Crimson Nightfall
Chapter 13: For the Endgames

Clockwork looked across slyly as Phantom stomped out of the room and suppressed a dry, victorious smile, sliding to his feet and gliding passed the still frozen Fabian as he too made his exit out another door. Smoothly a wisping ghost's tail replaced the hollow ringing of his steps and he shouldered his staff and faded into invisibility. Winding his way up dark servant's stairs and unused hallways Clockwork soon came to the tightly locked door of Phantom's room. With little hesitation he phased through the door only to be brought up a little short by the scene.

The woman he'd had every intention of conspiring with sat at a table with her back to the door, engrossed in a card game of sorts with Damon who, lids dropped low in an apprehensive and predatory sense, stared over her shoulder directly to the spot where he floated. Clockwork stilled, having not expected her to have this sort of company, while Damon continued to stare suspiciously at the door almost as if he could see Clockwork there as clearly as one could a fledgling spectre. Then, as if wilfully avoiding the matter, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards and he lowered his eyes back to his hand of cards before laying a few down with an open smile.

Clockwork relaxed a little. Lord knows no one could quite understand what went on between Damon's ears, ever the strangling that one. Moving like barely disturbed air he found a corner and stayed steady in it, waiting patiently for an opportune moment. He watched closely as the woman managed to finesse a genuine burst of laughter from the Knight, blinding him to a skilful display of sleight of hand. He watched, not with disinterest, as a thin blade passed from hand to hand and then disappeared under her thigh. He raised a brow at this and tried not to shift in curiosity. She really could not think that stabbing an undead Secondary Knight would be worth even a single lick of salt, could she? Phantom didn't seem the type to have a taste for idiots let alone to keep one so tethered to his company.

But then, as he watched her slide the knife into her lap while Damon shuffled the cards, he came to an understanding on what she was doing. Clockwork stared at the sharp edge of the knife as it rested in her palm, her other hand taunt as it geared up to slice through her flesh. He could not see her face but he could almost feel the wealth of madness that was sure to be hidden under the smile plastered on it.

She was going to force feed Damon and knowing Phantom he would be disinclined to forgive the victim of the whole affair.

o.O.o

A thin, frosty trail of blue smoke escaped Phantom's lips as he swaggered up to his bedroom door making him pause a bit and furrow his brows. Sam and Damon were supposed to be alone. Why was he detecting the presence of someone he could tell instantly that he did not like? With a scowl he yanked he door open and braced his frame in the doorway, a familiar irritation tingling over him when he did. Damon, however, looked up at his entry and grinned; Sam seemed about as pleased to see him as she would be to see her 'business minded' parents again, a triviality that he was willing to ignore.

Phantom looked around the room briskly before looking to Damon, "You two are supposed to be properly alone aren't you?"

Something like a hopeful craze twinkled in Damon's eyes and his grin widened alarmingly, "Why yes, we're supposed to be." He paused, "But as of just a little while ago I've been feeling as though we've had some company."

His head lolled childishly to one side and the amber of his eyes flashed as they slid over to an empty corner of the room. "I do hope it's all just my imagination you know. I can't think of anyone who would want to risk coming in here…or what they'd need…or where they'd find the time."

Cold electricity bit the air and Phantom stepped into the room, easing the door shut behind him with a soft little click.

"No," he drawled as he came up behind Sam to place his hands on her shoulders, "I can't imagine that anyone would do themselves that sort of disservice."

He slid his hands down Sam's arms till his palms were resting over her hands. With a knowing sigh Phantom kissed the back of her neck and smiled at her curse when he pried the little knife from where it had been pressed between her thighs.

"My, my. Now what's this?" he feigned surprise in a quiet little voice, "When did you start carrying such exciting little things pet?"

