[[FIC]] Chapter 8 - Pugna pro Vita

[carriesagun]

HOLY CARP! CHAPTER 8? WHA?

This is sort of part 1 of a 2 part crusade against... Well, Harrods (as you do), and the next should give some proper action.

In which Michael finally gets what he's been after, Giselle breaks up a fight and Angels and Demons clash. Well, nearly. ENJOY!

 

 

“One does not simply lay siege to Harrods, Riles,” Giselle replied, and I shrugged with a small laugh.

 

 

“Look, if whoever took Matt is there, we have no choice but to attack Harrods. We should go after dark-”

 

 

“Oh, you think?” Giselle and I both jumped as Malise spoke, her face dark from hours of crying, and her uncut diamond clenched in her fist. Michael had seen her coming in and jumped to his feet to give her a tight hug. She looked suddenly surprised, but no more surprised than I was at his sudden turn of compassion. “You found him?”

 

 

“Yeah, he's at Harrods,” I replied, going over and giving Malise a hug when she disentangled herself from Michael. “We're going to lay siege to Harrods!”

 

 

“Will you stop saying that?” Giselle scolded, and I stuck my tongue out at her when Malise let me go. “We are going to... Rescue Matt, with the lowest possible casualty count, you hear?” I shrugged and Malise laughed falsely, putting a brave face on her feelings.

 

 

“We'll get him back, as soon as night falls, okay?” I told Malise, giving her a smile as I walked past to head for the basement. The others followed me as I pulled the door open in the back wall of the kitchen and hurried down the stairs with Samir slinking behind me. He laid down on a large sheepskin rug and watched me out of his amber-green eyes like an oversized house cat.

 

 

“Holy fucking shit,” Giselle exclaimed, and I followed her line of sight to the wall furthest from the stairs. It was wall to ceiling covered in weapons, from sharp pointy sticks to semi-automatic hand guns and everything in between. “I should have come here earlier.”

 

 

“You like it?” I asked, and she nodded, stepping forwards and picking up a broad sword, making a noise low in her throat.

 

 

“Can I borrow this?”

 

 

“Yeah, but it's crap against demons. We'll have to put a salt glaze on it, but it's okay,” I replied conversationally, then started gathering up the weapons I wanted. I picked my spare double sword holster, two .45 calibre hand guns with spare magazines, three 6-inch switch-blades, two revolvers and a full shotgun complete with salt rounds and hollow-point silver rounds. I gathered them into my arms and headed back upstairs, leaving the others to pick their poison.

 

 

Michael was the first up, gingerly holding a silver sword in a black sheath under one arm and carrying three semi-automatics in the other hand. “Is that it?” I asked from where I was perched on the sofa with my mini-armoury spread out on the coffee table.

 

 

“I could use my wonderful charm and personality if I get too stuck. Or hide behind you,” he quipped back, and I laughed as he flounced down on the sofa beside me and started sorting through his choices. I dismantled the guns and cleaned them, taking care to reload them with silver bullets, then did likewise for Michael. Silver burns demons, which is one of the reasons he was holding the sword so carefully. “You okay?”

 

 

“Looking forward to finally getting some action,” I replied, going to the kitchen and retrieving a little pot from the fridge and a paintbrush. The pot was a delectable mixture of holy water and salt, a definitely deadly mixture for any demon that came into contact with it. “Get out of the living room, I need to bless my swords again,” I called, and Michael nearly sprinted out of the living room as I entered. He hovered in the doorway and watched as I painted the mixture onto my swords and wafted them in the air to dry them off.

 

 

“Is it safe yet?” he asked, and I tapped the sword blade to check it was dry before nodding. “I hate it when you do that, the air crackles.”

 

 

“Sorry,” I replied, resealing the pot and replacing it in the fridge. I sighed and looked at him out of the corner of my eyes. “Look, if we all die, I want us to die as friends,” I told him, and he laughed gently.

 

 

“Just friends?” I considered that for a second, and hated the fact that my stomach did somersaults and my eyes prickled at the thought of us being just friends. My moment of distraction was all he needed and he stepped up beside me, his hand on my arm. I peered at it like it was insanely interesting, a look of confusion on my face. “Riley.” It glanced up and smiled, hoping I could pretend not to want to kiss him right then and there. I opened my mouth a couple of times and vaguely reminded myself of a goldfish, staring at the lapel of his shirt. He started to answer me, saying my name again, but Malise appeared in the doorway and called us.

 

 

“Giselle says to go feed the vampires then come down and help plan the siege,” she said, and I pulled my arm away from Michael and mounted the stairs to go and wake up the vampires, as instructed. I was barely halfway up the stairs when I was slammed back against the wall and Michael kissed me hard.

 

 

“Holy crap I've waited long enough to do that,” he told me, releasing me and strolling down the stairs whistling, turning to wink at me before he disappeared into the kitchen and left me leant against the wall and totally in shock.

