“Artemis.”

Artemis woke with a start.

“Run.” Benny yelled, panic in his voice.

The sounds of fighting drifted from the distance, and he was on his feet, looking around. Benny was facing off three were-wolves in an increasingly desperate fight, already bleeding in several places. His movements were more sluggish than usual – still terrifyingly fast – but slower than usual.

Three hostiles. All equipped with sharp claws and teeth that could grind meat into a paste. Lovely.

Grabbing his dagger from his boot, he descended onto the fray with – well – maybe not grace per say but enthusiasm at the least. He was well acquainted with close quarters combat by now, stabbing, jabbing, brutal movements with a flurry of diversionary blows, all elbows and knees. In this instance biting was very much off the table.

It wasn’t elegant, but it was efficient. Butler would have grimaced at such a display – professional as the man was.

Artemis elbowed a blond man in the solar plexus, following up with rapid-fire jabs to the head and neck. Something cracks. He plunged the knife into the chest, then struggled to pull it out. Fuck.

Used to the enhanced strength of a fledgling demon, he had never stabbed someone as a human.

A fist cracked into his head from behind and the world spun, he was up again, vision blurred. A man advanced, a manic look in his eyes–

There was a great yellow flash in the clearing and the fight stopped. Artemis, dazed as he was, watched in confusion as Benny, and the two werewolves came to a standstill and ran in different directions.

Benny grabbed Artemis, “C’mon kid, we got to get out of here.”

“Wh-?” started, a probably concussed Artemis.

The light was very close now, “Shit.” Benny muttered and pushed Artemis down behind a fallen log.

Artemis watched, as Opal Koboi shot past, levitated above a destructive stream of golden energy, laughing manically all the while. She passed.

“Ah.” He stared straight ahead, eyes wide “Oh, that is not good.” Although… “It does make sense. I was probably pulled into Purgatory with her, she wasn’t really a fairy at the end, she was… something else.”

“You know her?”

Artemis blinked slowly, “Yes, she was… I think I’ll say, my nemesis.”

Benny rolled his eyes, “People don’t have nemesis’s. Not in real life.”

“I do. I have plenty of enemies, but they weren’t nemesia. Opal was different.”

“I can see that, Chere. I’ve seen her a few times in the last month, she just flies around zapping people and laughing.”

“Sounds in character. At least she’s happy, god knows someone should be.”

Benny shrugged, head inclined.

They waited there until the sounds of Opal’s particular brand of violence faded to nothing.

Benny turned to him, slightly impressed, mostly mocking, “What in the hell, since when could you fight like that? You actually looked like you knew what you were doing.”

Artemis shrugged, “I’m a ninja now. So, naturally, I must respect a time-honoured tradition and have a spiritual epiphany which leads me to realise the hardship of a minority and fulfil my destiny as a pretentious white saviour.”

“Chere… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Artemis giggled, actually giggled. Frond, he was spacy, “Oh yeah, you died in the sixties. TV has gotten fun.”

“Sounds it.” He said slowly, then stared at him, with shock clear.

“What?” Artemis asked, “Do I have something on my face?”

An incredulous look was aimed at him, “You… you’re on your feet. And you’re fine.”

“On your feet sweetheart, it’s just a bit of blood.”

“Well, my ears are still ringing, my head’s killing me.”

Benny shook his head, “No, I mean, your injuries are gone. What about the shrapnel?”

Artemis looked down at himself, “Oh.” He zipped down his outer dark camouflage jacket and his under jacket, finally pulling his shirt to the side. The scar looked pink and old; the stitches had vanished, “Cool.”

“Chere, I’m glad you’re healed an’ all, but I think you’re concussed.”

Artemis puffed up his cheeks, then blew the air out, like a normal fourteen-year-old his age might when feeling awkward, “Probably.”

Benny closed his eyes and lowered his head back onto the log behind him, “God help me.”

A day passed, which Artemis spent most of sleeping.

The warm light would coax even the heaviest sleepers to life by this point, and they sat by the embers of the fire. Did purgatory have seasons? It seemed like spring.

He couldn’t help but notice how haggard Benny looked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just fine chief.” Came a gruff reply.

“You look exhausted.”

“What can I say? I got used to getting my beauty sleep. Can’t get much rest without someone having your back.”

“Oh.” He said, crestfallen.

Benny clapped him on the back, “Don’t worry about me chief, I’m fine. I promise. I survived for this ling, didn’t I?”

Artemis nodded slightly.

“So, I was thinking we keep going to the portal, that good?” Benny asked, although it didn’t really sound like a question.

“This is going to happen whether you want to or not. Don’t make me hurt you.”

“Yes si—yeah—yeah, that’s fine – Benny.” He fumbled, wondering why his superior Benny was asking his opinion. What Artemis thought didn’t matter Alastair didn’t like to hear anything he thought. Unless it was useful.

Benny frowned.

He fidgeted, weaving the gold twined leather handle of the dagger between his fingers. Would Sir Alastair want it back? Alastair liked to be called Sir when he was angry. He wouldn’t be happy now.

He could still feel Sir’s Benny’s eyes on him.

