Prologue

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The church had been abandoned many years ago, it was obvious; from the red tinted windows, half smashed-in and stained with mould and dirt, the decretive iron frame rusting to the dirty ground was littered with all kinds of filthily pieces of roofing that had fallen from the old collapsed archways and pointed ceiling. A blonde woman lay on a dirty mattress in the middle of the cold floor her skin shining with sweat. She jerked around slightly, gasping for air. She cried out in pain before grabbing a dirty tin and rummaging through it until she found the packet of pills she was looking for. She moaned, swallowing the pill dry, sobbing into the dirty mattress, one of her arms reached outwards towards the ceiling. The sudden warmth was a shock to her system, the unknown yet familiar comforting smell of spices and pine filled the air as a warm hand grabbed the woman's cold, bony hand with her long fingers outstretched towards God. "I'm here." A comforting voice spoke, and a sudden the room felt like a burning stove before subsiding. The blonde woman whispering his name. "Jonas."
A Indian man cradled the woman in his arms. "Yes my love?" The man, Jonas, asked.
"It hurts." She cried. "Need medicine." She said reaching for a empty packet of pills.
"There's no time, my love." Jonas said, worry and desperation clear in his voice.
"I'm not ready." The woman cried. "I'm too weak."
"No of us were ever as strong as you." Jonas comforted.
"I don't want anyone else die because of me," she was shaking, crying out.
"They'll be hunted... Born or unborn. You could give them a fighting chance." Jonas said. The blonde woman cried out in pain, moaning and groaning. She gasped suddenly, starring straight ahead. "I see them." As she looked into the woman's eyes, she felt a feeling of pain unknown grief and anger.

The blonde woman smiled at her. There was a sudden wave of overlapping smells and sounds. The smell of spices hit her first and she caught a glimpse of chocolate brown hair and tanned skin before the next sent and sound rushed towards her; this time she smelt the overpowering sent of cigarettes and loud traffic rushed through her ears, a stark contrast to the soft quiet that came before, this time she was greatest by a flash of blue and blonde hair; followed shortly after by freshly cut grass, short black hair and birdsong. The other sounds were drowned out by the smell of sweat and alcohol, club music played loudly and the musclier topless body swung provocatively. Sweat turned to rain, and the rhythmic beat of the music gave way for the constant pitter-patter of rain and a steady heart beat. She caught a glimpse of brown hair and white skin hidden under a uniform of some kind. The next she was blinded by light as a radiant smile if flashed her way by a beautiful Indian woman, and everything smelt like a doctor's office. The smells merging together to create a mixture of dirt and oil, loud voice talking to each other in a language she didn't understand and the back of a black neck, the dark hair cut close to the scalp. The overwhelming sounds soon gave way to the sound of bath water and the smell of soap, and a smooth upper thigh, it's skin pieced by a needle, which had her cringing. Just as abruptly as the images appeared, they disappeared and she found herself back in the abandoned church. The blonde woman panted. "You did it." Jonas said. Catching the woman as she collapsed backwards. She looked up at him, as he placed kisses on her forehead. "Protect them," she muttered weakly.

The sudden sound of tires screeching outside drew the couple from their comfort. "They're here." Jonas muttered.
"So is he." The blonde woman cried.
"Fight him." Jonas said.
"I can't," she cried. A white-breaded man with glasses apparently like a ghost behind her, rummaging through the empty packets of pills halfheartedly. "So this is how you've been hiding from me?" He asked, holding up an empty packet.
"Does he know?" Jonas asked.
She nodded.
"You're giving birth." The bearded man said, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder. "It's painful, I can feel it."
"Whatever he's saying, remember what he has done." Jonas reminded.
"Go. Please." The woman cried.
"Is that Jonas?" The bearded man asked. "Tell him I look forward to meeting him."
"I love you." Jonas sighed.
"I love you." The woman said back.
"Aw, does he know you're lying?" The bearded man asked mockingly. "Or is that just our little secret?"
"Stop!" The woman cried.
"Angelica." Jonas comforted.
"Iā€”I can't do it... Not if you're here." The blonde woman, Angelica, cries.
"I will always be here... Just as you will always be here." He said taking her hand and touching it to his heart. And he was gone. Angelica sobbed silently, pulling the gun up with shaking hands. "Oh, come now, my dear, how many times have made that threat?" The bearded man said. "And we both know you won't do it." Angelica took in quick gasping breathes, the gun outstretched away from her. The bearded man continued. "You can't, you are one of us, and there's still so much work to be done." He sneered. "You're coming home, with me."
"No." Angelica whispered.

A door to the right of the back of the church opened, letting a small amount of outside light in, before being plugged up again. The bearded man strolled into the room, momentarily despairing from Angelica's side, when he reappeared behind her his other figure standing meters away did not vanish. He was followed in by a large group of men with guns and armour. "Give me the gun." He said. "Put the gun down."
"No." Angelica sniffled, putting the gun in her mouth.
"Stop her!" The bearded man shouted, half cut off by the gun firing, the shot ringing through her ears.

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THE THINGS OF THE NIGHT CANNOT BE EXPLAINED IN THE DAY
BECAUSE THEY DO NOT THEN EXSIST
-HEMINGWAY

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