Sam bit her lip and glanced at Damon apologetically but all he did was smile and nod in acknowledgement of what he'd been saved from. Sitting back in her chair Sam folded her arms indignantly and grumbled a snide remark up at Phantom; to which he pinched her hands and pressed another kiss to the side of her neck, "We'll talk about that later. But for now -"

The sudden eruption of violent movement from Phantom had Sam jumping forward in surprise. He had hurled the knife across the room, putting a terrifying amount of force into it, and then both he and Damon had instantly chased the dagger down with spears of green fire. There was a muted thud as Damon climbed up onto the table to continue hurling blasts while Phantom grabbed her by the arm and out of the way of a white lance of responding fire. The room instantly exploded in a pulsing of energy punctuated by flashes of white and green, spirals of dirty yellow smoke that curled up out of the centre of scorch marks and splinters of furniture for the nibbling assortment of flames. For a full horrendous minute Phantom's bedroom became what a forgery in hell must be like. White hot and wildly violent. Dust showered down from the ceiling and plumes of smoke shrouded the air, hiding the origin of the next attack.

Amidst this chaos a sparse moment of cease fire allowed an old crackling laugh to filter through from across the room. Sam saw a dark shape flutter to a stop in the smoke but Phantom swung her round in his hold and put himself between her and any impending attack.

"Ah goodness. It's been quite a while since I've done that."

Phantom kept Sam pressed to him and sneered, "Would have been a while longer hadn't you been so stupid Clockwork."

The Elder Knight brushed cinders and flame from his cloak, smiling coldly at the two men on either side of the thin prisoner.

"Yes," Clockwork nodded agreeably, "Indeed it was stupid of me to think that your new cat needed my help. After all she's got you so lightly wound up it's a wonder how you get anything done in this festering hell hole." His eyes gleamed like smouldering coals and his vision sharpened even as a dark colour swirled and crawled over the green of his eyes. Within himself Clockwork felt decades of an unbearable charade slide off his soul and for a moment he revelled in the freedom of the feeling. "If anything I'd say you're her pet, but then again you probably enjoy that sort of -"

Another bolt of green fire and the trading of blows refused with vicious enthusiasm, each ghost putting even more weight and power behind every bolt he hurled. Well before long the three had managed to completely clear away the wall that faced the balcony, blowing the thing right out of existence; leaving a gaping hole fringed by twisted steel and tumbling debris, the crashing sound of this on the stones below already lost in the din they created. Then without warning, or readily identifiable source, a piercing shriek outranked their racket and left the Knights reeling as the sound fanned out and rippled through even stone. It came from across the frigid horizon and had such a shocking note of glee to it that it incited discomfort and plunged Clockwork into cold, disbelieving dread.

His soul shivered and instantly he whipped around to Phantom; a sense of frantic panic setting in as he pointed at Sam and barked orders, "Kill her!" He screamed over the hollering wind, "Kill her tonight Phantom or she suffers!"

Phantom withstood the galling wind that now ripped the Zone from end to end, clutching Sam to himself even as she tried to flinch away from his touch under the weight of command in Clockwork's voice. Hot anger welled up in him and he yelled right back at Clockwork, authority booming in his voice, "She fucking dies when I say she does!"

Clockwork shook his head wildly, the angry light going out of his eyes, "No. No. No. You dunce! If you don't kill her soon then it won't be up to you anymore! You need to – We have to -"

He turned haltingly, unable to voice his racing thoughts as another happy shriek thundered from one edge of the Zone to the next, this one more joyous than the last. Clockwork's features trembled and his eyes snapped to Sam, pity written everywhere in them before he glared from Damon to Phantom. "One of you has to kill her...please."

He was gone in a swirl of smoke the very next second, leaving them to withstand the last of the unholy scream and then to somehow make sense of the unnatural silence that settled in its wake.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Now that it had come to it Phantom knew he would have to send Sam back to Amity - well either that or kill her and damn her soul to an eternity of mindlessly wondering the Zone. A tempting choice had it been a month ago but he fancied her enough now not to be so masterfully shrewd. The one thing that kept him from sending her back that very instant though was, expectedly, his attachment to the clause of bedding her. He wasn't such the monster to force himself on her completely but he was quite the rouge. He'd already imagined them tangled together more times than he'd be proud to admit and this had produced a wanting apparently more severe than he'd previously thought. He did himself well to remember that for these things he craved he needed her alive and warm and sensitive to even the beating of a butterfly's wing; so a decision on the matter had to be reached quickly. He poured Sam a glass of wine before filling his own with harder liquor and sat down across the table from her.