 

 

“Ha-whuh?” I stuttered, shaking my head hard and tripping up the stairs to go into the spare bedroom. Roe was asleep on the bed to the left, and Charlie was on the bed on the right, both painfully pale as they died during the day. I shook them simultaneously on the shoulders then hit the deck and narrowly avoided getting stabbed in the neck by their daggers as they leapt awake.

 

 

“WHO'S THERE?” I sniggered and stood up, revealing myself to them not that they had got the idea of stabbing someone out of their systems.

 

 

“Queen Bitch seeks your assistance,” I told them both, and was suddenly aware that I had a huge grin on my face.

 

 

“Where's the coat hanger?” Charlie asked, getting out of bed and stretching herself out. She was tall and nearly painfully thin, her ribs poking through her pale skin on her stomach, her slimness made worse by not being able to eat solid food.

 

 

“No where, I'm just happy,” I replied, resisting the urge to skip a little on the spot.

 

 

“She finally got some,” Charlie said to Roe as if I wasn't there.

 

 

“No, she didn't,” I stated firmly, and Roe and Charlie exchanged looks.

 

 

“She doesn't smell like she's lying. But the fact that her mouth looks like she slept in a coat hanger and she is about to burst into song tells me something happened,” Roe deduced, and I frowned but found it impossible to kill the grin on my face. “She kissed him!”

 

 

“No, actually he kissed me,” I gossiped, then went red and shoved a fist in my mouth. “But I didn't kiss and tell, right?”

 

 

“You? Kiss and tell? Never,” Charlie agreed, pulling a black trench coat off of the back of the door. Vampires generally don't use weapons, but watching Roe gather her personal favourites reminded me of what dangerous opponents vampire's could be given half a chance. I went to the freezer and pulled another couple of the packs of blood out and put them in the microwave to warm them up for the two vampires. They could drink it cold, but apparently it tasted better warm. I tried not to think about it as I poured the blood into two glasses and handed it to them, making a quick escape as they started glugging down the blood.

 

 

I flopped down onto the sofa beside Michael and put a pillow over my face. “What're you doing?” he asked, poking me in the side.

 

 

“Pretending that there aren't two vampires drinking blood in my kitchen,” I replied, pulling the pillow off my face and putting it under my head. “I find the pillow over my face helps me to pretend I'm somewhere else.”

 

 

“I see,” he said, giving me a look as though I had gone completely mad and was spouting utter garbage. “You're out of your tree, you know that?”

 

 

“Mhm,” I agreed, then got up to go downstairs and begin plotting, following the vampires down into the basement where Giselle was spinning a sword around her fingertips and arguing with Malise about who would be chief planner. “Guys? Can we not argue with swords? We're on the same team, remember?” I said loudly, stepping between them to prove my point. “Giselle will plot and we'll be good and refrain from killing one another.”

 

 

“Kissing,” Charlie coughed, which raised an appropriate laugh from Roe. I flicked my right hand out and sent Charlie to the floor. She growled and leapt at me, pulling me to the floor where we began relentlessly slapping at each other in seemingly random actions.

 

 

“GET OFF!” I grunted and tried to dislodge her off my hips.

 

 

“MAKE ME!” she yelled in response, and I slapped her face in response.

 

 

“Both of you get the hell up and grow up,” Giselle scolded and pulled Charlie off of me. As soon as we were both standing we hugged each other and were made up again. “You two are idiots.”

 

 

“Thanks, Giselle, we love you too,” I said, and slapped her on the arm, stepping back quickly to avoid a smack which I knew was coming. “What's the plan?”

 

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

 

I slunk along the back wall of Harrods, hidden well in the dark as I clung to the wall and watched the demon guard walk towards me. I slipped out of the shadows and beheaded him, dragging the body and the head behind a huge bin before hurrying to the fire escape. I concentrated and leapt up using my psychic power to launch myself forwards onto the first landing, catching myself on the railing to steady myself.

 

 

I climbed up the stairs as quietly as I could manage, drawing my second sword as I went, pausing at every corner to listen for anyone coming down towards me. No one appeared, and I made it onto the roof without incident, carefully stepping onto the roof. I was lulled into a false sense of security, and was bowled over by a half-shifted werewolf, rolling over the glass skylights in the roof. I lashed out with my right foot and caught it on the pelvis, sending it sprawling. I grabbed up my swords and held them tight as I scrambled to my feet and watched the wolf recover.

 

 

It was only a young one, so I felt bad for having to kill it, but it was going to give ending my life a good go. I span the sword in my right hand nervously, and the wolf began circling me. It was only half-shifted, so even if it bit or scratched me, I wouldn't be turning furry next full moon, but I wanted to avoid injury if I could help it. It would slow me down later, so I turned in response, keeping my eyes on the wolf as it paced.

