“You will rue the day that you ever set foot in this place, Mr. Morales,” the demon hissed, chains taut as it writhed on the bed.

“That’s Father Morales to you,” the priest said, in a quiet tone that belied the deafening sound of his heart thumping in his ears. “And we’ve been over this. Let Rosa go. Let her spirit and body be.”

Rosa spat at him as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. But Father Morales showed no emotion. He didn’t even blink. He just got up from his chair by the bed and slowly walked to the door.

“That’s it, little Morales. Run, run, run away!” it said, as the iron bedframe, the chair, and the small wardrobe in the corner began to rattle.

The demon’s maniacal laugh became faint as Father Morales closed the door behind him. He took a deep breath in and closed his eyes for a moment, grateful to escape the toxic energy that had shrouded him for the past few hours.

Father Garcia looked up from his bible. “Any progress?” he asked, closing his book and reaching for the cafetiere.

Father Morales shook his head and took a seat at the table while his associate poured him some coffee. “Every now and then, it seemed like she opened her mouth and two voices came out.” he said. “But her voice is getting fainter.”

He took his glasses off and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what else we can do,” he whispered.

“We keep trying. That’s what we do,” Father Garcia said kindly as he poured some coffee into a mug. “Here, drink,” he said, pushing the hot mug of steaming coffee towards Father Morales.

They heard a knock at the door.

“We expecting anyone?” Father Morales said with a frown.

Father Garcia shook his head and went to the door. “Yes?” he said, as he put his ear against it.

“Evangeline Sanchez, here at the behest of Bishop Delgado.” said a muffled female voice. “Open up!”

Father Garcia shot a look at Father Morales, who shrugged.

Father Garcia cracked the door and peered around it to see a small, plump Hispanic woman, all dressed in white. She wore a white t-shirt with a long tassels dangling from her sleeves, and had a matching handbag slung over her shoulder, which also boasted tassels and diamantes. Even her white cowboy boots matched.

The woman pressed a piece of thick linen paper against Father Garcia’s chest and barged into the apartment.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she said as she dropped her bag in the middle of the floor. “They’re keeping me kinda busy at the moment. End of days, ‘n’ all.”

She gave them a big, bright smile and put her hands on her hips. “But I’m here now.”

Father Garcia raised an eyebrow. “And you are…”

“Evangeline Sanchez - Bishop Delgado sent her,” Father Morales said slowly as he skim-read the letter in his hands. “She’s an…” His voice trailed off as he looked over at her and his mouth fell open.

“Yeh, I should properly introduce myself,” Evangeline said, wiping her hands down on her white jeans and extending her hand out to Father Morales.

“I’m your resident Angel,” Evangeline said, beaming at him.

There was a pregnant pause in the room as both men tried to process what the newcomer had just said. Evangeline, who seemed to be quite used to this kind of reaction, pointed her thumb over her shoulder towards the bedroom door.

“Mind if I go take a look at what we’re dealing with here?” she said, not waiting to hear a reply.

They heard the demon roar as Evangeline opened the door and stepped inside. As she closed the door behind her, Father Garcia rose and walked to stand beside Father Morales. Both men stood with their mouths gaping open.

“Did you just see…?” Father Garcia said, faltering a little.

“Wings…” Father Morales said, nodding slowly.

Indeed, as Evangeline stepped inside the room, they caught a glimpse - just a tiny glimpse - of translucent, feathery, white wings at her back. Ethereal wings that appeared only for a millisecond before disappearing behind the closing door.

Indeed, this was the first time that these two men of God knowingly encountered an Angel.

And little did they know it would not be their last. Not by any means.