"Compline" by Amy ´the Ames´ Perkins

"The Lord Almighty grant us a peaceful night and a perfect end."

"Amen." Brother Gregory allowed himself to relax as the near monotone chant echoed in the chapel. He suppressed a yawn. It was getting late, nearly half past seven and the day would start early again tomorrow.

"Our help is in the name of the Lord," the chanter intoned.

"The maker of Heaven and Earth," the rest of the Brothers answered. A comfortable feeling of peace settled over Gregory as the Order of Compline progressed. His mind wandered while he automatically followed the rites. The setting sun turned the chapel into a gilded masterpiece. Brother Gregory smiled, the beauty of the Lord was everywhere.

The service concluded and the Brothers dispersed, except for Gregory, who was assigned the duty of tidying the chapel this day. They all rotated assignments and he didn't mind this one. Work and pray, ora et labora, he thought with a small smile. This job allowed him the peace and serenity of solitude in the House of God.

He headed toward the altar, bowing once close, respect to the Cross, and began to snuff the candles.

"If you listen closely, you can still hear the chant echoing off of the stone. It's faint, but there."

Startled, Gregory dropped the candle snuffer he was holding and it fell to the floor with a clatter. He turned to look at the man who had spoken. He was sitting in the back row of the chapel, in the shadows. Gregory tried to remember if the man was one of the few public who came to retreat at the Abbey in solace.

Something was odd, though, about the stranger, who now had his head cocked slightly to the side, as though listening. Brother Gregory stared. The sun was well below the horizon now and the wind was still, yet the shadows seemed to dance across the stranger's skin. A memory of standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon resurfaced, and Gregory's stomach lurched.

"The Lord Almighty grant us a peaceful night and a perfect end," the man suddenly sang out in perfect chant as he stood.

Without thinking Gregory answered, "Amen."

"Ah, see, this is why I love your chapel, your monastery." The man gestured widely, indicating the whole space. "It was built to emphasize the Glory of God, and the praise mortals offer to Him in the heights.

"Nothing," here the man pounded a fist against his open palm as he walked up the aisle, still looking toward the great wooden supports in the ceiling, "is more beautiful than the sound of human voices, praising their Lord and Saviour."

He paused, and looked directly at Gregory, "Not even the chorus of Angels on High held so much conviction. Emotion."

Gregory trembled, hands gripping the altar, as the man approached, a sense of exhilaration and joy had overwhelmed him. He began to pick out the smallest of sounds and imagined, for a second, that he heard the voice of the cantor from that night still echoing.

"Surely," Brother Gregory began, cringing at the rasp of his voice and the thought of breaking silence, "Surely the Angels' voices are glorious, more so than we can praise?"

"No." said the man, grinning, his voice melodic, almost a chant itself. "Angels were made to serve without question, to love their God above all else. They know their God loves them and that He needs no convincing because He Made them So. No, you humans, especially the Brothers, you feel you must convince Him with your very being. That sound, when you put your heart and soul into what you sing, that is intoxicating."

Brother Gregory found himself enthralled by the strangers voice. It was so melodic and as the man became more and more passionate, Gregory almost thought he heard the deep urgent thrum of a tympani. Shaking himself out of the stupor, Brother Gregory noticed that the chapel was now almost completely dark, yet the shadows continued to dance across the man's skin.

"I... I must ask that you return to your quarters. It is highly inappropriate to break our silence so. I have duties that I must still attend to."

"I apologize, Brother Gregory, this topic excites me." The man chuckled. Gregory froze, icy shivers running up and down his back. He could smell something burning.

"Very few people talk to the Brothers," he said cautiously, attempting to control his breathing, "Who are you?"

In answer the stranger only grinned, "You mean, 'what'."

"Brother Gregory? It is past time for sleep, what are you...?" The voice of the Brother Christopher, the monastery Abbot, echoed in the chapel.

Gregory turned to look at him, confused as to why the older man was suddenly signing the cross.

"He is but one of those here for retreat, Brother." Gregory turned back to the stranger, "Are you not?" He was cut cut short as the man moved with unnatural swiftness and suddenly held him, the contact sizzling with heat. The burning smell was more obvious, awful, like hair.

"Demon!" The Abbot spat, holding up the wooden crucifix that hung about his neck.

The man laughed. "If that symbol had any power I wouldn't be standing here. Now the Brother and I were having a lovely chat about music. Weren't we?"

"Well, yes," Gregory managed to sputter, his head was reeling from the sounds all around him, they were so loud and..."Abbot, I did not know... demon? Can you be sure?" Out of the corner of his eye Gregory saw something beat at the air. He tried to turn to look, wondering why he felt so calm despite being held captive.

"Sing for me, Gregory. Pater noster... go on. Sing for me and I will leave."

"What?" Gregory looked at the Abbot, who appeared quite frightened and was now clutching his crucifix and mouthing a prayer, knuckles white and eyes wide.

"Pater noster, qui es in caelis,"

"No talking," the man whispered in his ear, the light touch of his lips sent shivers down Gregory's spine. "Sing."

"Sanctificetur nomen tuum;

adveniat regnum tuum;

fiat voluntas tua,

sicut in caelo et in terra.

Panem nostrum cotidianum da nobis hodie,

et dimitte nobis debita nostra,

sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus;

et ne nos inducas in tentationem sed libera nos a malo.

Amen." Gregory allowed his voice to relax into the chant, and imagined that he was only in Mass, not clutched in the arms of a stranger. The words moved him as he'd never felt before. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that the echoes of the chant in the sanctum were glorious, uplifting. Tears formed in his eyes from the awful magnificence of sound. When he finished, he was surprised to find the Abbot below him. Then Gregory realized what the smell had been and what the movement was.

Charred feathers, not hair.

He opened his mouth to scream, to yell, call for help, but soon found it covered by the demon's hand. The beast just hummed the melody of the chant, somehow managing harmonies that the human voice could never hope to create in solo. Gregory could not see him but he felt a sense of ... joy?... delight? emanating from the creature. The memory of the Grand Canyon was again at the forefront, though this time it was memories of the nightmares Gregory had of slipping over the edge and falling, just falling forever. His stomach lurched.

"Don't ruin the moment, love. That chant, the perfect harmonies create the most glorious overtones when sung by a tenor of your caliber. I've been looking for you for a while." He whispered, hand still clamped over Gregory's mouth.

The floor rose up to meet Gregory's legs and he realized the demon had flown down. He gulped down bile as his stomach settled, feet safely planted on terra firma.

"Forgive us our trespasses, deliver us from evil and all that jazz, Amen."

Gregory was released and he spun around to face the demon, who still appeared surprisingly human in a male model type way. Except for the wings, shifting gray things held out to full wingspan that suddenly rippled and disappeared from view with a double boom, like the sound of a plane breaking the sound barrier. Hidden. The demon gave a shake, like a dog just leaving a pond. Gregory's heart pulsed with adrenaline, he could hear it pounding in his ears.

The demon turned to leave, shrugging a leather jacket back on that Gregory didn't remember him removing, then paused and looked back.

"Could've said 'no' at any time, y'know. Deny the devil his power and all that."

He walked out, like a normal person, leaving Gregory and the Abbot standing in the chapel, stunned.