Something on the horizon let’s Kyle know he is fucked. Sensing the approach to his vehicle. Catching the stray blurr of gore in the side mirror before it happens. His location is struck by some sort of static, the hair on his body stands at full attention, prickling under the worst pressure he’s ever had the displeasure of encountering. It swept him up, an inescapable illness in him, rewiring his brain in an instant. The explosive shattering of his precious vehicle window folds him, nearly retching in the face of something he can’t quite wrap his mind around.

One glance starts up a pretty horrified, high pitched scream. The mutilated body in the back opened its mouth and uttered some not so soothing things to him. Be not afraid. The years of bible study struck Kyle like a truck. Was this an angel? Had he been running from the feeling of Angels all his life? Biblically accurate Angels were horrifying he had heard. And the others. Wielding the wind. Encountering the creature– Woman– Thing, as if this were a normal Tuesday for them. A common occurrence. All of them seemed to have some sort of weapon on them.

“What the fuck! Oh my God, what the fuck!” Kyle’s words nearly blur together in the speed he shouts them. “I am afraid!” He blurts. And against better judgment, under the pressure of this hulking fear he cranks the engine again. This time he’s aware it won’t light back to life. The air around him stills. In the breadth of a millisecond, in the twitch of an eye, he knows where to go. Calculates his chances of making it out alive. Senses where the danger lies ahead of him.

A second passes, slowly sucking air in through his nose.

Kyle thrusts his left fist through the window, scooping up glass and hurling it into the eyes of the eldritch horror in his back seat. His right hand gripping the unconscious girl's arm in tandem. Then it’s as simple as a light jerk of the passenger door handle. Rolling them onto the asphalt before the blinding LED headlights of a black SUV. The mechanical grinding and squeal of tires is a symphony of freedom. Rolling them with the momentum till the woman is draped across his shoulders yet again. A human scarf of sorts. Rising and darting as the SUV screeches to a halt beside Cocopuff. Using the vehicle as cover to dip into another alleyway.

Kyle is silently thanking the SUV. Thanking god for letting him slip through the cracks once again. Panting with the exertion of it all. The wind cannot cool his heated skin, cannot slow him in the slightest. Bolting towards 7th. If he could make it to seventh he could make it to people. Make it to help.

And he desperately needed help. The skin of his arm burned where he had run it through the glass, shoulders roughed up from the unforgiving road and the added weight.

Kyle really could not afford to be caught now. Not ever. He had been running from this feeling so long it would be a disservice to his being to fail. And his Ma, she would be so sad if he didn’t make it back for Christmas. Even if she disapproved of him dropping out of college, she still missed him. And he missed the sweet potato casserole she was so damned good at whipping up.

He could not die here. For casserole and for himself.

And for the young woman Kyle slung across his body. Despite the uncomfortable emotional burden she was leaking into his back, he could tell she was good, somewhere buried deep. Could tell that there was something inexplicably important about her. There was no way to justify picking her up besides a gut feeling. All he needed to do was get her to safety. But where? It was possible that thing would just waltz into a hospital. The probability felt high, unsure of how powerful it was. Assuming it could wipe out a hospital if it could run around with its guts leaking out.

Perhaps the others he sensed as well meaning could help. Or would they try to kill him too. The violent throbbing of his pulse made it all so hard to decipher. His body is screaming at him to avoid it. Whatever this was. And so he headed to 7th, darting across the slowly filling street. Earning his fair share of honks and horrified looks. Making his way at max speed to a little place called Saucy’s. Nearly throwing himself down an all to claustrophobic cracked staircase, into the hidden door of the basement below. Clicking the lock into place behind him.

It was empty of life besides him and his human backpack. Kyle set about situating the seemingly unwell woman against a concrete wall. She was in bad shape. Bruised. Bleeding. The teen swallowed thickly, attempting to find a pulse and frustratedly realizing he hadn’t a clue how to do that. She was breathing though.

Water. Water. Water.

The old basin down here did in fact work, snagging a cloth off the stack and wetting it. This was for all intents and purposes, a slightly disorganized storage room. Parker shouldn’t have shown him this place. Kyle could tell it was relatively safe. The scent of fresh pizza dough was already making its way down into the basement and it would only be a matter of time before one of his future coworkers would manage their way down the old wood step to see the mess of blood the two of them were leaving.

The teen couldn’t find a way to care, slipping to his raw knees to press the cloth gently to the woman’s cheek. Wiping up the blood there. Grimacing at the thought of how much pain the poor thing was probably in.

Michael de Shade - Knight of the Veil

Rolling to a stop Michael slid from the car and popped his hat on with a familiar ease, he was solo today, his partner had called in sick which meant he had the brown bottle flu, or was getting laid. Did matter to Mike, he preferred solo. It let him handle some of the weirder cases.

The funny part was he always grabbed the riot shield from the trunk, but it had saved him from bottles to the head a number of times, and a dozen plus knife attacks. If they only knew why he always carried the shield they’d piss themselves.

The gun on his hip was lower than officially approved but it was within regulation and allowed a faster draw. He was one of the best shooters on the force. In truth he was best, but he made it a point to miss the highest score. He didn’t need, or want, the attention.

He already got enough attention with the weird calls he took. He’d been told to take the detective examine enough times that he was already looking at moving again. He was being noticed, plus he was pushing the time limit. And fuck he hated dying the tips of his hair every month.

Climbing the steps to answer the domestic he figured it was some drunk asshole beating on another drunk asshole. Gender didn’t matter anymore, the city was equal opportunity for assaults and battery.

Punching the door jam he announced himself and held the shield up, just in case someone decided to shoot first and apologize later. Shouting again he heard the slide action and braced as the shotgun blew a hole in the door and a scream followed it.

A shoulder slam knocked the busted door off it’s hinges and his hand slapped leather drawing up as he cleared the door. The dust made the shotgun bearer more of a shadow than a target, but the stance was clear as another round was racked into place.

