It was crucial for mercenaries to execute the mission efficiently and quickly, never linger around for more trouble. By the sound of the stories they shared at local bars it never ended well when someone was hungry for more blood. Some of the mercenaries claimed they lost a few to vampires, werewolves, wendigos, and even demons.
Vampires either indulged in the human's blood or turned the victim into one of their own. Werewolves and wendigos simply mauled people apart until their organs spilled out of their bodies in gruesome displays. Demons were much different; they tormented, manipulated, and haunted anyone who was deemed a threat to their way of life.
Of course, they were one of the toughest to eliminate; without the right equipment or proper encounters of experience in exorcism, it was fruitless to challenge the demons and send them back to the underworld. And when mercenaries accepted that kind of job, they did it in the same manner—quickly and efficiently.
The Blake family knew that all too well. Being one of the last few mercenaries that hunted down the supernatural, they were experts on how to take down a "complicated" case in their sleep. They were the best of the best, never afraid of a challenge. In fact, they loved it. Some more than others.
Ryder Blake thrived upon it.
Demon after demon, werewolf after werewolf, vampire after vampire, none of the monsters sent a chill down her spine. As she crossed more creatures off her list, the desire to kill consumed her thoughts and for some unknown reason . . . she let it.
It was when her younger brother, Waylon, insisted they should finish up and return to the motel they were staying in, that Ryder made the mistake. She disregarded the suggestion and continued to hunt down the black-eyed monsters, or demons. She didn't know fear; she only knew how to kill without mercy. Disregard the suffering of the victim.
KILL, KILL, KILL.
It clouded her judgment—made her reckless. It left room for the mistakes. And Waylon knew this. He sensed the hunger for power inside of her for years. Their parents taught them to control it, to think a monster case was nothing more than a job. To not let their ambition get the best of them. But Ryder didn't care to follow their lessons. She was so used to be under their control, and now, she finally got to do what she wanted.
Word had spread quickly that the infamous Blake siblings were in town. Still, it was no such threat to the demons. They would not be vanquished or frightened so easily. The demons chose to ambush the mercenaries at what seemed to be just the right moment. They attacked as the pair entered what they presumed to be an empty alleyway. Despite fighting tooth and nail, the Ryder and Waylon's ambitious efforts were in vain against the supernatural.
With a flick of the hand Ryder's body was being controlled by one of the demons. She had felt herself being thrown off of her feet before hitting head first into a brick wall, knocking her out almost instantly.
Hours later, her eyes fluttered open and were immediately greeted with an intense pain radiating from her skull. She attempted to lift her hand to her forehead to soothe the pain, but couldn't, only to realize that she was bound to the arms of a chair.
"Great," she sighed with disappointment. You're so screwed now, the woman thought to herself in frustration.
Her eyes scanned the room, observing and memorizing every inch of detail in hopes of finding an escape route. It was a small room with concrete walls, a wooden door in the far left corner, no windows, and one light bulb dangling from the ceiling. It was clear that the only way out was through the single door, making escape nearly impossible—there could be demons standing outside the door, ready to maul her.
Seemingly, Ryder Blake was going to die. Typical.
She guessed that the demons had searched her body for weapons while she was unconscious. And it was useless to perform an exorcism without cornering them in a devil's trap. Her only option was to fight with her bare hands and go down swinging, just like she and Wylan had always planned.
Waylon.
She had completely forgotten about her brother, one of the few people Ryder held closest to her heart. Fear seeped into her body like blood into the cracks of pavement, her head snapping from one direction to another, trying to see if her sister was somewhere in the room. Ryder called out her name desperately but to no avail. No response came.
Her breathing became erratic as if the air in the room was suddenly vanishing and the walls had began to close in. Everything seemed to be spinning, making her feel dizzy, confused, and most importantly . . . scared. Her brother was her responsibility. He was the one who stood by her side no matter what. If anything had happened to him, Ryder wouldn't know what to do with herself.
But before she could do something, the door creaked. A bright light escaped from the opening, causing Ryder to squeeze her eyes shut and shun away from it. She heard footsteps rush towards her and felt cold, icy hands at her wrists. Daringly, she opened her eyes to adjust to the brightness and saw her brother untying the ropes strapping her to the chair.
Waylon glanced up at her with a small smirk painted across his face, "You look like shit."
Ryder wanted to laugh or even retort in response but it didn't make sense. How could her brother be right in front of her? There were too many demons back at the alley and neither him or Ryder would've been able to take all of them out on their own.
"How did you escape?" She tilted her head in question.
Her brother continued to remove the rope from one of her wrists before starting on the next one. "I'll explain later. Let's get out of here before they come back." When Ryder's hands were both free, she hopped up from the chair, dashed out of the room with her brother, and entered to an empty hallway.
Almost immediately, an awful stench smacked the woman in the face, nearly making her gag on the spot. Blood and mangled body parts were scattered around the hallway, staining the once pearly white walls. Her hand came up to her face in a feeble attempt to block out the smell of decaying flesh. Diverting her gaze, she tried to focus on keeping her last meal in its rightful place.