The haphazard scramble to set things to rights after his earlier brush with Clockwork, never mind the massive bellowing of impending destruction that had almost turned the keep right side down, had landed both him and Sam in a quiet bedroom further down the hall from the scene of the fight.

In the past hour or so they had become infuriatingly quiet and civil with one another; the sickeningly courteous undertones in their dealings no doubt brought on by Clockwork's demand for her swift dispatching. Phantom knew he was being civil because he could no longer guarantee her safety any more than she could save herself. The electric tension that this mounted between them threatened dangerously to break Phantom's resolve. Even now just sitting silently across from each other was a splendid fireworks show if one could see energies. Sam pecked quietly at her pastries and he watched her eat out of the corner of his eye, his gums itching as he kept his fangs and his hunger at bay. His mind wandered back to his first meal that morning and the memory did little to dull his aching. Breakfast the day before had left him gasping for any measure of self he could recover and today he had been close to embarrassing himself in a rather spectacular way. Sam's blood had practically boiled in his mouth and then speared down his throat before racing up his back as a violent spine stiffening shudder. It seemed whatever witchcraft was on her blood saw fit to exercise its hold on his appetite for he'd found himself unable to take in much else for quiet some time. Since they had begun that arrangement he'd been on a strict diet of the venom in her veins, the alcohols from his shelves and long needy kisses from her lips (and still he felt hunger prod him awake each morning). It was also noticeable how much rosier his face had become from the consumption of same, he all but glowed. It would be a shame to have to give up such a pampered lifestyle. Her blood was sweet and biting, she let him take often and he was kind to take little; he was being spoiled rotten with her presence and he could not pretend otherwise.

Without her even knowing, and him having not noticing, Sam had him standing on the edge of some dark dreadful abyss, in a state of mind he had never had cause to occupy. Then, as though his lack of depth for the matter was not enough, with that simple sarcastic smile of hers she cast him careening over the edge into a weirdly pleasant spiral. Maybe it was because he knew the game was ending but she seemed all the more charming today; killing her would be the pity of the decade.

There was no question of it then, she would have to go back to Amity. At least there she could live out a few extra days before Salem came scraping at humanity's unguarded door.

Having decided the way of things, Phantom beckoned Sam to his side; comfortably surprised when she obliged him without her trademark show of reluctance. Gently he settled her onto his lap, smiling softly and speaking in muttering tones under his breath. He called her all sorts of sweet names, his darling, his pet, his venom pot and for just that moment anyone could imagine them belonging to a different time, a time that made more sense that this madness they had entered into.

Then, against her giggling, Phantom kissed her; slowly, unusually so, as if the tender meeting of lips would replace spoken words and communicate an exact sense of the gravity and depth of his lust. The fluttering sensation punched Sam in the chest and rooted her to the moment. Time raced on by them, snatching her brief understanding of the wealth of ill fortune on the horizon for her should she not keep this captor happy. Then it was back when Phantom kissed her again, once more, over and over as he ran his hands down her body and charmed her lips to parting. He whispered incoherent somethings between their kisses and when she made a drunken sound of questioning he shifted to rest his forehead against hers, his gaze bearing into hers.

"When?" He whispered heatedly.

Sam mumbled a quizzical little, "Hmm?" And he growled softly. "When will you surrender? How much longer must I show patience?"

Sam's smile spread wide and she nuzzled her nose to his playfully, whispering back a throaty and condemning, "Never." that he could not help smiling at. With that he resolved himself, neither of them could be the victor in this; so he brought her hand up in his and kissed her fingers in a tiny gesture of respect.

"If that's your answer then you're going back to Amity right now Sam. I can't keep you here much longer without getting you killed." He touched his lips to hers and sighed, "Besides, there's worse luck than me to be had for you back there."