Just to make sure Michael let the man fire a second time before he shot him. The blast from Michael’s Smith and Wesson Model 500 punched a hole through his heart and made a frying pan size hole through his spine before it shattered glass on it’s way out of the Apartment, and into the brick wall across the alley.

Movement to his right brought his hand up in a black as the other occupant came at him with a frying pan. Why was it always a fucking frying pan? Nobody ever fought with knives anymore.

Punching the pan with the barrel of his gun he heard the shot from the alley. And the stench of rotting meat and sulfur wafted through the broken window. Demon!

Shifting his stance he smacked the butt of the gun into nose of his second assailant and then gave them a head butt for good measure when they went limp. Running to the broken window in the living room he took in the scene below and holstered the gun. A glance back told him the condition of the Domestic and he made a quick radio call before he hit window at a run.

Slamming into the roof of the car he rolled off and with a practiced and oft used motion he redrew his gun. “I see you, demon.” he snarled as he clenched the gun tighter.

They had thought the pain was blinding, but actually being blinded was a different sensation altogether. Worse, actually. Cherry’s throat was raw at this point. Puriel did not mend it in hopes that it would discourage her from further screaming. Her eyes were jelly in their sockets, warped and welling up with blood. Her eyelids spasmed, desperate to eject the shards, but only succeeded in mashing them further in. Damn, that kid could aim! Scrabbling sightlessly for the door handle, they made to rush after him—only to freeze.

“I see you, demon.”

Shit. Shit. They curled in on themself, hoping their head was beneath the window. Of course the boy ran. What were they thinking? Be not afraid? When had a human ever reacted without fear in the presence of an angel? Their nostrils flared, burning with the smell of silver. Another knight. Fucking fantastic. The soul of the one they had killed clung to them like vinegar—they hadn’t had time to consume it in the heat of battle. Now, though… they shivered, mouth hanging open like a serpent scenting the air. It was easier without vision, somehow—one less sense to block out as they pulled the limp soul beneath their skin. Energy crackled through them, limbs twitching as they threaded his life force through their veins, stemmed their internal bleeding, relished the destruction of his very spirit. Basked in the knowledge that any vestige of him that made it to heaven would know exactly what the rest of him was used for.

Yum, said Cherry, because she really knew how to ruin a moment.

Puriel sighed. Their vision was a mess of color—it would take some time to heal fully, even with the soul acting as an accelerant. Eyes were complicated beasts. One of them spit out a shard of glass like a vending machine might a crumpled bill. “Hail, knight,” they said. Contrary to what their host would have you believe, they did have some manners. “You are not my quarry. Allow me to pass, and you may keep your life.”

No response. This whole diplomatic approach was really not working out for them. No matter. The knight could chase after them if he wanted to, but they would not waste precious energy on attacking him first. Leaping out of the window, they hissed as air tore past their shredded eyes. The nephilim’s trail was almost gone—city buzz hid any noises her rescuer (kidnapper?) was making, and her raucous mind was nearly out of reach. Chase, Puriel commanded, leaving Cherry with the reins as they stretched their consciousness to its limit.

They had to give it to him, the kid could run. Rubber sizzled on the pavement, ripped from squealing tires as they swerved. His sneakers moved with similar fervor, but a far less revolting smell—their soles were a rubber of righteousness. A good samaritan or a knight who was going to get one hell of a promotion after this. Or… another angelborn. But no. Surely Puriel could not be so fortunate. They clutched the girl’s brain as she was carried below the earth, holding on tight. It would have been better to probe the boy’s and confirm their suspicions, but finding his mind beneath the riotous broadcast of her memories would take more time and energy than they had. Attention whore, Cherry scoffed.

Puriel bristled. You will not speak of an angel that way.

The body ran face-first into a building. Then it got shot.

Cursing proficiently, Cherry dug her fingers into the brick. Puriel flooded her with analgesics. Keep going.

I’m trying, asshole! We’re blind, remember?

Puriel shoved her off of the motor controls. God, they really did have to do everything around here. Patting the wall, they were rewarded with a seam in the brick. A door. They shoved it open and ducked beneath another bullet, retracting their bone-appendages and running (it was really more of a fast hobble) towards the stairs. Screams pierced the incessant buzz of car horns and gunshots. Great. Hopefully this was a restaurant or something and not a place of worship. Their day was complicated enough as it was. Stumbling down the stairs, they hit another door at the bottom—but this one would not budge. The body fell to its knees. Fuck. That knight was probably in hot pursuit.

“Let me in,” Puriel yelled.

You are literally the worst at this.

They would have rolled their eyes if the glass weren’t preventing it. Then perhaps you would like to try.

She poked at control of her own brain. Yeah. Move.

They relinquished it reluctantly, not entirely convinced she wasn’t going to break her shoulder throwing it into the door. She did not. Strange what fatigue did to recklessness. Resting her forehead against the cool metal of the door, she projected her voice as best she could. “Hey, man. I’m Cherry. Sorry that my demon is being a bitch. I totally get that you’re scared of me; I would be too.” She coughed wetly. "But like, not to be an ass, we would have just killed you in that car if we wanted to. We don’t.”

She took a deep breath, praying he could hear her. “Look, we just wanna talk to the girl. Honest and for true. If you open the door, I can teleport us all outta here. You can come and everything. Never have to let her outta your sight. I bet she’s doing pretty rough, right? We can heal her, get her away from all the cops and shit. Get you away from all the cops and shit. We can take a breath and talk things out once we're there, okay? I promise. Demons can’t break deals, y’know. I promise we’ll get you out safe.”

Puriel heard footsteps thundering upstairs. Cherry had to stop this incessant rambling. Either this door opened or they were burning it down.

Michael de Shade- Knight of the Veil

Son of a bitch! Michael cursed as he fired, his first shot exploding brick as the high powered slug ripped into the demon. Giving chase he whispered next the the magazine, blessing the weapon and the rounds it carried. Firing again he snarled as the round ripped through the open door missing the demons head by less than an inch.

