" Where is the Slayer?"
" Chained and under guard. Don't worry," Tristan replied, fingering the pommel of his sword.
" Worried? Who said I was worried? I was merely trying to make conversation that's all," Faustus replied lightly. There was a pause. " You could help, you know. You aren't the most stimulating of conversationalists, but this gloomy silence is a bit too drab. I feel absolutely morbid when you're around,"
" You hired me to kidnap the Slayers and help you perform your little ritual, not make interesting speeches," Tristan replied, a little contempt evident in his voice. Faustus took it surprisingly well. All things considered, he needed Tristan, despite his show of power, and they both knew it. " I suggest you keep it that way,"
They were currently in Faustus' throne room; a mockery of the word by all counts, taking in the rough stone cavern walls and the stalactites that periodically made their way to the floor. Even his 'throne' was a simple stone chair- a high back, two armrests, built upon a raised dais. No cushions, no laces and frills, no finery or women or minstrels.
Just pure stone.
" Oh dear," The way Faustus talked and acted made everything else inconsequential, though. As long as he could imagine he was in a grand throne room, so could everyone else. So should everyone else, by threat of existence.
" Hearing you say that, in such a way, almost makes me think that you're threatening me," Faustus continued, his wet gravel voice taking on an unfitting regal air. " Are you threatening me, Tristan?"
The man met Faustus' cold eyes with a level, blank stare of his own. His eyes betrayed nothing, showed nothing.
" Wouldn't dream of it,"
Faustus felt the tugging of a smile on the corners of his pallid lips, and gave way to a slight one. He so liked Tristan.
Too bad he had to die.
++++++
Faith didn't really know what to say when she and Spike entered the Magic Box. The place was a mess, with chairs thrown around, blood on the wooden floor and people lying unconscious all over.
They currently numbered four. Tara and Willow, slumped in uncomfortable chairs, Riley flat out on the table and Xander snoring by the wall. Okay, so three were unconscious, one was sleeping. Probably drunk, by the way his breath stank.
" What the bloody hell happened here?" Spike exclaimed, bursting into the room. " There's three dead men outside and evidently two more inside! Oh look, one of 'em's been deep-fried!"
Faith grimaced when she saw the blackened, still smoking body of the Ravager in the corner. That was one hell of a way to go. Then,
" Where's Buffy?" she asked, coming up one short in a head count. The looks everyone (well, everyone conscious that is) gave her was answer enough. A myriad of expressions crossed over her face, each fighting for supremacy over the others. She settled for a mix.
Confusion, anger, shock, sadness…joy.
" There was an attack on the shop. First, these shadow things, then one huge, gigantic one. Buffy was injured, so they brought her back here. Then the Ravagers came in. They took her," Dannielle elaborated.
" How many?" Faith asked.
" Three. Those two, and one more man. Not a Ravager, but definitely someone dangerous," Giles replied. He was slowly massaging his temples. He looked like he'd answered these very same questions before, and Gunn and Doyle standing by the sleeping Xander confirmed it.
" Anyone seriously hurt?"
Negative.
" Anyone got a good look at the guy who took B?"
Another negative.
" I was outside, fighting more of the fuckers," Dannielle put in.
" You killed all three of them?" Spike asked, somewhat incredulous. The newest Slayer's eyes widened and she shook her head.
" Oh, no. Kaine was there, as well… hey, where'd he go?"
All of them stared at the blank spot on the wall where the young stranger had been standing. Only his dirty tunic was left, as a sign of his ever being there.
" Alright, I think we all need to rest. Giles, is your place good?" Faith took command automatically, without realizing it. All her fears and insecurities about messing up were gone, without her even noticing it. That was always the case, and she had no clue at all.
" Gunn, Doyle, bring Xander and Willow in the convertible. Giles, you have car?"
He nodded.
