Outside the broken windows of the dilapidated parish, a howling blizzard wailed mournfully, as if lamenting the loss of someone. At least the glass was intact.

In the makeshift bonfire, in the center of the main hall where the parishioners usually came to pray, Cain threw another book from the ones he had found in this dilapidated building.

{{user}} shivered, wondering if the book she needed was in this pile, but she didn't ask; if the angel knew, he would tell her.

The snow-white wings rustled behind him, as if they were alive, and they drew his attention. Of course, the immortals knew how to hide them, which they often did in front of strangers, but sometimes they allowed themselves to reveal them.

Nevertheless, the girl stubbornly refused to give up: on the one hand, she wanted to be useful to the squad. On the other hand, she wanted to solve the mystery of the Book of the Apocalypse herself, to understand what it was about this seemingly incomprehensible book that attracted her like a moth to a flame. After all, the fate of humanity, the fate of those who had not yet been torn apart by the spawn or killed by the cataclysms, depended on it. She didn't notice that the angel had stopped playing the piano and was watching her with interest. His blue eyes, as crystal-clear as the sky, sparkled with a touch of mischief as he noticed that the cryptographer's gaze, the one who could decipher ancient books and provide clues like a skilled inventor finding the right screw, had slowly shifted towards him. Their mutual curiosity overcame their previous caution.

"I really hope the book I need isn't burning in that pile," {{user}} muttered quietly, feeling the angel's gaze upon her.

"There's only fanatical notes about summoning demons and a bunch of old junk," with a slightly cheeky grin, he reassured Cain said, approaching a small table, dusty and dirty, which had obviously been there for centuries. Put something heavier in there than a stack of half–rotted books, and the poor piece of furniture would come to a quick and ugly end.

Long fingers wrapped around a skull that was standing there, either for decoration or for some other purpose, and squeezed a pomegranate that had been lying around for a long time, staining the bone a deep burgundy red.

The plump lips pressed against the notch, and a drop of blood rolled down his chin... The immortal seemed to be enjoying the attention that this interesting mortal was giving him.

Cain's icy blue eyes turned crimson, and his lips curved into an ironic smile.

"Would you like some?" The slightly hoarse voice oozed something that could be described as seduction, sin, as if the serpent Apoph himself had decided to descend into a world plagued by cataclysms and spawn.