[Fanfic] Vengeance 1/1
Title: Vengeance
Words: 8956
Characters/Pairing: Paranormal-Hunter!Russia/Half-demon!America, Half-demon!Canada, Demon!Francis, Wizard!England.
Rating/Warning: R; Violence/Gore/Horror/Human names used.
Summary: Paranormal-Hunter AU. Six months after “In The Deep”. Ivan works together with Arthur & Alfred on a demon/vampyre case in Paris, France.
Note: I originally posted this into two parts at tumblr (part one, part two). If you want to read more stuff that I don't post here (there only one extra one-shot I didn't post here) You can view all the fics for this AU here
Northern Germany
Ivan tightened the silver chains around the lycanthrope that thrashed about on the floor with a vicious jerk. Reaching back, he withdrew a silver clad, heavy duty lock and snapped the prongs through several chain links, securing the lycan. The wolf growled deep in its throat, the fur rose up on its back and tail, ears pressed flat to its skull, lips curled back revealing two rows of sharp yellowed teeth. Gripping the chains stretching across the wolf’s back, Ivan gripped them tightly in his left hand - keeping the silver coated sword in his right hand - and dragged the werewolf out of the living room and through the front door of the house. Outside stood the local authorities - two German police officers - and the wife of the lycanthrope. The woman was middle aged dressed in a light blue summer dress, curly brown hair with a fair complexion, her eyes red and cheeks tearstained. She stared at the wolf, eyes wide and filled with surprise.
Ivan dropped the struggling lycan before the two officers. Taking a step back, he withdrew a vial of liquidized Wolfsbane.
“Find a local veterinarian who can inject this into him. If he were human, I would be able to administer it myself, but not when they are in animal form.” Ivan handed the palm sized vial to the black haired officer at the right, while the other on the left wrote down Ivan’s instructions. “12 cc’s of Wolfsbane. Nineteen gauge hypodermic needle. Anything smaller won’t penetrate his skin.”
The right officer took the vial and held it close to his face, eyeing the purple liquid for a moment.
“This will return him to normal?”
“If he survives the transformation back to human form while wrapped in silver, then yes, he will be human again.” Ivan confirmed. “But I would recommend locking him in a prison - outfitted for lycans to ensure the Wolfsbane worked - until the next full moon. If he doesn’t change and has no visible signs of distress, then he may be released.”
“Thank you for capturing him alive.” The officer nodded again, taking Ivan’s advice to heart. “We will let your supervisor know at Interpol of the results.”
Due to the nature of Paranormal hunting, it was regarded by both the public and administrators within Interpol itself as a form of anti-terrorism. Often local authorities were out matched in both skills and resources when it came to the supernatural, and by the time they were able to make a move, whatever was causing the crime had moved on. Governments all over the world tried creating their own agencies, but it still proved to be not enough. So the Interpol created a separate division for paranormal crimes and terrorism. It was this division that Ivan had gained his international license from, giving him the ability to travel the world with his specially created passport, eliminating the long travel times and problems over crossing national borders of various countries within the span of a week. The division only had about fourteen qualified paranormal hunter’s, all of whom answered to Ludwig Beilschmidt, head of the paranormal division.
Ivan nodded respectfully to the officers. “Goodbye.”
Ivan crossed the driveway to where his jeep stood, opening the back doors. Reaching for a suitcase, Ivan opened it up and withdrew a solid silver muzzle. Closing the doors, Ivan returned to the wolf and muzzled its snout, making sure he couldn’t bite anyone and spread the curse to another human until he was healed. Ivan gave a written statement, as required in all paranormal cases he was given, and after reassuring the wife once more, returned to the jeep. The officers hauled the struggling, growling werewolf to the police cruiser, throwing it in the back and after a word with the wife, drove down the dirt road back to town. The wife followed close behind in her own BMW.
Pulling out his cleaning supplies, Ivan started the tedious process of cleaning the lycan blood off his silver sword. Putting blue surgical gloves on, he disinfected the blade, wiping the blood off with paper towels and throwing them into a black trash bag. Lycan blood held the curse of the werewolf form and was extremely contagious if in contact with an open cut. After cleaning the blades and weapons, Ivan tied the black trash bag up, got out of the jeep, stepped into the nearby woods and buried the bag. Normally he burned all contagions, but because Lycan blood was so contagious, the chance of the cursed blood turning into a gaseous form was likely to happen. After burying the bag deep enough so no animals would dig it up, Ivan returned to his jeep and checked his phone.
A text from a blocked number. Ivan set the phone down as relief flowed through him. Looks like Estonia got the information I needed.
Estonia. A man who dealt in buying and selling valuable information. No one knew his real name or his appearance only the name everyone knew him by- Estonia. Communication was always done by land line only, as cell phone’s and the internet were high risk and too easy for eavesdropping to occur.
Ivan opened the text.
Call me.
Ivan snapped the phone shut and drove back into town.
+++++
“It’s me.” Ivan spoke softly into the payphone using his native tongue. His jeep was parked across the street at a gas station pump. “Were you successful?”
“It was actually much more difficult than I originally expected.” Estonia responded. “This Alfred F. Jones has zero records- he doesn’t ‘exist’.”
“Why would he be in the system when he is half demon?” Russia spat with distaste. “I didn’t expect it to be easy. That is why I asked you to do this.”
“Yes, well you certainly came to the right person.” Estonia stated, the grin evident in his voice. “It turns out this ‘half-demon’ has a twin. Matthew Williams. Both of them live in an apartment in the Lower Garden District within New Orleans. Due to them having no birth records, I couldn’t find where they came from…but I managed to find newspaper articles dating back to the early 1990s mentioning their names. It seems they grew up in rural, central England. Their father - if you can even call him that - is a prominent, licensed wizard.”
“A wizard?” Ivan frowned. I only know two male wizards who are licensed. There’s Yao…and…
“Arthur Kirkland.” Estonia continued. “The renegade wizard without a coven.”
“Wait- you’re telling me that Arthur Kirkland raised Alfred and Matthew?” Ivan couldn’t keep the incredulousness out of his voice. “Kirkland. The man I have worked with on cases raised two demons?”
“Half-demons, but yes. It seems so.” Amusement filled Estonia’s voice. “And it also seems that there is a darker, more sinister reason for Arthur’s coven suddenly disappearing.”
Ivan lowered his voice and tried to keep the suspicion out of his voice. “Kirkland’s story has always been that he left his coven in the 1980s because they were ‘holding him back’.”
“That may be true…partially.” Estonia sighed into the phone. “This information I have on him could ruin his career if it gets out, you know.”
“I called you on a favor, now I owe you.” Ivan insisted. “Good enough?”
Silence. Only Estonia’s breathing could be heard through the phone before there was an intake of breath.
“According to a column within a local, Wiccan newspaper…a meeting place used by the local coven was found deserted and burned to the ground.”
“Burned?” Ivan asked. “Not abandoned?”
“Yes, burned.” Estonia continued. “I sent an agent out to do some digging, and it seems local rumors - unfounded of course - state that all belonging to the local coven were slaughtered. All except Arthur Kirkland.”
Arthur Kirkland was the only one who survived? But how…and why?
“Kirkland may be against belonging to a coven, but he respects his fellow witches and wizards too much.” Ivan stated, unbelieving. “I could never see him murdering them without good cause.”
“Kirkland might not have murdered them, but what of the two half-demons?” Estonia questioned. “What if the coven found out he was raising them, and tried killing the two of them?”
“That…sounds more likely.” Ivan frowned. “But they aren’t his real sons. Why would he defend them like that? Why would he keep raising them…even after what happened?”
“How do you know they aren’t his real sons?” Estonia asked, voice genuinely curious. “He could have been the father.”
“Full blooded demons hate half-demons. They kill them on sight.” Ivan explained, checking his watch. “I have to go. I-”
“-Have a flight to Paris.” Estonia interrupted, grin clearly evident in his voice. “I know.”
“…Right.”
“You owe me one, Braginski. Remember that when I call you for a favor.”
“Of course.”
Ivan hung up and returned to his jeep. Jamming the key into the ignition, Ivan smirked as the engine turned over with a roar.
Kirkland…if this is true…then I have perfect black mail material.
Ivan gripped the steering wheel and drove out of the gas station and down the street, heading for the local airport.
And with blackmail, I can ask you about the whereabouts of Khan…and finally kill him once and for all.
+++++
New Orleans - Two Days Later
“Can you believe that bastard only paid me fifty bucks?”
Alfred threw himself on the couch with a huff. Matthew stood across the room at the foot of the bed they shared, getting dressed into a kitchen aide’s uniform. Grey work pants, white button up shirt with oil-stained apron strapped at his waist.
“I spend all fucking day clearing this hoarder’s yard that’s full of garbage and this is what he pays me!” Alfred slapped the five ten dollar bills on the coffee table. “Rent is overdue and I haven’t eaten for two days.”
“I’ll try and sneak some food from the kitchen.” Matthew sighed. “Maybe you could rob a few houses?”
Alfred’s angry scowl turned into a sour grimace.
“I always feel like shit after I do that.”
“I know. I feel the same way.” Matthew sighed, pulling his longer hair back with a red and white bandana. “But if we don’t eat food soon…we’ll just take it the other way.”
Alfred shuddered. The last time they went without food for three days, their demonic halves took over and took the much needed energy much more forcefully from surrounding neighbors. After that little incident, the two had to leave New York City and move down to New Orleans.
“I’ll get some food.” Alfred frowned. “Tonight.”
“Just don’t get caught stealing. I hate having to call Father to break you out of jail.” Matthew pulled a pair of old Nike running shoes on, double knotting the shoe strings before straightening and heading for the door. “We still owe him a favor for last time.”
Matthew opened the door, but stopped in surprise.
“Francis?”
Alfred jerked in surprise, head whipping around to stare at the open doorway.
“May I come in?” Francis asked, lips curling into a secretive smile. “Of course I can, oui?”
Matthew stepped to the side and waved Francis inside. The man was as tall as Matthew and Alfred, but with shoulder-length blonde hair, fair complexion and soft grey-blue eyes. Dressed in a pin-stripe dark grey button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows with dark wash blue jeans and black dress shoes…Francis stood out in the gloom of the studio apartment. Like a rose amongst weeds, lusty beauty oozed from every pore of his skin, overshadowing the deadly thorns that lay just beneath the surface.
He was a demon; a very old and very powerful demon. Having been around for thousands of years, Francis appreciated the finer things in mortal life. Like the ancient vampyres, he thrived off social interaction. Seduction was both his strength and weakness. It both powered him, but also gave others the ability to use this to their advantage. No longer hating humans as he did in his youth, he viewed them less as lost sheep to seduce and hunt…and more as pets to play and interact with.
“What do you want, Francis?” Alfred scowled at him. “I’ve had a really bad day.”
“Is that anyway to treat your Father, hmm?” Francis stepped close to Alfred and sifted his fingers through Alfred’s hair, lightly dragging his nails over his scalp. Alfred shivered and jerked away. “Who has been mistreating you? Tell me, and I will find them.”
“It is nice seeing you again Father, but I have to go to work.” Matthew sent an apologetic look at Alfred. “Oh- and don’t forget to listen to the message Dad left.”
Matthew left the apartment, leaving Alfred and Francis alone.
“It displeases me to see you two living in such…vile conditions.” Francis cast a narrowed glance over the studio apartment. “You could live with me and not have to worry over mortal affairs.”
