Laurence watched through blood-hazed eyes as the sky swirled with the vibrant colors of another reality.
He let out a groan, followed by a guttural hurk as his body ached in agony. He tried moving his right arm but he was trapped under a steel-encased support beam. His consciousness got more and more acquainted with his current predicament. He was pinned under piles of bricks, cement and concrete. His breathing was difficult, as everytime he inhaled he was poked in the side by metal rods. He tried remembering what had happened, everything was so fuzzy in his mind. There was pain, a blinding black flame embracing him, the flame… he remembered the blazing fire, and then something else. A name scribbled itself into his mind with burning red ink: Nikolai.
He panicked. Where was the sword? It wasn't in his hand he didn’t think… but as he trashed about knocking bits of glass and rubble around, he noticed that it was.
I could have sworn it wasn’t there a moment ago… He thought as his fingers wrapped themselves tightly around the hilt of the sword.
A strange feeling then washed over him, as if the sword was imbuing him with profane energies. His eyes flashed, and then he found himself freed from his rocky prison. He turned back, curious, and saw chunks that shot up high into the air, sliced cleanly by an extremely sharp object. Down below, he saw a hole where he had been trapped earlier.
Did… did I cut it open and jump out? But… when? He pondered, looking at the blade in his hand, its edge dripping in an ethereal blackness, as if it had been dipped in ink. ...Wicked.
Laurence then stepped forward, and collapsed. He cursed and swore, groaning as he clutched his right ankle. He sat up, massaging his leg after the pain of walking shot through his whole body. He didn't realize how broken it was until now. However, he did not allow this minor setback to stop him. He got up once more, using his sword as a walking stick, and pulling himself towards a nearby bench half embedded into a glass wall. After slowly and painfully pulling it out with a free hand, he let it crash down against the pavement.
Using his sword, he then carved two small splints out of the wood. He took off his jacket, ripped up the sleeves from his button-up shirt underneath, and made himself a makeshift cast for his leg. Once that was finished, he willed himself back on his feet, and began walking. His sword made a handy walking cane. Upon his arrival at a nearby intersection, Laurence looked up at the sky, and listened. The sounds of destruction echoed far in the distance. But they seemed to be on different sides of the city.
Now which one of them is that fiery bitch? He pondered. Without a single moment passing by, his sword replied, pulling itself as if by a magnet in the leftmost direction.
“That way huh?” He asked. “Well, I’m not one to question a sentient angel sword.” Laurence smiled, and twirled the blade in his fingers almost tripping and falling from the sudden lack of support.
He continued slowly stumbling his way forward, hellbent on his desire to slay Nikolai. This desire only grew upon seeing all the destruction and death that surrounded him as he made his way further into the city. But as time passed, and the sounds of battle grew closer and closer, the earth trembling beneath him with every step and the sky itself alight with furious flashes of light, he could not help but feel that he was being followed. Everytime he turned around however, there was nothing to be seen.
My mind must be hazy from the blast. He thought to himself. Everyone and everything in this city’s been long dead. I hope I don’t have a concussion…
Eventually, after making his way through a maze of collapsed buildings and burning vehicles, he found himself on a long straight street filled with charred corpses. The dust and ashes of the remains created a misty black veil as the wind blew on the avenue. Not even the rain could clean this hazy smog. Straight ahead, he could see bright lights and blurred shapes. He knew she was close, his blood ached with anticipation. Laurence picked up the pace, ready for whatever might come next.
He did not however expect the ground to suddenly end before him, and give way to a massive yawning crater. He almost fell face-first in it, but his blade somehow stuck itself against the pavement, stopping his fall. Taking a couple steps back, he saw a red spot down in the center of the cavern. And movement. Corpses praying to a woman bathed in blood. He knelt on the edge of the cliff and then his eyes shot open when he realized who that was. The strange color of her hair, the wisp of flame that arose from her left side and the scars lower down on her arm all gave it away. He gripped his sword tightly, and prepared to make his rapid descent when something unexpected happened. Laurence was yanked back by a powerful meaty hand and harshly dragged and pushed against a nearby broken wall in one swift motion.
