Wanted Dead

The iron barred door clanged and bounced when it hit the wall, and I yanked Serene through the doorway. "We are leaving, I think."

"What's happening!?" She struggled in my grip.

I gave a shrug, "It's been a bit of a blur since I bruised my ribs on that table, to be honest."

Then Mittens was down the stairs. She didn't bother stepping down them, instead leaping from the landing visible to the door and ending up on all fours in front of me. She did a quick turn and sniffed the air.

"Mittens, what's-" I started.

Another figure descended the stairs. Slow and treacherous, a cultist in black robes. His hood was pulled back, revealing the shaven head and the... sunglasses, for some reason. He had a scarred face, and was holding some unholy symbol in his left hand. "Ah. Perfect. Stand still."

I heard Serene step back, her breath caught in her throat. Mittens rose and began raising her hands in arcane gestures. But the cultist was doing the same, waving his infernal symbol to create red sigils in the air, collapsing ambient chroma into a spell.

I wasn't a mage-slayer, y'know? I prided myself on not being an anybody-slayer. A gentleman thief! But I knew a few things about how to deal with wizards, or at least, I'd read about it. And this guy had made a pretty big mistake.

He decided to cast a spell within four meters of someone.

I threw myself forward, grabbing him around the waist. His head cracked across the concrete cellar wall as I took him down. I grabbed that bald sonuvabitch’s face and slammed the head a few more times as he struggled in the surprise. I did this until he finally stopped moving.

I wasn't as good at knocking people unconscious as Jill. I just hoped he was out.

I sprang to my feet and turned to the two behind me, "Is there a back door?"

Mittens nodded, letting the spell dissipate back to the leylines, "Just up the stairs and through the kitchen."

"Cops?"

"Mesmerized, entirely unconscious." Mittens said.

"They knocked them out?"

"Oh, no. I did. I didn't want them to get killed by the cultists in a fight. They are after you, anyway." Mittens admitted.

"That's certainly illegal. Interfering with police in the pursuit of their duty." Serene hissed.

"I'm certain Mrs. Temperant will thank me tomorrow." Mittens responded, nodding to Serene.

I didn't care much at that moment to think about tomorrow, I was more interested in seeing the next hour. "Stick with me." I said, as I pulled my dagger from my sheathe. I stopped at the doorway to the stairs, "How many cultists are there?"

"Twelve." Mittens said.

"Demon Priest?" I asked.

Mittens thought for a bit, "I did not... see any that looked different from the others."

I rethought my strategy, "There's no way we can get past them... I mean, I can't fight through twelve guys, and this building's a bit tiny to sneak through..."

Mittens drove her gaze up and down my body, locking eyes onto my chest, "If you were to empower the ruby, it could give you enough infernal power to get us through. You said when you first activated it, it sent a man through a wall."

"Yeah, so what are you gonna do, stab me?"

She considered this, looking at the dagger in my hand.

"No." I shook my head. "Besides, it might hurt you two too! I couldn't control it at all back at the manor, it just exploded all at once."

"Sex can also force the reaction. Breaking my binding spell was quite an impressive feat anyway. You held back quite well throughout, I saw."

"What!?" Snapped Serene.

"I don't know if we'll have the time for that, Mittens." I squinted.

"If I were to guard the door with my mesmerizing spell, I could knock any encroaching cultists out before they could alert the rest of their group. Judging by last time, if you didn't take your time, you could likely finish within ten minutes. Five, even."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." I grumbled, "I can last a lot longer than that if I want..." I did a bit of math in my head, "Wait, if you're guarding the door, who-"

"No!" Serene squawked, "What are you two talking about!? Are you implying that I should defile myself with him!?" She glared at me.

"Well thanks!" I snapped back.

"Yes. I am." Mittens said, "If you do not, we will be captured, killed, or worse."

"Absolutely not." Serene said.

"Virginity is not sacred-" Mittens started.

"I am no virgin!" The shian nearly spread her wings, but remembered herself fast enough to tighten her hold on the blankets, "I am a Veritan Shian! One of our Saints is the Saint of Love, you know. There are a few prostitutes among our clergy, and proud of their work with the Guild thereof! I am simply disgusted that I should be implied to have to do it with HIM! And at a time like this!"

"You know you really do wonders for a guy's self esteem." I added.

"We have few options." Mittens said, "I'm a witch, not a combat trained wizard. And Callum is not good at fighting."