“Yeah well, we like living on our own.” Alfred answered, voice flat. “You just want us to work in that…club, factory or whatever the fuck it is.”
“A strip club.”
“Yeah that is definitely more than a strip club.” Alfred turned an incredulous look at the older demon. “You wouldn’t believe the rumors I’ve heard.”
“You choose to believe these rumors?” Francis leveled a mocking stare at him. “Humans are so loud, always talking and chattering. Like birds.”
“What do you want, Francis?” Alfred glared at him, irritated at the insult to his human blood. “You only visit when you need something.”
“I am short on dancers tonight.” Francis frowned. “I need you to cover.”
“You’re joking.”
“I do not joke.” Francis narrowed his eyes at him. “I am calling the favor you owe me.”
“Damnit.” Alfred groaned, head falling back against the couch cushions. “I’ve worked all day lifting and hauling garbage, and now you want me to strip and shake my ass on stage at your fucking club?”
“Yes.”
Alfred sighed and pressed a hand to his aching stomach. Francis watched the motion, eyes burning holes into Alfred’s forehead.
“How long has it been since you have eaten?”
“I ate this morning.”
“Vous êtes un menteur.”
“I’m not lying.” Alfred whined, but clenched his stomach anyway.
“Yes you are.” Francis sniffed daintily, nose wrinkling. “I can tell.”
“If you think I’m gonna feed at that club, think again.” Alfred growled at him. “Give me human food if you’re so worried.”
“Fine.” Francis waved his fingers in an open, uncaring way. “The dancers keep food backstage to eat after performing. You may eat there.”
Alfred scowled, but mumbled a ‘fine’ and started to follow Francis out of the apartment when the phone rang.
“Ah- wait. I gotta answer it, might be Mattie.” Alfred returned to the kitchen and picked up the phone on the third ring. “Yeah?”
“Hello to you too.” Arthur’s voice came through the phone, sounding grumpy and put off.
“Dad!” Alfred grinned. “Sorry, bad day.”
“Yes well it’s about to get worse.”
Alfred visibly wilted. “What now?”
“I was called to a big case that’s happening tonight. I will need your help.”
“Really? What’s going on?” Alfred turned serious. Francis stood beside him to eavesdrop.
“Apparently the entire third floor of the Hotel Lutetia - whatever the hell that means - has been claimed by three lieutenant level demons and twenty new born vampyres. I have the building warded, but I’ll have to go in there.”
“You’re not doing this by yourself, are you?”
“No, Ivan Braginski will be working with me.”
“Wha- really? Ivan will be there?” Alfred nearly crushed the phone in his excitement before shoving the swelling bubble of heated giddiness away. “That’s good. I was worried you might have to deal with it alone.”
“…Really.” Arthur deadpanned.
“Yes, really!” Alfred insisted, growing flustered for a moment before turning serious once more. “But you’ll have to wait until six pm my time. I haven’t eaten for a while and I gotta work.”
“…Work.” Arthur spat, somehow already knowing what he had to do. “Fine. I’ll try and stall them for another hour- but I can’t promise anything. Expect to be summoned at any moment, understand?”
“Okay.” Alfred frowned, but agreed anyway. “See you later.”
“Yes, goodbye.”
Arthur’s voice turned gentle for a moment before hardening.
“And tell Francis it is rude to eavesdrop on private conversations.”
Arthur hung up with a loud click.
Smirking, Alfred set the phone back to the hook and followed Francis out of the apartment. The full blooded demon only smirked knowingly, leading the way to the crimson red sports car waiting in the street below.
+++++
Paris, France - 12:27am
Ivan parked his jeep in the quarantined area surrounding Hotel Lutetia - a luxury five-star hotel building in the early 1900s - and immediately headed to the back to start equipping himself. Knives strapped to his arms, sword at his waist, .50 desert eagles at his armpits, AK-47 and semi-automatic shotgun strapped to his back, extra ammo hanging from his hips, various supplies stuffed in the pockets of his cargo pants, military-grade body armor strapped to his chest, solid silver cross hanging from his neck, and finally, a glass jug of holy oil Ivan picked up on his way to the hotel.
The black streets slick from recent rain, ambient light from the city glowed against the overcast night sky. Red, blue and white lights flashed from police vehicles blocking the streets surrounding the hotel.
Once everything was in place, Ivan shut the back door, locked his jeep and headed towards the front of the hotel where two men stood. One wore an immaculate black suit with red tie, blonde hair slicked back, face cleanly shaven. The other wore a midnight blue button up shirt, black trench coat that reached his knees, frayed dark brown pants, and black boots. Fingerless gloves covered his hands in which he clenched an oaken staff, hand carved and imbued with natural energy, his blonde hair scruffy and looking slept in.
“Ludwig, Arthur.” Ivan greeted. “I apologize for being late. I had to pick up more holy oil.”
“This is a high alert case - level red.” Ludwig turned, revealing intense teal eyes narrowed in annoyance. “The building was taken hours ago-”
“-I already told you, the building is warded. Nothing can go in or out without my consent.” Arthur frowned at Ludwig, thick eyebrows creasing together. “If you’re so worried about this case, why isn’t Gilbert here? He’s the demon-hunting expert.”
“With three lieutenants claiming this building, a Teutonic knight would be better suited.” Ivan reluctantly agreed. “Three cleaves of his sword is all it would take.”
“He would be here right now if he wasn’t dealing with a demon general in Ecuador.” Ludwig grumbled. “But you two are the best after him when it comes to demons.”
“What is the current situation?” Ivan asked. “You said all were contained, Arthur?”
“The building is warded. Only you and I can go in or out.” Arthur repeated. “Early tests of the building shows three lieutenants and - if the local disappearances are anything to go by - twenty newborn vampyres and one master vampyre. Most are on the third floor, but others are spread out across the building.”
“Twenty newborns…” Ivan shook his head in slight disbelief. One newborn is hard enough to kill, but twenty? We’ll be here all night.
“I have a case of wooden stakes for you.” Ludwig motioned to the suitcase sitting at his right foot.
“Good, we will need them.” Ivan picked up the case. “This may take some time to clear the building and defeat them all. How long will this quarantine last?”
“As long as necessary.” Ludwig stated firmly, teal eyes growing hard. “I will take care of the problems here. You two focus on clearing the building. Understood?”
Ivan and Arthur both nodded and entered the hotel.
+++++
Hotel Lutetia- Second Floor - 3:34am
“Second floor cleared.” Arthur spoke into the radio. “Warding in place.”
“Quarantine still in effect.” Ludwig’s voice came through the receiver. “Continue as planned.”
After spending an exhaustive three hours combing through first two floors and killing off eleven newborn vampyres, the third floor was finally within reach. The demonic presence of the three lieutenants had steadilybecome more prevalent the closer they got to the third floor. The stink of sulfur and brimstone wafted through the stale, dusty air. A tight, suffocating flood of tension filled Ivan’s entire body as he dropped the suitcase - now half empty - to the floor so he could reload his weapons. The only one with ammo left in it was the AK47; the shotgun clicked empty after the fourth vampyre, the two desert eagles after the ninth. The last two ambushed both Arthur and Ivan directly after staking the ninth vampyre, giving him no time to reload. Luckily the silver cross around his neck worked both as an early warning system and as a way to keep them from biting him. The molten yellow light emitted from the cross was like acid to the young vampyres, boiling their flesh away the moment the rays of light touched their skin. Arthur then stunned them both, blasting the two with a concentrated ball of super-heated air and sending them through a wall. It only took seconds to stake the newborn vampyres, as they were still weak from the transformation from a human to one of the undead. The rest of the floor was checked, and after finding no more vampyres, the floor was declared cleared of all ‘supernaturals’.
“Do you have any more liquid garlic?” Arthur asked, pushing himself off the wall with a slight wince. “The stuff you put on me earlier is wearing off.”
“Nyet.” Ivan sighed. “I used the last of it on the seventh vampyre.”
“Damn.”
Arthur stretched his shoulders, neck and hands. Ivan watched him for a long moment while he reloaded his .50 Desert Eagle’s.
“Are you nearing your limit?” Ivan asked.
“What?” Arthur jerked his head at him, emerald green eyes narrowing in angry indignation. “No.”
“I only ask because the last floor will have nine vampyres and three demons.” Ivan finished reloading his desert eagles and took a few steps towards Arthur. “I don’t want to be in the middle of a fight and have you suddenly run dry.”
“I understand.” Arthur leveled a steady, unflinching stare. “I haven’t used any powerful spells, so I am not nearing my limit.”
Satisfied with his answer, Ivan finished reloading his weapons and picked up the suitcase. Using his free right hand, Ivan withdrew the sword from his waist.
“Ready?”
Arthur nodded silently, gripped the door handle leading to the stairwell, and pushed it open.
The cross around Ivan’s neck flared like the flash on a camera, only it remained a blinding molten yellow. Screams and burning flesh filled the stairwell. Snapping the suitcase open, Ivan gripped a stake and launched himself at the first newborn vampire he spotted, driving the tip of his sword through their neck, pinning them to the wall while he lined the stake at the correct spot and slammed it into its chest. Blood gushed from the wound and struck him squarely in the chest as the twelfth newborn vampyre faded to dust. Nearby Arthur shouted a string of qasi-latin and old English, producing a ball of lightening and launching it into the crowd of vampires. The smell of burning flesh and electric heat drifted through the stairwell.
Leaving his sword stuck in the neck of the twelfth vampyre, Ivan yanked his shotgun out of the back holster, aimed it at the next closest newborn and fired. The blast sent a deafening explosion through the stairwell, sending the newborn flying into a concrete wall. Another stake was picked up and buried through the vampyres chest. More blood covered the floor. Something grabbed Ivan from behind, claws ripping at his body armor, catching the edges and throwing him backwards into the floor. Ivan ripped out the knife from his right arm holster, twisted and speared the newborn through the eye. It screeched and grabbed its face, pressing its fingers to the gaping hole in his eyesocket. Dark shadows moved just beyond the rays of light emitting from the silver cross hanging from his neck, just out of the corner of his eye sight. Ivan tore the dagger from the newborns eye socket, kicked him away and pressed himself to the wall. Ripping another stake out, Ivan embedded it into the chest of the vampire at his feet just as a fist caught him across the jaw. Ivan staggered, but kept his footing, focused on the blurred figure standing before him and lunged forward, driving the dagger through its throat before driving another stake through its chest.
The fighting was mindless, Ivan’s reactions pure instinct. Blasts of the shotgun overpowered the screams and curses launched at them by the newborn vampires. The stake shoved through the ribcage, snapping bone and tear flesh as it pierced the heart, carving it in two.Over and over again, a desperate dance for survival. Black-crimson vampyre blood soaked his hands and shirt front.
The last newborn fell to her knees before Ivan, large blue eyes wide and streaming tears of blood. Begging and pleading in French to spare her undead life. Ivan gripped her by the neck and went to slam her into the wall when he found the newborn ripped from his grasp. A tall, pale man radiating raw strength stood before them. Ivan immediately lowered his gaze to the vampyre’s neck, so as to not be spelled by his gaze. The screams of the newborn fell away as the master vampyre ended her himself, rending the body to blood and ash. Silence flooded the stairwell, leaving Ivan’s ears ringing painfully. The silver cross burned a brilliant molten yellow, but the master vampyre seemed unaffected, his skin like grey stone, unchanged by the passage of time.
Arthur ended a string of Latin with a jab of his staff. A pentagram blazed a vivid purple-green on the floor, crackling and radiating raw energy. The vampyre tried moving, but was held back by an invisible wall.