“Alright then Chere, we better make a move.” Benny said, standing up and stamping out the last embers of the fire.

Hot coals under his feet. ‘Do you want me to do this on the floor or on the rack?’

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

He flinched as the boot stomped a final time.

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Tension was certainly a word for it. The quiet, Benny’s covert glances. Maybe it was tension. Or something else. He wasn’t accustomed to worrying about this kind of thing anymore.

It was difficult. In Hell, someone was below you or above you. Benny was neither, he didn’t fit into a neat box. But he had no particular power over Benny, nor was the man scared of him and it seemed that his subconscious was trying to round up. Suffice to say it was discombobulating both that his mind had decided to size the man up and that this was the conclusion he had come to.

He had to compartmentalise. Because this wasn’t normal. And ideally, He would like to come across as normal. Ideally.

----------------------------------------

Benny’s limp on his right was new-ish. From the practiced way he shifted Artemis guessed it was an old injury he had never noticed before, something that barely even registered. It had probably been aggravated in the last few weeks.

A structural weakness in the patella, it wouldn’t be hard to shatter. He was left-handed, best to go in from the right, his right that is. He would be much more likely to use brute force, but his emotional attachment meant he would be liable to use locks, blocks and holds exclusively. Lowered chance of death, further opportunity provided to plunge his knife into Benny’s side when being restrained.

Artemis hoped that this wouldn’t always be how he processed the world. It was entirely too cynical, even for him.

Perhaps this was how Butler saw people, a collection of weaknesses and nerve endings.

He hadn’t meant to think about it, he had just reflexively begun to catalogue tactical advantages. He wondered if this was who he was now. He wants to say sorry, even though Benny wouldn’t know what he was talking about. Or even care that much if he did.

The thought is a stain, a fleck of dirt. Benny can’t see it, but Artemis knows it’s there. He knows.

As they walk, Artemis presses the blade of the knife into his hand, everything stopping for a moment.

“Kid… don’t do that.”

Artemis’ eyes snapped up to Benny.

Benny ducked his head for a moment, “I can smell it. And so can everything else.”

“Right.” There it was again. Tension. It was a second before his mind kicked into gear, “Fuck.” There was a difference between day-old dried blood and fresh warm (very evaporable) blood. He closed his bleeding hand and rifled in the many pockets of his camouflage jacket. Alcohol, bandages.

Benny looked like he was going to say something. “Some nifty gear you got there.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.” He wrapped his hand. The alcohol would mask the scent; it would blend with the smell of fermenting berries and plants. Hopefully.

Artemis had felt like something should be happening. He was lying. He hadn’t said anything, but he was lying to Benny in his silence.

He wasn’t safe to be around. At some point the boy Artemis had been replaced, and no one had noticed but it wasn’t the same. He had the same memories, but it wasn’t the same, he was someone else now. “You’re mine, sweetheart.” His skin was crawling, and he couldn’t seem to… because something should be happening.

If Alastair was here, he’d know. He always seemed to know, his face would soften, he’d step closer, and he’d hurt help Artemis. How could he think something like that, and yet nothing happens, no sign, no flickers of pain, no yelling.

Nothing was happening but Artemis was still waiting for something. Alastair had done that, hurt him, and then something had happened, and it would be fine. The second shoe had dropped. A breeze dances across his skin.

----------------------------------------

A howl in the distance, he turned his head but there was an uneasy feeling, he was missing something. Behind them was nothing. A rumble. He looked around again.

The ground shook and a centipede erupted from the ground, body rearing up as it clambered to the surface. It towered over them by several metres, legs undulating in a sickening rhythm a great maw lined with sharp inward facing teeth.

Benny went for its abdomen, swinging but the creature lunged for him, its head batting him out of the way, then baring down on him, its teeth flexing. It began to rip into his shoulder, and a raw scream was torn from Benny’s throat as the man thrashed widely. Sinew tore with the sound of crackling velcro, muscle squelched in its teeth and benny went limp.

Artemis ran at them, skidding and plunged his knife into the creature’s undulating maw. It screeched, for a moment, then fell on top of them, still twitching.

With some effort, Artemis heaved it to the side.

Benny said nothing for a moment. And another. Artemis looked round; Benny was pale, unmoving, his shoulder ripped and bloodied.

He scrambled to the man’s side, “Benny?”. Nothing. He tugged at the limb uninjured arm to no avail. “Fuck. We don’t have time for this.” He muttered. Because Artemis is good, an experienced fighter at this point but he doesn’t have Benny’s supernatural endurance. If he stays here and defends his friend he will eventually tire, slow, until something kills them both. But he can’t leave Benny.

Vampires usually have accelerated healing, but Benny has been run ragged for weeks, sustaining more injury while doing so. Maybe Benny will heal. Maybe.

He pulled the shreds of Benny’s shirt away from the wound and winced, the bleeding was rapid, and it was coated in a viscous green acrid-smelling saliva. Or venom. Artemis did his best, hands shaking. He was used to this, but only in Hell, and only with people that didn’t matter. Which was a disturbing thought. He cleaned what he thought he should around the wound, and tried a tight bandage to stem the bled.

