“Here’s a few numbers for you, shit stain.” She counted them off on her fingers, each of which had turned into an asp. “1: that is your position in the Heavenly List of Affronts to Our Almighty God; 7: the number of eyes of the multiꙮcular seraphim trained on you at every moment; 38: the number of seconds you have left before I signal the Angelic Wrath to descend and obliterate you; 6 quintillion: the number of pieces their Angelic Swords will leave your body shredded.” She rubbed a couple of the snakes against my cheek. “Oh, and 9-1-1? That number definitely won’t work for you at all.”
Keegan Shepherd 