Holstering the gun, Michael hit the door at a full run. Blasting it open like a portcullis. Switching to the old tongue he spoke Aramaic, challenging the demon“Cowardly snake, slither in the mud and muck like your ancestors.” Whispering he reached back and pulled the sword from the void. Smacking his riot shield with thee blade he cast aside the glamour on them.

Jumping the least set of step Michael rose to his full height, Mournblade held forth like he knew what he was doing. He wasn’t one of these new knights that relied on fireballs and witch lights to do his work. He relied on a sharp sword and a solid shield.

“I will cast thee back unto the pit of foul beast.” He swore before calling in English. “You behind the door. Stay thy hand and open not the portal. On your soul the beast will devour you if thy passage is opened.”

Turning his gaze fully upon the demon he smiled. “Face me demon, and a chance you may have. I'd prefer to face you, but I'll take your head from the front or behind. Your choice defiler."

One. Two. Three. The bloody rags were piling up. Lord, she was still bleeding and the light, tentative shake Kyle had given the woman did not wake her. Briefly, in a moment of weakness the boy tucks his head in his hands, ignoring the aching in his body. Taking the slightest of seconds to breathe. The pursuit was still on, and he could sense the ‘thing’ very nearby and approaching– a predator locked onto his location. Sniffing him out, far too close for comfort. Like a deer in the headlights he was frozen, hands shaking, breath coming out in puffs.

Kyle had always been good at navigating his location and seemingly the location of others. Always knowing when someone was approaching and what their intentions were. It worked great for the jobs he liked to do. Deliveries and transportation. But at this moment he wished he did not know. Wished desperately this feeling would go away. That the pinging on an invisible map would blot out and relieve him of the adrenaline and hyper awareness of every muscle in his body. Primed to spring forward and find yet another escape.

As it drew near, the tension built in his body. Near leaping out of his skin at the bang against the door. It’s here.

It greeted him rather casually through the metal, introducing itself. Cherry. What a pretty name. The voice was raspy and worn like he had never heard anything before. The image of its bloody body flashing across his vision sent him into overdrive.

It’s demon is a bitch. They could kill me. They do in fact want the girl. And they can teleport??

Kyle felt faint. So this wasn’t an angle but a harbinger of doom. A spark of pride welled in him. He had been right about this feeling all these years. Right about running. Right about the inherent danger. If it could teleport, why exactly was it blocked by a door? Why wouldn’t the thing just magically poof into the room? Or portal or whatever the hell it could do. The teen wouldn’t trust it for a second. And he doesn’t trust the promise of a deal. Spine feeling as if it would wiggle itself from his body and escape first if he did not act quickly.

There is some deft fumbling on Kyle’s part as he attempts to sling one of the girl's arms over his shoulder to lift her from the ground, but an unconscious body was difficult to move without all the momentum he had been utilizing.

“God damn it.” Kyle jolted, whipping around to see the source of the voice. Shocked that he had not noticed anyone coming down the steps from the dining area. “I knew you were going to be trouble.” Randall in all his middle aged, pissed off glory was approaching quickly. The thick graying brows near jumping off his face at the battered woman Kyle was attempting to hold up.

“You behind the door. Stay thy hand and open not the portal. On your soul the beast will devour you if thy passage is opened.”

Kyle looked between Saucy’s owner and the door, shooting the man a weak worried smile. “Wasn't planning on it!” The teen shouts back.

Randall, as if sensing the waves of tension rolling off his new employee, slipped a shoulder under the woman's other arm, practically lifting her off the ground with the height difference. The man led the two up the stairs into the dining area. Kyle was washed with a wave of relief. Happy to let the man half drag the girl up the narrow steps. Taking in the checkered floors and the drawn blinds.

“Start talkin’ kid.” Randall muttered. Lip lifted in an almost animalistic display. As if his agitation would spill over at any second.

“I found her like this, some-” Kyle hesitates. “Some dude had roughed her up pretty bad in an alleyway.”

“You are so lucky I haven’t opened shop, else I woulda tossed you out that back door to whoever was on the other side.” There is a scolding, almost fatherly way Randal was eyeing him. Pointing a thick callused finger at him. “Hurry up. I’m not letting my dough overproof because you went and brought a battered housewife to the shop.”

The two men make quick work of getting the girl into the back office, past the kitchen and bathrooms into the back. The Owner of Saucy’s grimacing when they set her in his worn leather chair. Randal is still muttering as he looks the girl over, finding her pulse, tapping her face lightly with the back of his hand.

“Lucky.” He’s spitting under his breath. “Lucky kid. I’m too damn soft. Lucky you’re officially hired. Should have ya both escorted off my property and charged with trespassin’.”

Kyle is the visage of a nervous kicked puppy with his head slightly lowered. Nodding quietly. Watching intently as Randal works, eyes flicking to the door every few moments. Fingers twitching, foot tapping.

“You think she ODed?” Randall asked. Taking her arm and inspecting it, noting the bruising in the crook of her elbow.

“Shit, I hope not.” Kyle says, suddenly studying her arm too.

“Whelp, can’t for the life of me-” Randall is popping the lid off a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “Understand why ya brought her here. But if her waking up gets ya both out of my shop that’s good enough for me.”

The scent of the alcohol pulls a rush of heat to the teens ears. Overwhelmed with the strength of it. Plugging his nose. And Randall is waving the bottle under the girl's nose, tapping her face again.

“Come on hun, wake up.” Randall calls almost softly.

Alaina: Nephilim

She opened her eyes alright, staring at Randall, and emptied her stomach before anyone could move. Once she was done, she dry heaved a few more times as her stomach and soul rebelled against the revulsion of the demon she’d seen.

And the voices in her head were screaming louder than ever. Fucking shit ass heroin. She’d beat Tommy when she caught up to him. If he lived through whatever was happening to him.

Swinging she felt her knuckled hit something like a cast iron kill, bones making a gross crunch as she dislocated knuckles, fire screaming from hand to skull. God damn this was almost as bad as the day her family was murdered.

She wasn’t even sure these people were real or if this was a bad trip. Demons weren’t real, the shrinks all told her the same thing. Hallucination. Coping mechanism. Schizophrenia. The voices in her head were all part of it. Auditory Hallucinations. The demons were visual Hallucinations.

