Runaway Devil

"Tear her apart, leave nothing behind."

Dante's silhouette disappeared through the door, the weight of the world on his shoulders. As the door closed, the sliver of light it provided slowly shrank until it shrouded the room in the stale light of the naked bulbs strategically hanging from the ceiling.

I remained hunched forward, feeling the pulse of my heart in my face, my eyes feeling loose in their sockets. I felt movement, some were stalking forward, all ready to pick the meat from my bones.

I growled deep in my chest, it was wet and gurgled through the excess blood in my respiratory system. I felt my muscles burn, the warm tingle of adrenaline spread through my body. I strained against the ropes, the sandpaper-like texture rubbing my wrists raw. I inhaled shakily and met their hostile eyes. I felt the bones in my wrists grind, sending a sharp ache up my arms. The ropes snapped just in time to meet the first target.

I grasped the arm of the chair and swung, launching it across the room, feeling satisfied when I heard a grunt and a clatter. I turn just in time to redirect the momentum of a charging man and used him to propel myself towards another. Using my elbow, I smashed through another's teeth. Arms wrapped around my midsection and I was lifted off the ground, I kicked out blindly. My hair clung to the blood and sweat running down my face, overwhelming my sensory input. I threw my head back and hoped it hit something.

The feeling of teeth knocking against the back of my skull sent a shiver down my spine. The large arms that held me disappeared and I stumbled to the ground. I whipped my hair out of my face and pulled my lip back, growling at whoever dared come closer, showing off my remaining teeth. None looked scared, as I had expected them to. They saw that I could bleed, the monster who killed one of their own could bleed, and therefore could die. My blood, my weakness, had given them hope. And now it was my job to rip it from them and make them regret ever indulging in it. I would show them that they couldn't afford hope.

I had had enough, this was going to end. Soon.

I caught my breath and found my center. I felt my human skin pull back, my true form inching forward. If I controlled it I would avoid drawing unnecessary attention to myself. Demons and Angels alike could sense a supernatural being from miles away if their energy is powerful enough.

My talons grew from my human nail beds, their black intensity a stark comparison against the cold light from the bulbs. I fed energy into my legs, feeling the muscle flex with new enthusiasm. I looked up from hooded lids, intoxicated by releasing some of my control. Balan felt it too. I could sense him, he was getting closer. The invisible string that connected our souls was getting shorter and more powerful, more pungent.

Dante's men, in their blood lust-driven haze, hadn't realized their fatal mistake. Fucking with me.

I lunged towards the banister to the second floor. I caught it and swung myself over, vaulting over a shocked bystander. The crowd, that had gathered to see my bloody end, all took a collective step back, cautious of the devil girl that just jumped an entire story up. Some reached for their belts, planning on grasping their firearms. But their humanity betrayed them. They were too slow, too prey-like for my taste. I slashed at the unfortunate ones standing too close and flayed the rest. The smell of blood made my heart pound, I felt the heat squeeze my eyes as the adrenaline took over.

My breath mixed with the heavy heat of fresh flesh, my vision blurring as I systematically filleted the entire second floor. I grabbed the banister with a blood-slicked hand, and vaulted over it, landing back on the first floor silently. Hunched from my landing, I let my talons scrape across the concrete as I stood in my blood-soaked glory.

The smell of blood hung in the air like a scream. It paralyzed these humans, these sniveling pieces of useless meat. But something else snuck into the air. It was faint, but slowly growing. I sniffed and tilted my nose up to get a better whiff of it. Smoke.

There was a fire close by, small, but growing. It smelled like it was in the building and I smiled my broken, bloody, toothless smile. The fire was exactly what I needed now. Fire is what Demons live in, thrive in. It heals and strengthens us on a cellular level. All I could do was hope that it spread quickly and quietly.

I needed to wrap this up, my adrenaline was already waning. My energy was being spent faster than I could replace it. I fought through the next few, snapping necks, cutting throats. I stumbled over something warm and thick. I looked down, swaying a bit on my feet. It was a disembodied hand, severed mid-forearm. I sucked in a breath, almost choking on blood and mucus. The crown of my head felt like it was on fire, just a ring of heat wrapping tighter and tighter.

My arm was grabbed, yanked roughly, and I tripped over my feet. I had pushed too hard. My human form couldn't handle such extreme pressure. I had forgotten my new limitations, a mistake that could prove fatal. I called out to Balan, he was here. I heard his howl over the pounding in my ears and the yelling around me. The chaos surrounding me was only amplified by the fire they undoubtedly were aware of by now.

Balan, attack. Danger. No survivors.

It was simple but the truth. I was in danger, this body could not take any more damage. I could hear him at the door, scratching and clawing. He barreled through, reaching into his own energy reserves. He took a survey of the room, found me, and started his work. He plowed through four men by the time any of them realized their situation. I had a second of relief, a sliver of hope that everything would be okay.

But just as I had ripped their hope from them, these humans took mine from me. I felt the knife between my ribs, felt it scrape against one, piercing my right lung. All that left my lips was a wet inhale cut short. I elbowed him in the face, his teeth embedding themselves in my tricep. I ripped myself away, cradling my ribs, pressing my palm against the heavy flow of blood.

Balan had ripped apart most of them, some were crawling weakly across the floor. Smoke was creeping from beneath the doorjambs, heating the floor. I wheezed and attempted to breathe the smog in. It felt like I was putting a band-aid on a bullet wound. I needed so much more than smoke. I lurched towards one of the adjacent doors and ripped it open. I barely saw what was in it, I looked for fabrics and wooden furniture. I could make out a coffee table-like structure and threw it against the wall on which the fire was climbing.

My action made smoke plume and debris scatter. The fire was ravenous by nature, but the second I needed it, it just wasn't enough. My vision blurred and I took a knee. I rubbed the back of my shaky hand against my clammy forehead. The heat felt good, but I needed to be submerged in the flames, I needed to be absorbed by it. I was about to give the order to pull back to Balan when I felt a presence.

I stopped breathing, stopped moving. Everything stopped, apart from the fire. I felt him, it was distinctly him. He stood in that room, in the fire, watching me. I looked up, all around me. I hadn't felt anything until I was right in front of him, he wanted me to know he was there. In the far corner stood a figure. He was tall and powerful. The flames burned around him like they knew each other. They weaved around his legs, almost coddling him like a cat demanding attention. He stood on two strong, sure legs, his shoulders taking up nearly the whole corner.

He was nothing to mess around with, that much I knew. He rolled his shoulders, seemingly to relax them. Wings, his wings, unfurled like they just woke up from a full night's sleep, stretching and well-rested. I couldn't see his face, the flames were burning brightest around him. He flexed his wings, snapping them out with a thundering CRACK.

Wave after wave of fire followed it, burying me in it. It cradled me, forcing a sense of safety upon me. I felt the tightness in my chest being forcibly released. I groaned in resistance, but I was too weak. I was too human.

I faded, surrounded by fire and a sense of false security.