It had been a bloody trail that had led them this far. Five Hunters, two of them friends, had made up the map. England wasn't a big place, but it had history, and with history comes the Supernatural. Ghosts were near commonplace in the old country, and demons had been on its shores since before the word of Christ had arrived in the dress of Roman preachers. Thus, England, along with Wales and Scotland, had more than its share of Hunters, all of whom were normally quite busy.
Word travelled quickly, it always did amongst Hunters. Few things would travel faster amongst them than news of a Hunter-killer.
The last death had been William Evans, a fifty-something anti-social hermit in Derbyshire. He'd been close to figuring it out. The wards on his floor were set against a specific type of demon. By the time they had arrived though, the congealed blood and intestines had smeared too much away for them to be sure which kind. Even if they could have figured out whom William thought he was fighting off, his body was strewn across his dining room. Whether he was caught outside the circle, or simply torn from it they couldn't tell. His heart too, had been missing, just like all the others.
The closest Hunter to them was Nel Cooper. She was a little older than William, but as far as anyone could tell she was the only friend the hermit had had.
Nel was set in her ways; she'd write a letter rather than an email, face-to-face rather than over the phone, the hairs on the back of your neck rather than an EMF detector. Hence, the chances of Nel answering her phone were always slim, so her airwave silence was nothing unusual.
It didn't do anything to ease their minds though.
Nel lived in Staffordshire, just south of Derbyshire, but not quite in the Midlands. Her village was getting quite large, but she lived on the outskirts by the fields, just far enough to get away with her eccentricities and odd habits many Hunters take to.
They stood by the gate to her garden. It was painted bright red; a lavender bush grew thick and full by its side. Nel's house was the stereotype of the country cottage. Just after twilight the thatch looked grey, but they both new that come the morning it would be a golden yellow. The white of the walls were criss-crossed with the blackened timber that supported the house. The front door had a small painted-glass window set into the front: a pig looking over a gate.
There was a single light on in the house, but no sound.
A woman set herself on her haunches by the lock. Picking a lock was never as simple as television shows made it look. The lock on Nel's front door was much newer than anything in the house. Flicking her long black hair over her shoulder, she set the tension tool and pushed a raked steel pick into the lock. After a few minutes of feeling around, gently pressing, and restarting as she pressed a Mushroom, the door clicked open. Gently pushing the door, it stopped dead. It was difficult to pick open a bolt fastened on the other side of the door.
She rested her head against the door and swore quietly.
She looked over at her partner; he was stood ten feet to her left in the middle of what looked like a bush of Hyacinths. He looked a little sheepish as he held open an old window that he'd managed to jimmy open with a stick from the garden.
She shook her head as she quietly made her way to him. The window lead into the kitchen, some unidentifiable herbs were hung from the ceiling, drying.
The two of them managed to climb into the kitchen without making too much noise. All seemed calm in the house. He pulled the window shut behind him; he'd had some difficulty getting 6 foot 2 inches of him through the small window and had knocked the old windowsill a little out of place. He went to push the old windowsill back when he stopped. He tapped her on the arm and pointed to the gap between the unfixed windowsill and the frame. Beneath the old wood, running from one side of the window frame to the other was salt, hidden beneath the old windowsill.
The dark haired women pulled a sword from the sheath on her back. It was a long Katana, traces of silver twisted down the blade. She led the way, her tall partner walking a few paces behind her. She heard the click of a clip being slid into his small handgun.
They made their way slowly around the ground floor. The furniture was old and mismatched, but everything was perfectly clean.
Their careful steps eventually brought them to the closed door, artificial light coming from underneath it. She moved so that she was closest to the handle and motioned for her partner to take the other side. She mouthed 'on three', then the numbers 'one, two'.
On what would have been three she flung the door open and span into the room. Graceful and deadly, she held her pose in the lit room.
The television was off. The furniture in this room was just as mismatched, but not as clean. Blood had splattered the chintz, tartan and floral fabrics. Blood ran in small rivers through the grains in the stone floor, and matted into the furry rug.
