-vitamins, and the others as simple pain medications. It all looked so suspicious to the naked eye. But there was something wrong. It felt almost staged.

"Are─ are you asking me?"

Norman turned in surprise. Gibbons stared back at him, her eyebrows slightly raised. For a second, Norman was frozen as he tried to remember what he'd said.

"Whether I think he's the serial killer, I mean." Gibbons said quickly. She tilted her head and rubbed her forehead. "Because you said it like a rhetorical question."

He didn't mean to, but Norman gazed at Gibbons with narrowed eyes and wondered whether he should answer at all. A few seconds passed, and Gibbons dropped her head back, closing her eyes.

"Right," she whispered. She turned away and moved out of the room.

Norman sighed and shook his head slightly. There was no point in even trying. Not with her at least.

Each room was the same as the next, with the exception of some remnants that confirmed the place was somewhat a home. Rosary beads and Bibles were on every surface. Some of the beads had been rubbed flat on one side as if someone had repeatedly clenched them together. A stained mattress marked the bedroom, and a blackened toilet indicated a bathroom. How someone could live there comfortably, Norman had no idea. Then again, if this was the home of a killer, anything was possible.

He entered the living room and moved along the far wall, gazing at the crucifixes. Not a single one was a duplicate. Some even looked hand-carved, chiseled and gnarled. He paused by one which caught his attention. In the flickering candlelight, he could just identify a small boy carved onto the cross, complete with knee-high shorts and short hair. He leaned in close. Very unusual for someone so devoted to Christ to have a false crucifix.

There was a muffled crunch behind him, and Norman spun quickly. His voice caught in his throat as he gazed at the open doorway.

A black silhouette blocked out much of the sunlight. It stood quiet and unmoving, but through the blurriness of the features, Norman could faintly see two large eyes locked on him. They seemed terrified, almost pleading with him. And despite himself, Norman felt a deep shame build in his chest.

The figure staggered toward him slowly, coming further into focus. A gangly, unkempt man came into view, his clothes tattered and hair matted. His terrified eyes flicked from the crucifixes to the table and back to Norman. The man's mouth quivered as he tried to speak, and Norman put his hands forward in attempt to calm him.

"'Bout time you showed up, Nathaniel."

Norman felt his muscles tighten at the loud voice, and realized with a start that Blake was watching from the hallway leaning against the doorframe. The man spun quickly, his body jerking as if fighting the urge to bolt back through the open door.

"We were wondering if you'd ever show up." Blake leaned off the doorframe and moved towards the shivering man.

"Graceful Lord, watch over us in this dark hour…" The man backed slowly, rubbing his fingers together as if he were holding an invisible rosary.

Norman shook off his apprehension, and forced himself to step forward. "Nathaniel Williams?" The man's head darted left and right. Norman took a deep breath. "Nathaniel, I'm Agent Norman Jayden, FBI. We'd just like to ask you a few questions."

The man mumbled frantic prayers, spinning slowly on the spot so he backed into the far corner. His eyes flicked from Norman to Blake so quickly they were nearly a blur.

"It's alright, we're not here to hurt you," said Norman. He felt his frustration boil as Blake paced back and forth in front of Nathaniel like a predator. "We just want to talk, that's all."

"As God is my witness, I'm His humble servant, praying only for the salvation of the souls that have strayed from the path of the Lord." Nathaniel watched Blake with narrowed eyes. "And to defend the innocent in prayer from the darkness of evil."

Norman folded his arms and pressed a knuckle to his bottom lip. "Nathaniel… you were involved in a police investigation several weeks ago, weren't you? A child abduction?"

Nathaniel's twitching eyes remained locked on Blake who leaned against the wall next to him. "Lost souls… led down into the pit of temptation and fire. I prayed for them. I prayed so long…"

"That's because you killed them, didn't you Nathaniel?" said Blake. Norman shot him a furrowed glare, but Blake gazed sideways at Nathaniel.

"Look, we're not accusing you of anything." Norman stepped closer. "Another kid's been kidnapped. We just want to know if you have any information that would lead us to find the person responsible."

"Or you could just turn yourself in now." Blake shifted against the wall. "Save us the trouble."

"If you saw anything at the park this morning, or anything suspicious in the past week for that matter." Norman spoke loudly, turning his head slightly in Blake's direction. "I understand you often preach there."

"I am innocent of any murder. I'm blessed by His holy light and spread His word through prayer." Faint cuts appeared on Nathaniel's fingers as he clenched his nails repeatedly into his skin.

"You aren't blessed by shit," said Blake. "Why don't you just tell us where you've got the kid this time?"

"Blake, that's enough!" Norman felt his face heat up.

"What did you do to them, huh?" Blake pushed off from the wall and Nathaniel cowered. "Did you bury their faces in the water and drown them?"