“NO!” The strange man shouted directly in his face. “Don’t throw your life away son.” He pleaded.
Immediately, Laurence shoved him off, reaching for his sword. But something deep inside him stopped him from swinging it. Instead, he just held it menacingly towards the assailant. The man raised his hand towards him in a peaceful manner. Laurence looked him up and down, the man was draped in a hooded cloak that covered over most of his upper body save for his face. He appeared elderly, but still young. His short gray beard made him seem older than he was.
“You want to kill her, I can see that desire in your eyes. They burn with that passion. But look at her, look!” He shouted. Laurence turned his eyes for just a brief moment to see down in the canyon before snapping back to the man. “Look at the destruction she survived. The battle that raged here shook the very foundations of heaven itself. I feel it in my heart.” He said, his voice trembling as he gripped the crucifix around his neck tightly. “She could kill you without batting an eyelash right now. Do you really intend to become another charred corpse to add to the count?”
“Who are you old man?” Laurence demanded.
“Listen to me son, do not go further. Don’t throw your life away for nothing. Now is not the opportune moment. I want her dead just as much as you do, believe me. You are wounded. Allow me to help you.”
Laurence paused, briefly considering the offer before raising his sword once more. “I said, who are you? Answer me damn it.”
“My name is Alexander. I’ve been tracking the prophet and her posse for weeks now. They came to us after the eclipse. We offered her help, her and the little girl she was with. In return she burned down my church with everyone inside. The church I grew up in, the place where I found my faith… became a prison for damned screams.” He said, his brown eyes longing with anger and despair at the thought.
Laurence only looked at him curiously and contemplatively. He lowered his sword, but remained quiet.
“Its common courtesy when one introduces themself to you to reciprocate.” Alexander said.
“Shut the hell up. How do I know you’re not some demon trying to trick me with a bullshit story? How did you even survive the blast?”
“By the grace of God.” Alexander responded.
Laurence stared at him, annoyed and irritated.
“Me… and the few people I was with hid inside a sewer in the riverbed.” He sighed. “The blast was not as awful as what came after.”
“You’re not alone?”
Alexander laughed. “You think I was goin’na take on that fire witch by myself? I’m just a man, I’m not special like you. I gathered some stragglers from her group, people who would also want to see her dead for the sake of us all. I was hoping we could catch her unawares but things changed when we saw you fight on the ferry. They took some of the boats in the harbor that were still intact after the explosion, ran upriver to Brenwood with whatever wounded were still alive in hopes of getting more help. I stayed to try and tend to those that we couldn't help until I saw you. They should be back by sunrise.”
Laurence narrowed his eyes and stepped back.
“You seem surprised. Yes I was on the ferry as well, and I saw you two fight if only briefly. You’re not just some ordinary kid with a magic sword are you?”
Laurence then sighed, finally willing to accept the man’s offer by placing the sword inside his scabbard. “No.” He began. “My name is Laurence. It’s a long story that I don’t feel like sharing but I was basically instructed by an angel to hunt her down. As you can see, I failed miserably.”
“An angel huh? Hah.” He chuckled. “Y’know, in thirty years of being a priest, I’ve never so much as seen a real demon, let alone an angel. Now I seem to run into the bastards at every corner.”
I wonder then… What kept your faith alive all those years?
“We should get going, that leg wound of yours is going to get real nasty if it doesn't get some proper care soon. We can go back to the river, take a safety vessel upstream and we’ll figure it out from there once you’re safe and healthy.” Alexander said, offering a handshake. “Come with me Laurence, and the witch will die by our hands. Maybe not today, not tomorrow, but I swear it to you, she will die eventually.”
After a brief moment of hesitation, Laurence reached out and shook his hand firmly. Then after Alex smiled, he pulled him and shoved him against a wall.
“What?” He shouted. But then his eyes saw Laurence use his sword to lob the head off a smoking black corpse that had crawled and jumped the place where he stood mere seconds ago. Had he hesitated, it might have been his head rolling on the ground now.
“Yeah.. I wanted to bring it up earlier that I felt something crawling towards us but you just kept talking. Sorry.” Laurence said casually.