Sam felt the blood in her run icy for a moment before a sweeping wave of anger swelled up in her heart and spread outwards in her veins. The arrival of this moment was ironically bittersweet. She hadn't won her freedom so much as it was Phantom letting her go on account of either pity or boredom; and judging from his reasoning it seemed to be a strong case of the former.

Before she could really make sense of the feeling that she had just been supremely jilted, Sam was snatching Phantom by his collar and tossing him down onto the bed. She didn't give him time to be angry about it, she was straddling his hips and flinging his shirt open in a fantastic, seething rage before his hands came snatching at hers. Phantom caught the look on her face and immediately fire knifed down through him, scorching a trail that ended settled achingly between his legs. The anger that she displayed was not her usual outrage at his countless flaws, it was a dark possessive rage that he found she wore beautifully. He made to reach up to roll himself over onto her and have her right then, damn Salem and damn Clockwork, when she grabbed handfuls of his snowy hair and yanked his head back sharply. Scarcely a second later he felt her breath against his exposed neck in the instant before she sunk her teeth into him. His eyes widened and he hissed trying to hide the wretched moan of pleasure he almost gave, caving though when she sucked greedily at the same spot. When she abandoned the task to stare fiercely down at him, he saw mirrored in her eyes that same heat that coiled and thumped through him and it all voiced his sinful thoughts.

"If you think the game is good and done why don't we end it in good fashion then hmm?" Sam sat above him and peeled her shirt off over her head, flinging it to one side before coming back to hover over him haughtily, "Come on now Phantom. I'm sure you know what comes next or has it really been that long for you?"

Phantom swiped Sam's arm out from under her and surged upwards in a grapple that landed her on her back with the full weight of him bearing down on her. With eager impatience he fitted his lips to hers and drove his tongue into her mouth, searching about the familiar warm hollow. Damn her for this! He'd had every intention of trying to be good to her in the end but she just would not let him. He ran his hands down the length of her to hoist her legs further around his waist, every tug and shift between them making one thing glaringly clear. He was through with restraint and she seemed to be done with resisting.

o.O.o

The settling air about was heavily tainted; trails of oily vapour streaming up from seemingly nowhere and clogging air that was already too thick for breathing. Clockwork passed through the dark portal into Valadius, already fearful of what he would find waiting for him in the wasteland-realm. Billows of black, dusty smoke greeted him and clouded his sight once he entered, confirming the worst of his worries instantly. The doors below ground had been broken.

The gusts of wailing wind pushed his cloak from his head and he grit his teeth and walked forward into the shadows, the garment lashing out behind him. The clouds of smoke swallowed him up and for a moment the short glimpses of bright purple that could be seen trailing after him would make one wish him well…and then with a blinding flash of blue outlining a large, dark silhouette all hope was sunk.

o.O.o

Phantom had never been this desperate before; his breathing heating up to match the moist temperature of Sam's as they rolled around, straining and groaning together, each trying to outdo the other with acts of spiteful pleasure. Sam rode the rhythmic roll of Phantom's hips and he was sure to make every twist of his waist count, wedging himself as close as was possible to the damp heat between her thighs.

Her hands were splayed over his chest as he bounced her along to his wicked pace, grinding their centres together with sharp precision. Between their gasps of pleasure, moans of surprise and clutching limbs, they'd somehow managed to undress each other almost to nakedness; Phantom 's clothes hung about him loosely and Sam was down to nothing but her underwear and the chill of Phantom's roaming touch.

He was painfully close to ending this. Just a bit more, goddammit just a little more and he would be able to slide into her and take what was his. Just a little more and he could finally close this conquest.