"I'm just fine at fighting!"

"You didn't even manage to knock that man unconscious." She pointed at the cultist on the ground, currently curled up into a ball and rubbing the back of his head while groaning.

"Well sorry for preferring nonviolent solutions to problems!" I said, "I'm a gentleman thief!"

"A weak scoundrel, perhaps." Serene responded.

"Thanks. You're really pumping me up for this, Serene."

"Stop short naming me! I know many harpies who would be tearing your eyes out with their talons by now, human!" She suddenly spread her wings, which threw back the cloak.

I tried to avert my eyes for decency, but failed spectacularly.

It was a few moments until I managed to mumble out, "Adequate Climates Upon The Arrival Of Serene Seasons."

Mittens made a strange series of squawks and whistles, then continued, "I beg of you to put aside your annoyance at the moment and assist in our escape. Besides, It is very enjoyable."

"Is that what you two were doing while I was unconscious?!" Serene said, "By the way, it's-" She gave a series of squawks and whistles. Mittens nodded and repeated the noises.

I was a lot better at bird calls than Jill, at least, and repeated the sounds after her.

"No, it's-" She repeated the birdsong once more.

I repeated them back, "Right"

There was suddenly a bit more warmth in Serene's demeanor when she said, "Yes. Thank you."

"Listen, Adequate Climates Upon The Arrival Of Serene Seasons," I'll spare you phonetically writing her name. Harpy is a language that birds are really good at, but it isn't built for written words. They have wings instead of arms, after all. It's not quite a mouthful in their language either, "We're not doing that. I don't need to single handedly beat up 12 cultists to get you to safety."

Her pose relaxed slightly.

"I just need to distract 12 cultists to get you to safety!" I smiled confidently. Before Serene could speak, I said to Mittens, "You can get her to the back door without getting hurt, right? You have that spell ready?"

"It is not a very powerful charm, I'll admit, but it may get us past one or two cultists if we catch them unawares."

"Then get Serene to Jill out in the alley and hurry over to the Temple. I can meet you there."

"How are you certain you will not be captured and killed?" Serene asked, concern bled into her voice like blood from a very light paper cut.

"I'm trying not to make plans wherein I die, if I'm being honest." I responded, then huffed, "What matters is that you three get out of here safely."

"Right..." The harpy responded, the tone in her voice made it sound like she didn't completely believe my remark.

"Alright. I'll uh... go first. You two get ready to run..." But then I stopped, “Mittens. Your bag.”

“Yes?”

“Hand me it.”

“Why?”

“I need the thing I put into it back now.”

I imagine a bunch of cultists were standing around, hands in their pockets. Maybe one was lighting up a cigarette or reading through some case files. All of them waiting for the skinhead intern they sent down to bring back up the priestess.

All of those bastards, standing there, in that room.

Then it exploded.

Smoke flooded the police station's front office. It was on them for letting this happen twice, in my opinion.

While I rushed up the stairs to keep up a distraction, Mittens and Serene snuck by into the fog and towards the little break room, which likely had a door out to the alley.

The first cultist I saw got a right hook to the face. While it didn't have a lot of power behind it, surprise can do a lot. I unsheathed my dagger and twisted into the main room.

It'd still be fifteen minutes at least before a captain showed up, too much time to wait. I'd need to get out. My plans hit a wall as a dagger nearly hit me in the face. I dodged down and charged forward, barreling into the man who threw it. I knocked him to the floor and fell onto my back.

Away from the knife thrower, I was lost in the smoke, and had to roll out of the way of a misplaced random foot. "Watch the face!" But the smoke was already dissipating and building up down low, allowing eyes to finally pierce the fog.

I leapt to my feet. My hand was at my chest in an instant, and I yanked down my collar. "This what you're looking for, bastards? Why dontcha come and get it!?" I chucked my knife at the closest cultist to keep attention on me, and not on a flash of mesmerizing light from beyond the hall that led to that back door.

I didn't mean to actually hit the guy. Well, I mean, I did, but I was still surprised I nailed him in the shoulder. I felt a burst of warmth against me as the dagger impaled him, perhaps the stupid thing liked feeling the sudden adrenaline of assault. I sure as hell didn’t.

I threw myself back, hitting the apparently ajar door with my shoulder before I could grab for the door handle. I didn't take into account the steps that I'd have to work on next, and they weren't exactly interested in helping me. They were instead something to stumble down on my way to the gutter.

