Katherine woke up with a deep gasp for air, drowned out by the black sack that was wrapped around her head.
She took more dry breaths, heaving and panting. The air was thin, but she could breathe well enough. After choking once or twice she calmed herself, and listened, taking in her surroundings. She was sitting on a cold wooden chair. Her hands were bound to it. She pulled them, the way they clanged and barely moved led her to conclude that they were pure silver. She was wearing nothing but a tank-top and a set of panties. Katherine’s ear twitched. Water was dripping slowly, painfully slowly somewhere on her right. Most likely near the wall behind her.
Leaky pipe…
She moved her head around but she could hear nothing else. Nothing but the incessant dripping of water. Dead silence was surrounding her.
Well, if this is supposed to be torture, we’re gonna be here a while.
A couple hours passed, Katherine had dozed off in the meantime, but when the sound of the massive metal door sliding along its hinges resonated throughout the room, she shot awake. Heavy footsteps echoed on the hard floor. The man shouted to another nearby in a language she knew all too well.
Demons. She said to herself, their stench was all too familiar to her.
Her cover was pulled off of her, nearly ripping her head with it. Bright lights blared into her weary eyes. When her eyes adjusted she saw the man sitting on a chair before her. His hands both rested on his knees. She inspected him closer. He was clad from head to toe in dark blue, shine-less armor. It seemed light and flexible, with a chest piece made from multiple pieces and pleasantly decorated with a pentagram in its center. On his hands were a pair of bulky gauntlets, fingers razor sharp and coated with a line of silver along their length. The helmet he wore was an intimidating sculpture, an intricate ridged skull whose canine-like teeth were closing down onto the bottom ones near the chin.
“Nice cosplay.” She couldn’t help herself, and regretted it when the tall man on her left slapped her face so hard she almost passed out on the spot. She slowly spun her head back and around. “So… who are you supposed to be… Joan of Arc?”
He hit her so hard this time she fell along with her chair. Katherine swallowed her blood with a satisfied laugh. The man picked her up and shook her awake.
“I can do this all day Katherine.” The armored man told her, his voice like a faraway thunder. “Though I’d rather not.”
She glared at him as her head hung low in front of her. She spat some blood off to the side, holding herself from spitting on him directly.
“See, despite what you may be thinking and what my friend has most likely given you the impression of, I have no intention of torturing you right now.”
Katherine was pleasantly surprised at the remark.
“In fact, I’ve come to you with a proposition, regarding the mess you and your friend caused, but all that a little later.” He reached towards his helmet and slowly pulled it off.
She stared at him dumbly. It should not be possible. Her eyes were wide with doubt and fear. “But, I killed you myself. How are you-”
“Honestly Katherine.” Octavian interrupted her. “Who do you take me for? You expect me to dabble with someone as dangerous as Azazel for so long, and not take precautionary measures?” His green eyes smiled at her. She noted his lack of glasses and slightly more saturated hair color. “Contacts.” Octavian added, noticing her staring and tracing a finger beneath his eyelid.
“Few precautionary measures I know of bring a man back to life after you slice his neck open.” Katherine spat.
“Your first mistake was believing that I had died when you sliced my neck open.” He smiled. It was a warm and gentle smile, and Katherine was fooled to feel safe, if only for a moment. “But enough about that. How I am here is unimportant, what matters is that I am, and what I intend to do.”
“Go on then. I can’t stop you.” Katherine listened.
“I intend to fix the mistake you and your friend made. I intend to shut the gates of hell.”
“Unless you have an angel in another room, that doesn’t seem very possible. Besides the world’s already fucked, what point is there anymore?” She said dejectedly.
“True, I do not have an angel in my home the same way you did. But, what I do have is men under my command, lots of men. Demons too.”
“You want to shut the gates of hell with demons? Good luck. You would trust demons to obey you when you try to genocide them?”
“No, but I would trust demons given directly under my orders by Azazel himself. They know that one disobedience means their death. And not just demons. I have weapons, artifacts, and information about the demonic and occult. Things I have gathered over decades of my life alongside the devil. Things that I have gathered to perfect my plan, a plan which you so beautifully murdered when you sliced my neck.” Octavian said with a grim smile.
Katherine looked at him uninterestedly. “If you’re waiting for me to apologize, be aware it won’t happen. I killed you for a reason, and I would do it again. Men who help demons are almost as bad as the demons themselves.”
Octavian’s mouth twitched slightly. He smiled. “Oh Katherine, so called Huntress. You ever look at yourself and realize how much of a hypocrite you are? Devilsbane, terror of all demons around. But your power is nothing more than demon’s blood itself isn’t it? Old Samson made sure that was the case when he accepted God's gift. And to top it all off, it wasn’t demons that released hell on earth, it was you. None of this would have happened had you not been rash and crucified the angel. Or should I say half angel?”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Katherine spat him. Her eyes were wild with fury and anger. “I did, what I had to. And I was wrong. There was no reason it shouldn’t have worked, and yet it did. Mephistopheles was her father.”
“Mephistopheles was her father..” Octavian echoed as he wiped away the saliva on his face. “The details don’t matter anymore. What is done, is done. But this is your fault as much as it is the angels for being born the way it was. If you had just been more patient, things may have gone differently.”
His words were crushing her already broken soul, but she’d be damned if she was going to let him see that.
