Jet heard a click and the whoosh that the bullet made as it sailed through the air. He had no time to move. It struck his head and broke through the glamour. He growled and stood in the shadows, dropping the glamour momentarily. It was hard to rebuild a glamour that had been hit by silver, making it easier to just drop it and start again. The human form clung to him easily, different to the first one he had worn, and he moved off swiftly, unperturbed by the fact that someone had just shot at him with magical silver. There was very little magic in the bullet, and clearly they were expecting one of the weaker demons to be sent. Jet smiled to himself.
Reaching a crossroad between the intertwining alleys and back streets, where Jet found plenty of negative energy to feed on, he looked around, checking where he had got to. He was nearly there. His smile grew a little and he set off to the right. The cathedral soon came into sight as Jet hurried along. The spires rose up into the sky like needles, pointing towards their God. He walked up to a huge door where the American flag was placed proudly praising their country as well as their religion.
Pfft. This is hideous. Jet thought as he walked around the side of the building. Churches and cathedrals were not his favourite places. He could see no aesthetic beauty there at all. Obviously the tourists that were snapping pictures of the place disagreed. Lowering his head, Jet entered and took a seat in the pew. That had been easier than he had expected. He had expected – almost longed for – resistance, a fight. There was nothing. He was suspicious. A priest knelt at the end of the cathedral, lighting a candle, muttering a prayer. He couldn’t stay here long, the place was draining. Rising, Jet assumed the most innocent face he could create, and approached the priest.