Crepsley - Not Weak to Holy Weapons

I pulled out the cross and bottle of holy water and held them up. “I’ll strike you with these!” I roared, expecting him to fall back, frozen with fear. But he didn’t. Instead he smiled, snapped his fingers again, and suddenly the cross and plastic bottle were no longer in my hands. They were in his.

He studied the cross, chuckled and squeezed it into a little ball, as though it were made of tinfoil. Next he uncorked the holy water and drank it.

“You know what I love?” he asked. “I love people who watch lots of horror movies and read horror books. Because they believe what they read and hear, and come packing silly things like crosses and holy water, instead of weapons that could do real damage, like guns and hand grenades.”

“You mean … crosses don’t … hurt you?” I stammered.

“Why should they?” he asked.

***

Cirque Du Freak: A Living Nightmare, Chapter 24