Nel lay on the floor, face down. Her skull had been smashed open on the grey slabs. There was a gaping hole in her back, a space where her heart should have been.
A few feet away from Nel, her cold heart in his hands, he stood on the blood-soaked rug.
He wore faded jeans and a nondescript white t-shirt, a worn leather jacket over the top. If she'd have walked passed him in the street, he would have looked like any other, apart from the darkness of his eyes.
He smiled.
'Ah, a few seconds too late I'm afraid.' He said. His tone was conversational, as if he was referring to a missed bus.
She flexed her legs and grasped the handle of her Katana with two hands. The demon smirked.
'I've taken the hearts of six Hunters. You really aren't going to accomplish much here, accept perhaps getting you both killed.' He looked at her, contemplating.
'I'm feeling generous.' He continued suddenly, having come to a decision. 'I like this body; I'd prefer not to have to get another one because Wannabe-Ninja Barbie fancies herself a hero.
'Take yourself and Ken elsewhere, and let's call it a day.'
She felt a hand on her shoulder. Over her shoulder, her partner was smiling; he'd put his gun away.
'I think we'll stay for awhile if that's all the same to you.' He said. He walked over to Nel's body and touched her wrist.
'Interesting.' He said. He stared at the ceiling for a while before wandering back to where his partner stood, her sword still raised.
The demon was scowling at them both.
'I don't think you understand how nice I'm being. If you don't leave, I'm going to rip your intestines out through your mouth. Poor old Will didn't seem to fond of that, although, you couldn't really understand what he was screaming.' He growled out. The sword flinched a little towards the demon.
'I'm sure he didn't. I'm also sure that he got word to Nel that you were coming. Surprised you didn't she?' He asked the demon.
'Tom, what's going on?' She asked him without taking her eyes of the demon.
'Nel's cold. She's been dead for a while, long enough for the blood to matt into the rug.' Tom replied. She looked at the demon confused.
'What are you still here for?' She asked him. The demon sneered in response.
'Nel was getting on in years, but she most certainly wasn't stupid.' Tom said. 'I reckon if you flicked the corner of that rug back, there'd be a ward underneath it. That's why he's still here.'
She raised a black eyebrow with a little amusement. She edged toward the rug and gently picked up its corner with the tip of her blade.
The blood had stuck the rug to the floor, but with prompting from her sword it came up. On the slate floor the bright red paint stood out, the top half of a strange symbol visible.
She barked a laugh, quick, harsh.
'Good work Nel, good work.' She whispered.
'Didn't save her though, and I'll kill you too.' He muttered.
'I don't think so.' She replied. 'Tom?'
Tom stepped forward and looked at the demon's black eyes.
'Why are you killing Hunters?' Tom asked. The demon spat at Tom.
Tom looked at the saliva running down his jacket with a determined look.
'This might hurt a little.' He said to the demon. He pulled at a chain around his neck; it had a wooden cross on the end. Tom held it whilst staring at the demon. He started reciting a Latin verse quietly. The demon looked at him with mocking disbelief, chuckling at his display.
He stopped quickly, a look of shock on his face. A light was starting to glow behind his black eyes.
'No!' he shouted, clutching his head in pain. 'What are you doing?'
She moved slowly around the circle.
'It's a blessing. It won't actually do anything, to you or your host, but it'll hurt like a bitch.'
The demon grunted in pain, falling to his knees still clutching his head.
The tone of Tom's voice changed; it got more urgent and the pace increased. The light behind the demons' eyes flashed and he howled in pain. The light disappeared as quickly as it came and the room was silent.
She rested on her haunches at the edge of the rug.
'That was a small blessing.' She said, 'Tom's got a whole repertoire. I suggest you start talking.'
The demon glared at her from his position on the floor, and threw the cold, un-beating heart in her face. It fell to the floor with a sickening squelch.
By the time he was ready to talk, Tom was sweating from the effort, his fingers sore from clutching hise cross.
