‘Hey Granny, fancy a slug of lead with your tea and bourbons.’

I pulled out the automatic and let loose a bullet, but the bitch ducked and rolled beneath the pew. The old fart behind her took it full in the face, His head exploded in a shower of bone and ropey, bloody gouts.

The congregation screamed and fell over themselves to escape from the pews and into the narrow aisles. A forest of chintzy hats and Sunday best obscured my vision. Then I saw her scuttling her old fanny out from the wooden bench, the Uzi pointing my way. ‘Take a shot of this instead, you Mutha’ fu…’

Her cackling screech was cut off as I loosed a slug straight into the wrinkled forehead. The automatic clattered to the floor in a shower of bone and ropey, bloody gouts. A glob of blue rinsed scalp and dangling eyeball landed at my feet. I kicked it out of the way and headed for the altar. Father Aloysius blocked my path, arms outstretched. ‘This is a sacred place. What in hell do you think your doing?’

‘Hell’s the operative word Al, and I’ve got a one-way ticket just for you.’ I levelled the gun, but the bastard leapt sideway to reveal the crouching altar boy aiming the bazooka straight at me.

The shell shot down the length of the church. I dove out of the way just in time, feeling it burn the fine hairs on my ass. It cut through the fleeing crowd and blew a hole in the vestry in a shower of bricks, bone and ropey, bloody gouts.

‘Nice try Nancy, ‘ I cried. ‘Still going down on your knees for the good father I see.’ But Al and his pillow biter had legged it through a side door in a flurry of crosiers and cassocks. I could’ve gone after them, but there were more pressing concerns. Like the beautiful redhead, tied to the chair beneath an inverted crucifix. Her eyes bulged in terror above the gag, and the virginal white blouse was ripped, revealing a lovely big titty straining from the half cup, black bra. Man, was there ever a better job in the world than this.

The area in front of the altar was now clear. The not so good citizens of Hucking Fell had fled from the church. A body lay prone on the floor, trampled by the fleeing crowd. I kicked it for good measure then leapt onto the altar to rip the gag from the redhead’s mouth.

‘Oh please help me,’ she gasped. They were going too…too.’ Overwhelmed with the horror of it all she began to sob hopelessly.

I’m just a regular guy. What could I do but untie her and gather her up into my strong arms and hold her tight. ‘It’s ok baby. Your safe now.’ She sobbed into my chest and her lovely titties hitched and lurched.

I looked around, alerted by some sixth sense. Three goons, all tooled up and looking for trouble, blocked the hole in the vestry wall. Father Al’s henchmen.

‘We gotta go babe. I grabbed hold of her arm and looked around. Father Al’s catamite had left the bazooka. I picked it up and aimed at the goons running up the far left aisle. It cut through them in an explosion of bone and ropey, bloody gouts and took out the wall facing onto Morison’s car park next door. It was the only place that wasn’t pay and display for miles.

This way, I shouted and pulled her along with me.

I’d tried to blend in and not be too conspicuous when I’d arrived on my mission this afternoon. I concede roaring into this sleepy backwater in a big, fuck off, Lamborghini, probably drew some unwanted attention, but hell you need a decent set of wheels, not some Audi fagmobile. I’d only recently traded in the Mustang Pontiac. That whole Knightrider/Hassellhoff look had never really worked for me.

The parishioners were rallying, a mob closed on us, brandishing axes and scythes and maces.

‘GET HIM!’ Father Aloysius bellowed. They roared towards us.

‘What are we going to do?’

‘We’re gonna make tracks toots, hold on.’

Whatever its drawbacks, the Lamborghini certainly cut the mustard as a getaway car. I gunned the engine and drove straight for the mob. The car ploughed through them sending broken bodies flying in an explosion of bone and ropey, bloody gouts. I bombed the car through the village and out into the leafy lanes. I didn’t slow until two baby rabbits, a hedgehog, and a man from the water board fixing a broken drain were left mangled in my tyre tracks. Only then did I ease down to a respectable seventy.

‘We’ve lost them kid,’ I muttered. ‘For now.’

The redhead gave a relieved sigh, then looked at me in admiration. ‘Who are you?’

‘The names Curt Jerkhoff,’ I answered. ‘Demon killer and scourge of the Satanist community. I infiltrated the congregation because I knew that bunch of covert goat worshippers were planning something big. I was waiting for my moment. They must have sussed on to who I was and everything went to shit. I had to act.

But they had guns…I can’t believe it.’

You’d better believe it toots. They look like normal regular joes, living in their sleepy little villages, attending whist drives and church socials. Respectable, middle class, slightly right wing, but it’s all a front; underneath they worship the dark ones and do their bidding. They’re everywhere.

She shook her head in wonder. ‘But it can’t be. It’s like you’re saying that anyone who’s middle class and English is somehow…intrinsically evil.’

I looked at her pityingly. ‘You haven’t seen too many Mel Gibson movies have you kid?’

The redhead buried her face in her hands. ‘Oh God, they all seemed so nice when I first arrived. My family sent me to stay with great aunt Hildegarde. I’ve been feeling under the weather lately and they thought the country air might do me good. Then today, Auntie H opened the door. “We have some visitors my dear,” she’d said with a weird smile. There were these men with father Aloysius, they had ropes and…’

I took a deep breath, trying to break it to her gently. They were preparing you for human sacrifice. ‘Your whole family were in on it. They must despise you.’

I drove on in silence, letting her sob her heart out. Eventually, I reached out and lifted her chin, keeping one hand on the wheel as I took a sharp curve at sixty. She was a sweet kid, innocent, fresh faced, and vulnerable. She deserved better than a bunch of horn worshipping freaks manipulating and using her. I wondered if a gratitude shag might be in the offing later.