“Stake him!” Arthur shouted at Ivan, voice strains from holding the barrier. “Do if before he breaks free!”
Ivan picked up the last stake from the suitcase and lunged for the vampire, sliding the wooden stake through the barrier as if pushing heavy curtains aside, and drove the stake through his chest to pierce his heart. The vampyre screamed and clutched the wound as cracks split the skin and bones apart. Blood streamed down his chest, dripping to the floor, a black vile liquid. The cracks stretched on and on, covering his body until the vampire could hold himself together no more, and exploded, sending a wall of dust and ash into Arthur and Ivan.
Arthur released the barrier with a gasp and squeezed his eyes shut, smearing the dust and blood splatters across his face away. Ivan worked some spit around in his mouth to capture dust that managed to fly in and spat a nasty grey glob of it to the floor. Reaching into a larger pocket of his cargo pants, he withdrew a small microfiber hand towel and wiped it over his face, cleaning the dirt, dust, sweat and other body fluids that collected on his face.
“Here, use this.” Ivan threw the towel at Arthur, who caught it with an appreciative thank you and worked the cloth over his own face before handing it back. “The lieutenants used them as a last ditch effort to see if they could overpower us…”
“How many demons have you fought and killed Ivan?” Arthur asked, voice quiet in the gloom of the stairwell.
“I have fought six.” Ivan admitted. “Killed three.”
“Then you know we must be on our guard when we enter the third floor.” Arthur sighed wearily, his body showing signs of obvious exhaustion from using so much magic. Dark circles under his eyes, stiffness in the joints, and other non-observable signs. “They will try and use anything against you. Expect them to know who you are.”
Ivan nodded, mouth set in a grim line. He put his shotgun away and pulled out the sword at his waist.
“Give me the holy oil.” Ivan motioned to Arthur. “My guns will work as a means of slowing them down, but won’t kill them.”
Arthur fished around in his trench coat before withdrawing a large jug of the aforementioned oil. It was translucent, with only a pale yellow tint. Ivan popped the top off the jug and slowly poured the blessed oil over his sword, making sure it was generously coated before snapping the top back on and handing it back to Arthur, who tucked it back inside his trench coat. The two slowly made their way up the third flight of stairs, pausing only to check the door before opening it with a flourish and standing tense and ready for combat.
Nothing came. The floor was deadly silent, all sounds from the outside - sirens, horns honking, vehicles moving over the streets - all gone.
“They have it warded.” Arthur growled, voice low. “Damn.”
Ivan felt dread pool in the pit of his gut. If it’s warded…then Arthur’s going to struggle with even the simplest spells. Not good.
Ivan crossed the threshold first, sword held out and ready. The silver cross hung limply around his neck; the former molten yellow glow gone as it only emitted light for vampires, not for demons. The air of the third floor felt heavy. The nose curling scent of sulfur and brimstone filled the hallway. The walls were white, the carpet a lush royal blue in color. Various paintings and mirrors hung from the wall. Only the emergency lighting was one, the normal lights were turned off.
We could use the mirrors a means of revealing their true form… Ivan fished around the pockets of his cargo pants until he withdrew two compact hand mirrors. He gave one to Arthur, who already understood Ivan’s intention and snapped it open, holding it outward to face the hall.
There were many ways to drag demons out into the open and reveal their true form, which was the only way one could kill a demon - it had to be done in their true form. Ninety percent of the methods could only be done by either a priest or Teutonic Knight. The other ten percent were methods that could be used by anyone, one of which was mirrors. Demons being notorious for changing their form, a mirror can be used to reveal their true form, giving you the opportunity to strike. Using the smoke from burning sage leaves helps in dulling the senses of a demon, thus slowly them down and making them easier to capture in the sights of a mirror. Religious symbols from all walks of faith could be used to either push away or trap a demon. A longsword of cold steel, doused in holy oil and cleaved vertically from neck to groin was the only way to kill a demon. Hack off an arm or leg and the limb could be reattached and working again in seconds. Cleave a sword doused in holy oil through the torso would severely wound the demon…but cleaving it vertically, following the spine could kill it.
The hallways in the hotel were laid out like a grid. One long hallway stretched from the front of the hotel to the rear. Two hallways splintered off on both sides of the main hall, showing the doorways to each room. Ivan nodded to the first hall at the right, indicating to Arthur to start there first. Arthur nodded in return, following Ivan close behind. The two slowly made their way down the hall, checking each individual room so Arthur could ward them, preventing the demons from doubling back and hiding in a room they already checked.
The last door to the first hall loomed ahead. Ivan walked towards it, Arthur directly at his side. Clenching the sword in his dominate arm, Ivan gripped the doorknob, twisted and pushed the door open.
A four walled brick room flashed before him, chains embedded to the floor, dried blood caked on the walls, a young fleshy child sits in the corner, knees drawn to its chest, hair matted with bodily fluids and plastered to its skull, eyes squeezed shut as a shadow loomed over him, staring, waiting, impossibly silent and still, taking pleasure in the boys pain and despair.
Ivan felt his throat run dry and tighten. Clenching his teeth, he closed his eyes, silently counted to five, reopened them and looked into the compact mirror. His normal, adult face stared back, looking sweaty and smeared with dirt and vampyre blood. Looking away from the mirror, he found Arthur standing before him, breathing roughly and clenching his staff.
“They bespelled you.” Arthur finished the ward on the room with a wave of his hand. “One of them was in there, but it fled into the next hall when you looked into the mirror.”
“I know.” Ivan strangled the words up his throat and past his lips.
“Look.” Arthur glared at him. “I know you have fought them before, but I must ask, what level have you faced? The lowly no-level demons? The militia?”
“It is good enough-”
“Not it isn’t good enough.” Arthur insisted. “What level did you fight?”
“I have experience in handling them.” Ivan dug his heels in, refusing to give anything else away. “And that is all you need to know-”
“Get down!” Arthur threw himself at Ivan, sending the two of them to the floor just as a chair sailed past and slammed into the wall. A low growl reverberated off the walls, filling the hall. The air suddenly turned frigid, their breath visible puffs of vapor. Heavy footsteps slammed into the floor, vibrating the walls and pictures, edging closer and closer to the two. Ivan ripped the compact mirror from his pocket, snapped it open and faced it outward. A guttural growl erupted as a tall, muscular figure blinked into existence before them. It was human like, with two legs and two arms, but two thick, brown horns sprouted from either side of its head and curled inward as a spiral, like a big horn sheep only three times larger. Its skin was a dark ebony, its hair pale and fair, with nothing but thick white fur-like hair covering its chest and groin, utterly naked, its sex hanging between its legs.
“You dare force me into true form?” It growled, revealing razor sharp teeth in jumbled rows inside its mouth. “The little snow flake dares to show itself here?”
Ivan felt his blood boil at the old jest, but he forced his temper town and jumped to his feet, clenching his sword. Arthur also raised himself up, grasping his staff and already working a protective spell. The demon eyed them for a moment, mouth splitting open as it regarded them with amusement. Ivan summoned his courage and stepped forward.
“Ho?” The demon raised a single eyebrow. “The snow flake fights back?”
Arthur pulled a bushel of sage out, spelled a flame to catch - but immediately puffed it out, causing the burning embers of the plant to smolder and smoke excessively.
The demon hissed and stepped back, sneezing once - twice, eyes crossing as the stench filled its nostrils and throat.
Seizing its moment of weakness, Arthur shouted and pointed his staff at the demon, summoning a powerful ward to surround it. The demons legs and arms locked in place, its body stiff as a concrete pillar. Ivan lunged forward, stabbed the oil-soaked sword into the demon’s neck and cleaved downward, breaking through bone, splitting flesh and tearing muscle until Ivan’s sword left it with a sickening squelch. The demon keened, back arching as its body exploded into embers and dust.
“Ivan, above you!!”
Ivan jumped back, but a large hand caught him by the throat and slammed him to the floor. Air gushed past his lips, lungs seizing and gasping for air, but the hand tightened. Ivan gripped the sword and tried lifting it, but another hand slapped it away and suddenly a dark shadow appeared before him, its body massive and bulbous as it sat upon Ivan’s chest, keeping the air from reentering his lungs.
Shouts came from down the hall, following by splintering wood and an explosion of fire. Ivan twisted his head and neck, but the hand remained clenched around his throat. The edges of his vision darkened, lungs burned and ached, lips tingled, vision swimming as colors flashed and danced like twinkling stars. Out of the corner of his eye, Ivan caught Arthur falling to the floor, clutching the end of his staff. A shield surrounded him, colors and shapes emerged from the carpeted floor and exploded with a gush of hot wind, smoke and fire. A figure emerged in the flicker red and orange firelight. Arthur staggered back, but the other demon - skinny and tall, superfast and agile, black horns jutting out of the top of its head and pointing skyward, brown fur-hair covering its naked body - gripped him by the shirt front and flung him to the other wall.
The hand suddenly tightened further around Ivan’s throat, the muscles and bones slowly giving way.
No…No!
+++++
“Ahhh…Fuck!” Alfred staggered to his feet, stretching and breathing in the smoke and flames. “That hurt like a bitch-”
Though the smoke came the clear, distinct scent of Ivan. Nostrils flaring at the smell, Alfred surged through the smoke and found a fat, gluttonous demon sitting upon his chest, gripping his neck and squeezing the life out of him. Protective anger flared within his chest, muscles tightened, teeth and claws lengthening as his true form blossomed without control. How dare that fat shit hurt my Ivan!? Growling low in his throat, he leapt forward and slammed a fist into the fat demon’s neck, the force of which sent it sailing through the air to slam into the opposite wall at the far end of the hall. It gagged and sputtered, spit dribbling from its mouth as it struggled to its feet.
Alfred stood over Ivan, horns and claws fully extended, azure eyes glowing with power.
“What are you doing here?” Ivan’s voice came from behind, sounding hoarse and scratchy. Alfred visibly relaxed at the sound and turned back to face him.
“Are you alright?”
Ivan glared at him, but slowly struggled to his feet, saying nothing. Arthur shouted, sending a ball of electricity at the other demon.
“You…” Ivan started, eyes narrowing with suspicion and curiosity. “Aren’t you going to help Arthur?”
“Arthur doesn’t need my help.” Alfred stated simply. “He never does. He’s strong.”
“…And I do?”
Alfred said nothing at that, choosing instead to walk down the hall towards the fat demon.
“You...a Halfling!” The fat demon spat, tiny black eyes sunken into its oversized face. “You think you can defeat me? A little no-level demon?”
“Yeah - I think I can.” Alfred smirked, azure eyes burning like two cold torches. “I got to feed earlier.”
“Hah!” The fat demon stepped forward, opened its mouth and belched out a cloud of searing sulfur. Alfred nimbly danced away to the side, raised his fist and slammed it into the demons face, sending it sprawling head over heels. The demon growled in indignation, but Alfred only smirked and played with the fat demon, lowering his guard as he cruelly slapped the demon around, enjoying its fury as he giggled and laughed.
+++++
Ivan staggered to his feet, listening to Alfred’s laughter as he punched the fat demon into another wall without care. On the other end of the hall, Arthur launched a continuous assault against the more powerful demon, using huge spells one after the other. Knowing he was the only one with the blessed sword, Ivan pushed himself off the wall and searched the floor for his sword.
“Alfred just kill the damn thing!” Arthur shouted in between spells. “You’re taking too long!”