“Why you little-”
“Listen old man, can you fight? My ankle is busted as fuck so I won’t be able to protect us both alone.”
“Can I fight? Pah.” With one swift motion, he tossed the front of his cloak over his shoulder, revealing a myriad of weapons strapped to his chest and side. Knives, guns, grenades and more things of varying sizes that Laurence did not recognize. What he did recognize was a massive morningstar in Alexander’s right hand. He slapped its spiked head against his gloved left hand as a grin crawled across his face. “Oh I can fight.”
Laurence couldn’t help but grin back. “Let's get to that river then, shall we?”
----------------------------------------
Katherine’s fists rained down against the poor punching bag with ravenous fury. Sweat dripped down her forehead and shot out from her pores with every punch. Her gaze was razor sharp, and her focus supreme as the speed of her attacks increased steadily. The strength she put into her blows rapidly grew as well, each time her gasps for breath echoing louder and louder in the empty gymnasium.
Punch, followed by punch followed by punch, followed by a rapid spin and a dizzying kick with her left heel that sent the bag flying back at an angle. The kick ripped the chain pinning it to the floor and now the bag was barrelling towards her threatening to smack her directly in the face. But Katherine was hoping for this as she continued her movement forward, and landed a powerful blow with her right foot against the top of the punching bag. The difference in sudden forces yanked the top chain from the ceiling as well, sending the bag to the ground with a loud thud as it briefly rolled away. Katherine then landed expertly on her feet and a satisfied smirk formed on the corner of her mouth.
“God damn it Katherine that’s the third fucking punching bag this month.” Octavian’s disappointed voice echoed from somewhere behind her. She turned and saw his fingers holding the bridge of his nose over his glasses and rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Should I remind you we’re in the middle of an apocalypse? You think I’m made of punching bags?”
“I wish.” She snarked. Although you wouldn’t last as long once I get my hands on you. Was the continuation she thought of. “What are you doing, how long have you been standing there watching me?”
“Sorry, sweaty girls in gym shorts and tank tops make my dick rock-hard. Would you mind if you kept going for a bit? Maybe do some gymnastics-”
“Urhg, What do you want fuckface?” She said, rolling her eyes as she reached for a towel to dry herself off.
“I’ll overlook that little insult, for your sake. Don’t you get bored coming here every other day?” He asked, changing the subject. He nonchalantly leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms.
“I do. But not my fault you’ve kept me locked up for months now. I gotta stay sane somehow.“ She continued, angrily taking off her fingerless gloves and tossing them into a backpack on the bench beside her. “I swear you’re trying to torture me through sheer boredom.”
Octavian tilted his head as if a thought crossed through it. “Could always have some fun with the boys, no?”
“I’d rather continue dying of boredom.”
“I could make you do that and there’s nothing you could do about it.” He said with a very sharp tone in his voice and a smile that made Katherine freeze. “Ha, that knocked that cheeky grin off your face right away didn’t it? Relax, I told you before, I don’t want broken shells, I got enough of those under my command. You can do things my legion of idiots can’t, so like it or not, I need you as you are.”
Katherine's miscolored eyes turned to a mirror hanging on the wall. The mark on her cheek stood out like a sore. That dreaded pentagram etched onto her skin, onto her very will and soul. The sight of it filled her with hate. It was a damned mark against everything she believed in and held dear in her life.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“You sure enjoy being the one in control don’t you? Flaunting your pathetic power over me.” She sighed, before turning towards him. “Just you wait bastard, I’ll enjoy killing you again the second I get rid of this thing.”
However, in that brief instant Octavian had crossed the entire room in complete silence, and was staring down at her, directly into her eyes. His emerald eyes pierced through his glasses and seemed to watch her every thought. His playful atmosphere had entirely vanished. He grabbed her by the chin and pulled her in close. His touch was so soft, yet so vicious at the same time. Katherine was powerless before it, no matter how much she screamed in her mind and forced her muscles to fight against him.
