Down the hall, through the door.

Dago moved toward the door, figuring it was closest. He carefully stole across the hallway and opened the door, shutting it quickly behind him. He was in a small, dimly lit room with as desk and a window where Dago could see the moon. He noticed there were several paintings of different religious subjects on the walls. He didn’t immediately notice, but there was someone in the room.

There was a medium sized man staring out the window with a perturbed look on his face. He had dark black stubble across his chin and wore a slouchy knit cap. He looked like someone who followed some of the younger trends in fashion, but had the demeanor of someone much more important. Dago didn’t want to call anymore attention to himself than he already had.

The man turned to him finally and Dago had to blink from the brightness. While the man was facing him, he had two huge and bright angel’s wings extending from his shoulders. Dago thought he felt a dull pain in the pit of his stomach while he looked, so he shielded his eyes.

“Well, the evil being didn’t die,” the man stated, “Interesting, but not entirely unexpected.”

“Where the hell am I? Who the hell are you?” Dago said, still squinting.

“My name is Hanniel,” the angel said, mouth twitching in annoyance, “And you’re in a church, if you can fathom how unlikely that is, you’ll know why you should be dead.”

Dago knew why that was. He was a demon, a demon that was particularly weak inside of holy places and had an aversion to holy things. If he was in a holy place, he should have been dead or seriously depowered.

“That is the funny thing about being immortal; you only die when you’re supposed to, even if you make painfully stupid mistakes,” Hanniel scoffed, “Now why are you supposed to be alive?”

“How would I know? You would know that better than I,” Dago frowned.

“Fate is a fickle thing,” Hanniel said, mostly to himself, “Since you’re the enemy, I can either cleanse you or kill you.”