“Haha! No way old man!” Alfred grabbed the fat demon by the head and slammed it into yet another wall. “He deserves to be played with for a while for how he treated Ivan.”
“Alfred!” Arthur shouted, sending another blast of magic at the demon while keeping himself warded at all times. “I don’t have time!”
“Just a few more seconds!”
Ivan finally found his sword, grasp the hilt and lifted it with a painful heave, his body still reeling from the previous attack and lack of oxygen. He’s finally reaching his limit. Ivan gasped a deep breath and started for the demon Arthur was fighting. I have to try and kill him first before Arthur runs dry-!
The demon danced and moved with speed too fast for the human eye. Arthur struggled to keep up, sweat dripped past his brow, lips parted as he gasped for air. Ivan lunched himself into the fray, trying his best to keep up and narrowly avoiding a few misaimed spells.
“Alfred- I can’t!” Arthur raised his staff and sent a blast of pure white light at the demon. Ivan staggered back, eyes wide with surprise. The light slammed into the demon with a howl, and the shadow exploded…into nothing. No ash. No fire and brimstone. “No!” Arthur gasped, horror filling his gaze. “How- where-?”
A hand suddenly burst through his belly. A face emerged at Arthur’s ear, revealing two ruby-red eyes.
“You have been fighting a mere illusion.”
+++++
Alfred halted suddenly at the scent of his father’s blood. Punching the fat demon away, he raced down the hall, finding the demon holding his father - Arthur - in a sickening embrace with another demon. Without warning, the demon suddenly clenched its hand into a fist and yanked it back out of Arthur.
“Ah!” Arthur gasped, legs giving out as he crumpled to the floor- but the demon caught him and lifted him up, squeezing his neck before rearing back and flinging him through a door.
“Noo!!” Alfred half shouted - half growled, heart in his throat as he threw himself through the door and crumpled at Arthur’s side, pressing his hands to the bloody wound. “No…No…”
Arthur lay immobile on the floor, eyes closed and body limp. Alfred moved one of his hands away and grasped Arthur’s hand, lifting it up and dropping it to the floor. A distressed, soft keening moan escaped his throat as alarm steadily climbed.
No - no he’s dead. He’s dead because I didn’t listen and it’s all my fault! My dad is dead…!
“That human was your father?” The skinny demon sneered, lips curling back. “What a pathetic little human…how similar he is to all the others. They fight so hard…but die so quickly.”
“No - no - no…” Alfred whimpered, hot tears pouring from his glowing azure eyes and streaming down his cheeks. “Arthur…papa…” Alfred took his bloodied hands from Arthur’s still gushing wound and grasped his hand, pressed it to his chest as he rocked forward and backwards. “Papa…no…”
Ivan pressed himself into the corner and tried to remain out of sight, knowing what was coming.
The skinny demon, all bones and little muscle, its skin white alabaster with black horns emerging from a bed of brown curly hair, two crimson eyes glowing through the darkness turned to face Ivan.
“And now…the little snow flake.” The demon edged closer to Ivan, who clenched the sword and glared at the demon. “How hard you fight. Even when all hope is lost… but you will still die just like all of the others.”
“No…no…” Alfred’s mournful keening turned into a growl. “Noo...” Alfred dropped Arthur’s hand, jumped to his feet, heaved a huge gasp and released it in a guttural cry of anger. His eyes burned red - black snake-like scales grew across his forehead, cheeks, neck, arms and legs, teeth lengthened until they looked like saw blades - his canines poking out from his lips. His entire body changed as emotionally charged power surged through him, turning his body more demon than human. Alfred suddenly launched himself at the demon without warning, grabbing him by the right horn and flinging him away, snapping the horn in two from the sharp movement. The demon screamed and clutched its bloody right stump on its head.
“Boy!” The demon growled, standing up to its full height. “You will pay for that!”
Alfred ran forward and swung the horn at his chest. The demon danced to the side and sent an elbow into Alfred’s head, hoping to use his human weaknesses against him…but the action did nothing. Alfred merely grabbed him by the arm and stabbed the horn into its side. The demon howled, but reached for Alfred’s horns, fully intending to snap on of his own apart. Alfred sunk to a crouch, wrapped his arms around the demons waist and charged forward, sending him through a wall and into the floor.
Ivan slowly staggered to his feet as they brawled on the floor, growling and snapping, shouting and slamming each other through walls and mirrors, glass and debris littering the floor in their wake. Ivan went to Arthur’s prone form and pressed two fingers to his neck. A slow but steady pulsing came from just beneath the skin.
He’s alive! Ivan stepped away in relief. He’s not dead…Alfred made a mistake-
A hand suddenly caught him by the hair and jerked him back into something large and warm.
“Ah-ah-ah…thought you could get away from me that easily?” The fat demon licked a slimy trail up his neck to his ear, where he sucked on the lobe for a second before releasing it with a pop. “I have you now, pretty little snow flake.”
“No!” Alfred’s voice erupted from the other room. A loud crash, splintering wood and shattering glass erupted. “Leave him alone!”
Ivan struggled, but the fat one kept his grip. Damnit!
Guttural laughter followed - the skinny demon no doubt - and Alfred suddenly flew through the hole and crashed into the bed. The skinny demon was on top of him in an instant, gripping him by the neck and straddling his waist.
“You like him, don’t you?” The skinny demon sneered, lips curling back to reveal yellowed teeth. “You’re gonna watch that fat fuck over there force his cock down your friend’s throat. Won’t that be nice?” the demon started swirling his hips, rutting himself against Alfred’s jean-covered crotch. “It’s been so long since I had myself a half demon.”
Alfred shouted and bared his teeth, raging and struggling against the stronger, more powerful demon sitting on top of him.
“Let him go! I’ll kill you-!”
“Oh? Just as we did your little papa over there?” The skinny one spat a glob of spit into Alfred’s face. “I’ll fuck him too when I’m done with you.”
“Will you now?” Francis suddenly appeared in the room, a wave of humid, hot air flowing through the room upon his entry.
The demons gaped at Francis, shock clear on their faces.
“These-!” The demon shook Alfred and nodded to Ivan. “-Are ours! We had them first!”
The fat one nodded and clutched Ivan to its belly.
“You are out of your jurisdiction.” Francis took a step forward, stormy blue eyes glittering darkly. “You have stirred too much attention. The judge has sent me.”
“Liar!” The skinny one growled, pressing its sex to Alfred’s crotch - who growled and continued to struggle against him. “You just want them for yourself!”
Francis slowly turned to the fat demon and started forward. The fat one shook its head and backed away, taking Ivan with him -but Francis was there in an instant, pressing his hand to the fat ones face, eyes glowing, mouth parting - and suddenly the fat demon exploded in a plume of fire and ash, smoldering pieces of flesh sticking to the walls and floor. Ivan collapsed to the carpet, his back smoking from the blast. Francis turned back around to face the skinny demon, who was now off the bed and holding Alfred too him as a shield.
“You can take the human, but I keep the Halfling, see?” The demon tried negotiating. “Aren’t you happy now to have something new to play with? You being a lord and all, I’m sure you get tired of human women - men can be fun too-”
“Release my son.” Francis stated, eyes narrowed to slits. “Now.”
The demon paused, eyes widening. “This- this thing!?” The demon shook Alfred. “Is your son? Flesh and blood!?”
Ivan gasped, eyes widening in shock. That means… that Arthur truly is Alfred’s father. Then Francis…he actually carried him and his twin to term and…gave birth to them? A male demon actually changed sex to give birth to Halflings? I’ve never heard of such a thing.
Francis took a step forward, face twisted in anger. “Let him go.”
“N-no!” The demon snapped, backing away. “You stay away-!”
Francis ran forward, gripped Alfred by the neck, tore him away and pressed his other free hand to the skinny demon and blasted him apart with a surge of energy. The demon’s carcass fell to the floor, a orange and blue fire burning its body to ash.
“You can get up now, Arthur.”
Arthur opened his eyes and pressed his hands to the wound in his gut. Ivan gaze at Arthur in surprise.
He remained still in hopes that Alfred would lose control and be able to defeat them? Ivan frowned. That was risky.
Alfred struggled against Francis, as he was still out of control and mindless. Francis calmly took him in his arms and gripped Alfred’s face.
“Calm down.”
“No!”
“Arthur is fine, Alfred.”
“Speak for yourself.” Arthur grumbled, keeping his hands pressed to the bleeding wound.
“W-wha-…” Alfred blinked and stopped struggling, eyes melting back into the normal azure color. “He’s…alive?”
“See?” Francis turned to Arthur, who had scooted himself across the floor to prop his back against the wall.
Alfred clung to Francis, knees growing weak. Francis curled an arm around Alfred’s waist and pressed his nose to the boy’s temple, nuzzling him affectionately before hauling him across the floor before releasing him at Arthur’s feet. Alfred crawled on his hands and knees to Arthur, who pulled one hand away from his gut to reach for Alfred.
“Just..give me a moment. My healing runes will kick in and I will be fine.”
“I-I-” Alfred blubbered, hot tears spilling over and streaming down his cheeks. “Papa…”
“Hush now.” Arthur’s severe expression melted at Alfred’s sadness. “I am alive and well.”
Alfred collapsed on Arthur’s lap and pressed his face to Arthur’s hip, circling his arms around his waist and breathing in his comforting scent. Arthur made small, comforting noises while threading his fingers through the boy’s hair.
“Shh..” Arthur pressed his hands to Alfred’s head and back. “All is fine.”
Ivan stared on at the intimate scene, lips curling into a conflicted frown. Arthur’s coven was killed by Alfred…not by Arthur. The coven must have found out about him raising a half demon...but when they went to kill him, Alfred snapped. Just like he did now.
“Well now.” Francis stood before Ivan. “We meet again.”
Drawn away from his inner thoughts, Ivan glared at him, picked up his sword and began wiping the oil off the blade. Francis watched him for a moment before speaking once more.
“You have done well since I last saw you.” Francis watched Ivan sheath his sword. “Have you gotten your revenge?”
“No. I haven’t gotten my justice.” Ivan stated, his voice quiet. “I am still searching.”
“Justice.” Francis smirked. “Don’t you mean vengeance? This is personal…is it not?”
Ivan turned away and headed for the door.
“I expect b
oth of you - Alfred and Francis - to be gone before our people come up.” Ivan left the room and started down the hall. “I want to see you in the parking lot, Arthur.”
+++++
Law Enforcement swarmed the parking lot as reporters and television cameras tried to enter the quarantine. Ludwig was in the center of it all, negotiation with the local law enforcement and clearing the building.
Ivan sat in the back of a white van - brought by Ludwig - and was stripping his soiled clothes off when Arthur entered. As expected, he was fully healed. Francis and Alfred out of sight.
“You wished to see me?”
“I want you to find out where the demon lord Khan is.”
Arthur slammed the door shut. “Really? And you just expect me to do scry for you at your beck and call?”
“I know all about your son’s and what they did to your coven. Unless you want the white council to know about it, then I suggest you do as I say.”
“…Blackmail.” Arthur sighed and pulled his cloak off to drop it in a vat of cleaning fluid. “How typical.”
“Do that for him, and I won’t bother you again.”
“That’s likely.” Arthur snorted. “Fine. I’ll find this Lord for you. Give me a week.”
Ivan nodded, and turned to a box that contained an extra set of clothes. He pulled them on one by one, black shirt, cargo pants, socks and boots.
I have you now, Khan. Just another month…and I’ll kill you for what you did to me and my sisters.