“Do not mistake my intentions for one instant, Thorn Knight. Control is something neither of us have a lot of right now. We’re both slaves to grander powers, I just happen to be that grander power for you. I know what its like to be trapped in darkness.” He whispered to her.
“How… dare you call me by that name…”
“Hmm? How dare you question what I dare do?” He laughed as he effortlessly shoved her against the mirror on the wall. “Not a fan of that name are you? Remind you too much of your deadbeat dad? Or do you just prefer Huntress, after your mother? Whatever happened to them, no one really knows. Care to share?”
Katherine closed her eyes tightly and bit her lip.
“Yes. Keep struggling, know your place. I’ve been too lenient on you lately. The next time you insult me, I might just try some of that torture you keep talking about. Now answer me, what happened to your parents?”
Katherine bit her lip hard, the taste of blood staining her tongue, as she tried to stop herself from saying anything. But the knot in her stomach started twisting, and her tattoo began burning, taking away her breath. The more she fought against it, the more in pain she was.
“A fire… they died in a fire.” She finally yelped out.
Satisfied, Octavian let go of her head, and Katherine felt like her heart could finally beat again. “Hahahahahaha… a fire? Really?” He leaned back laughing. “Pathetic, is that the same fire you died in?”
“H-how did you-” She suddenly asked, flummoxed.
“Enough.” He said taking a few steps back. “Go take a shower. Some big stuff happened. Meet me in the common room when you’re done. No need to suit up, so dress light.” With that, Octavian quickly turned to leave.
“Y-yes…” Katherine meekly responded. Octavian paused, as if waiting for something more. “Yes… sir.” She then finished with a bow, prompting him to nod and carry on his way.
Katherine waited until he was far enough away before slumping all the way to the floor. Her hands pressed against her face, as she forced herself to hold back any stray tears. She refused to display any weakness, not in front of him. She could not reveal any cracks, or she would risk breaking. She had to do what she was taught, and bend in the face of adversity.
Calming herself down with a sharp inhale and a small pep talk, Katherine made her way to the showers. There, she took off her tank top and shorts, and undid her ponytail, letting her long white hair flow freely. The hair on the left side of her head had grown back, giving her an uneven distribution, but she did not mind. Especially not once the steaming hot water touched her aching muscles. She took her time with the shower, especially given that Octavian did not give a specific timeframe. Any small act of defiance to fight against his grip over her.
Once she finished, she went to her locker and dressed in her usual attire, long jeans, a white button up shirt and plain shoes. She tossed her workout clothes in her backpack and made her way to her room. On the way, she passed by some demons that seemed distraught but she paid them no mind. The underground compound in which she spent most of her time was dull, and the demons and people inside it were even duller.
Seeing the sun was a rare treat for her. Additionally, her work was separate from theirs, so she did not want, nor need to interact with anyone. That is, when she did any work. Octavian had been quiet for some time now, and that was somehow worse than being forced to kill other hostile demons or the odd monster here and there. It unnerved her. It was... too quiet. Upon reaching the small room in which she slept occasionally, she tossed her backpack on the bed, cleaned herself up a bit, and then ran out to meet with Octavian.
“You sure took your fucking time.” He said the moment he heard the door open.
Katherine ignored him, and sat down on the chair in the middle of the long office table. After a brief moment, she began: “Well? Just us two? Where’s the rest of your goons?”
“I already briefed them on the next step, you’re the last one left.” Octavian said. He then turned to the massive screen hanging on the wall and pressed a button on the remote in his hand before sitting down on the edge of the table.
“Recognize someone?” He asked her.
Katherine stared at the screen. It was a top down view of a nightly city from a helicopter. It seemed to be a news feed. Down below in the middle of the streets was a familiar silhouette illuminated by flame. Fire lashed from her body like hellish whips, ruthlessly murdering police, military, and innocent alike.
Fuck.
The feed continued. Katherine watched as her sister wreaked havoc in the city, until she came face to face with another familiar person.
Constantine? What are you doing, you madman?
