Satan rolled his eyes and stole a glance at Lucifer, subtly rearranging his features so that he bore more of a resemblance to the other man. Then he opened the heavy door and walked into the church.
Inside, the church was clearly outfitted for mourning, with heavy black draperies covering the windows. Though the sanctuary was clearly built for the entire town, it was only about a quarter of the way full. Heavy wreaths of flowers hung from almost every available surface, their scent cloying and almost nauseating. Everyone whipped around to look at Satan as he entered, and he could hear panicked whispers as they realized he was unfamiliar.
The priest, a skinny, balding man who couldn't have been older than thirty, nearly sprinted down the aisle. When he reached Satan, he seemed to almost try and block him from the view of the rest of the church, as though preventing him from going any further inside.
"Who are you?" he asked brusquely.
Satan blinked in surprise. Priests these days. In passable Italian, he answered, "Lorenzo. My brother and I herd goats on the mountain, but the man who supplies us hasn't come for weeks and weeks. We came down to see what was going on, and...what's happened here in this town?"
The priest's lips thinned, but his nervous demeanor diminished somewhat. "The Pestilence has swept through the town again. So you aren't refugees from another village."
"No," Satan said, tapping his fingers as he thought. The priest obviously expected him to know what 'the Pestilence' was. "But surely the Pestilence couldn't have killed half the town?"
He sensed Lucifer coming up behind him and moved to the side so that he could see the priest as well.