Words: 8956
Characters/Pairing: Paranormal-Hunter!Russia/Half-demon!America, Half-demon!Canada, Demon!Francis, Wizard!England.
Rating/Warning: R; Violence/Gore/Horror/Human names used.
Summary: Paranormal-Hunter AU. Six months after “In The Deep”. Ivan works together with Arthur & Alfred on a demon/vampyre case in Paris, France.
Note: I originally posted this into two parts at tumblr (part one, part two). If you want to read more stuff that I don't post here (there only one extra one-shot I didn't post here) You can view all the fics for this AU here
Northern Germany
Ivan tightened the silver chains around the lycanthrope that thrashed about on the floor with a vicious jerk. Reaching back, he withdrew a silver clad, heavy duty lock and snapped the prongs through several chain links, securing the lycan. The wolf growled deep in its throat, the fur rose up on its back and tail, ears pressed flat to its skull, lips curled back revealing two rows of sharp yellowed teeth. Gripping the chains stretching across the wolf’s back, Ivan gripped them tightly in his left hand - keeping the silver coated sword in his right hand - and dragged the werewolf out of the living room and through the front door of the house. Outside stood the local authorities - two German police officers - and the wife of the lycanthrope. The woman was middle aged dressed in a light blue summer dress, curly brown hair with a fair complexion, her eyes red and cheeks tearstained. She stared at the wolf, eyes wide and filled with surprise.
Ivan dropped the struggling lycan before the two officers. Taking a step back, he withdrew a vial of liquidized Wolfsbane.
“Find a local veterinarian who can inject this into him. If he were human, I would be able to administer it myself, but not when they are in animal form.” Ivan handed the palm sized vial to the black haired officer at the right, while the other on the left wrote down Ivan’s instructions. “12 cc’s of Wolfsbane. Nineteen gauge hypodermic needle. Anything smaller won’t penetrate his skin.”
The right officer took the vial and held it close to his face, eyeing the purple liquid for a moment.
“This will return him to normal?”
“If he survives the transformation back to human form while wrapped in silver, then yes, he will be human again.” Ivan confirmed. “But I would recommend locking him in a prison - outfitted for lycans to ensure the Wolfsbane worked - until the next full moon. If he doesn’t change and has no visible signs of distress, then he may be released.”
“Thank you for capturing him alive.” The officer nodded again, taking Ivan’s advice to heart. “We will let your supervisor know at Interpol of the results.”
Due to the nature of Paranormal hunting, it was regarded by both the public and administrators within Interpol itself as a form of anti-terrorism. Often local authorities were out matched in both skills and resources when it came to the supernatural, and by the time they were able to make a move, whatever was causing the crime had moved on. Governments all over the world tried creating their own agencies, but it still proved to be not enough. So the Interpol created a separate division for paranormal crimes and terrorism. It was this division that Ivan had gained his international license from, giving him the ability to travel the world with his specially created passport, eliminating the long travel times and problems over crossing national borders of various countries within the span of a week. The division only had about fourteen qualified paranormal hunter’s, all of whom answered to Ludwig Beilschmidt, head of the paranormal division.
Ivan nodded respectfully to the officers. “Goodbye.”
Ivan crossed the driveway to where his jeep stood, opening the back doors. Reaching for a suitcase, Ivan opened it up and withdrew a solid silver muzzle. Closing the doors, Ivan returned to the wolf and muzzled its snout, making sure he couldn’t bite anyone and spread the curse to another human until he was healed. Ivan gave a written statement, as required in all paranormal cases he was given, and after reassuring the wife once more, returned to the jeep. The officers hauled the struggling, growling werewolf to the police cruiser, throwing it in the back and after a word with the wife, drove down the dirt road back to town. The wife followed close behind in her own BMW.
Pulling out his cleaning supplies, Ivan started the tedious process of cleaning the lycan blood off his silver sword. Putting blue surgical gloves on, he disinfected the blade, wiping the blood off with paper towels and throwing them into a black trash bag. Lycan blood held the curse of the werewolf form and was extremely contagious if in contact with an open cut. After cleaning the blades and weapons, Ivan tied the black trash bag up, got out of the jeep, stepped into the nearby woods and buried the bag. Normally he burned all contagions, but because Lycan blood was so contagious, the chance of the cursed blood turning into a gaseous form was likely to happen. After burying the bag deep enough so no animals would dig it up, Ivan returned to his jeep and checked his phone.
A text from a blocked number. Ivan set the phone down as relief flowed through him. Looks like Estonia got the information I needed.
Estonia. A man who dealt in buying and selling valuable information. No one knew his real name or his appearance only the name everyone knew him by- Estonia. Communication was always done by land line only, as cell phone’s and the internet were high risk and too easy for eavesdropping to occur.
Ivan opened the text.
Call me.
Ivan snapped the phone shut and drove back into town.
+++++
“It’s me.” Ivan spoke softly into the payphone using his native tongue. His jeep was parked across the street at a gas station pump. “Were you successful?”
“It was actually much more difficult than I originally expected.” Estonia responded. “This Alfred F. Jones has zero records- he doesn’t ‘exist’.”
“Why would he be in the system when he is half demon?” Russia spat with distaste. “I didn’t expect it to be easy. That is why I asked you to do this.”
“Yes, well you certainly came to the right person.” Estonia stated, the grin evident in his voice. “It turns out this ‘half-demon’ has a twin. Matthew Williams. Both of them live in an apartment in the Lower Garden District within New Orleans. Due to them having no birth records, I couldn’t find where they came from…but I managed to find newspaper articles dating back to the early 1990s mentioning their names. It seems they grew up in rural, central England. Their father - if you can even call him that - is a prominent, licensed wizard.”
“A wizard?” Ivan frowned. I only know two male wizards who are licensed. There’s Yao…and…
“Arthur Kirkland.” Estonia continued. “The renegade wizard without a coven.”
“Wait- you’re telling me that Arthur Kirkland raised Alfred and Matthew?” Ivan couldn’t keep the incredulousness out of his voice. “Kirkland. The man I have worked with on cases raised two demons?”
“Half-demons, but yes. It seems so.” Amusement filled Estonia’s voice. “And it also seems that there is a darker, more sinister reason for Arthur’s coven suddenly disappearing.”
Ivan lowered his voice and tried to keep the suspicion out of his voice. “Kirkland’s story has always been that he left his coven in the 1980s because they were ‘holding him back’.”
“That may be true…partially.” Estonia sighed into the phone. “This information I have on him could ruin his career if it gets out, you know.”
“I called you on a favor, now I owe you.” Ivan insisted. “Good enough?”
Silence. Only Estonia’s breathing could be heard through the phone before there was an intake of breath.
“According to a column within a local, Wiccan newspaper…a meeting place used by the local coven was found deserted and burned to the ground.”
“Burned?” Ivan asked. “Not abandoned?”
“Yes, burned.” Estonia continued. “I sent an agent out to do some digging, and it seems local rumors - unfounded of course - state that all belonging to the local coven were slaughtered. All except Arthur Kirkland.”
Arthur Kirkland was the only one who survived? But how…and why?
“Kirkland may be against belonging to a coven, but he respects his fellow witches and wizards too much.” Ivan stated, unbelieving. “I could never see him murdering them without good cause.”
“Kirkland might not have murdered them, but what of the two half-demons?” Estonia questioned. “What if the coven found out he was raising them, and tried killing the two of them?”
“That…sounds more likely.” Ivan frowned. “But they aren’t his real sons. Why would he defend them like that? Why would he keep raising them…even after what happened?”
“How do you know they aren’t his real sons?” Estonia asked, voice genuinely curious. “He could have been the father.”
“Full blooded demons hate half-demons. They kill them on sight.” Ivan explained, checking his watch. “I have to go. I-”
“-Have a flight to Paris.” Estonia interrupted, grin clearly evident in his voice. “I know.”
“…Right.”
“You owe me one, Braginski. Remember that when I call you for a favor.”
“Of course.”
Ivan hung up and returned to his jeep. Jamming the key into the ignition, Ivan smirked as the engine turned over with a roar.
Kirkland…if this is true…then I have perfect black mail material.
Ivan gripped the steering wheel and drove out of the gas station and down the street, heading for the local airport.
And with blackmail, I can ask you about the whereabouts of Khan…and finally kill him once and for all.
+++++
New Orleans - Two Days Later
“Can you believe that bastard only paid me fifty bucks?”
Alfred threw himself on the couch with a huff. Matthew stood across the room at the foot of the bed they shared, getting dressed into a kitchen aide’s uniform. Grey work pants, white button up shirt with oil-stained apron strapped at his waist.
“I spend all fucking day clearing this hoarder’s yard that’s full of garbage and this is what he pays me!” Alfred slapped the five ten dollar bills on the coffee table. “Rent is overdue and I haven’t eaten for two days.”
“I’ll try and sneak some food from the kitchen.” Matthew sighed. “Maybe you could rob a few houses?”
Alfred’s angry scowl turned into a sour grimace.
“I always feel like shit after I do that.”
“I know. I feel the same way.” Matthew sighed, pulling his longer hair back with a red and white bandana. “But if we don’t eat food soon…we’ll just take it the other way.”
Alfred shuddered. The last time they went without food for three days, their demonic halves took over and took the much needed energy much more forcefully from surrounding neighbors. After that little incident, the two had to leave New York City and move down to New Orleans.
“I’ll get some food.” Alfred frowned. “Tonight.”
“Just don’t get caught stealing. I hate having to call Father to break you out of jail.” Matthew pulled a pair of old Nike running shoes on, double knotting the shoe strings before straightening and heading for the door. “We still owe him a favor for last time.”
Matthew opened the door, but stopped in surprise.
“Francis?”
Alfred jerked in surprise, head whipping around to stare at the open doorway.
“May I come in?” Francis asked, lips curling into a secretive smile. “Of course I can, oui?”
Matthew stepped to the side and waved Francis inside. The man was as tall as Matthew and Alfred, but with shoulder-length blonde hair, fair complexion and soft grey-blue eyes. Dressed in a pin-stripe dark grey button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows with dark wash blue jeans and black dress shoes…Francis stood out in the gloom of the studio apartment. Like a rose amongst weeds, lusty beauty oozed from every pore of his skin, overshadowing the deadly thorns that lay just beneath the surface.
He was a demon; a very old and very powerful demon. Having been around for thousands of years, Francis appreciated the finer things in mortal life. Like the ancient vampyres, he thrived off social interaction. Seduction was both his strength and weakness. It both powered him, but also gave others the ability to use this to their advantage. No longer hating humans as he did in his youth, he viewed them less as lost sheep to seduce and hunt…and more as pets to play and interact with.
“What do you want, Francis?” Alfred scowled at him. “I’ve had a really bad day.”
“Is that anyway to treat your Father, hmm?” Francis stepped close to Alfred and sifted his fingers through Alfred’s hair, lightly dragging his nails over his scalp. Alfred shivered and jerked away. “Who has been mistreating you? Tell me, and I will find them.”
“It is nice seeing you again Father, but I have to go to work.” Matthew sent an apologetic look at Alfred. “Oh- and don’t forget to listen to the message Dad left.”
Matthew left the apartment, leaving Alfred and Francis alone.
“It displeases me to see you two living in such…vile conditions.” Francis cast a narrowed glance over the studio apartment. “You could live with me and not have to worry over mortal affairs.”
“Yeah well, we like living on our own.” Alfred answered, voice flat. “You just want us to work in that…club, factory or whatever the fuck it is.”