" Good, we bring Tara and Riley. Spike, Dannielle, clean up this mess and get to Giles'. Spike you know where it is. We need to confer," she finished. There was a short moment of silence and inactivity, then everyone was moving at once. As Gunn slung Xander's arm over his shoulder, he whispered to Doyle,
" I've never heard her use the word 'confer' before,"
" I have a feeling she doesn't know what it means," the half-demon supplied.
++++++
/Are you sure it was a good idea, sneaking out like that?/
/Yes, Soveliss, or else I wouldn't have done it/
/You always say that and half the time it isn't true. Why, remember that time in Drakiss 3, and you decided to take that hover car for a joyride?/
There was a pause as images of a flying car weaving its way through dark, towering buildings, being chased by several flying police cars flitted through Kaine's mind. The short sequence finally ended in the car crashing into a building and the young warrior taking a hundred foot nosedive.
/I was young, impetuous and brash/
/You're still young, impetuous and brash/ Soveliss pointed out.
/ That's why I have you/
Soveliss withdrew, knowing full well when he had been defeated. Kaine smiled briefly and melted into the shadows familiarly.
Kaine had a gift; he could track down anybody, anywhere, given time and the chance to do so. He was currently following the 'spoor' Tristan and Buffy left. Since he'd seen both of them before- although only for a short time- he had an easier time recognizing and differentiating their traces of passage from the others.
He never could explain his 'gift'. What he followed weren't the usual tracks or scents, but something entirely different. It was as if everyone he encountered had a slightly different mental imprint on his mind, and each left traces of that imprint when they passed in and out of his presence. With concentration and focus, he could to follow the 'spoors' and thus, find whoever it was he was looking for.
/They've left the shop/ Soveliss informed him.
/I'll find them later/ Kaine replied impatiently and pushed the sentient sword's presence out of his mind. He had to concentrate on Tristan.
He padded softly westwards, heading towards the small, sparse forest that ringed Sunnydale. His boots made no sound, and his hand gripped his sword hilt tightly. The only clue as to his presence was his barely audible breathing and the bluish light that emerged from the lapis lazuli in his sword.
Otherwise, he was invisible.
++++++
Tristan was disappointed. He had expected to catch all three Slayers in one fell swoop. But he had almost lost one- Faith- when she left the shop without him knowing, and the appearance of the sword-wielding stranger foiled his attempt at capturing Dannielle.
When Azrael and Ariel had reported back to him, he had favored them both with a coldly disapproving glare. They'd stared back, but both looked away after a while, one after the other. But he couldn't blame them completely. If not for one of their vampires noticing Faith prowling the streets with the vampire Spike, he would never have known she hadn't been in the Magic Box.
This disturbed him. He was not doing his job properly. He should have known that the Slayer had left, but he hadn't. Tristan also realized that Faustus made note of the same fact. The small smile the lich had offered him earlier was disconcerting, and Tristan knew exactly what it meant.
Men- things- like Faustus had no love but nothing but themselves, and even that was hard to come by. Meaningful gestures like that meant only one thing.
Death.
Tristan could almost hear Faustus thinking aloud. He would die if he didn't complete his assigned tasks on time. And even if he did, his continued existence was in doubt. He had to do whatever it took to prevent that.
Whatever it took.
Tristan paced the cavern floor of his miserable 'room'. Compared to this, any flea-ridden motel room was a five-star hotel. His hand rested lightly on his sword hilt; blade ready to flash out in an instant. His fingers traced the pattern etched onto the hilt- the image of a snake head bearing its fangs made up the pommel, and its body entwined itself several times around the hilt. The movements his fingers made was instinctive. He did it out of habit and was barely aware he was doing it at all.
Then he abruptly turned on his heel and left the chamber, a bemused expression on his face. He had an idea.
++++++
" Why do we get stuck with clean up?" Spike griped as he dragged a Ravager corpse to the street. Dannielle, gripping the burnt corpse by the armpits, was right behind him, so he didn't catch the murderous glare she shot him.
" Maybe cause you like it. You are a vampire, don't you like dead, bleeding people?"