"Fuck! I need a drink." She groaned grabbing the bottle and taking just enough to clean her mouth and spitting that onto the floor before downing the rest of the high-octane gut rot. "Everclear would be great. Or Cocaine in Everclear. SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP!!! STOP SCREAMING IN HEAD!!! Just shut up. Leave me alone.” Fuck she couldn’t even stand up right now, and the demon outside the door wanted to chew her soul up and tear it into itty bitty pieces. God Damn that thing reeked like rotting meat and sulfur.

But something else was there as well. Fire… and ice.. Cold rage. Fury and Caramel cinnamon.

Jasper was curious to see what the police officers were researching, so he took a closer look - clearly against Kalan's wishes. They were close to a coffee shop that suddenly decided to close during opening hours. So something happened out here? Jasper asked Kalan what he thought of it, but he already knew the answer he was going to get. This was the work of another demon. Even though this demon chose an even more hidden alley than he had done before, the demon's work was caught by the police. However, the demon itself seemed to have escaped. Was this the result of impulsiveness? Miscalculation? Or a bad choice for a victim? Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with Jasper and the longer he would stand there looking at the police officers, the more suspicious he would seem.

To his surprise, people were talking of the incident from even a further distance from the coffee shop. People talked fast and the incident had clearly left a big impression on everyone. However, people were more anxious in a very specific direction. Is that were the other demon has gone? Should he follow them? Kalan said that it wasn't a smart idea, but his thirst for blood convinced him to follow the trace anyways. Jasper decided the listen to Kalan as usual. It took some time for them to find it, but in the end they noticed that the trace ended at a door. They were clearly already fighting before they even made it inside. It wouldn't be easy to get inside without anyone noticing and they also had no idea of knowing what they would stumble upon once making it inside. However, they wanted to try. That's why they waited for the perfect moment to get inside the building. There, they noticed some stairs and on the bottom of them was a woman. They heard her mention that demons can't break deals. So this woman was the demon who made a scene at the coffee shop? That's interesting.

This was not a good day. It started bad with a nightmare and spiraled into uncontrolled chaos. Rufus was dead, the angel born that she had discovered had been taken by, all things, another angel born, and the demon had run off. Now Jasmine was sending message after message, arranging an army of knights to sweep the city but first, she needed to handle Rufus.

“Hey Google, call Mark,” a gruff voice was in her ear a moment later.

“Mark here.”

“Mark, I have no time to talk. Rufus is gone. I left his body to be discovered by police. We need to arrange someone to recover him from the city morgue. They should be on the scene in about fifteen minutes. He fell in battle so he deserves all the rights.”

“Cause?”

“Bullet to the head.”

Mark was silent for a moment on the other line as he took notes before responding. “Got it. I'll arrange it.” Then the line went dead.

Jasmine sighed quietly as she let Bruno guide her out of the alley way and onto the sidewalk away from the scene. She could hear the people around them and her head throbbed with each step. That battle was a doozy and she really hoped she wouldn't get any kind of visions any time soon. Being stuck in the in-between like that was not something was had ever done and something she really did not care to repeat.

However, she wouldn't be so lucky. She got about ten minutes away from the scene before she felt the weight of the angels pressing down on her shoulders again. Fuck. She cursed herself as her vision flicked out and the scenes flashed behind her eyes. One scene after another. She stood transfixed, holding tightly to Bruno's harness as she got images of the pizzeria flashed by. She saw Kyle, his boss, and Aliana in the back off of the restaurant. She also saw Michael there as well, confronting the demon girl from earlier. How in the world did they manage to get so far away from her in such a short time?

She saw a second person approaching the restaurant and her aura sight told her it was another demon possessed. Michael was going to be out numbered very quickly and she needed to get those two angel born out of that area as quickly as physically possible. Thankfully the vision ended almost as quickly as it started and the angels left her soon after.

“Bruno, to headquarters.” The dog let out a bark of understanding as he led the way to her work. She had google dial a number and it was picked up instantly. “We need a convoy to the Saucy 's pizzeria immediately. We have two demon possessed there, two angel born in trouble, and Michael is facing off about to be out numbered. I don't care how many people you bring. I don't care about secrecy. This is a matter of upmost importance. Get everyone you can and get there NOW” She hung up the phone, following Bruno's lead before she paused a moment, pondering on what she was going to say next. She sighed before having google call Saucy's number.

The phone in the Saucy's office rang. Jasmine hoped they would pick up. This whole thing was a mess. She needed to get to those kids before something bad happened. She especially needed to get to Alaina. Her powers were great but she needed them sealed before she killed someone with them. Pick up, pick up, pick up.

Michael de Shade - Knight of the Veil

Shifting his feet on dirt and gravel mixed with broken concrete Michael smiled. “I haven’t had a descent dance in years.” she said chuckling. “Do you think you can match me, child of darkness?”

Not even the local Chapter knew who and what he was. To them he was a Knight with descent skill and a bit of a reckless abandon. He’d slain demons, more than most and in single combat.

If the Order knew just how many he’d killed across the centuries they’d shit themselves stupid. Hell, if the Order knew how old he truly was they’d quiver in their night caps and wet themselves in their dreams. Hell, once they figured out how far he'd jumped to land on vehicle and save the Nephilim they'd have question. How did he survive? How wasn't he hurt? How did he know she was there?

He’d buried more Knights in the field of battle then existed in this city. And every one of them had been a friend. At least until he’d stopped making friends.
Taking the void he slipped into the old forms, not the new and crude hack and slash styles that all the young knights used. But the styles used in the times before gunpowder. The times of the Crusades, and before that.

Morning Dawn followed by Michael Slays the Dragon, flowing into Leaping Tiger. His blade and shield were extensions of himself as forms he’d used for centuries came to him as simple as breathing.

One cut and the demon would be crippled by pain, and then he'd bury his blade inside its flesh and free the human from the corruption.

