The Church of Saint Margaret of Cortona

The small church sits on an average street corner, in an average town. On the outside, there is nothing to indicate anything different goes on within it's walls.

A simple sign advertises the name. No hours are given for services, no names listed for ministers. Were it not for the upkeep of the grounds and building, the place would appear abandoned.

Stained glass windows dot the four walls, the shapes moving behind them given an almost ghost-like shape.

Three stone steps lead up to a set of double wooden doors. With no hour given for services, one must simply try the handle to see if they will be permitted inside.

On the other side of the doors is one open room, the building made up entirely of the sanctuary. Two rows of hard wooden pews, spaced out with ample room to move between them, dominate the center of the room. Exposed beams reach up to the high ceiling overhead.

Leading straight from the doors, the center isle takes you to an altar made of marble. Twin silver candelabras stand on either side of the altar, holding a series of candles with wicks trimmed and ready for use.

On the left side of the church, tucked into a corner and nearly hidden from view, a door opens out behind the church. A small dirt path through the grass leads to the rectory, though one testing the doors uninvited will always find them locked.

The Church of Saint Margaret of Cortona is welcoming to all who seek shelter, comfort, salvation, or temptation within it's walls.

For the gifts you are about to receive, be thankful.

To those about to bestow them, be respectful.

Come, those who have gone astray, and find your salvation.

A new church, a new start, a new opportunity. These were the things they had come together for, he from below Solomon's and her from above. They had opened the church together some time ago, a vision in their minds that was perhaps too grand, too intricate. Too aggressive, maybe. He had spent some good times there - perhaps more so for him than his guests - but like so many things, it was a place that lived on borrowed time. The time to move on had come, and he embraced it happily.

The darkness of Purgatory was left behind, the emptiness of a vast sanctuary above it sold off to others who could perhaps make better use of it. The suits, the polish, was left behind as well. New church, new man inhabiting it. Intimate, small, comfortable, inviting were environment now. But even in daylight, danger could be lurking. He may no longer prowl dark underbellies, but underestimating him came with peril.



Standing on the sidewalk in front of the double doors, he tipped his head back in the darkening light and smiled. The air drifted past lazily, a quiet summer day coasting smoothly into night, the atmosphere giving no indication if it knew of what was to come.

Reaching into the pocket of his dark jeans, he withdrew a silver key ring, where three keys of differing shape and size dangled, clinking together with potential. Opening his palm, his fingers pushed aside the keys, one for the office, one for the rectory, and seized on the copper key that would unlock the church itself. A last glance was thrown up the sidewalk in each direction, a final check to see if she was in sight yet, and then he stepped forward and onto the property itself.

A nervous energy seemed to flow into him from the ground, intensifying a bit with each step he climbed. Stopping before the doors, he pressed his palm against it, almost surprised when he found it wasn't vibrating with the same spirit that had found him. But no. Just wood and paint. The key was slid into the lock, a satisfying and quiet click as it settled into place, and he twisted, a louder and fuller click sounding as the bolt was pulled back. The key was withdrawn, slid back into his pocket, and he pulled the door open.

The invitingly deep smell of wood greeted him, mingled around him with the smell of the summer night, and he inhaled deeply. It was dark inside, only a dim and colored light filtering in through the stained glass, but he knew the path ahead and had no apprehension at pulling the doors closed behind him to shut out the rest of the world. The lock was twisted - she had her key and would have no trouble getting in - and he set off down the center isle.

His eyes had adjusted by the time he reached it, shapes were easier to pick out, and he found the small cabinet that was set into the wall behind the altar. Opening it, his fingers sought out the box of matches contained within. Light began to grow within as candles, some sticks placed in candelabras, some in jars placed around the room. The thin smell of sulfur followed him as he discarded spent matches and struck fresh ones.

With a show of impeccable timing, he heard the lock slide into place in the door.

It was a nice place. She couldn’t deny that. It was nice, once upon a time anyways. But, things didn’t go according to plan and it wasn’t really worth trying to fix it. So, they decided to start anew. A new place with different hopes. Gone was Solomon and her little Heaven, and now she was ready to embrace everything inside the four walls that made this place.

Saint Margaret of Cortona was who they chose to represent them. No other Saint could have been more suitable, to be honest. The Saint of the insane and homeless; tramps and the reformed. But, the main reason they decide on her didn’t have much to do with those things. But, because Saint Margaret of Cortona was the Saint of Temptation. And there were many tempting things inside the Chruch.


The air was cool. A perfect comfortable cool, the slight breeze making it almost chilly. The stars shining bright, a perfect white moon to lighten one’s path as they traveled about the night. Days with a scorching sun high above one’s head, the heat beating down on anyone willing to step out of the shade, the air heavy and dry. She hated the heat and the sun. But, summer nights were perfect.

She loved summer nights.