" Not ones in spiky leather clothes. That includes those heavy metal rockers as well. Their blood gets sluggish with all the drugs they do," Spike replied coolly, apparently not hearing the biting sarcasm in Dannielle's voice.
" What's your story anyway?" she asked, dumping the body on the gravel.
" Hmm?" Spike listened with half an ear, busy pulling a manhole cover out of its socket.
" Why do you this, hanging with the Slayer thing? Aren't you a vampire, supposed to kill them?"
" I got a bleedin' chip in me head," he answered absently, not as indignant about it as usual, although Dannielle didn't know that. Spike threw the dead body down the sewer, inviting Dannielle to do the same. " Can't hurt humans,"
" Oh... What are you doing?"
Spike was dragging the other three bodies over to the open sewer. " A bunch of Kavlu demons are starving down there. I'm just doin' my bit of charity,"
Dannielle grimaced dubiously, watching him dump the bodies into the hole. Once finished, he brushed his hands free of dirt and replaced the cover, putting his hands on his hips.
" Not a bad job, I have to say. How 'bout we grab a bite to eat?"
Dannielle shuddered in revulsion and turned away, trying to calm her heaving stomach.
++++++
Faith paced, something she thought she would never do. Riley and the witches were still out and wouldn't come to for a few hours yet. Doyle had found Giles' single malt whiskey and had proceeded to demolish it. He was currently on the floor, next to a sleeping Xander. Both were going to have tremendous hangovers in the morning.
Giles sprawled in an armchair, fast asleep. Today had been a hard day, what with the arguments with Buffy and the fights that came after. An open book lay face down on his lap, half read. He had resisted going to sleep at first, but even the Watcher could only take so much exertion without rest.
Dannielle had given Faith a brief recount of the skirmish in the Magic Box. Unfortunately, no one had gotten a good look at the man who had taken Buffy, except for Riley or maybe the witches. Spike had disappeared sometime before, mumbling something about the sunrise, and Gunn had left to get a late supper/early breakfast for them.
" You'll wear out a hole in the carpet," Dannielle remarked, staring down at her hands. Faith paused in front of the third Slayer, turned to face her, then decided to continue pacing again.
Silence permeated the room once more, disturbed only by the heavy breathing of the sleeping and unconscious and the rhythmic thumping of Faith's boots on the floor.
" Why don't you go to sleep?" Dannielle suggested.
" Why don't you?"
" I don't feel like it,"
" Me neither," Faith replied, tonelessly.
Silence again.
" Didn't you want to confer?" Dannielle asked.
" Don't see anyone to confer with,"
" …Oh,"
The sad excuse for a conversation died as both Slayers found themselves in no mood to talk. Faith wasn't introspective, but somehow, she just couldn't find the usual flip, caustic remarks that came so easily to her. Dannielle... well, nobody knew her so she could be acting completely in character and no one would have an idea.
The sun was almost up. Faith could see the first rays peeking out from above the horizon every time she looked at the window. She decided to look down at the floor from then on.
Then the door burst open, almost falling off its hinges… again. In ran an excited Spike, without a blanket. A thin wisp of smoke could be seen curling up from his back and he slammed the door shut forcefully, running to the open window. He drew the blinds, they were thick and black, able to keep out the sunlight effectively.
Then he was leaning against the wall, regaining his composure. Both Slayers looked at him strangely. Giles and Xander showed the first signs of stirring from their slumber, incited by the harried entrance of the bleach blonde vampire.
" That was cutting it rather close," Spike drawled, straightening.
" Where've you been?"
" Gathering info. Feeding. Stuff," he replied vaguely.
" Info?" Faith asked, at the same time Dannielle said, " Feeding?"
Spike looked at the two Slayers. " One at a time, ladies, one at a time. I've been trying to find something on this new Master vamp we bumped into last night… this morning,"
" Find anything?" Faith returned. At the same time, Dannielle asked, " I thought you couldn't hurt humans?"