Fortunately, falling backwards allowed me to completely avoid a fiery blast of red chroma that shot inches away from my head, scorching only a tiny tuft of hair as I collapsed onto my back. It landed somewhere in the office and exploded, leaving panicked cultists to run away, while others (maybe out of instinct) started trying to put it out. What a bunch of amateurs…

My side ached, and I barely managed to roll back and land on my stomach, hands grabbing at the gravel road. I still got up, as best I could, and stumbled to my feet.

However, turning and running quickly switched to turning and getting caught by the damn throat.

No, not the throat, the hand that was gripping me, and lifting me up, was holding me by the necklace. Fingers dug into my collarbone, trying to pry it off like a kid pulling on a quarter glued to the sidewalk. A fingernail dug into my flesh, under the chain that was welded to my skin.

I screamed. Fiery pain rocketed from the necklace and into every limb in my body. I felt the burning hit my fingers and coalesce around what was suddenly becoming a painful load of little rocks.

"Caught you." The Low Priest said. I could see a gleam of red in his eyes, and... by the Saints, he even had a goatee. Was this guy advertising evil? "Little thief," He said, "You will make as good a sacrifice as any, though I would have preferred the shian."

His other hand already shined with the dagger that filled his grip, a metal sheen across its obsidian blade. I wish I had a dagger that nice.

I had a chance to buy a dagger like that ages ago, back up near the frontier, in Daern's Reach. It's this city on a mountain, not important to this story. I was in the bazaar and some Vrudish fella was selling them. Bunch of obsidian antiques. We ended up buying a vase instead, but all Jill ended up doing with it was bashing it over a guy's skull two weeks later when we were leaving that shit hole.

You think about weird things when you're being held aloft, about to be gutted like a Yuletide Turkey.

The first thing I thought of was the gravel I still had in my hand, which was starting to melt.

If you gave me a few minutes, I could've come up with a really good quip. Something like 'Sacrifice this' or 'Did you want me to gravel?' or maybe 'How about a hot hand instead?'.

I didn't, I was still screaming in pain, but I did manage to bring up my fist and sling a pile of red hot slag and gravel into the Low Priest's face.

"Agh!" He shouted, letting go of me and scratching at the flaming hot rocks from his face.

I landed on my knees and struggled to breathe, pushing myself away. I kicked at dirt and fell forward into the road. A drooling mess, I was only thankful I had already forced out what was in my stomach earlier, or I'd have been coating the street in my stomach.

I pushed myself up and threw a punch in the same motion, attempting to capitalize on any amount of advantage I had against this guy.

It wasn't really my fault that he managed to interpose his hand, right? He pushed my hand upwards, bending back the wrist a bit far for comfort. "I am already exhausted of your ploys, thief."

"Asset... reallocator..." I winced out in response.

He held my arm, and lifted the dagger, ready to bring it down. He had it overhand, definitely not the best way to do it. I assume that for sacrificial demon offerings, style counts for a lot. You wouldn't catch this guy cutting up a priestess in his Auday suit.

Fiery power flooded my veins, time slowed, the infernal energies that had been rushing up and down my body all coalesced at once in a single force that I had to scream to let out. The noise bounced across every building, up and down alleyways. The girls might’ve heard it, from wherever they were. I felt like I was spitting fire.

The Low Priest was knocked about ten yards away, and smashed back first into the guardhouse. The building shook slightly and he grunted before collapsing. The other cultists stepped back.

"Heh heh..." I chuckled, "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about..." My hands twisted as I felt the demonic energy flood up and down me. I didn’t even focus on it, imagine what could happen if I did… I’ve never cast a spell before, I don’t know what it’s like when you coalesce the mystical energies, the chroma of the leylines, pulling them in and twisting them into a force that changes reality.

But I was about to do it. I had done that, shoved that bastard, right? I could do more, far more, maybe fireballs or flame breath or summoning imps or something. I flexed my fingers, trying to pull at this inner well of demon power.

And felt nothing.

No warmth, no tenseness, no strings flitting about my hand in wisps of magic. Nothing. I only felt the ground shake a little.

"What you doin'?" Said the trollish voice from behind me.

I turned, and squinted at what had actually knocked the Low Priest across the street in a single punch.

"Gravel?"

"Evenin’, Street Sweeper." He reeled back his fist again, and everything went black.