The helicopter was too far away to hear the conversation that the two were having, especially with the newscaster detailing the events that had transpired. What happened next on screen sent a chill down her spine. A battle ensued and Nikolai ended up forming a massive ball of flame and darkness over her head. The rest of the video was blurry, as the helicopter hurried to flee the area, but the sudden flash of light and immediate static on screen spoke for themselves. The click from the remote was met with the screen fading to black and Octavian turning towards her with a frustrated look on his face.
“She’s really changed since the auction, hoho.” He said, pacing back and front between the tv and the table. “I remember when Azazel presented her to me. Meek little girl, said she was ‘an additional treat’. This footage was taken a couple days ago in Gausville. First reports I’ve received so far say most of the city is now a smoldering crater, so either the blast tore everything to shreds or the girl clashed with something afterwards. Most likely the angel.”
Gausville huh? What are they doing so far out north? And damn, I never imagined Nikolai could get so strong so fast. I really underestimated her growth.
Katherine nodded. “Most likely they fought. We would know if the angel died. And the man there, Constantine, she wouldn’t be traveling without him.”
“I’m very much aware. Don’t worry, it gets even better.” He said with a smirk. “A man on the inside under Baal’s just told us that things are very, very chaotic with most demons now. Lord Baphomet is gone. Nowhere to be seen.”
Katherine shot up from her seat, slamming her hands on the table. “Baphomet? Gone? Back to hell? Without Uriel? W-what? Why would he…?”
“Not hell, with the gates cracked open, he’d be right back. No, this is something else. But information is scarce right now...”
Could Nikolai have…? No… not even she would be enough to match him. Katherine spaced out deep in thought as Octavian kept talking.
“...-orts of different types of energy readings and multiple battlegrounds as if an entire war took place.”
“What did you say?” She interrupted.
“What?”
“Just now?”
“Multiple battlegrounds?” He responded with a tone of curiosity.
“No the energies thing…” She said as she moved closer to the tv. “Can you play it back again, show me when she charges that fireball.”
Octavian obliged, turning on the tv and rolling the footage back.
“There. Nikolai can’t conjure demonic magic like that. She can only manipulate it, control it with her fire.”
“And you know this… how?”
“I helped her when she was just learning her powers. It was… when I crucified the angel. I’ve seen it first hand.”
Octavian nodded and then rolled his eyes. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“That’s Baphomet’s power right there, not Nikolai’s. Somehow, she combined the two forces, though I’m unsure how Baphomet’s darkness ended up there…” Katherine wondered. “Are there any pics of Gausville after the blast?”
Octavian searched through some files and pulled out a picture, handing it to her. Katherine snatched it and nodded. “I figured. Look at how everything is floating, the clouds themselves caught as if in stasis. Now I’m certain the explosion messed up the veil between realities in the city. There’s only one being I know that could completely take Baphomet out, and this would be the perfect way for her to do so.”
“Yes…?” Octavian inquired after Katherine hesitated.
“Lady Death.” She said. Katherine watched the expression on Octavian’s face very closely. The shock of hearing the name came just a moment too late in his eyes, as if he had already known the answer beforehand and now he had to fake surprise.
“Hah, nice. For a second there I thought you actually knew what the fuck you’re talking about.” He said mockingly.
“Are you fucking serious?” She said, exasperated.
“Are you fucking serious, Katherine? You and I both know that Death is bound and cannot intervene on this mortal plane, and from what I knew, she didn’t want to either…”
Katherine stepped back, concerned over the validity of that statement. “Who else do you think would be enough to fight Baphomet then? Hmm? Even I wouldn’t be able to stand up to him.”
“There’s older, and more dangerous things in this world than even Baphomet. I can think of a few angels or demons that Baphomet would run shitless from before I start imagining that it was the literal Goddess of Death and Destruction that did him in, but truth is it doesn’t matter. He could have tripped and fell down the stairs, cracked his decrepit neck for all I care, what’s important is he’s gone. On top of that, it doesn’t seem like he’s coming back anytime soon.”
“And what if he does? Wouldn’t it be good to know where he went? It would allow us to be prepared for the inevitability-”
“Katherine, enough.” He stopped her, sighing. “It doesn’t matter now. He’s gone, and this is a perfect opportunity for us.”