Michael de Shade - Knight of the Veil



1291, May 17
Acre, The Holy Land.
The place smelled of piss, shit, and sweat. At least once you got passed the smell of the dead. The heat made a dead man putrefy before nightfall, by morning his gut would split and the stench would get worse.

This wasn’t his first time here, probably wouldn’t be his last either. They’d been fighting for a fortnight, but today the enemy was resting. They didn’t work on this day, so the knights were using it as a chance to tend their wounded, and reinforce barricades.

I only they knew the truth.

Kneeling in the Temple, silently in prayer for guidance, he turned his head slightly at the footsteps behind him. “Sir Mikhail?”

“No, Lord Janus, I’m Sir Matthew of Clermont. Sir Mikhail was my father. Passed he did before my third summer. Mother mine says I look much alike him in his youth.”

“Aye, that you do lad. That you do.” Sir Janus replied his eyes stil looking over the son of a man he’d fought alongside many a years. “Even thine voice is alike.”

“Mother mine cannot bear my likeness or mine voice. Like a dagger in her heart she says. She took the loss of my father hard.” He hated these interactions, pretending to be his own son, telling stories of a mother that had been dead before the Living God walked the Earth.

“But enough of that, what news do you bring?” He asked Sir Janus.

“We are to retreat to the City of Tartus, or the Island of Ruad,” the Knight replied. “Intelligence report that Siraj al-Din Dhabyan is preparing a major attack this evening, everything they have will besiege the walls. Thirty-thousand men, plus horse and catapult. They’ll take the city before sunrise.”

“Very well, begin the withdrawal by sea, load every man, woman, and child that seeks passage. I need a hundred Knights for the defense as everyone else escapes.”

“You’re staying then?” Janus asked, incredulously.

“Aye,” Sir Matthew replied. “I’m staying. Give my thanks to King Henry, It’s been an honor serving under him, and winning at dice against him.” he finished with a slight curve to his lips as he smiled.

****

The attack had come at midnight, when many had been trying to sleep as more ships sailed. There were so many coming that it was impossible to stop them all. It was akin to fighting a raging river.

At least he’d managed to take out three hellspawn across the city before he’d been overwhelmed and hadd taken a sword through his chest.

If he hadn’t managed to kill the hellspawn he’d have finally died that night. But Yahweh had other plans for him.

****

Crawling from the dirt he rested a moment. Perhaps it was longer. He’d fallen asleep from pain and exhaustion. When he finally got moving again his body hurt like Shaitain himself had chewed his bones and spit him out.

One stolen horse later and he was free of Acre. Heading north to Tartus and then across the sea to Ruad. The last week of Acre had seen the deaths of over 10,000 Knights and soldiers. Plus unknown numbers of civilians and enemy combatants.

Shivering, Puriel pressed a hand to the doorknob. If they could get the knob to a high enough temperature, then the lock should melt through sheer proximity…

He’s not going to open the door, Cherry hissed.

We will obtain the nephilim, they replied hollowly. At this point, it had become more of a prayer than a plan.

Are you fuckin’ stupid? It’s a miracle we aren’t dead already, we gotta go! They could hardly hear the knight’s threats over Cherry’s panic.

Unwilling to acknowledge either human clamoring for their attention, Puriel funneled their focus down their fingertips, steel glowing red-hot. Tunnel vision always was their biggest flaw—with all of their energy concentrated on the body, Cherry’s frantic mind was free to do as it pleased. Which in this case was to ram itself right into a particularly infernal bundle of nerves and ruin Puriel’s day entirely.

Liquid steel splattered across the floor.

Choking on an inhale, the body fizzled into Cherry’s apartment with a hand still outstretched. A moment passed in riotous coughing. Another in catching breath. One more in silence. Brimstone seared their sinuses.

“What,” Puriel gritted, jaw cracking on the vowel, “did you do.”

The demon knew full well what she had done, of course. Teleporting was a difficult business—they needed a tether to a particular location to appear there, making their destinations predictable and finite. In this mortal realm, their host’s home was the only place they were familiar enough with to use as an escape route. This home was also not where they wanted to be right now. They wanted to be on the other side of that shitty restaurant door, pulling that insolent boy’s spine out through his mouth. They wanted to capture the angelborn before the knights could poison her with human lies. They wanted their host to behave for once in her entire life. But desire was a sin, so they strangled their anger and neutralized the analgesics. Cherry gasped in pain. A small penance, but it would have to do for now.

I teleported, Cherry replied, because she wouldn’t know a rhetorical question if it burned her at the stake.

Though their vision was still useless, the space was recognizable enough—cinnamon air freshener and months-old weed was a concoction just sickening enough to be distinct. Puriel fell unceremoniously onto their stomach, shag carpet tickling their nose. Everything hurt.

Swirling the knight’s soul like the dregs of loose tea, Puriel surveyed the body’s injuries. Charred fingertips, metal still stuck to the pads. Probably for the best—they should’ve removed her fingerprints a long time ago. A gunshot wound in the back, just below the bottom rib. Best to leave it in for now to stop her from bleeding out, but it would have to be removed eventually. A few dozen lacerations across the body. Fucking magic. Those would have to heal naturally. They weren’t deep enough to be fatal, but they were painful. And conspicuous. Not to mention the shredded corneas.

They laid there for a number of minutes. Mortal exhaustion was a tedious thing. They would need someone else to operate on the body if they were to heal in a timely manner. It was the practical option, but it was also horribly undignified. Unfortunately, they needed practicality right now. Which meant… ugh. Puriel allowed Cherry to groan into the floor.

A demon would have to help them.

Which meant they would have to invite a demon into their home, and withstand being called a demon by said demon, even though they weren’t a demon, they were an angel, and it was frankly ridiculous that they couldn’t turn to their own kin for this sort of thing, but they had all been brainwashed. So. Indignity it was.

Projecting their thoughts as far as they could across the city, Puriel sought out any demonic minds. I require aid. Payment will be rendered upon completion of service. Report to the source of this message.