Especially when there was fun to be had.

A light, black jacket covered her, zipped about halfway up, revealing the black tank top beneath it. A pair of simple jeans hugging her hips with a set of keys jingling about as they hung from a belt loop. Each step made a new sound, the keys hitting each other to create a little melody as she walked with a steady yet quick pace. She was filled with anticipation, eager to know what the night had in store for her. And, she knew that he would see it the second she walked through the doors.

Her steps came to a halt at the corner of Wells and Main, eyes falling on the building across the road. The little church lit by a street lamp, its door closed and most likely locked. Someone walking by would think that the building was empty, but she knew it wasn’t by the dim light shining through the stain glass windows. He was already there. Waiting… for her.

A small smile formed on her face. The fingers of one hand touching the small pieces of cool steel, as her other hand went up to brush the hair away from her face and behind her ear. Her heart quickening slightly as she tried to imagine what would happen when she got inside the church. Without wasting another moment, she took one last deep breath, savoring the night’s air, and approached the wooden doors. The keys left her waist with much more excitement that she had expected, finding the lock. A simple click and she was inside, standing only a short distances away from the candle lit alter and the co-owner of the Church.

“You know… we do have this thing called electricity now. A simple flip of switch and you have light.”

The button-down shirt he wore was a deep blue, a color that seemed to occasionally shift his eyes from green to blue, and by the time she arrived he'd rolled the sleeves up his forearms, the fabric tight around his arms. His back was to her as he heard the door open, and he finished lighting the last of the candles and extinguishing the final match before he finally turned towards her. A grin touched his lips, and he took a moment to let his eyes wander her across the distance of the center isle.

"Obviously," he said, with a smirk, as he turned away from her again and moved around behind the altar to replace the box of matches, "But electric lights don't create wax, do they? Two birds with one stone and all that."

He bent at the knees then, disappearing behind the altar for a moment, the faint clink of metal heard as he withdrew two coiled links of chain. Straightening, he deposited both atop the marble of the altar, his lips spreading into a grin when his eyes found her again.

"Just a few... final preparations."

He paused, nodding his head towards one stand of candles.

"Any preference on color? I tried to get a few to choose from."

His eyes shifted back to her, a sweeping look of consideration taken from head to toe and back, and then the grin returned.

"Or we could always go with some variety."

She watched as he moved. The cling of metal bring a small smile to her face as she leaned back against the door. She didn’t need to look at the metal to know what it was or why it was there. She already knew, her eyes still firm on him. She toyed with the keys still in her hand, before dropping them on the table next to her. “I suppose not,” she said with a chuckle. “But really, wouldn’t one candle do the trick? Or were you expecting to use up a lot?”

Pushed herself off of the wall, her hands sliding into her pockets. Only moving a few steps closer she surveyed the candles. Her eyes taking in all of the colors and their little flames. She came to rest on a dark, royal blue one near the alter, only a foot or so away from where he stood. The color almost matched his shirt. She jerked her head toward it with a grin. “That one. I think it’ll work. I’m a fan of blue.”

Her eyes flicked back to his, the grin turning mischievous as she bit her lip softly. Her weight shifting from one leg to the next, her head tilting slightly. “You know. I had this thought…” she took a long deep sigh as if she was troubled, “I shouldn’t just allow you to just chain me up. That’s too easy!” She shrugged her shoulders. “I mean, it’s not a challenge.” Her bluish, grey eyes shining impishly, one of her brows coming up in an arch. “Besides, I like being challenging.”

A turn of the head had him looking in the direction she nodded, his eyes settling on the flame-tipped blue candle. His lips pressed together into a line of consideration, and he nodded before turning his attention back to her.

"Blue..." he paused, his eyes dipping down the length of her naked throat, down further to the hem of her tank top, then back up to her face in the space of a blink. "...I like blue. Nice choice!"

He moved then, short steps taking him around the marble mass of the altar, and he stopped just in front of it, at the end of the isle she stood at the beginning of. His brow knitted together slightly, curiosity showing at just what this thought of hers could be, as he moved his hands around behind his back one atop the other, then leaned back with them trapped between he and the alter. A little laugh escaped him, but for the moment he remained leaning, leaving the space between them.

"So you think... what? You'll run? I'll chase you around? I mean," his eyes moved from one side of the room to the other as he continued, his head tipping with their movement, as if swayed by the weight of his gaze, "It's not exactly the biggest room. It seems like it would just be us circling round and round one of the pews, like.. I don't know. Tom and Jerry or something?"

He shifted his weight forward then, stepping away from the alter and beginning to dissolve the distance between them.

"I mean, unless you were thinking of standing your ground here," he said, even steps taken towards her with the rhythm of his speech, "And making me drag you up there."

His hands moved from behind his back and spread, palms open, in a kind of shrug, as he moved closer still.

"Which I'm more than happy to do."