“But I’ve never been one to condemn a person forever. Listen to me, for I will only say this once. I will give you the chance to make amends, to save yourself from being doomed for the rest of your days. Join me, help me achieve my plans, and this whole mess…” He said, waving his hands. The light shone off of the silver of his metal gloves, illuminating her face for only a moment. ”...it will be fixed. Obey me, and I will save you, and everyone else. And know this, you will accept, one way or another, and I’d rather not have a mutilated husk of a person fighting alongside me, but if I have no other choice…” His voice trailed off as he rose from his seat. ”You have twenty four hours alone in this darkness to think about it. If you make a decision before then, scream.”
----------------------------------------
“We have no other choice then.” Mephistopheles said. “If the city is as decimated as you say it is, the best thing we can do is get as far away from here as we can.”
“And where to run Mephisto? Hmm?” Wrath sharply replied. “You plan to just wander the country, the continent, in hopes we don't run into a horde of wights? Or the human military? Forever? I surveyed the city, the small part that I could anyway. Most of the churches were untouched by wights, those that were destroyed were destroyed by something else.”
“I take it, you'd want us to stay here? Wait for the Pale shadows to grow in numbers till this entire fucking forest is filled to the brim with them?” He shouted back at her.
“We have more chances here. A holy shelter like this is much more helpful than having nothing. Besides Katherine was a demon hunter, I’m sure she’s got enough food in her larder, weaponry we can use. We can hold out if need be. The wights can’t touch us here. Neither can Baal’s demons.” Wrath argued.
“You know better than me what those things are capable of.” He said to her, shaking his head and sitting down on the armchair behind him on his right. “If one comes we might be able to fight it off, two in a pinch, but if more than that catch Uriel’s scent then we’re straight fucked.” Mephisto said ominously.
He leaned forward and rested his head on the tips of his fingers. Wrath turned away in frustration. Her golden eyes gleamed over to the window and back to Mephisto who was still in thought. She turned to Constantine. He was sitting on the couch in front of the window, listening in on their debate. Bandages were hidden beneath his silver tufts of hair and his eyes and cheeks were still mildly bruised, but he was holding up better than others. In his hands was his crimson dagger, whose tip he was gently spinning into the center of his left palm. Constantine’s head spun like a cat’s when he heard a loud clang coming from the kitchen. Evan was, unsuccessfully, trying to make himself something to eat.
“Perhaps, we should stay here for now.” He said, breaking the pressing silence after some time. The false demons turned to him. “Me, Evan, and Uriel especially are in no condition to travel for now. Also, I’m certain it wouldn’t be an easy road, and you and Wrath can only carry us so far. I say, we go with Wrath’s idea for now, try and barricade this house as much as we can. Get enough supplies to last. Once Uriel wakes or, at least me or Evan are in better shape, we’ll see about trying to leave. How does that sound?”
Wrath nodded. Mephistopheles hesitated.
“I still believe that if we get in the car now and drive as far as we can now we’ll have more options.”
“People all over the city are trying to flee.” Constantine said. “Its a miracle they have avoided the mansion for now, but if we try and run as well we might end up getting caught like crabs in a bucket.”
“Alright.” Mephisto finally relented. “If we are going to go with this plan. I’ll go see how our supplies are. Even if it’s full, which I doubt it, we’re gonna need to go and get some water because we’re definitely running low on that. Where can I find the basement?”
“It's behind the stairs.” Constantine answered. The demon rose from the armchair and walked towards them.
“He’s right Wrath, we don’t have much water left, two-three five liter bottles total. That’ll last another two days max.” Evan told her as he came into the living room, munching on a bare bread and ham sandwich.
“Alright. We’re gonna have to go and do some light shopping first thing in the morning, tomorrow.” Wrath decided to smile fakely at Evan. “Constantine.”
“Alright.”
“I’ll come with you.” Evan intervened, mildly excited.
“I can’t watch both of you in case things go sour Evan.”
“And I can’t just sit by and watch. Do nothing. I know I may have fucked up in the past. But I don’t want this…” He lifted his bandaged stump. “...To stop me from protecting those I care about, I already failed two, I don’t want more to follow. One half of the spear is still mine. I’ll just have to learn to use it with one hand, that’s all.”
Wrath let out an exasperated sigh. She sat down and leaned into Mephisto’s armchair.
“You people are gonna be the death of me...” She muttered. “All right, fine. We’ll go first thing tomorrow.”
“Speaking of people you care about, Evan, you need to call your father, if you still can. Tell him to get out of the country while he still has the chance.” Constantine said, his face full of worry.
Evan nodded, but then his expression changed.
“All the lines in the house are dead though.”
“The city. There’s some public phones near Heaton Bank, closest ones I can think of. We’re going the same way we did today right Wrath?” He turned to her.
“Seems like it.”
“Good, it should be an hour walk to them.”
“It’s settled then. I’ll go find some guns. Katherine should have some, somewhere…” said Evan.
“Don’t bother.” Mephisto’s voice was heard as he walked into the room. “Guns won’t do you any good against wights. Not as they are currently anyway. Also I agree with your plan. The basement and fridge are almost empty. We could do well with some food.”
He turned to a glass cabinet behind him and pulled out a bottle of red scotch.
“And the scotch will help with the wights?” Evan dared ask.
“No, this one’s for me.” He smiled back. “You two should get some sleep. It’s late and you’re up early tomorrow.”
“I guess.” Evan agreed.
“Fuck it. Pour me a glass.” Constantine added. “Just one.”
Mephistopheles complied. He handed him the shot glass, which Constantine promptly emptied. The liquid burned as it traveled down his throat. He could not help but enjoy the feeling.