Michael de Shade - Knight of the Veil

With the demon gone in the most cowardly way possible, teleportation, Michael shoved the blade into the locking plate and heaved with more strength than a normal human would muster. Granted there were a few hundred Humans stronger than him, but they were all weight lifters. All strength and no power.

Metal screamed high pitched and in agony as the blade slid downwards, the edge shearing through hardened steel until it popped free and the door swung loose. Stepping inside he shoved the door out of his way and slid the sword back beyond the Veil. A quick glamour returned the appearance of his Bulwark Shield into a Riot Shield.

Drawing his gun, and it’s holy rounds he moved through the backroom and then into the kitchen, checking the walk in cooler and freezer before moving onward. Shutting off the stove, he saw no reason for the sauce to burn.

Freezing he listened for a moment to the conversation before he moved closer. “Everyone in the office, slowly come out with your hands up. One at a Time. I’m a cop, I have my weapon drawn, and a riot shield. I know how to use them and If I think I see a gun or fast movement, I’ll blow a hole through you and the wall behind you.”

Thank The heavens he hadn’t slipped into Middle English again. He’d almost called himself a Reeve of the Shire. He needed to avoid the Latin, it fucked with his diction.

Jasper “Kalan” Raven

Sniffing the air, Kalen giggled to himself as he lightly skipped along the sidewalk following the call. Oh someone needed a bandaid. Bandaid… Bandaid… He was virtually singing the word. And if someone was calling for help it was bad, so very very bad. That meant some poor innocent human was severely hurt… maybe even….

Bleeding.

Skipping up the stairs of the building he stopped outside the door and sniffed. “Hmmm.. Yummy..” He sighed inhaling deeply at the thick cloying copper scent in the air. There was so much blood.

Hades pit he was aroused. He wanted to fuck one of those gaping wounds, maybe even add a few of his own. “Knock knock,” he called, his eyes wide and wild with madness. “What do devils serve to drink at Halloween parties?“ Chuckling to himself he started knocking on the door. “Demonade”

Rapping his knuckles on the door - Knock Knock Knock - he called out. “Penny!”
Rapping his knuckles on the door - Knock Knock Knock - he called out. “Penny!”
Rapping his knuckles on the door - Knock Knock Knock - he called out. “Penny!”

“Do you know why demons write great contracts?” He called through the door. “Because the Devil’s in the Details!!!” HAHAHAHAHA he started laughing. Oh damn he could smell that sweet blood. They’d got fucked up bad. Car accident? Demon Daredevil? A demon fight?

The call went out and a coarse chuckle sounded lightly from the shadows. Eyes of burning fire opened and a smile broke across Agrid’s face. She knew this voice that now rang out to every demon in the vicinity. Puriel. Poor, poor Puriel. If he had swallowed his ego and summoned any kind of help, then perhaps it was time for her to finally step out of the shadows and lend a hand to her fellow kin.

Another laugh sounded, her eyes closed, and she was gone.

Agrid had no human soul to contend with and the moment she took this body as her own, she rebirthed it in hell fire. She still was humanoid but her eyes were not human, her horns curled out from her head in prominent detail, and her hair coiled out in whispy ends that dissolve into nothing like the smoke of a bonfire drifting off into the air. When she stepped out from the shadows behind Jasper, she was silent as death. Her pale, bare feet didn't make a sound as she slowly approached from behind. Her long dress ended in tatters that ended in the same black, wispy smoke that her hair ended in.

She wasn't sure who this demon was but judging by the amount of blood on his outfit and the manic gleam in his eyes, he must be a fighter or blood letter of some type. There may still be a chance she knew him, if she could only catch his scent.

She leaned close to Jasper, her eyes fluttering closed as she hovered just above the back of his neck. She took a deep, quiet inhale before she slipped right into his shadow, the fading wisps of her dress being the only signs of her presence.

“A demon I don't know,” came her soft, breathy voice from the shadows. “You smell of the hunt. Did you kill, young one?” She gave a soft chuckle and it reverberated along the hall as if it was come from all sides. “I so do love the hunt.” She slowly showed herself just to the side of him, her fiery eyes really getting a good look at the front of him. She stepped up and squeezed herself between him and the door of the apartment. She could have done this without making herself known to the demon boy but what fun would have that been?

She reached out to place a delicate hand on his cheek, grinning widely but she raised a finger to her lips and gave out a quiet “shhhh”. Then she slipped through the door of the apartment and left the boy alone on the hallway.

She turned around to find the Cherry girl lying on the ground of the apartment. She cooed quietly and slowly stepped up to them, tsking like a mother shaming a child for taking a cookie before dinner.

“My, my,” her soft voice called out as she squatted to examine them on the ground. “Poor, poor Puriel. You always were so quick to act with tunnelvision. You never could see the whole board.” She reached out to glide a nail along their cheek as she tsked again.

She slowly stood before she walked to the door, unlocked it, and opened it for Jasper. “You are thinking too small, Puriel!” She called over her shoulder as she let Jasper into the apartment before she walked back into the main area and took a seat in an armchair, leaning back and resting one leg over the other. “Are you aware of what happens when we release more seals? We already have two. We get two more and we release the four horsemen.” A wicked smile cracked across her face at the thought of it. She was practically salivating at the idea of it. “Imagine it, boys. Wrath, plague, famine, death.” She hissed out the last name with such glee, she shivered.

“We could unleash the apocalypse, and you're over here,” she leaned forward, a frown formed on her face, and she sent a jab of her foot to Puriel's side, “What, fighting humans and angel born? For what? Forget them. They'll die along with the rest.”

She slid out of the chair, arms first, allowing her body to glide along the plush carpet until her mouth was only inches from Puriel's ear. “Join me in seeking the seals, sweet Puriel and I'll help you heal.” She slowly rolls onto her back, waving a hand in the air, shadows boiling just above her palm for a moment before they were blasted away as a vial of dancing blue flame replaced them to hover there instead. “Hellfire, straight from home. I've been saving it for an emergency of my own but if you join me in serving our great Lord, I'll give it to you.” She grabbed the vial from the air and rolled onto her stomach, wiggling around until she could jiggle the vial in front of their face. “It'll be all yours, or you can leave your fate to this one.” She said as she pointed towards Jasper. “Your choice.”