Through hazy vision and panting breath he caught a glimpse of her face and a sudden realization sobered him with rude abruptness. There was a sneer of disdainful victory on her face as her eyes bore down into him from above. The gaze that peeked out from behind her lashes was frosty and expectant, hard flints of amethyst gleaming with a delight so vile and wicked he could not draw a comparison to anything he had ever seen before. Suddenly Phantom understood her soft and submissive nature of passed days, something he was realizing far too late had been a shallow farce at best. She was not slowly surrendering as he'd thought, this had been a calculated assault, taking into account a great deal of her enemy's overwhelming confidence. By all this Sam had meant for him to desire her to the point of madness, to be so taken with her as to grovel and plead beneath her; and by all the damned of the Zone it had almost worked. The insult to injury of it was that as he was now, separated from the sweet pliant entrance to her body by only thin material and his quivering pride, he wanted ever so badly to beg. A portion of him trembled at the prospect of being tempted so thoroughly as to forget himself and actually beg.

He was shivering under her heat from all sorts of feelings. Excitement, rage, mirth, expectation; they coursed through him and he could not settle on expressing one for fear of neglecting the others. Irritatingly the words he had whispered to her when he'd first issued his challenge where coming to mind and his ego stung smartly to note that things were very much in reverse.

"You will beg me." He had said.

"This will end with you rasping for breath…" Oh the irony.

"And then I will sink into your warmth and oblige your shameless pleading." Well now he certainly could not find the shame to beg.

Everything around them seemed to still, even the air, as he narrowed his eyes till his gaze matched the temperature of hers and he whispered hotly, "You bitch."

Sam licked her lips in a way he should have been ashamed to say he found unbearably sexy, looking at him as though he were unwilling prey, "So close weren't we Danny? Pity you had to spoil the fun."

The name struck a chord deep within him and left a dull ache beginning to work away at his nerves. Without even being able to stop himself or later justify his barbarism with the usual off handed sarcasm, Phantom found himself pressing Sam face down into the sheets. He pinned her down even as she laughed madly into the silks and twisted her arms behind her, pressing his weight into her back. His gums itched and all four of his fangs came to bare, making his ferocity and thirst apparent to anyone who'd dared to be looking. He had next to no tenderness in him when he sank his fangs into her shoulder, piercing the taunt muscle there with searing mercilessness while she kicked at him.

Phantom ground his teeth into her, intending to inflict more pain than was needed, before he removed them and began to draw from the wound; the resulting gasps and spasms Sam made thrusting spears of guilt and satisfaction through him. He was only angry at himself he decided as the dark taste of her raked through him and left him covered in goose bumps. He was very angry at himself for allowing her to deceive him to this extent. He spent a great deal of time moving his mouth over her wounded shoulder, continuing to draw from her even as her struggling grew weaker and a chill began to replace the warmth he so favoured. Finally when he raised his head to look down at her he could only spend a tense moment taking in the gravity of what he had done.

She was limp, her breathing was shallow and laboured and her eyes were glassy and unfocused as they stared into nothing. Phantom stared at her with hooded eyes and an unreadable expression as the euphoria fanning through him died away. For the first time in his existence he'd somehow managed to surprise even himself. Spending the longest minute ever whispering frantically within that he had not killed her, that he could not have killed his little pest. Disgusted to find that her death was not something he could accept quite as easily as before.

o.O.o

Mornings in the Zone were always bleak and without notable incidents, except in the event of a jubilation. Today a line of blue-green fire burned on the horizon no matter where one looked, a hazy layer of colour that touched every corner of the Zone. Screaming was on the air and the realm vibrated with its chorus, a thrumming of energies was everywhere and only a madman would be unable to sense it.

Phantom dragged himself through the gates of his keep, deciding to take the long walk back in to re-acclimate himself to the frigid temperature; Amity Park at dawn was always dew drenched and warmer than the Zone. He was completely oblivious to the new swatch of colour on the horizon, immune to the ringing of heralds coming from all around and far too entrenched in his own mind to make a pass at wondering about either.

That is until he took three steps into the main hall of the fortress and was forced to meet the madness gracing his halls.

