St Gregory's Catholic Church of Longton, Stoke on Trent, came into view. It was not the traditional cruciform shape of many English churches; it was instead the shape of a very large circle. Lucifer pulled the rover into the parking and instantly grimaced... what an annoying place to put a church... too much industrialisation.
The church had a TESCO supermarket behind it, a Matalan (clothes shop) and a Sports Direct (Sport Shop) opposite it. In fact, a trek down the road would take you to Longton city centre, where there were bars, cafes and all sorts.
The priest, before Lucifer had asked for a transfer due to the high volume of spiritual disturbance, requested an exorcist as his replacement. According to Father David, it was a good day if there were only a couple of people arriving to ask for help with unnatural things. He got out of the car, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The church was empty, and the lights were off. After much wandering, he found himself in the chapel, where he found and flipped the main switch. He looked around. The way of the cross was preserved well, and seating was arranged in a semi-circle, the crucifix at the front; however, this displeased Lucifer.
It was a metallic form with no proper design or art; in fact, it was plain and infuriatingly like an attempt to appeal to modern art. He switched the light off and went to the priest's quarters, simple and efficient as he liked. A single bed, in a room with just a cupboard and a crucifix, there was a small kitchen and sitting area, and an ample toilet. Everything was sufficient. But a man of his presence could not stay, even in a church, without the proper protections, so he booked a hotel and stayed there. The "Old Crowne Inn" was old, dilapidated and full of crackheads.
He moved with the air of a forever uneasy man, sprinkling holy water in the doorways, windows and on the mirrors and all crevices. He pulled out a vial of strong garlic sauce and smothered doorways and windows, and laid blessed pages of prayers on all entry points. From his bag, he pulled out solid silver crucifixes, hung them on the windows and the door. In his coat were silver round firing magnum revolvers. He placed them on his nightstand and fell asleep.
Such precautions were necessary due to his presence. Something he garnered through his training in Rome. It isn't often that a priest with the name of the devil purges the devil's spawn; it built Lucifer a reputation amongst the murmurs in hell, which meant wherever he is, all malevolence found its way there to finish him. If Lucifer had stayed at the church, he would not have survived the night; he simply didn't carry enough holy water and other materials to ward off the church. Even if he survived, he couldn't risk the chance of inviting demons into a church. In the same way, possessing a priest makes a demon stronger; taking a church as a stronghold meant hordes of demons would gather, and the threat would be a Vatican-level emergency. Before he had slept, Lucifer already commissioned that: twenty barrels of blessed salt, 100 barrels of holy water, 100 silver crosses, 100 wooden stakes, 100 pieces of garlic, a decent crucifix and holy weapons.
There was a stirring near Lucifer as he awoke, and before even fluttering his eyes open, his hands went to the nightstand where his guns weren't.
"Looking for this Father Lucifer?"
A chubby man in his 40's, by the looks of it, stood holding the revolvers by the barrels out for Lucifer to take, a sign of not being there to fight; moreover, he waltzed in, meaning he was of this world, otherwise the protections would have worked. The man was also more obviously wearing a cassock and a priest's collar, which visibly relaxed Lucifer, who took the guns and holstered them. The Afro-British man looked at him strangely, his curly hair bouncing slightly as he judged the freshly awakened exorcist.
Lucifer sighed and ran a hand through is hair and rasped, "I take it, you're my assistant?"
The man nodded, "Yeah, your order of things has arrived." These words truly delighted the younger priest, who pulled his coat on and packed his things, loading them into the rover.
"Sweet Car," the assistant said, and that's when Lucifer realised he really was anti-social, he forgot to even ask the man's name
"Sorry, what is your name father?"
"Glad you asked father, my name is Michael."
This earned a rather sad smile from Lucifer... "Ironic, isn't it, father?"
"What is ironic, Father Lucifer?"
Lucifer smiled again, "Aren't you the one who banishes me and defeats me?"
The air was met with silence for a moment until both men laughed over the purr of the engine as they drove to the church. Sure enough, the items were waiting. Lucifer had picked up a shovel and rolled up the sleeve of his cassok revealing a massive, warped tattoo-like marking of a cross.
"What's that?" queried Father Mike.
"Just a marking."
The two men dug three shallow trench lines like the outer circles on a dart board and filled them with salt before pouring soil back over the salt, which meant no malicious spirit was able to enter. They spent the afternoon making a patch of garlic and silver that traced the shape of the church walls, and another patch that traced the building. Wards were now up, and to no one else but the priests, a faint blue force-field-like dome covered the church and its grounds.
Lucifer then spent time blessing every silver cross and placing them on every wall, door, window, gate, opening, anywhere that there could be an entrance or exit, exterior walls and interior walls were both counted for, by 2 pm, all 100 silver crosses were up, and the men spent the next few hours taking down the old metal cross and putting up the massive, new, detailed piece up. Both the priests placed flyers and made calls to the archdiocese of Birmingham, which St Gregory's was under, to make it known that the church... was open for mass.
Just as they thought the time for sleep was arriving and the last of the candles was lit, Michael and Lucifer froze for a second as the door to the church was opened and a lady walked in, about the age of 30, with dark blonde hair and wearing a navy jacket which the rain had clung to. Lucifer relaxed, knowing that since it wasn't decimated already, the person standing in the door was a human.
She walked slowly into the chapel.
Lucifer spoke, "How may we help you, my child?" It would take some time to get used to calling older people that.
"F-father," she stuttered, "m-my son... please father."