The demon was on his back, clutching the rug. Blood was running from his eyes and nose.
'A seal!' he shouted as his eyes blazed white, Tom's urgent voice in the background.
'For her! She screams for them to be open!' He relaxed as the blessing finished.
'Who is she and what are the seals?' She asked. Her voice was quiet and calm.
The demon laughed, a tortured, scared laugh. 'You can't imagine what she'd do to me if I told you.'
She shrugged and nodded at Tom. Tom pulled a small notebook out of his pocket and started flicking through it.
'Wait! Wait! Others already know, and you're small fish in a really, really big pond. Fine. Her name, is Lillith.' He muttered.
'Lillith?' Her face showed a flicker of comprehension, but whatever it was she remembered had to be nothing compared to the truth. The look of horror on Tom's face said all she needed to know.
'What are the seals?' She asked more urgently.
'When the seals open, Hell walks free.' He muttered. The demon started laughing and chuckling to himself. He pulled and tugged at the rug he was laid on.
She flicked her head up at her partner who stared back at her. A blank look of shock and a quick nod was her response.
'Idiot!' The demon shrieked. She leapt up in between the demon and Tom, sword raised.
The demon spun over, pulling the rug away as he did, exposing the ward on the floor. With a swipe of his hand through the blood, he smeared the lines and symbols of the ward. Their power was broken.
He looked at Tom with crazed vengeance and dove at him. She was quicker, and met him midair. Her body weight threw him to the side toward Nel's broken body. The demon landed on his feet, a hand on the ground to steady him. He lunged forward to grab at the woman before she had time to right herself.
A loud shot rang through the cottage; the bullet grazed the side of his face. Tom's shot however had given her the chance she needed. With a deft swing, the hand of the lunging arm fell to the floor. The demon screamed. She sprang forward as the demon lunged for the doorway. The floor was still slick with congealed blood, and the demon had a head start. She lost her footing on the slippery slate floor and crashed to the ground as the door slammed closed behind him. The heart on the floor had gone.
'Damn it!' She screamed, shaking Tom off as he helped her up.
'Easy Anna.' He said.
'Like Hell 'easy Anna'!' she shouted. 'That's six Hunters dead Tom!' She stood for a few seconds looking at the floor taking deep breaths.
'Sorry.' She mumbled.
'S'okay.' Tom smiled.
'What was he talking about? Lillith sounds familiar, but seals don't.'
Tom had lost a lot of colour, and the sheen of sweat on his face made him look pale.
'I think it's just as he put it. Whether he was being literal about Hell walking free I'm not sure. We should head down to London for this one. We need to talk to Robert.' Tom said.
'He hates it when we arrive in the middle of the night.' She muttered. 'What are we going to do about this?' She asked, gesturing at Nel's body and the floor.
'We can't do much about Nel, but if we burnt the cottage down, that'd hide a multitude of sins.' He said quietly. 'As for driving to London, could we do that tomorrow? I don't feel too good.'
Anna looked down at him, still sat on the floor. Even more colour had drained from his face and he looked like he was going to be sick.
'Come on.' She said as she helped him to his feet. 'There's some sugar in the car.'
'And petrol.' He muttered with a smirk.
Twenty minutes and two bags of Skittles later, the rear view mirror showed there was a gentle glow of fire spreading through the cottage.
'You didn't do too badly back there.' Anna said, 'you nearly shot him in the head.'
'I was aiming for his shoulder.' He said. Anna laughed loudly as she drove. The cars headlights cut through the dark, winding lanes.
'We need to get that son of a bitch.' She said, her mirth gone.
'We will.' Tom muttered.
'He'll change host soon. He won't stay in that body now I cut off his wanking hand.'
'Anna!' Tom groaned. 'Not a thought I wanted in my head. Thanks.'
'No problem.' She smiled, 'Now, what is this crap?' She prodded at the stereo. 'Did you put Bon Jovi back on?'
'Maybe.' He muttered.
'You're one sick puppy.'
'Cow.'
'Tosser.'