Jasper “Kalan” Raven

Stepping across the threshold Kalen gazed lovingly at the host on the floor. She’d been fucked up so nicely, that was gonna leave a mark on her soul.

Puriel, the other named him Puriel. He was an old one then. A Fallen One. Did he follow Father Lucifer in the Greta War? Or did he fall after?

She was making a deal with Puriel! NO! NO! NO!

“Mine. I was here first. Listen to my offer she must..”

Straddling the body he crouched over it, his tongue dancing across his blade. Pushing Jasper down down down he spoke. Couldn’t let the Human know everything. Hehhehe.

“Fix you I can… Master of Blood I am.” Kalen purred. “Fix you I will. For a favor small. I help you. You help me.” Leaning down close he licked Puriel’s face his tongue slithering along and within an eye socket. He rolled the eyeball itself like a precious delicacy. Yummy. He wanted to swallow it hole and enjoy the rage/screams/pain. But he didn’t.

Leaning back he kissed the Hosts forehead, the eye healed. “Freebee, a taste of my skills.” chuckling at his own morbid humor he started cackling for a moment. Before he settled down.

Leaning in he licked her neck. “Deal we make?” He asked. “See all the wounds I must. Naked you need be.” Yeah, hell yeah. He needed to see her naked. Not really, but demons were liars and thieves.

Puriel shuddered. They willingly summoned a demon; they should’ve expected this… this thing. This fucking beast salivating over their host. The body’s heartbeat was faltering—whether that was from blood loss or fear was anyone’s guess.

I’m not scared of him, Cherry said defensively. She was, of course. She was scared of Puriel too. But. Well. Better the devil you know, and all that.

Baring their teeth, Puriel snapped at the demon’s tongue as he pulled away from their forehead. They missed miserably—even with one eye healed, their depth perception was terrible. The demon’s spittle stung Cherry’s eye like tap-hot water. Not burning, exactly, but certainly striking. God. She hoped he wasn’t carrying anything. It wasn’t difficult to see his lust. It almost made him less scary, if only in the sense that he wasn't completely unknowable. It was honestly pathetic that an otherworldly being was into sex. Like, a million billion trillion rapists worldwide and this legendary creature was just another one of them? Really? It made sense, in a way, that beings of sin would be so human, what with humans being the progenitors of sin and all that. But like. At least when Puriel made a contract with her, they made a dramatic entrance, spoke with gravity and presence. This demon just gave her a view of what it would be like if Yoda wanted to get in her pants. Honestly. Take a girl to a virgin sacrifice first.

“The vessel is mine,” Puriel growled. “You will not remove its clothing, nor will you have sex with it. You will not make a deal with the human within. These are my terms.” A tensing of the jaw. “Name yours.”

Agrid slowly rose to her feet, allowing her body to rise off the ground like an old school vampire horror clip. Her hands clasped behind her back as she continued to rise until she was completely off the ground, dark wisps of shadow and smoke flowing from her like elegant tendrils of darkness. Her red eyes flashed a moment, as she bared her teeth at the new demon boy. He practically dove on top of the girl to claim his stake before he spoke. She hissed lightly as she hovered above the two of them, her body quivering in the mist like a dark illusion.

"Foolish boy," her voice reverberated around them as if it came from every little shadow. The shadows called out quietly, as if the very souls of the damned called from them as she dissolved into the nearest one. She pondered leaving. It was obvious Puriel was looking to make the deal with the body but her duty kept her from going too far. She remained there, hidden in the shadows as she watched the two of them. Unfortunately, she needed the help. She scoffed at the idea of recruiting this savage to her team but at the moment, they were the only demons in this area. She was sure she could get more to her cause. It would not be hard but that would require her to actively seek them out, and she needed to get something moving, soon. So with a groan, she slipped her form out of the shadows and allowed it to flow once more into the arm chair before she condensed and materialized there in the spot. She rested an elbow on the arm rest and laid her temple against the tip of her index finger as she watched the two of them. Disappointment was clear on her face at the sight. It would, of course, be her luck that it would be Puriel, a demon who can't accept that he's not an angel anymore, and this savage who were the ones she would find to recruit.

She had found the possible location of the next seal and whether the humans were aware of it or not, it was smack dad in the middle of their accursed Knights of the Veil territory. She wonders if maybe the knights of old had found the seal and built their headquarters on top of it or if it was just a coincidence that they had come to settle in that location. Either way, it made things far more difficult than she would like. Sure, she could probably slip and out without dying but she couldn't imagine it would be an easy task and she would not come out unscathed. And if she wanted to break the seal. Ha, she would die in the process. It took too long, too much power, and would leave her open to attack while she did it. She would need people to defend her and keep her safe while she tore the seal apart, one piece at a time.

So for now, she needed to convince these two to follow the very reason they were put on this earth in the first place and go with her to kill every last knight, prophet, and angel born in that territory before they could rip the seal apart and free another layer of demons into the world. Then they would be just one more seal away from starting the apocalypse.

Despite herself, Agrid smiled a gruesome smile as she thought about it. She would free the horsemen. It was only a matter of time.

Jasper “Kalan” Raven

“Sex? Who said anything about sex?” Kalan snickered. “Terms? Terms?”

“Contract maker, deal breaker.” Sniffing at the air he twitched. His head snapping hard enough that the cracking on it’s spine was audible even to the human host buried deep inside. ‘Frankincense, Myrrh. Honey… Holy weapon. Gonna take more to heal that..”

“My Terms… I heal you.. even the holy damage. And you owe me a favor. Whatever I ask, as long as it’s within your power. If you cannot, then the debt is still owed.”

“Within... Six Years, six months, Six days, Six hours, Six minutes, and sex seconds from the last wound is healed. I must call the debt, or it is forgiven and forgotten.”