“A strip club.”
“Yeah that is definitely more than a strip club.” Alfred turned an incredulous look at the older demon. “You wouldn’t believe the rumors I’ve heard.”
“You choose to believe these rumors?” Francis leveled a mocking stare at him. “Humans are so loud, always talking and chattering. Like birds.”
“What do you want, Francis?” Alfred glared at him, irritated at the insult to his human blood. “You only visit when you need something.”
“I am short on dancers tonight.” Francis frowned. “I need you to cover.”
“You’re joking.”
“I do not joke.” Francis narrowed his eyes at him. “I am calling the favor you owe me.”
“Damnit.” Alfred groaned, head falling back against the couch cushions. “I’ve worked all day lifting and hauling garbage, and now you want me to strip and shake my ass on stage at your fucking club?”
“Yes.”
Alfred sighed and pressed a hand to his aching stomach. Francis watched the motion, eyes burning holes into Alfred’s forehead.
“How long has it been since you have eaten?”
“I ate this morning.”
“Vous êtes un menteur.”
“I’m not lying.” Alfred whined, but clenched his stomach anyway.
“Yes you are.” Francis sniffed daintily, nose wrinkling. “I can tell.”
“If you think I’m gonna feed at that club, think again.” Alfred growled at him. “Give me human food if you’re so worried.”
“Fine.” Francis waved his fingers in an open, uncaring way. “The dancers keep food backstage to eat after performing. You may eat there.”
Alfred scowled, but mumbled a ‘fine’ and started to follow Francis out of the apartment when the phone rang.
“Ah- wait. I gotta answer it, might be Mattie.” Alfred returned to the kitchen and picked up the phone on the third ring. “Yeah?”
“Hello to you too.” Arthur’s voice came through the phone, sounding grumpy and put off.
“Dad!” Alfred grinned. “Sorry, bad day.”
“Yes well it’s about to get worse.”
Alfred visibly wilted. “What now?”
“I was called to a big case that’s happening tonight. I will need your help.”
“Really? What’s going on?” Alfred turned serious. Francis stood beside him to eavesdrop.
“Apparently the entire third floor of the Hotel Lutetia - whatever the hell that means - has been claimed by three lieutenant level demons and twenty new born vampyres. I have the building warded, but I’ll have to go in there.”
“You’re not doing this by yourself, are you?”
“No, Ivan Braginski will be working with me.”
“Wha- really? Ivan will be there?” Alfred nearly crushed the phone in his excitement before shoving the swelling bubble of heated giddiness away. “That’s good. I was worried you might have to deal with it alone.”
“…Really.” Arthur deadpanned.
“Yes, really!” Alfred insisted, growing flustered for a moment before turning serious once more. “But you’ll have to wait until six pm my time. I haven’t eaten for a while and I gotta work.”
“…Work.” Arthur spat, somehow already knowing what he had to do. “Fine. I’ll try and stall them for another hour- but I can’t promise anything. Expect to be summoned at any moment, understand?”
“Okay.” Alfred frowned, but agreed anyway. “See you later.”
“Yes, goodbye.”
Arthur’s voice turned gentle for a moment before hardening.
“And tell Francis it is rude to eavesdrop on private conversations.”
Arthur hung up with a loud click.
Smirking, Alfred set the phone back to the hook and followed Francis out of the apartment. The full blooded demon only smirked knowingly, leading the way to the crimson red sports car waiting in the street below.
+++++
Paris, France - 12:27am
Ivan parked his jeep in the quarantined area surrounding Hotel Lutetia - a luxury five-star hotel building in the early 1900s - and immediately headed to the back to start equipping himself. Knives strapped to his arms, sword at his waist, .50 desert eagles at his armpits, AK-47 and semi-automatic shotgun strapped to his back, extra ammo hanging from his hips, various supplies stuffed in the pockets of his cargo pants, military-grade body armor strapped to his chest, solid silver cross hanging from his neck, and finally, a glass jug of holy oil Ivan picked up on his way to the hotel.
The black streets slick from recent rain, ambient light from the city glowed against the overcast night sky. Red, blue and white lights flashed from police vehicles blocking the streets surrounding the hotel.
Once everything was in place, Ivan shut the back door, locked his jeep and headed towards the front of the hotel where two men stood. One wore an immaculate black suit with red tie, blonde hair slicked back, face cleanly shaven. The other wore a midnight blue button up shirt, black trench coat that reached his knees, frayed dark brown pants, and black boots. Fingerless gloves covered his hands in which he clenched an oaken staff, hand carved and imbued with natural energy, his blonde hair scruffy and looking slept in.
“Ludwig, Arthur.” Ivan greeted. “I apologize for being late. I had to pick up more holy oil.”
“This is a high alert case - level red.” Ludwig turned, revealing intense teal eyes narrowed in annoyance. “The building was taken hours ago-”
“-I already told you, the building is warded. Nothing can go in or out without my consent.” Arthur frowned at Ludwig, thick eyebrows creasing together. “If you’re so worried about this case, why isn’t Gilbert here? He’s the demon-hunting expert.”
“With three lieutenants claiming this building, a Teutonic knight would be better suited.” Ivan reluctantly agreed. “Three cleaves of his sword is all it would take.”
“He would be here right now if he wasn’t dealing with a demon general in Ecuador.” Ludwig grumbled. “But you two are the best after him when it comes to demons.”
“What is the current situation?” Ivan asked. “You said all were contained, Arthur?”
“The building is warded. Only you and I can go in or out.” Arthur repeated. “Early tests of the building shows three lieutenants and - if the local disappearances are anything to go by - twenty newborn vampyres and one master vampyre. Most are on the third floor, but others are spread out across the building.”
“Twenty newborns…” Ivan shook his head in slight disbelief. One newborn is hard enough to kill, but twenty? We’ll be here all night.
“I have a case of wooden stakes for you.” Ludwig motioned to the suitcase sitting at his right foot.
“Good, we will need them.” Ivan picked up the case. “This may take some time to clear the building and defeat them all. How long will this quarantine last?”
“As long as necessary.” Ludwig stated firmly, teal eyes growing hard. “I will take care of the problems here. You two focus on clearing the building. Understood?”
Ivan and Arthur both nodded and entered the hotel.
+++++
Hotel Lutetia- Second Floor - 3:34am
“Second floor cleared.” Arthur spoke into the radio. “Warding in place.”
“Quarantine still in effect.” Ludwig’s voice came through the receiver. “Continue as planned.”
After spending an exhaustive three hours combing through first two floors and killing off eleven newborn vampyres, the third floor was finally within reach. The demonic presence of the three lieutenants had steadilybecome more prevalent the closer they got to the third floor. The stink of sulfur and brimstone wafted through the stale, dusty air. A tight, suffocating flood of tension filled Ivan’s entire body as he dropped the suitcase - now half empty - to the floor so he could reload his weapons. The only one with ammo left in it was the AK47; the shotgun clicked empty after the fourth vampyre, the two desert eagles after the ninth. The last two ambushed both Arthur and Ivan directly after staking the ninth vampyre, giving him no time to reload. Luckily the silver cross around his neck worked both as an early warning system and as a way to keep them from biting him. The molten yellow light emitted from the cross was like acid to the young vampyres, boiling their flesh away the moment the rays of light touched their skin. Arthur then stunned them both, blasting the two with a concentrated ball of super-heated air and sending them through a wall. It only took seconds to stake the newborn vampyres, as they were still weak from the transformation from a human to one of the undead. The rest of the floor was checked, and after finding no more vampyres, the floor was declared cleared of all ‘supernaturals’.
“Do you have any more liquid garlic?” Arthur asked, pushing himself off the wall with a slight wince. “The stuff you put on me earlier is wearing off.”
“Nyet.” Ivan sighed. “I used the last of it on the seventh vampyre.”
“Damn.”
Arthur stretched his shoulders, neck and hands. Ivan watched him for a long moment while he reloaded his .50 Desert Eagle’s.
“Are you nearing your limit?” Ivan asked.
“What?” Arthur jerked his head at him, emerald green eyes narrowing in angry indignation. “No.”
“I only ask because the last floor will have nine vampyres and three demons.” Ivan finished reloading his desert eagles and took a few steps towards Arthur. “I don’t want to be in the middle of a fight and have you suddenly run dry.”
“I understand.” Arthur leveled a steady, unflinching stare. “I haven’t used any powerful spells, so I am not nearing my limit.”
Satisfied with his answer, Ivan finished reloading his weapons and picked up the suitcase. Using his free right hand, Ivan withdrew the sword from his waist.
“Ready?”
Arthur nodded silently, gripped the door handle leading to the stairwell, and pushed it open.
The cross around Ivan’s neck flared like the flash on a camera, only it remained a blinding molten yellow. Screams and burning flesh filled the stairwell. Snapping the suitcase open, Ivan gripped a stake and launched himself at the first newborn vampire he spotted, driving the tip of his sword through their neck, pinning them to the wall while he lined the stake at the correct spot and slammed it into its chest. Blood gushed from the wound and struck him squarely in the chest as the twelfth newborn vampyre faded to dust. Nearby Arthur shouted a string of qasi-latin and old English, producing a ball of lightening and launching it into the crowd of vampires. The smell of burning flesh and electric heat drifted through the stairwell.
Leaving his sword stuck in the neck of the twelfth vampyre, Ivan yanked his shotgun out of the back holster, aimed it at the next closest newborn and fired. The blast sent a deafening explosion through the stairwell, sending the newborn flying into a concrete wall. Another stake was picked up and buried through the vampyres chest. More blood covered the floor. Something grabbed Ivan from behind, claws ripping at his body armor, catching the edges and throwing him backwards into the floor. Ivan ripped out the knife from his right arm holster, twisted and speared the newborn through the eye. It screeched and grabbed its face, pressing its fingers to the gaping hole in his eyesocket. Dark shadows moved just beyond the rays of light emitting from the silver cross hanging from his neck, just out of the corner of his eye sight. Ivan tore the dagger from the newborns eye socket, kicked him away and pressed himself to the wall. Ripping another stake out, Ivan embedded it into the chest of the vampire at his feet just as a fist caught him across the jaw. Ivan staggered, but kept his footing, focused on the blurred figure standing before him and lunged forward, driving the dagger through its throat before driving another stake through its chest.
The fighting was mindless, Ivan’s reactions pure instinct. Blasts of the shotgun overpowered the screams and curses launched at them by the newborn vampires. The stake shoved through the ribcage, snapping bone and tear flesh as it pierced the heart, carving it in two.Over and over again, a desperate dance for survival. Black-crimson vampyre blood soaked his hands and shirt front.
The last newborn fell to her knees before Ivan, large blue eyes wide and streaming tears of blood. Begging and pleading in French to spare her undead life. Ivan gripped her by the neck and went to slam her into the wall when he found the newborn ripped from his grasp. A tall, pale man radiating raw strength stood before them. Ivan immediately lowered his gaze to the vampyre’s neck, so as to not be spelled by his gaze. The screams of the newborn fell away as the master vampyre ended her himself, rending the body to blood and ash. Silence flooded the stairwell, leaving Ivan’s ears ringing painfully. The silver cross burned a brilliant molten yellow, but the master vampyre seemed unaffected, his skin like grey stone, unchanged by the passage of time.
Arthur ended a string of Latin with a jab of his staff. A pentagram blazed a vivid purple-green on the floor, crackling and radiating raw energy. The vampyre tried moving, but was held back by an invisible wall.
