A Gathering Of Hawks (The Damnation Of Father Andrew, Part 2) by Keith Kitchen

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SUMMARY: Father Andrew is on a mission to save souls in Hell and wreak Havoc within Satan's borders, yet when God sends help, it comes in the most unusual person.

I


Isis hulked along, dragging his knuckles behind him and snickering quietly. This was his favorite part of Hell. Of course, it was the part of Hell that his Master had given to him, so it couldn't be anything but his favorite. He was also inhabiting his favorite form. He could shift shapes like most beings changed clothes, with the slightest of ease, but some forms were more fun and some were more satisfying. This shape was one of the most satisfying. Standing eight feet tall, with powerful arms, the size of most humans' legs, that hung down to the ground and the power of a dozen men, it didn't bother Isis that he was horrible-looking. In fact, he reveled in the knowledge that his appearance while wearing this form frightened lesser beings. Short horns erupted from the tight, red, hairless skin on his head and a long, sleek tail with an arrow head it's tip shot out from above his buttocks. His torso was covered in short, black fur in contrast with the red skin that covered the rest of his body.

Someone was going to be punished in a few moments time. Isis wasn't sure who, but it was going to happen soon. The first being he found was going to take a beating of some sort. It didn't matter whether or not it was going to be a physical or spiritual beating, it was simply going to happen and happen soon. Isis was snickering at the thought of inflicting pain, but not at much of anything else. Someone was causing problems in his realm and it had come to the attention of his Master. His All-Holy Eminence Lucifer had ripped a large square off his back just a short time ago, a painful square of skin and fur that would take a while to grow back and would mar his most of his favorite forms until it did grow back.

Someone or something had invaded his realm and was disrupting the pain and anguish there and Isis was pretty damned sure just who and what was causing it. It had to be that insufficiently-damned priest that got loose in Hell. Isis had seen him in his Master's presence just before the priest somehow wriggled out of the trap his Master had set and the foolish being marched into Hell, cloaked in righteousness and other damned-fool thoughts.

Except, it was working for the priest.

A human! A pitiful, weak human. Wreaking havoc in Hell! Isis felt a familiar rush as rage coursed through him. He didn't mind; rage was his friend. No doubt about it, he was a rage-aholic. It didn't bother him one titter or bit. It was part of what he was. He didn't need a psychiatrist or any type of intervention. He was a demon, plain and simple. Nothing mattered but adhering to his Master's demands and causing pain and suffering to the creatures within his domain. He was one of the few who had witnessed the Priest's entering of Hell itself. He had seen the Priest and knew what his soul looked like. He had been keeping an eye out for the creature and hadn't seen any sign of him yet, but he knew it would be soon. He wasn't quite sure what the human was after, but he had a huge set of balls, especially for a human.

The terrain around Isis was typical for this part of his realm: dry, reddish-brown, desert-like dirt with only a few pieces of green here and there.

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