Phoenix Contract: Part Two (Fallen Angel Watchers) by Melissa Thomas

but she’d already lost her shine.
    “It’s good to see that you’re well, Eve. We’ve missed you these last few weeks,” Matthew began, broaching the reason he’d been looking for her. She’d missed Mass for the last three Sundays, and he’d had genuine concern for her absence. Too often women in her profession turned up in the hospital or the morgue.
    Eve crossed her arms. Her expression closed up, and her stance grew defensive. “I’m sorry, Father, but my mama’s been sick, and we’ve had a tough time of it.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that. How are Jimmy and William? Is there anything I can do to help?”
    “No, really, everything’s fine, Father, but thank you.” She moved away from him, retreating like a guilt-stricken child before a parent.
    With bull dogged persistence, Matthew followed. “Eve.”
    From a short distance away, a blood-curdling shriek filled the night and then abruptly ended.
    Matthew whirled toward the scream which originated from a narrow alley between two old cinder block buildings.
    “Go get help!” Matthew ordered.
    Eyes rolling with fear, Eve’s head jerked once, and she turned to run. From what he knew of her, he doubted that she’d seek out the police for assistance, but he held onto the distant hope that she’d prove him wrong.
    Flickering street lamps provided dim illumination, but the source of light at Matthew’s back cast the entire alley into shadow. Upon entering the narrow passage, he hesitated for a split second and allowed his eyes to adjust to night vision. He then proceeded cautiously until he came upon three forms.
    Matthew drew to a hard halt when disgusting sounds associated with eating—slurping, lip smacking, gulping, and gnawing—filled the alley. Disorientated and confused, it took him several precious seconds to focus on and process the scene before him.
    Two ghostly figures crouched over a mound on the asphalt, their long and spindly limbs spread wide in a posture that reminded Matthew of drinking giraffes. The pair’s faces were buried in a fleshy mass as they fed. Matthew took another step forward, and the odor of blood and perforated bowel struck him. The overwhelming and nauseating smell made his stomach clench and heave.
    Gagging, Matthew staggered to a halt and stared at a scene he couldn’t process. His disbelieving mind rejected the image that his eyes provided. The creatures, too alien and insect-like to be human, were shaped like men, but obviously were not. Their heads were malformed, as were their limbs. Both arms and legs were long and spindly, bending in the joint at irregular angles which gave the impression of branches bent taut to the verge of snapping. Their movements were ungainly, sharp and jerky, as they hovered over their meal. Tattered remnants of clothing hung from their sparse frames.
    Their flesh glowed phosphorescent in the murky light. Leathery skin stretched taut over the underlying bones. Dark contusions—streaks of black and blue and indigo—marred their exposed flesh, bordering hollow gaps where chunks had rotted away.
    The feeding creatures hadn’t noticed Matthew, and he remained frozen for fear that any sudden movement would draw their attention. The smallest of the pair scuttled closer to the body on all fours, and the larger one’s head jerked up. Hissing, it drove its rival off and then returned to its meal, massive jaws crunching open one of the heavy femurs so that it could get at the marrow.
    Matthew shuddered as he came to a sudden, cognizant understanding of what he was witnessing. He’d interrupted a feeding! That mound of shredded flesh and blood and bone—it had been a person!
    Heart jumping and body convulsing, the priest jerked away.
    Matthew’s mind rejected the term, but he forced himself to accept the reality. The mound on the ground had been a man , and now he was just meat.
    The assailants hadn’t sensed him yet, and escape became the imperative, because he could not help the wretched soul