The deacon was standing in the center of Bishop's living room. Empty beer cans, and several bottles lay strewn about in a not entirely random pattern. Outside the window, he saw the sun dip behind the tree line. Bishop strode confidently into the room, adjusted his sword beneath his coat, took note of the cans and bottles, looked at Alex, who had passed out on the couch, and placed his hand on the deacon's shoulder.

"Let's go kill something." Bishop licked his lips as he spoke as if anticipating a great meal.

"I'll get my coat."

* * *

"I just want to make sure I'm up to speed. We've got you, the bishop, me the deacon/knight, two wraiths for cardinals/rooks, possibly some woman you kill a few thousand years ago as the queen/virgin Mary, and our new friend Alex as the king/pope. At the same time we think that the events we've experienced are inconsistent with one another and don't progress in any logical order."

Bishop simply nodded in answer to the deacon's query. He had become increasingly stealthy as the pair approached the inner city's dark alleyways.

"And that makes since to you?" the deacon continued.

Bishop placed his forefinger to his lips to signal the deacon to be quiet.

Further down the alley, the deacon saw a young man holding a knife, and standing over another man's body. Before the deacon could react, Bishop was standing behind the first man. In another flash the vampire drew his sword and cut the man's head off just above his shoulders. Bishop stood beneath the arterial spray, bathing himself in the blood geyser.

The deacon remained at a safe distance, watching in awe. "Hey man, that stuff I said about you not being very vampire-like. I'm sorry about that."

Bishop smiled from ear to ear, looking like a demon, blood dripping from his face. "Maybe you should head home, I'll need a few more and then I'll meet you back at the house."

"I'll do that." The deacon left as Bishop bit into his victim's neck, draining what was left.

* * *

When the deacon walked through the door he heard Alex rummaging through the kitchen cupboards.

"Hey, Deke. Do you have any idea where Bishop keeps his coffee? All I can find is decaf."

"No idea. But while your looking, see if you can find me some more beer."

* * *

The dark wraith stood atop an unnatural mountain of steel and glass. From behind, silhouetted by the setting sun the second wraith, clothed in white, slowly approached, a wreath of fire flowing behind it.

Sensing its counterpart's approach, the dark wraith turned and extended his hand. Lightning arched across his fingertips, and lanced out towards the white wraith knocking it from the top of building. The white wraith exploded into a ball of fire as it fell to the street below.

* * *

Three faces, each illuminated by an unseen source of light while their bodies remained covered by the thick blackness permeating the room, sat facing each other around a circular table.

The first face to speak was that of the dark wraith, "The balancing ritual is in danger."

The face of the white wraith matched his serious tone, "There are random elements in play which endanger our existence,"

The third face remained silent, as his right hand grasped the knife lying at the table's center. He placed his left hand on the table, then plunged the knife through the back of his hand pinning it in place.

The crimson blood flowed across the table's surface dripping into the mouths of the angels gathered at its edges.


* * *

Bishop opened his eyes, then blinked several times to clear the pools of semi-coagulated blood from in front of his eyelids. The taste of blood still on his lips, he started walking.