"For fuck's sake, Blake, shut up!" Norman moved forward.

"Demon…" Nathaniel's eyes lit in horror as he stared into space. "She-devil!"

Blake turned, his face lined with confusion, and Norman followed his gaze. Gibbons stood in the doorway, her mouth slightly open as she looked between the three men. She clutched either side of the doorframe, narrowing her eyes in question.

Norman shook his head slightly in frustration. "Look, all we're asking─"

Blake grunted as he was launched back by the force of the small man. Norman stepped back, his heart pounding in his chest. There was a flash of silver, and Blake stood rigid as Nathaniel pinned himself to him, a knife held to Blake's throat.

Norman and Gibbons shouted at once.

"Nathaniel…" Norman struggled to keep his voice steady. "Nathaniel, put down the knife."

"The hour of shadows is upon us," whispered Nathaniel. "The time of the anti-Christ and the bride of Satan emerges! And the Lord has called on me to bring salvation to humanity!"

"Jayden, what the fuck are you doing?" Blake groaned against the knife. "Shoot him!"

"You shall face the full glory of the Lord, son and bride of Satan!" There was a grinding as Nathaniel gritted his teeth.

"Nathaniel, just put down the knife, and we can all just walk away," said Norman. "You don't have to do this."

"For Christ's sake, just shoot the son of a bitch!" Blake screamed.

"Look…" Gibbon's shaky voice rose among the panic. "Look it's not worth it, Nate. God wouldn't want you to kill anyone."

Blake hissed as Nathaniel jabbed the knife further into his neck. "You will not speak of the Lord, leader of temptation! Sinner of lust and suicide!"

Gibbons seemed to freeze next to Norman. He glanced sideways at her, then waved his hands towards Nathaniel. "Come on, Nathaniel. You don't want to do this. We're here to help you."

Nathaniel shook his head furiously. "The she-devil speaks lies and deceit. She will lure you to a path of lust and false ecstasy, and crush you beneath the evil of oblivion!"

Something whipped out of the corner of Norman's vision, and he realized with a jolt that Gibbons had removed her firearm. She held it raised in both hands, her head tilted as she gazed at Nathaniel in an intense combination of fear and hatred that made her normally clueless face fiercely unrecognizable.

"...the fuck…" she whispered. Then her volume increased shakily. "...the fuck did you just say?"

Norman's mind scrambled frantically as he struggled to make sense of the situation. He gave his head a shake, then shifted towards Gibbons, unsure of whether to touch her or not.

"Gibbons, I need you with me on this," he said. "Put your gun away."

"The world will be free of the anti-Christ and bride of Satan!" Nathaniel's voice broke into a maniacal laughter. "You shall no longer pollute this world with your deadly lust!"

"Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up, shut up!" Gibbons' arms shook as she screamed. "You self-righteous shit!"

"Shoot him!" shouted Blake. "Just shoot him! What are you waiting for?"

"Blake, shut up!" Norman groaned under the weight of his panic. His attention darted like a bird caught in a cage. He had to do something quick. And he had to do it right. But how?

Norman reached for Gibbons, his hand trembling slightly. "Gibbons. Gibbons, look at me." Her breath labored through clenched teeth as the gun shook in her hand. "Gibbons, look at me."

Her eyes closed for a moment. Then she looked at Norman, a deep pain in her eyes. "He doesn't know," she said quietly. "He doesn't know me."

Norman placed his hand on her arm, forcing his hand to stay steady. "I need you to help me, Gibbons. I can't do this without you." Gibbons' eyes flashed back to Nathaniel, and her elbows bent slightly. Norman felt a small ounce of relief fill him. "That's it. Put the gun away."

Gibbons drew in a deep breath, and she sank to her knees, dropping the gun in one hand to the floor. Norman had no time to deal with her. He twisted back to Nathaniel, his heart pounding.

"See? No one wants to hurt you, Nathaniel." Norman stepped closer. "We're just going to leave here. It's okay."

Nathaniel shook his head, his eyes flashing wildly. "You've already been led astray by the wickedness of the anti-Christ and the she-devil. It's too late for your soul."

"Godammit, Jayden, he's gonna kill me!" Blake struggled against Nathaniel.

"Stay calm, Blake. We'll get out of this." Norman gazed at Nathaniel fiercely. "We're all going to get out of this, right Nathaniel?"

"The only way to the path of light is through His grace." Nathaniel flexed his fingers on the knife. "Through the path of righteousness. And the purity of sacrifice!"

"No one's going to do that, Nathaniel. We're going to leave here and not bother you again, right Blake?"

"Are you fucking kidding? Will you get this crazy freak off me!"

"Save your souls before it is too late! Accept the grace of God into your hearts, and I banish thee evil shadows into the darkest depths of Hell!"

