The first two puffs on the fag were like a small piece of heaven. It was only then that Molly noticed everything was completely quiet. Not the natural sort of quiet that came with the middle of the night, the type of quiet she had learned to enjoy when she could over the years, but unnaturally quiet.
And the dead started screaming a warning and a single shot broke the silence. Mol knew gunshots inside out and upside down, she had grown up in a war zone. Two types of training instantly started working. WHO's and the IRA's. She might've been a teenager for the first, but she had been as indoctrinated in the life style as any adult.
Mol found Threnody easily and the person standing over her had in store for them a fate right from a horror movie, overrun by specters they couldn't fight and couldn't touch as Mol looked the girl over and grimaced.
"I'm sorry," she said simply, propping a sweater under the girl's head to make breathing a bit easier, "Morrigan will receive you," she said, "An' if ya can't find the path, I'll show ya myself." She knew gunshot wounds, and this one was fatal. There wasn't anything to be done, except making sure no one else had this happen to them.
She went over and calmly took the gun from the person screaming as ethreal hands clawed at them. If anyone was trying to take a shot at her they missed. Molly however, did not.
"Danu forgive me," she said coldly, pulling the trigger and then reached out and grabbed, stopping the soul full tilt from crossing over and held on to the screaming essence, "But you're mine now."
None of these people seemed to have any real training, and Molly moved through them like she was shooting fish in a barrel, the dead swirling around, every time she killed she added to her arsenal.
In a way, her Da had always had his wish. When she moved through a place, she moved through it like Death on his pale horse. Just never in the direction he wanted.