The keep had likely never seen a revelling like this in its lifetime. Ghosts of every calibre and status swarmed the hall, spilling from doorways and passing, wailing with their 'inside voices', through the walls in crazy flight paths that could make ones eyes go dizzy. They carted all manner of things from this place to the next, some already half dressed in the all too familiar dark blue and silver livery meant for their matriarch. Smokeless flames leapt up everywhere at random, seemingly orchestrated to do nothing more than burn things for the simple reason that they were there for the flames to have. To one side he could see pawns labouring to ease the giant iron lid from Undergrowth's coffin, leafy vines squirming out from between the cracks, twisting and doing their part to help free the risen captive. Clear as a newly christened chapel bell he could hear Ember's voice cutting through the noise, charming anyone who would listen to it to do her bidding and die at her command.

Nocturne gently shepherded nightmares into his fluttering starry form, the snaked tailed gorillas from Valadius slithered around amidst the rabble, their wrists bearing broken shackles stamped with runes far older than Phantom; and at the centre of it all, with the Bishops at her feet egging for her attention, was Salem. At the barest minimum she was a whole four feet taller than Phantom's towering height but standing as she was now, twirling happily to the tune of her own chaos, she looked a great deal taller. Her skin was an icy white, coloured only by the luminous blue of the veins that lay under her hands. Tendrils of pale grey hair floated behind her as she moved gracefully and she wore nothing but shades of black and gleaming metals so her beauty and pallor would stand out against them.

Her sharp, colourless eyes snapped over to the door at his entrance and instantly they lit up with child-like glee and a tint of purple, his stomach flipped at the colour, "Phantom my precious little one! Where've you just come from I wonder!"

Phantom was not too surprised to see Salem, hell he was even a little amused that it had taken her this long to arrive after her initial victory screech. The likely reason for the sweetness in her voice was not surprising either, he knew what he was going to be charged with and it just confirmed that Salem had been well aware of his precious little pet. Looking over her shoulder he caught sight of Clockwork, restrained and treated to a much more ceremonious display than Phantom had offered to Fright. She had pinned his out on a wall above them for all to see, running rods of teal fire through his wrists to keep him in place. He hung there limply, barely wheezing, the flutter of his now tattered cloak the only sign of movement from him. His treachery had been justly rewarded it seemed, though not many would know how dire his crime had been. They couldn't see how badly he'd been beaten but whatever Salem had done to him had put her in a fine mood and, Phantom would hope, a forgiving one (he had no spirit for fighting tonight).

Smoothly Phantom descended to one knee and dipped his head before the terrible presence she must have thought herself to appear to him; yet his brain was a cold clod of nerves, taking notes to the implications of nothing.

"I've just returned from the living lands my queen. A quick matter to see to." The voice he heard was his own but everything out of his mouth sounded like empty bullshit to him. There was scarcely a pause before Salem was crossing the floor to him.

"The living lands?" she asked tersely. The tongues of blue flames flickered low and did a better job of telling her mood than her face did, "A matter regarding your pet I assume." She spat the word with vehemence and he hid a tired smile. At every fucking turn he was met with strong opposition about Sam, no surprise where the strongest of it would come from.

"Yes your majesty."

This time there was a pause, almost as though she did not have a response to his unexpected honesty, maybe she'd thought he'd have lied.

Soon there was a sigh and her voice lightened, "No matter that now. 've come back and pets are for entertainment after all I do suppose. Ah speaking of, why don't you give this pet to me? It's been such a long time since I've had any fun. Lend it to me won't you?" She said this with a perversely delighted clap, the statement alone no doubt a test of both his loyalties a savagery.

Phantom pressed his lips into a tight line and felt his brows lower in irritated shame. "I'm sorry your highness but I won't be able to share her with you."

Frost might as have formed on the air and instantly Phantom could see every breath he expelled.

"And why would my First Knight, Commanding General of the Syndicate army and new Elder Knight" she gestured to Clockwork in passing, "deny his queen this request?"

Phantom lifted his head to look up into the thunder of her face, smiling carefully so as to look like his usual brash and sin sworn self.

"She's long dead your highness. I've only just returned from dumping the corpse back in its bed." He grinned, "You've no need for the soulless dead do you my queen?"