“Stake him!” Arthur shouted at Ivan, voice strains from holding the barrier. “Do if before he breaks free!”
Ivan picked up the last stake from the suitcase and lunged for the vampire, sliding the wooden stake through the barrier as if pushing heavy curtains aside, and drove the stake through his chest to pierce his heart. The vampyre screamed and clutched the wound as cracks split the skin and bones apart. Blood streamed down his chest, dripping to the floor, a black vile liquid. The cracks stretched on and on, covering his body until the vampire could hold himself together no more, and exploded, sending a wall of dust and ash into Arthur and Ivan.
Arthur released the barrier with a gasp and squeezed his eyes shut, smearing the dust and blood splatters across his face away. Ivan worked some spit around in his mouth to capture dust that managed to fly in and spat a nasty grey glob of it to the floor. Reaching into a larger pocket of his cargo pants, he withdrew a small microfiber hand towel and wiped it over his face, cleaning the dirt, dust, sweat and other body fluids that collected on his face.
“Here, use this.” Ivan threw the towel at Arthur, who caught it with an appreciative thank you and worked the cloth over his own face before handing it back. “The lieutenants used them as a last ditch effort to see if they could overpower us…”
“How many demons have you fought and killed Ivan?” Arthur asked, voice quiet in the gloom of the stairwell.
“I have fought six.” Ivan admitted. “Killed three.”
“Then you know we must be on our guard when we enter the third floor.” Arthur sighed wearily, his body showing signs of obvious exhaustion from using so much magic. Dark circles under his eyes, stiffness in the joints, and other non-observable signs. “They will try and use anything against you. Expect them to know who you are.”
Ivan nodded, mouth set in a grim line. He put his shotgun away and pulled out the sword at his waist.
“Give me the holy oil.” Ivan motioned to Arthur. “My guns will work as a means of slowing them down, but won’t kill them.”
Arthur fished around in his trench coat before withdrawing a large jug of the aforementioned oil. It was translucent, with only a pale yellow tint. Ivan popped the top off the jug and slowly poured the blessed oil over his sword, making sure it was generously coated before snapping the top back on and handing it back to Arthur, who tucked it back inside his trench coat. The two slowly made their way up the third flight of stairs, pausing only to check the door before opening it with a flourish and standing tense and ready for combat.
Nothing came. The floor was deadly silent, all sounds from the outside - sirens, horns honking, vehicles moving over the streets - all gone.
“They have it warded.” Arthur growled, voice low. “Damn.”
Ivan felt dread pool in the pit of his gut. If it’s warded…then Arthur’s going to struggle with even the simplest spells. Not good.
Ivan crossed the threshold first, sword held out and ready. The silver cross hung limply around his neck; the former molten yellow glow gone as it only emitted light for vampires, not for demons. The air of the third floor felt heavy. The nose curling scent of sulfur and brimstone filled the hallway. The walls were white, the carpet a lush royal blue in color. Various paintings and mirrors hung from the wall. Only the emergency lighting was one, the normal lights were turned off.
We could use the mirrors a means of revealing their true form… Ivan fished around the pockets of his cargo pants until he withdrew two compact hand mirrors. He gave one to Arthur, who already understood Ivan’s intention and snapped it open, holding it outward to face the hall.
There were many ways to drag demons out into the open and reveal their true form, which was the only way one could kill a demon - it had to be done in their true form. Ninety percent of the methods could only be done by either a priest or Teutonic Knight. The other ten percent were methods that could be used by anyone, one of which was mirrors. Demons being notorious for changing their form, a mirror can be used to reveal their true form, giving you the opportunity to strike. Using the smoke from burning sage leaves helps in dulling the senses of a demon, thus slowly them down and making them easier to capture in the sights of a mirror. Religious symbols from all walks of faith could be used to either push away or trap a demon. A longsword of cold steel, doused in holy oil and cleaved vertically from neck to groin was the only way to kill a demon. Hack off an arm or leg and the limb could be reattached and working again in seconds. Cleave a sword doused in holy oil through the torso would severely wound the demon…but cleaving it vertically, following the spine could kill it.
The hallways in the hotel were laid out like a grid. One long hallway stretched from the front of the hotel to the rear. Two hallways splintered off on both sides of the main hall, showing the doorways to each room. Ivan nodded to the first hall at the right, indicating to Arthur to start there first. Arthur nodded in return, following Ivan close behind. The two slowly made their way down the hall, checking each individual room so Arthur could ward them, preventing the demons from doubling back and hiding in a room they already checked.
The last door to the first hall loomed ahead. Ivan walked towards it, Arthur directly at his side. Clenching the sword in his dominate arm, Ivan gripped the doorknob, twisted and pushed the door open.
A four walled brick room flashed before him, chains embedded to the floor, dried blood caked on the walls, a young fleshy child sits in the corner, knees drawn to its chest, hair matted with bodily fluids and plastered to its skull, eyes squeezed shut as a shadow loomed over him, staring, waiting, impossibly silent and still, taking pleasure in the boys pain and despair.
Ivan felt his throat run dry and tighten. Clenching his teeth, he closed his eyes, silently counted to five, reopened them and looked into the compact mirror. His normal, adult face stared back, looking sweaty and smeared with dirt and vampyre blood. Looking away from the mirror, he found Arthur standing before him, breathing roughly and clenching his staff.
“They bespelled you.” Arthur finished the ward on the room with a wave of his hand. “One of them was in there, but it fled into the next hall when you looked into the mirror.”
“I know.” Ivan strangled the words up his throat and past his lips.
“Look.” Arthur glared at him. “I know you have fought them before, but I must ask, what level have you faced? The lowly no-level demons? The militia?”
“It is good enough-”
“Not it isn’t good enough.” Arthur insisted. “What level did you fight?”
“I have experience in handling them.” Ivan dug his heels in, refusing to give anything else away. “And that is all you need to know-”
“Get down!” Arthur threw himself at Ivan, sending the two of them to the floor just as a chair sailed past and slammed into the wall. A low growl reverberated off the walls, filling the hall. The air suddenly turned frigid, their breath visible puffs of vapor. Heavy footsteps slammed into the floor, vibrating the walls and pictures, edging closer and closer to the two. Ivan ripped the compact mirror from his pocket, snapped it open and faced it outward. A guttural growl erupted as a tall, muscular figure blinked into existence before them. It was human like, with two legs and two arms, but two thick, brown horns sprouted from either side of its head and curled inward as a spiral, like a big horn sheep only three times larger. Its skin was a dark ebony, its hair pale and fair, with nothing but thick white fur-like hair covering its chest and groin, utterly naked, its sex hanging between its legs.
“You dare force me into true form?” It growled, revealing razor sharp teeth in jumbled rows inside its mouth. “The little snow flake dares to show itself here?”
Ivan felt his blood boil at the old jest, but he forced his temper town and jumped to his feet, clenching his sword. Arthur also raised himself up, grasping his staff and already working a protective spell. The demon eyed them for a moment, mouth splitting open as it regarded them with amusement. Ivan summoned his courage and stepped forward.
“Ho?” The demon raised a single eyebrow. “The snow flake fights back?”
Arthur pulled a bushel of sage out, spelled a flame to catch - but immediately puffed it out, causing the burning embers of the plant to smolder and smoke excessively.
The demon hissed and stepped back, sneezing once - twice, eyes crossing as the stench filled its nostrils and throat.
Seizing its moment of weakness, Arthur shouted and pointed his staff at the demon, summoning a powerful ward to surround it. The demons legs and arms locked in place, its body stiff as a concrete pillar. Ivan lunged forward, stabbed the oil-soaked sword into the demon’s neck and cleaved downward, breaking through bone, splitting flesh and tearing muscle until Ivan’s sword left it with a sickening squelch. The demon keened, back arching as its body exploded into embers and dust.
“Ivan, above you!!”
Ivan jumped back, but a large hand caught him by the throat and slammed him to the floor. Air gushed past his lips, lungs seizing and gasping for air, but the hand tightened. Ivan gripped the sword and tried lifting it, but another hand slapped it away and suddenly a dark shadow appeared before him, its body massive and bulbous as it sat upon Ivan’s chest, keeping the air from reentering his lungs.
Shouts came from down the hall, following by splintering wood and an explosion of fire. Ivan twisted his head and neck, but the hand remained clenched around his throat. The edges of his vision darkened, lungs burned and ached, lips tingled, vision swimming as colors flashed and danced like twinkling stars. Out of the corner of his eye, Ivan caught Arthur falling to the floor, clutching the end of his staff. A shield surrounded him, colors and shapes emerged from the carpeted floor and exploded with a gush of hot wind, smoke and fire. A figure emerged in the flicker red and orange firelight. Arthur staggered back, but the other demon - skinny and tall, superfast and agile, black horns jutting out of the top of its head and pointing skyward, brown fur-hair covering its naked body - gripped him by the shirt front and flung him to the other wall.
The hand suddenly tightened further around Ivan’s throat, the muscles and bones slowly giving way.
No…No!
+++++
“Ahhh…Fuck!” Alfred staggered to his feet, stretching and breathing in the smoke and flames. “That hurt like a bitch-”
Though the smoke came the clear, distinct scent of Ivan. Nostrils flaring at the smell, Alfred surged through the smoke and found a fat, gluttonous demon sitting upon his chest, gripping his neck and squeezing the life out of him. Protective anger flared within his chest, muscles tightened, teeth and claws lengthening as his true form blossomed without control. How dare that fat shit hurt my Ivan!? Growling low in his throat, he leapt forward and slammed a fist into the fat demon’s neck, the force of which sent it sailing through the air to slam into the opposite wall at the far end of the hall. It gagged and sputtered, spit dribbling from its mouth as it struggled to its feet.
Alfred stood over Ivan, horns and claws fully extended, azure eyes glowing with power.
“What are you doing here?” Ivan’s voice came from behind, sounding hoarse and scratchy. Alfred visibly relaxed at the sound and turned back to face him.
“Are you alright?”
Ivan glared at him, but slowly struggled to his feet, saying nothing. Arthur shouted, sending a ball of electricity at the other demon.
“You…” Ivan started, eyes narrowing with suspicion and curiosity. “Aren’t you going to help Arthur?”
“Arthur doesn’t need my help.” Alfred stated simply. “He never does. He’s strong.”
“…And I do?”
Alfred said nothing at that, choosing instead to walk down the hall towards the fat demon.
“You...a Halfling!” The fat demon spat, tiny black eyes sunken into its oversized face. “You think you can defeat me? A little no-level demon?”
“Yeah - I think I can.” Alfred smirked, azure eyes burning like two cold torches. “I got to feed earlier.”
“Hah!” The fat demon stepped forward, opened its mouth and belched out a cloud of searing sulfur. Alfred nimbly danced away to the side, raised his fist and slammed it into the demons face, sending it sprawling head over heels. The demon growled in indignation, but Alfred only smirked and played with the fat demon, lowering his guard as he cruelly slapped the demon around, enjoying its fury as he giggled and laughed.
+++++
Ivan staggered to his feet, listening to Alfred’s laughter as he punched the fat demon into another wall without care. On the other end of the hall, Arthur launched a continuous assault against the more powerful demon, using huge spells one after the other. Knowing he was the only one with the blessed sword, Ivan pushed himself off the wall and searched the floor for his sword.
“Alfred just kill the damn thing!” Arthur shouted in between spells. “You’re taking too long!”