“Fine. What next then?” She said. Perhaps its better this way, I don’t want him to pry further and learn that I serve Lady Death directly, he already knows too much about me. How, I don't know...
Octavian turned around, picking up a folder from a nearby drawer and tossing it towards Katherine. She caught it between two fingers and then started flipping through it, eyes still locked on her superior. Slowly, they slid down towards the document she was holding, and her eyes scanned the picture and the words.
“Wrath?” She pondered, looking back up at Octavian who couldn't help but grin.
“And another, I believe they called him Evan. They both got captured about a week ago by Baal’s forces, probably before Baphomet disappeared. We have an inkling as to where they might be taken to as well. Dudael.”
Katherine was unimpressed. Despite the reputation that place held, she feigned disinterest. “So?” She said, tossing the file onto the table beside him. “What do you care about a cripple and a demon?”
“Hah…” He snickered with a smug satisfied look on his face. “You really don’t know as much as you pretend you do. You see, dearest Katherine, Wrath is just as important to our plans as the angel.”
Katherine’s eyes went wide with shock.
“I hope your skills at infiltration are as good as your fighting. ” He said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “We have a lot of work to do.”
----------------------------------------
A blink. Followed by another. And then one more. There was no difference between her eyes being closed and them being open. Slowly however, the darkness started to fade. Shapes and forms began to come together. Her eyes adjusted to the absence of light. The flooding of her consciousness was met with a sharp pain across her entire body. She groaned and hurked, inhaling deeply. When the wave subsided, she looked at her surroundings once more.
She was in a cell, surrounded on all sides by walls, save for in front of her. Thick bars of iron, with demonic symbols painted in blood on them. A seal, meant to make sure she could be kept in. Rising from the floor and stepping forward, there was a loud and sudden rattle coming from both her wrists. A rattling that stopped her from moving any further forward. Looking down, she saw she was cuffed to the back wall. Her bindings were a set of pearly white chains made from bones painted with similar symbols as on the bars. She looked behind and noticed the symbols spread all over the walls of her cell.
Bones of a saint, blood seals, bastards did their homework. She thought.
“I never really noticed… how much your eyes glow in the dark, Wrath.” A familiar weary voice called out with a rasp. Wrath spun around rapidly and her eyes peered into the cell across from her. There, she slowly discerned the shape of someone sitting on the cold floor. “Its quite a beautiful sight actually.”
“Evan!” She shouted, rushing forward but being stopped. She stepped back but continued talking. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine.” He lied. “My chest hurts a little but I guess that's just what happens when you get dragged around by a massive crow demon.”
Wrath’s shoulders slumped as she remembered that day. She had no idea how long its been but it felt like ages ago. The disappointment was still all too present. “I’m sorry. I tried to save you but it was too strong. And then Baphomet showed up...”
“Who? You tried saving lil’ old me?” He grinned. “I’m flattered.”
“Heh, I only did it cause... your absence would have made Constantine and Uriel very sad.” Wrath said, trying to act cool.
“And you’ve warmed up to them have you?” He smirked.
“Don’t push your luck.”
“Speaking of luck, any chance you could break us out and we could slip out unnoticed?”
Wrath sighed and shook her head. “No, these demons, I’ve worked with them before. They used to be Azazel’s lot. Azazel was many things, but stupid was not one of them. He knew what I’m capable of, and its very likely he’s let others know as well. Just in case.”
“So I guess we’re gonna be here a while then? I hope everyone else is ok.”
“Me too Evan…” Wrath shared his sentiment. But her mind was stuck on one of their friends in particular. Baphomet’s words still echoed in her mind.
Where are you… you traitorous bastard?
As if her thoughts were read a nearby door swung open with a loud screeching crrrrk. A bright light then flooded the hallway between them, blinding them both temporarily.
“Think of the Devil…” Came a voice accompanied by some slow footsteps against the stone floor. Wrath’s eyes went wide with anger, while Evan’s expressed confusion and elation. “...and he shall appear.”
Evan jumped from the floor and rushed to the bars to get a better look. Upon seeing his friend, he loudly proclaimed his name with glee: “Mephistopheles!”