Moving around as he spoke Kalen examined the Wounds without touching Puriel or the Host. “I’m thinking of opening a club.. Lucifer’s Playground.”

“A place to teach the young-lings some S&M. Have the occasional... sacrifice. Leeches for the occasional bloodletting. And where to arrange the annual.. foxing.”

Looking up from his potential client he gazed at the shadows with a strange lust in his eyes. “Leave not oh beauty of the night. For perchance a bargain we might make.” Watching as she reformed in the chair, he quivered like a schoolboy looking at his first naked supermodel picture. Or perhaps meeting his boyhood crush.

The woman came to in a fury of illness and passionate screaming. Like waking from a bad dream. Perhaps drugs did that to a person. Wracked them with fear. Made them fall apart. Or it was the demon that had put her in this state of brokenness. Kyle wanted to cry. She was freaking out and it was freaking him out more than he’d like to admit. Jumping near out of his skin when she first awoke.

“Whoa! Hey, hey, it’s okay!” Kyle tried. And through the shouting, the phone rang off the hook. Desperately Kyle looked to Randall, who equally was attempting to steady the woman. Forgoing the phone to pat her back as she tossed the contents of her stomach again, agitation lighting in the quirk of his brow.

“Fuck.” Randall practically barks the word out. “We ain’t open yet. Get the damn phone Kyle before I strangle ya with it.” Randall shakes his head at the words this girl was spewing. Coke and everclear. Whatever Kyle had dragged here was bad news. And she had tossed the contents of her stomach all over his office. It made him want to fire the new kid. In fact he would. This was a fireable offense in his opinion.

The teenager is scrambling to the phone, fingers fumbling with it before clearing his throat and in a very high pitched ‘everything is fine’ voice he answers. “Saucy’s Pizzeria. This is Kyle. We’re closed.” Kyle hoped the person on the other line could not hear the commotion currently unfolding on his end. It would totally look bad for the business. Whatever the person on the other end said was drowned out by the sense of someone coming up to the office. In his scrambled state he felt a sense of relief and was surprised by the intensity of the voice behind the door.

“Everyone in the office, slowly come out with your hands up. One at a Time. I’m a cop, I have my weapon drawn, and a riot shield. I know how to use them and If I think I see a gun or fast movement, I’ll blow a hole through you and the wall behind you.”

Kyle obediently dropped the phone and lifted his hands up, Randall on the other hand seemed as if he would have an aneurysm at any moment, teeth gritted. “What the fuck type a’ cop threatens to blast a hole though innocent citizens?” Randall shouted back. “Motherfuckers breaking into my store. Threatenin’ to shoot me?” Kyle was beside him in an instant, shaking his head. Pleading with his eyes.

“We are totally coming out. And completely unarmed!” Kyle said. But god it sounded forced. Maybe suspicious even. “I-I’m opening the door. Please don’t shoot me!” Kyle tried again. Reaching for the knob, searching with his entire being for any sense this would put him six feet under. It never came. In fact the sense of dread had lifted to such a degree that he could almost breathe. That Cherry lady had slinked off his radar for the most part. It made the boy want to fling the door open wide and leap into the arms of precieved safety.

As if on instinct, Kyle placed himself in the line of sight of Randall and the battered woman. Attempting a smile. “Good morning, Sir. Officer.” Kyle swallowed and tried the word again. “Officer.” But it didn’t feel quite like the correct title. And there was something off about the guy. Not necessarily in a bad way, just odd. Like the man before him was hiding something.

“You know trespassing is a crime.” Randall spoke from behind Kyle. “Copper or not. You need a warrant to be in my shop if you are tryin’ to dig around here.” The store owner had also taken up a sort of stance before the woman, just as Kyle had done. “Let me see some kind of badge.”

Michael de Shade - Knight of the Veil

“What the fuck type a’ cop threatens to blast a hole though innocent citizens?” Randall shouted back. “Motherfuckers breaking into my store. Threatenin’ to shoot me?”

“We are totally coming out. And completely unarmed!” Kyle said. “I-I’m opening the door. Please don’t shoot me!” Kyle tried again. “Good morning, Sir. Officer.” Kyle swallowed and tried the word again. “Officer.”

“You know trespassing is a crime.” Randall spoke from behind Kyle. “Copper or not. You need a warrant to be in my shop if you are tryin’ to dig around here.” The store owner had also taken up a sort of stance before the woman, just as Kyle had done. “Let me see some kind of badge.”

“When in pursuit of a felon, in this case an individual that committed murder in the alley of a security guard while committing armed robbery. I am allowed to enter without a warrant. If you want to argue that against my Captain and a judge go for it. As for my Badge it’s on my chest. I’m not digging for shit, but If I see anything that looks illegal, like the two of you attempting to hide a rape victim, or one of your buyers, I most certainly will be delighted to detain all of you while Narcotics, Vice, and RICO search the shit out of this place.”

“And the Fourth Amendment pertains to your House, your, Car, and yourself. Not to a Business.”

“Now if your buyer dies of an overdose I’ll happily add aiding and abetting, Interference, murder, attempted murder, Resistance and anything else me, my boss, and the wino on the corner would like to add.”

“Now I chanced an individual to the door, they are removed,” And fuck if he was saying the demon fucking Teleported away. “However they may have had an accomplice. Now I saw you running from him and dragging the girl. Is that her pimp or dealer? Do you work for him? I would suggest you explain quickly.”

Setting the Riot shield on the floor he leaned it against his leg as he then reached up and grabbed his belt radio, not the one on his shoulder. “Base I got two potential Heaven’s Gate. I need a pickup and a Hospital on the 911. I’m also gonna need a Warrant, for Vice, Narco, and RICO at Saucy’s Pizzarie. Specifically for Pimping/Prostitution and a Heroin Overdose in the back Office. Owner is giving my grief for hot pursuit, possible connection to the Alley Murder this time today. Sir Michael out.”

He wasn’t about to explain the different radio’s, nobody ever noticed anyways.

“Now, Anybody else here? EMT’s are on the way for her, and I seriously hope anything she says matches what you two are about to tell me.”