Prologue: The Host Of Hell

A cold draft blew past as the delivery boy looked up at the five-stories high cathedral. The front was demarcated with yellow police tape. Typical New York crime scene.

He saw the soaring spires of the cathedral, the dull, dusty stained-glass windows with its painted-on cherubs, the front door with the large placard on it. What he didn't see was the mangled body hanging down from the bell tower, blackened blood slowly dripping down from the tower. Nobody ever saw it.

He sighed. This was the part of his job he hated, delivering packages in unknown places, all for a meager 50 dollars a week paycheck. This was so not in his job description.

"Alright" He looked down at the papers in his hands "St Patrick's Cathedral, 1205, 8 Mile and Houston." He frowned. Wasn't this supposed to be a crime scene? The yellow gauze police tape said it all.

Whatever. He wasn't one to wonder about other people's living arrangements. He himself was a squatter in an apartment trailer and didn't mind it one bit.

He hefted the 10-pound package and gingerly climbed over the yellow tape to the front door, thinking that the cathedral gave off a weird, neo-gothic vibe. He squinted at the large placard on the cathedral door in the dim light emanating from the broken streetlights and read it out "I Am Aosoth, Made Of The Same Flesh As Lilith And Lucifer. Comfy" He shrugged and opened the door.

The cathedral was huge, a vast cavernous space lined with rows of wooden-backed benches. Candles set in candlesticks flickered as the wind from outside followed him. On the pulpit at the far end of the cathedral sat a table covered in red fabric, decorated with more flickering candles and plates with cutlery and wine glasses like it was dinnertime.

Behind the laid-out table, a humanoid outline shifted. Shadows and the position of light prevented the boy from seeing the person.

"Hello? I'm supposed to deliver a package for a Ms. Aosoth at this here church?" His voice reverberated and went around the big room, coming back to him in echoes. Involuntarily he shivered.

There was a squeak and a rustle as the outline moved "Yes. Drop it and go" It was the voice of a woman.

The delivery boy swallowed. Suddenly his mouth was dry and his palms were sweaty. Darn it, this was nothing to be scared about.

"Okay" He said. The sound of his voice gave him more confidence "I'm dropping it"

Slowly he lowered the cardboard box to the ground. He straightened and turned to go. He was halfway to the door when he remembered that the person was supposed to sign the papers in his hands as proof of acceptance.

"Wait. You're supposed to sign this" He turned around with the papers and a pen in his hand and did a double take as he found himself staring at the woman standing before the package on the floor. She'd moved so fast he didn't hear her footsteps.

The woman's sinewy frame was clad in billowing robes of black, her slick hair pulled straight back. Two spiraling horns emerged from her hair, and her skin was pearly white.

"You're supposed to sign this" He moved closer to the woman, the blahs blahs in his outstretched hands. He stopped short as he got close to her, the package between them.

Her eyes were twin pools of swirling darkness, all black: pupils, white and all. His eyes seemed to be trapped in hers, as he couldn't look away even as he tried. It was the scariest thing he'd ever seen.

"Um.." The boy swallowed past his dry throat, palms sweaty and heart beating like a tribal drum.

The woman kicked the package aside and planted her hands on his shoulders. The boy whimpered, tears already falling from his eyes.

"Hello, dinner" Aosoth said, grinning to show inch-long incisors.

"Please..please..." The boy managed to whisper.

"It's a church. Say your last prayers" She growled, drawing him closer and sinking her fangs into his throat.