The only place to look that wasn't covered in gore was the face of her younger brother. She focused on the delicate features of Waylon's being, trying to figure out exactly where the demons had laid their hands on him. Ryder vowed to leave those same marks on the persecutors; and many more. However, as her eyes slid precariously over her brother she realized he was unscathed. No displaced nose, no scrapes or cuts, not even the shadow of any forming bruises. Such a realization made the hair on the back of Ryder's neck stand up.
It was practically impossible to go hand to hand with a demon and walk away without a scratch. No matter how great of mercenaries the Blake family were, they'd always go back home with a few cuts and bruises on their skin. Hell, even Ryder had a gash on her forehead from when her head smashed into the brick wall by the demon. Thinking of it, she could feel the tickle of pain it was still causing.
Ryder's feet slowly came to a stop, unable to process what was happening. When Waylon noticed her lack of movement, he spun around, looking at her as if she had suddenly grown another head. "What are you doing, Ry? We have to keep moving before they—"
"How did you do it?" The eldest interrupted. Waylon face was full of bewilderment, obviously not understanding what she was talking about. Ryder let out a shaky breath and rephrased her question, "How did you escape while I was tied up to that chair?"
Waylon blinked furiously, surprised and angry at her question. "Are you seriously asking me that when the demons could come back any second?" He strode towards Ryder and grabbed onto her wrist. "I promise I'll tell you everything back at the motel, but we need to leave. Right now." She wanted to believe him. After all, it was her little brother; one of the few people she trusted and depended on. But when she locked eyes onto him, Ryder knew that it wasn't her brother who stood before her.
In the blink of an eye, Ryder grasped onto the man's wrists and slammed his body against the wall, quickly pressing an arm against to the throat. "What the hell did you do to my brother?" She threatened.
The reaction she received was exactly what she had expected. The once confused and frightened look in the man's eyes was replaced with a set of black ones, paired with a sinister grin. "Well, well, well, you're a lot smarter than I thought."
Then with a flick of the demon's wrist, Ryder's body flung across the hallway, her body now against the wall. A grunt slipped out of her lips as she tried to move her limbs, but it was useless. Her body remained as still as a statue, all thanks to the invisible force of the demon.
The creature giggled at Ryder's attempt to break free, his eyes changing back to Waylon's soft brown one's. "I'm surprised at you, Ryder. I thought you mercenaries were supposed to be cautious."
"And I thought I could win the lottery when I was seven, but I guess we're both wrong." She retorted back at the demon. "Now, how about you give me my brother back before I send your sorry ass back to hell, huh?"
"Oh you mean this meat-suit?" The demon questioned, pretending to be oblivious. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "Hate to break it to you, but poor little Waylon won't be back any time soon. All thanks to you."
Ryder's heart plummeted into an abyss. You're wrong, was what she wanted to say. She wanted to blame everything on the creature before her, convince herself that it wasn't her fault. But it was. Because of her foolish desire to kill the supernatural, Ryder found herself in a situation where she didn't know what to do. Her little brother—the one person she had to protect—was possessed, and she loathed herself for it.
She had acted irresponsibly and selfishly. Now, she was paying the price. Reaping the oats her mistakes had sowed.
Sweat broke out on her brow as Ryder tried to push down the guilt. It was digging a hole deep inside of her, threatening to consume her sanity. She could feel her fingers twitching at her sides. Her fault. This was entirely her fault. She was the sinner yet her brother had been damned for the mistakes Ryder had forced upon him.
The demon looked on from its position in front of her, a smug smirk painted across the false features of her brother. Her fingers flexed at her sides, desperately begging to wipe it off the familiar face. Yet the smallest voice inside of her knew that Waylon was still in there, and Ryder would never lay a hand on him. The demon, on the other hand, not so much. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus—"
Suddenly, the demon wrapped a hand around her throat, abruptly cutting her off. "An exorcism, really? You seriously think that's gonna stop me?" He hissed, cocking his head to the side. Then, the creature grasped onto Ryder's shoulders and tossed her effortlessly across the hall, her body crashing onto the floor with a loud thump. A sharp pain rushed through her, causing her to let out a yelp which amused the demon. "You mercenaries are so much fun to play with."
"Glad to know it appeases you. Now, are we gonna continue chatting or are you gonna finish me off?"
The demon shrugged, "Oh, believe me, I would very much like to. But I'm under strict orders. So if you don't mind, I have a few more important matters to attend to."
Ryder's brows laced together in confusion at the demon wanting to leave before he tore the mercenary into shreds. "It's a little rude to play with your food and leave it to rot."
He spun around, his face void of the shit-eating grin that was plastered on his face a few moments ago. "I could kill you with a snap of my finger, but where's the fun in that? Besides, it'll be much more entertaining watching you waste the rest of your life on finding your brother. It was nice meeting you, Blake."
All of a sudden, the demon disappeared into thin air, leaving Ryder completely and utterly alone.