"I'll repent."

Norman felt his body grow cold. He turned to Gibbons who was still slumped on the floor, her arms crossed over her knees and her pistol lying a few feet away. She raised her head slightly, her face lined with focus. "I want to repent."

A glint of silver flashed as Nathaniel pointed the knife towards her. "You wish to banish your darkness from this world? You accept the Lord Jesus into your heart and surrender your soul back to the darkness of Hell?"

Norman was speechless. He gazed at Gibbons who looked up at Nathaniel. "Yes," she said. "Get rid of it. Just do it."

Nathaniel pushed Blake forward, who also seemed lost for words. Nathaniel stood over her, raising the dagger high over her head. Norman struggled to move forward. To speak. To do anything at all.

"Then I purge thee, bride of Satan and shadow of death and lust, from this world of righteous souls in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ!" Nathaniel's eyes glowed madly. "I cast you back into the pits of despair which you─"

There was a loud snap as the knife flew through the air and fell spinning across the floor. Nathaniel grunted under Blake's punches, and he doubled over with his mouth open in a silent scream. Blake yanked Nathaniel's arms behind his back. "I don't know about you," he growled "but I'm sick of this god damn religious fuckery."

Norman's senses seemed to come back to him one at a time. He stood still for a moment, then rushed forward as Blake snapped handcuffs onto Nathaniel's wrists. "Christ, you okay, Blake?"

Blake eyes narrowed at Norman as he hauled the whimpering man onto his feet. "Do I look fucking okay? Next time do me a favor and just shoot the bastard."

Norman sighed heavily. He wasn't sure he could handle much more stress without collapsing. He turned toward Gibbons, but paused when he realized she had disappeared. He gazed around the room, and a shadow fell across him as the light in the doorway was blocked. He had just enough time to see the silhouette of Gibbons' cap and pony tail as she strode out the door, and vanished down the stairwell without a word.

The rain was muffled into light taps as Norman maneuvered into the driver's seat and slammed the car door shut. Through the drips of the rainwater against the windshield, he could just make out the blurred shapes of Blake and Nathaniel among the flashing lights of the police vehicles. Norman leaned forward and ruffled the water out of his hair, then leaned back into his seat with a heavy sigh.

Gibbons stared away from him out the window in the passenger seat beside him. She hadn't made any indication that she acknowledged him in any way, and somehow Norman felt it would be offensive to get her attention. He picked at the steering wheel, glancing up through the windshield occasionally. The pitter-patter of rainwater seemed to fill the space with intense roaring, and not for the first time since he arrived in Philadelphia, Norman wished the rain would stop.

He finally turned to Gibbons. He hadn't taken the time to simply look at her. She seemed so delicate and frail, the sharp angles of her nose and jawline more akin to a helpless girl than a trained cop. And despite his frustration with her, he couldn't help but feel a slight pity for that outward, clueless appearance.

He shifted slightly in his seat, and softened his voice as best he could. "What happened back there, Gibbons?"

For a moment, he wondered if she'd even heard him. He instantly regretted saying anything, but continued to gaze at her as if that would spur her to reply. He contemplated leaving the car, but Gibbons suddenly turned her head. She stared at the glove compartment, her lips pursed as though she were struggling to keep from shouting. Then she closed her eyes.

"Before I was promoted," she said, and Norman was taken aback by the sincerity in her voice, "I um─" She turned to him and smiled slightly. "I had a partner. We were pretty close. Probably a little too close." She tilted her head a bit. "Yeah… we were too close."

She drummed her fingers on her pant leg. "He killed himself two years ago. Said we were living in a fantasy and he needed to live in the real world." She drew her thumb across her bottom lip. "God, that was two years ago already." She turned her head to Norman, and her eyes narrowed. "No one knew about our relationship. No one. How the hell did Nathaniel know…?"

The roaring of the rain filled the silence again, and Norman scratched the leather of the shifter as he absorbed her words. He'd barely been in Philadelphia for more than a day, and yet he felt more and more with each passing hour that he was beginning to root in this place. As much as he hated the rain, as much as he hated Philadelphia, he felt like he belonged.

He glanced up at her, and smiled. "Maybe you're more transparent than you think."

She was quiet for a moment, then she laughed. "Yeah." She looked back out the window. "That's for sure."

Norman breathed in a sigh. "You know, Gibbons, you really shouldn't doubt yourself so much." He flattened his palm on the shifter and watched the rainwater. "I bet you're a lot more confident than you think."

"I know." She twisted towards him. "And Jayden─" She was quiet for a moment, then looked at him with a hint of a smile in her eyes. "Call me Ashley."

Norman laughed lightly. Somehow, he'd forgotten that she wasn't normally serious. "As long as you call me Norman."

She nodded. "Deal, Nahman."