“Haha! No way old man!” Alfred grabbed the fat demon by the head and slammed it into yet another wall. “He deserves to be played with for a while for how he treated Ivan.”
“Alfred!” Arthur shouted, sending another blast of magic at the demon while keeping himself warded at all times. “I don’t have time!”
“Just a few more seconds!”
Ivan finally found his sword, grasp the hilt and lifted it with a painful heave, his body still reeling from the previous attack and lack of oxygen. He’s finally reaching his limit. Ivan gasped a deep breath and started for the demon Arthur was fighting. I have to try and kill him first before Arthur runs dry-!
The demon danced and moved with speed too fast for the human eye. Arthur struggled to keep up, sweat dripped past his brow, lips parted as he gasped for air. Ivan lunched himself into the fray, trying his best to keep up and narrowly avoiding a few misaimed spells.
“Alfred- I can’t!” Arthur raised his staff and sent a blast of pure white light at the demon. Ivan staggered back, eyes wide with surprise. The light slammed into the demon with a howl, and the shadow exploded…into nothing. No ash. No fire and brimstone. “No!” Arthur gasped, horror filling his gaze. “How- where-?”
A hand suddenly burst through his belly. A face emerged at Arthur’s ear, revealing two ruby-red eyes.
“You have been fighting a mere illusion.”
+++++
Alfred halted suddenly at the scent of his father’s blood. Punching the fat demon away, he raced down the hall, finding the demon holding his father - Arthur - in a sickening embrace with another demon. Without warning, the demon suddenly clenched its hand into a fist and yanked it back out of Arthur.
“Ah!” Arthur gasped, legs giving out as he crumpled to the floor- but the demon caught him and lifted him up, squeezing his neck before rearing back and flinging him through a door.
“Noo!!” Alfred half shouted - half growled, heart in his throat as he threw himself through the door and crumpled at Arthur’s side, pressing his hands to the bloody wound. “No…No…”
Arthur lay immobile on the floor, eyes closed and body limp. Alfred moved one of his hands away and grasped Arthur’s hand, lifting it up and dropping it to the floor. A distressed, soft keening moan escaped his throat as alarm steadily climbed.
No - no he’s dead. He’s dead because I didn’t listen and it’s all my fault! My dad is dead…!
“That human was your father?” The skinny demon sneered, lips curling back. “What a pathetic little human…how similar he is to all the others. They fight so hard…but die so quickly.”
“No - no - no…” Alfred whimpered, hot tears pouring from his glowing azure eyes and streaming down his cheeks. “Arthur…papa…” Alfred took his bloodied hands from Arthur’s still gushing wound and grasped his hand, pressed it to his chest as he rocked forward and backwards. “Papa…no…”
Ivan pressed himself into the corner and tried to remain out of sight, knowing what was coming.
The skinny demon, all bones and little muscle, its skin white alabaster with black horns emerging from a bed of brown curly hair, two crimson eyes glowing through the darkness turned to face Ivan.
“And now…the little snow flake.” The demon edged closer to Ivan, who clenched the sword and glared at the demon. “How hard you fight. Even when all hope is lost… but you will still die just like all of the others.”
“No…no…” Alfred’s mournful keening turned into a growl. “Noo...” Alfred dropped Arthur’s hand, jumped to his feet, heaved a huge gasp and released it in a guttural cry of anger. His eyes burned red - black snake-like scales grew across his forehead, cheeks, neck, arms and legs, teeth lengthened until they looked like saw blades - his canines poking out from his lips. His entire body changed as emotionally charged power surged through him, turning his body more demon than human. Alfred suddenly launched himself at the demon without warning, grabbing him by the right horn and flinging him away, snapping the horn in two from the sharp movement. The demon screamed and clutched its bloody right stump on its head.
“Boy!” The demon growled, standing up to its full height. “You will pay for that!”
Alfred ran forward and swung the horn at his chest. The demon danced to the side and sent an elbow into Alfred’s head, hoping to use his human weaknesses against him…but the action did nothing. Alfred merely grabbed him by the arm and stabbed the horn into its side. The demon howled, but reached for Alfred’s horns, fully intending to snap on of his own apart. Alfred sunk to a crouch, wrapped his arms around the demons waist and charged forward, sending him through a wall and into the floor.
Ivan slowly staggered to his feet as they brawled on the floor, growling and snapping, shouting and slamming each other through walls and mirrors, glass and debris littering the floor in their wake. Ivan went to Arthur’s prone form and pressed two fingers to his neck. A slow but steady pulsing came from just beneath the skin.
He’s alive! Ivan stepped away in relief. He’s not dead…Alfred made a mistake-
A hand suddenly caught him by the hair and jerked him back into something large and warm.
“Ah-ah-ah…thought you could get away from me that easily?” The fat demon licked a slimy trail up his neck to his ear, where he sucked on the lobe for a second before releasing it with a pop. “I have you now, pretty little snow flake.”
“No!” Alfred’s voice erupted from the other room. A loud crash, splintering wood and shattering glass erupted. “Leave him alone!”
Ivan struggled, but the fat one kept his grip. Damnit!
Guttural laughter followed - the skinny demon no doubt - and Alfred suddenly flew through the hole and crashed into the bed. The skinny demon was on top of him in an instant, gripping him by the neck and straddling his waist.
“You like him, don’t you?” The skinny demon sneered, lips curling back to reveal yellowed teeth. “You’re gonna watch that fat fuck over there force his cock down your friend’s throat. Won’t that be nice?” the demon started swirling his hips, rutting himself against Alfred’s jean-covered crotch. “It’s been so long since I had myself a half demon.”
Alfred shouted and bared his teeth, raging and struggling against the stronger, more powerful demon sitting on top of him.
“Let him go! I’ll kill you-!”
“Oh? Just as we did your little papa over there?” The skinny one spat a glob of spit into Alfred’s face. “I’ll fuck him too when I’m done with you.”
“Will you now?” Francis suddenly appeared in the room, a wave of humid, hot air flowing through the room upon his entry.
The demons gaped at Francis, shock clear on their faces.
“These-!” The demon shook Alfred and nodded to Ivan. “-Are ours! We had them first!”
The fat one nodded and clutched Ivan to its belly.
“You are out of your jurisdiction.” Francis took a step forward, stormy blue eyes glittering darkly. “You have stirred too much attention. The judge has sent me.”
“Liar!” The skinny one growled, pressing its sex to Alfred’s crotch - who growled and continued to struggle against him. “You just want them for yourself!”
Francis slowly turned to the fat demon and started forward. The fat one shook its head and backed away, taking Ivan with him -but Francis was there in an instant, pressing his hand to the fat ones face, eyes glowing, mouth parting - and suddenly the fat demon exploded in a plume of fire and ash, smoldering pieces of flesh sticking to the walls and floor. Ivan collapsed to the carpet, his back smoking from the blast. Francis turned back around to face the skinny demon, who was now off the bed and holding Alfred too him as a shield.
“You can take the human, but I keep the Halfling, see?” The demon tried negotiating. “Aren’t you happy now to have something new to play with? You being a lord and all, I’m sure you get tired of human women - men can be fun too-”
“Release my son.” Francis stated, eyes narrowed to slits. “Now.”
The demon paused, eyes widening. “This- this thing!?” The demon shook Alfred. “Is your son? Flesh and blood!?”
Ivan gasped, eyes widening in shock. That means… that Arthur truly is Alfred’s father. Then Francis…he actually carried him and his twin to term and…gave birth to them? A male demon actually changed sex to give birth to Halflings? I’ve never heard of such a thing.
Francis took a step forward, face twisted in anger. “Let him go.”
“N-no!” The demon snapped, backing away. “You stay away-!”
Francis ran forward, gripped Alfred by the neck, tore him away and pressed his other free hand to the skinny demon and blasted him apart with a surge of energy. The demon’s carcass fell to the floor, a orange and blue fire burning its body to ash.
“You can get up now, Arthur.”
Arthur opened his eyes and pressed his hands to the wound in his gut. Ivan gaze at Arthur in surprise.
He remained still in hopes that Alfred would lose control and be able to defeat them? Ivan frowned. That was risky.
Alfred struggled against Francis, as he was still out of control and mindless. Francis calmly took him in his arms and gripped Alfred’s face.
“Calm down.”
“No!”
“Arthur is fine, Alfred.”
“Speak for yourself.” Arthur grumbled, keeping his hands pressed to the bleeding wound.
“W-wha-…” Alfred blinked and stopped struggling, eyes melting back into the normal azure color. “He’s…alive?”
“See?” Francis turned to Arthur, who had scooted himself across the floor to prop his back against the wall.
Alfred clung to Francis, knees growing weak. Francis curled an arm around Alfred’s waist and pressed his nose to the boy’s temple, nuzzling him affectionately before hauling him across the floor before releasing him at Arthur’s feet. Alfred crawled on his hands and knees to Arthur, who pulled one hand away from his gut to reach for Alfred.
“Just..give me a moment. My healing runes will kick in and I will be fine.”
“I-I-” Alfred blubbered, hot tears spilling over and streaming down his cheeks. “Papa…”
“Hush now.” Arthur’s severe expression melted at Alfred’s sadness. “I am alive and well.”
Alfred collapsed on Arthur’s lap and pressed his face to Arthur’s hip, circling his arms around his waist and breathing in his comforting scent. Arthur made small, comforting noises while threading his fingers through the boy’s hair.
“Shh..” Arthur pressed his hands to Alfred’s head and back. “All is fine.”
Ivan stared on at the intimate scene, lips curling into a conflicted frown. Arthur’s coven was killed by Alfred…not by Arthur. The coven must have found out about him raising a half demon...but when they went to kill him, Alfred snapped. Just like he did now.
“Well now.” Francis stood before Ivan. “We meet again.”
Drawn away from his inner thoughts, Ivan glared at him, picked up his sword and began wiping the oil off the blade. Francis watched him for a moment before speaking once more.
“You have done well since I last saw you.” Francis watched Ivan sheath his sword. “Have you gotten your revenge?”
“No. I haven’t gotten my justice.” Ivan stated, his voice quiet. “I am still searching.”
“Justice.” Francis smirked. “Don’t you mean vengeance? This is personal…is it not?”
Ivan turned away and headed for the door.
“I expect b
oth of you - Alfred and Francis - to be gone before our people come up.” Ivan left the room and started down the hall. “I want to see you in the parking lot, Arthur.”
+++++
Law Enforcement swarmed the parking lot as reporters and television cameras tried to enter the quarantine. Ludwig was in the center of it all, negotiation with the local law enforcement and clearing the building.
Ivan sat in the back of a white van - brought by Ludwig - and was stripping his soiled clothes off when Arthur entered. As expected, he was fully healed. Francis and Alfred out of sight.
“You wished to see me?”
“I want you to find out where the demon lord Khan is.”
Arthur slammed the door shut. “Really? And you just expect me to do scry for you at your beck and call?”
“I know all about your son’s and what they did to your coven. Unless you want the white council to know about it, then I suggest you do as I say.”
“…Blackmail.” Arthur sighed and pulled his cloak off to drop it in a vat of cleaning fluid. “How typical.”
“Do that for him, and I won’t bother you again.”
“That’s likely.” Arthur snorted. “Fine. I’ll find this Lord for you. Give me a week.”
Ivan nodded, and turned to a box that contained an extra set of clothes. He pulled them on one by one, black shirt, cargo pants, socks and boots.
I have you now, Khan. Just another month…and I’ll kill you for what you did to me and my sisters.