 

 

I predicted when it leapt and met it in mid-air with my swords, plunging them into it's chest up to their hilts and being sprayed in its blood, the warm liquid flowing down my arms and into my clothes. I dropped my arms and the animal slipped off the swords, it's fur receding and it's face shape changing back into human, until it was fully human laying on the floor. It turned out to be a young woman, her dark skin highlighted by the harsh street lamps and the full moon. She couldn't have been older than 30, I reflected, wiping her blood off of my swords on her thigh before moving on. I didn't have time to linger and reflect upon every kill I made.

 

 

I moved on, heading for the small emergency escape hatch in the furthest corner of the roof. I pulled it open and slipped in, dropping to the floor and allowing my eyes to adjust to the sudden influx of darkness upon my retina's.

 

 

I was standing in a room full of boxes, and a moment of glancing around told me that it was a store room. I shrugged and closed the escape hatch behind me, stepping past the big pile of boxes to my right and hugging the wall. I walked to the end of the small balcony I was on and laid down flat to watch the scene below me.

 

 

Lucian was seated on a huge throne against the furthest wall, looking over the gathered demons and other non-humans who were milling around. I recognised three of them – Gabriel, an angel who was thrown from Heaven into Hell for gross misconduct; Albalm, a Rage demon from the 4^th level of Hell; and Belial, the vampire who attacked me when I came back. Seeing him made my blood boil and my palms itch with a need to attack him by surprise.

 

 

It was at this point that my eyes were drawn to Matt, who was laying in a prone position on the floor. One hand was shackled to the nearest demon, and the other was bright scarlet like it had been burnt. His naked body was covered with marks, welts, cuts and burns that displayed the amount of torture he had been subjected to, and it made my hands convulse on my sword hilts to think of the pain he was in. I had to stay where I was and allow the others to create enough of a diversion for me to swing down there and rescue him.

 

 

Giselle had contacted a few of our other loyal comrades who had agreed to come as back up for us to provide a bit of extra muscle, and I felt happier knowing that they were backed up with two people you didn't piss off. Edward and Simon were half-life bounty hunters; souls that had been murdered then sent back as immortal wraiths to serve hell, bringing souls back down for the Devil – or, that should serve hell. They had rebelled and had, somehow, ended up with us. I liked the fact that they came armed to the teeth and didn't give a shit who they killed, and that they shared their toys with me.

 

 

I heard an ear-splitting scream, and watched as some of the lesser demons obeyed Lucian's simple hand action and ran from the room to investigate. “Give his tether to me, I'd like to have some fun with our... Guest,” Lucian growled, grabbing the chain holding Matt down from the demon and indicating that the demon should leave. He obeyed, leaving Lucian and Gabriel for me to deal with.

 

 

I didn't want to take on Gabriel; I would leave the fallen angel for Michael, who had a personal vendetta against him. I could distract Lucian fairly well, hopefully long enough to give Malise time to hurry in and save her fiancé from where she was hidden across the room. I stood up, stowed away the swords and vaulted over the railing, landing hard on all fours but cushioned by a bubble of psychic power.

 

 

“Good evening. I'm here to kick the shit out of you,” I stated, and the other two laughed, eyeing up my size and evaluating me from there. “Problem?”

 

 

“Not at all,” Gabriel replied, extending his six-foot wings and leaping at me. I dodged and he hit the wall behind where I had been standing. I landed badly and winced as my elbow twinged, but pulled myself to my feet and drew one sword, knowing my elbow would not support the weight of a direct attack. Gabriel had two swords, and I checked their length mentally against his size – I was looking at two three-foot blades. He twirled them expertly between his fingers and advanced on me, and I matched his stride backwards until I was pressed up against the wall. “Now where are you going to run, little psychic?” I shrugged and maintained the terrified expression on my face even as I brought my head back and head-butted him, my forehead connecting with his nose.

 

 

He reeled backwards and I flew towards him, landing another punch to the side of his head. The angel fell to one side and I caught his face with my knee. He fell to the floor and screamed in pain as I sliced my blade across his wing, half removing the extra limb from his back. “I'll leave you for someone who has a reason to want you dead,” I whispered in his ear, kissing his temple mockingly before straightening up.

 

 

His dark blood was mingling with the werewolf blood on my hands and the hem of my jeans, and my initial thought was how to get it out. My next thought was abject pain as I connected with the wall and crumpled at the bottom, blood trickling from a wound to my head. Stars twinkled in my vision and I cried out as some huge hand grabbed my throat and pinned me to the wall, the fingers gripping relentlessly tightly.

 

 

“You should have run when you got the chance,” Lucian spat into my face, his saliva like acid on my skin from where it was super heated, and I screamed loudly, clawing at the hot liquid with my hands that couldn't reach my face, and growled in frustration. Then movement caught my eye, and I saw Malise pulling Matt to his feet and half-dragging him towards the door of the store room.

 

 

“It doesn't matter if you kill me, you're still going to burn,” I panted, and pulled the hand with my sword still gripped in it up and thrust it into his chest. He dropped me and fell back screaming, and I turned and ran as fast as my slightly stunned body could take me. That was too damn close.