What’s your name honey?’ I whispered.

She swallowed. ‘It’s Kelly…Kelly Smunt.’

I shrugged. ‘As long as it’s only by name and not by nature,’

She dabbed her eyes with a hankie. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Somewhere safe.’

The sun sank below the horizon and a full moon rose in its place. The cell phone chimed. I looked at the caller ID then pressed cancel.

‘It might be someone important.’ Kelly said.

I looked at her and smiled. ‘It’s Henshaw, my old boss, from the Bureau, believe me honey, it’s not.’

‘The Bureau,’ Kelly looked confused.

I shrugged and gave her the spiel. ‘The Bureau’s a worldwide top-secret organisation, hunting down demons and their scum sucking human minions. I was working for them for years.

‘How fascinating,’ Kelly said.

I smiled wryly, ‘Isn’t it, but I guess my muscle and can do attitude was too much for my wimpy counterparts. I’m a tough but honest demon killer, a maverick, but I get results. They were jealous.’

‘But Curt, you saved my life. Surely that’s the important thing.’

Go tell it to the marine’s baby, or more specifically those health and safety assholes that are running the whole department. Demon diversity awareness workshops seem to be the only thing those pinko, fags can manage these days. Now I work for myself.’

‘And I’m grateful you do.’ Kelly smiled and put a soft hand on my thickly muscled, thigh.

I watched the front of my leather trousers tent and wondered if she noticed. Hard not to really, given the impressive size of my…

‘What’s that place over there?' Kelly pointed to a single storey beach house, perched on a ridge over looking the moonlit bay and the Isle of Sheppey sewage works.’

‘That’s my pad, sweetheart. I figured we’d be safe there.’

The car skidded to a halt. Kelly got out and stared. ‘Oh it’s…different.’

‘I have a hunting lodge in the Appalachians too. Once you’ve faced down a mountain lion with nothing but an AK47, it makes taking on those cloven hoofed freaks seem like peanuts by comparison.’

We went into my pad. I could tell the chick was impressed. She fell over three times trying to wade across the shag pile.

‘Drink,’ I said, crossing to the flashing neon mini bar.

‘Oh just a coke for me.’

I raised a brow. ‘Your in shock, you need a shot of something to help you relax, Brandy? Ryphanol?’

‘Honestly cokes fine.’

I shrugged and clicked the remote. The mood lighting and hi-fi activated. Barry White croaked from the twelve-foot speakers. I kicked a thumbed copy of Crack House Ho’ magazine under the rug and we settled ourselves on the leopard skin couch. I laid back, legs apart so she could cop an eyeful of the family allowance. Kelly admired my portrait hanging over the fireplace.

‘It’s very subtle,’ she said, admiring the hairy torso peeking beneath the shirt slashed to the navel.

‘There’s sexy, and then there’s anybody’s. I think I got the balance right.’

‘And that medallion,’ Kelly breathed in wonder. ‘So chunky…so…. big.’

‘It says everything you need to know baby.’ I smiled. ‘But enough about me, tell me a little about yourself.

She thought for a moment. ‘Well there’s not a lot to tell really.’

I yawned, ‘Ok fine.’

Kelly put down her coke. Actually I’ve been hoping we could get to know each other a bit better,’ she smiled. ‘Get to know each other intimately in fact.’ I felt her hand on my crotch, fiddling with the zip.

We were just getting down to it when the cell phone went off again. Wouldn’t you just know it? It was hard fishing the bastard out of my pocket with my pants around my ankles. It was Henshaw again.

‘Answer it,’ Kelly said.

‘Honey we’re in the middle of a thang here.’

‘I can keep myself occupied while you talk,’ she smiled, then buried her face in my lap.

Difficult to concentrate when Arnie Salami thought Xmas had come early, but I flipped the phone up.

Henshaws bray blasted from the ear piece. ‘Curt darling, it’s Henny.’

Long time no hear, ‘I snapped.

‘Darling, you really have been naughty. It’s gone too far this time.’

‘Good news travels fast I see.’ I gave an involuntary gasp as Kelly’s tongue flickered in all sorts of interesting places.

‘What’s wrong?’ Henshaw asked with some concern. ‘Is she with you?’

‘Hell yeah, she’s with me, but she can’t talk, she’s got a mouthful at the moment,’ I smirked.

‘Then I suggest you get her back to Hucking Fell right this instant.

‘I sat up straight. You’re kidding me. Take her back to that nest of satanic, fork tail loving wannabes.

I heard Henshaws weary sigh. ‘Sweetie, you’ve got it all a teensy bit wrong, as usual.

‘Yeah right,’ I snorted. ‘A hot redhead tied up on the altar with an upside down crucifix, gun toting grannies and psycho altar boys in tow is standard church of England practice these days.

It is when they’re working for us old thing. She wasn’t being sacrificed. She was being exorcised. The cross is broken and needs fixing. They’re having a cheese and wine evening on Saturday to raise funds

My heart went cold. ‘Exorcised!’

I looked down.

Just as she bit down.

I dropped the phone and howled in agony. My crotch exploded in a shower of boners and ropey, bloody gouts.

Kelly sat back, sprouting a pair of leathery wings and a bony set of horns. She watched as I hopped around the room. Her eyes widened and she gulped decisively.

‘Oh God, what have you done,’ I screamed.

‘Well try and look on the bright side,’ Kelly smiled through jagged teeth. ‘At least I swallowed.’