Assess the situation a voice in his mind said, it had started sounding like Butler but then it had distorted into Alastair’s sing song lilt. The one he used when he was giving Artemis an ultimatum. He didn’t have time to be confused about whatever was going on in his head.

The carcass of the centipede coiled around the trees, its blood pooling on the forest floor. The size of the thing was genuinely staggering. Carrion would soon descend to feast on it, and in turn predators would arrive in droves. They had to move.

Benny was unresponsive and bleeding. And heavy.

Artemis was still a fifteen-year-old boy (physically. Perhaps mentally too, he didn’t suppose that hell was terribly conducive to mental growth) there was no way he could carry Benny for a substantial amount of time, if at all. He could drag him a small distance, but he would need to reduce resistance.

Of course. He rifled in one of his larger pockets and pulled out a small tarp sometimes used for shelter. Demons didn’t need shelter, but Alastair had his gear made specially.

He dragged Benny onto the tarp and wrapped a cord under the man’s arms, securing him somewhat. The bone white knife lay where Benny had dropped it. Artemis tucked it into the empty sheath on his belt. Benny’s head lulled forward as Artemis lifted the makeshift stretcher, the man’s legs dragging on the floor as they went. It was hard work and Benny’s feet kept on snaring roots and branches as they went.

Half an hour blessedly passed before they were attacked. A striga. Artemis had barely survived. The woman’s claws had almost ripped his throat out, her green eyes glowing. Artemis hadn’t thought they were real, nor had he imagined they looked like that in real life.

A great eagle swooped ahead, and Artemis held his breath. It could crush him in one of its sharp clawed feet if it so wished.

As his movements became sluggish, night descended with a callus reliability. He didn’t know how Benny had done this, survived while protecting someone, it was a near impossible task. It was clear that he’d taken Benny’s help for granted, it seemed that alone every moment was a struggle to survive, more so than usual. This couldn’t continue.

There was something that could be done to accelerate Benny’s healing. And he really had been trying not to think about it. Benny had said he wouldn’t need to drink blood here unless he was injured. As he was dead. So, human blood could restore Benny’s ability to heal. But Benny wouldn’t be lucid for a while. And unfortunately for many Hollywood movies, unconscious people tended to choke on liquid.

An idea sparked, perhaps the idea to bite down would be instinctual. He was knelt down next to his friend and tried to wake him again, this time getting a mumbled response. Half-conscious then, that would have to do. He eased a hand under Benny’s head and lifted it, ignoring everything in his mind repeating, he’s unconscious, he can’t consent, he can’t consent.

Flashes of Hell, Alastair never asking, never listening, smothering. He wasn’t even allowed his own emotions, his reactions It’s not like that. It’s not. He cared what Benny wanted, but he really couldn’t wait till morning for the healing process to start.

He opened Benny’s mouth and pressed the crook of his arm against Benny’s teeth. Fangs slid out of Benny’s gums and tore into his arm. Artemis went still, breathing through the pain as Benny started to drink. This felt wrong.

His arm began to tingle, and a warm feeling spread through his veins, the pain receding until it was barely present. Absently he remembered that some predators released painkillers and tranquilisers in their saliva to subdue prey. He closed his eyes; the warm feeling had reached his toes and the world was pleasantly thrumming. And spinning. Oh. The blood loss. He opened his eyes, how long had it been?

He pulled his arm away, even as it bled all over him and lowered Benny’s head to the floor. The man’s eyes were open, but unseeing, he was gradually coming around. Artemis was slow to bandage the arm, mind numb.

“Artemis?” Fuck, his voice sounded so uncertain, scared even. Benny’s eyes were focusing on the scene before him, and he craned his neck as best as he could and made a choked off sound. Benny tried to twist, to move, but his body was unyielding, and he huffed out a sound of distressed frustration, “What did you do?” heavy breathing, “What did you-”

An answer bubbled up before he could stop it, “I let you feed. I thought it might speed up the healing process.” He blinked slowly, that was odd. It was like the words had just slipped out.

Benny stopped trying to move, lying back, “You shouldn’t’ve done that; I could’ve killed you. I could’ve… Darn it all to hell.”

Artemis shrugged, “You didn’t, I’m fine. And now you are too.”

“You fuckin’ idiot.”

“I won’t dispute that.”

Benny sighed then narrowed his eyes, “Never seen anything like that before, thing had too many legs.” He shuddered.

Artemis clicked a finger to the side, still unmoved from the conversation before, “I am sorry though. I’m sorry. You weren’t awake and I shouldn’t have… you couldn’t say no.” He was staring ahead, as if he was remembering something.

The air changed and Benny’s voice was gentle, “S’alright Cher. Hey, it’s okay. That wasn’t what I was pissed about.”

He fidgeted.

“I was worried, didn’t want you dying on me. It doesn’t bother me, I mean it. I would’ve died if you left me.” An expression of weary concern crept onto his friend’s face “But that isn’t an excuse to be stupid, no risking your life, got it?”

Artemis blinked tears out of his eyes surreptitiously, his gaze lowering to Benny, and he nodded, a fragile smile taking root.