Spike sighed. " Why are the two of you so bloody impatient?"
" Answer the question, Spike," both Slayers commanded. All three exchanged irritated glances, neither wanting to back down. They couldn't.
" Fine," grumbled the vampire. " I got someone in the hospital, supplying me with bloody blood bags, awright?" he directed at Dannielle. Then to Faith, " All I got was a name, Tristan. He's the one who took the Slayer,"
" How'd you know that?"
" I just do, okay? Can't a vampire keep a few secrets?"
" Not unless he wants to find himself scattered all over the floor," Faith retorted/warned.
" Why are you so bleedin' touchy all of a sudden?"
" I got mood swings, you got a problem with that!" Faith shot back, loudly. It wasn't a question either.
" Hey, stop yelling. Oh, my poor head,"
Xander had woken, and was holding his head tenderly in both hands. Faith glared at him, though he couldn't see it. Lucky him.
" Serves ya fuckin' right for getting' plastered last night,"
" This morning," Spike interjected.
" Now get up and make yourself useful," Faith continued, paying the vampire no heed. She swung a foot at Xander, who lazily deflected its path with his forearm. He groaned, staggered to his feet and looked around blearily at his surroundings.
" Where are we?"
" Giles' place," Spike supplied, before Faith could even open her mouth. The brunette Slayer snapped her mouth shut and stared angrily at the vampire, folding her arms across her chest.
The door opened once more, gently this time. " Hey people. I got coffee and donuts,"
" For breakfast?" Giles suddenly cut in, having been awake for some time. He favored the younger man with a frown. " That isn't healthy,"
" I don't plan on living to be a hundred," he replied calmly. Xander reached out for one of the Styrofoam cups longingly, anything to stop the pounding in his head. He almost cried out in frustration when Gunn suddenly turned away, to place the cups and boxes of donuts on the table.
Faith collapsed on the sofa, next to Dannielle, breathing out loudly. She massaged her temples slowly, then buried her face in her hands.
" I could use one of those myself," Xander muttered, referring to the head massage. He gingerly lowered himself to the floor, as close to the donuts and coffee as he could get. His movements were slow and deliberate, in an attempt to avoid jarring his head again.
" One cup a person," Gunn declared, seeing the hungry light in Xander's eyes. " We can't make anymore, cause the only thing Giles has got is tea,"
" Oh, the horror," Xander mock shuddered, then winced in pain. He was surprised to suddenly feel warm fingers at his scalp, moving slowly in soothing circles. " Whoever you are, you are the most wonderful person on the face of this planet,"
He craned his neck upwards, tilting his head so he saw things practically upside down. He saw Dannielle smiling at him, continuing her slow massage. Spike noticed how the girl's eyes lit at Xander's answering grin, his trademark lopsided smile. Spike also noticed the dangerously jealous gleam in Faith's eyes as she stared at the two.
Trouble was a-brewing.
++++++
Buffy yawned, stretched and opened her eyes. Then she found she couldn't do any of them. Her mouth was gagged by a dirty piece of cloth, her eyes covered by another strip and her arms were chained fast to her sides. She was also shackled to the wall, a rough stone that felt like a cave. Feeling around with her foot, the only part of her body that could move unrestricted, she guessed that she was in a cave of some sort. She was cold, tired, hungry and parched. Her back ached, where a stone had been digging as she slept the sleep of the unconscious. Her stomach hurt where the shadow thing had slashed at her, but she could feel that the wound had completely healed.
Willow. And Tara. She hoped they were both alright.
An incessant drip of water fell onto the back of her neck, annoyingly determined. Sometime in the process of fighting and being hurt and kidnapped, Buffy had also picked up a bump on the back of her head, which she found out when her head dropped back to the wall she leaned on.
She grimaced and bit her lip to keep from crying out, then realized that she was gagged and it would make no difference whatsoever. Her attempts at speech only amounted to miserably muffled groans. She loosed a gusty sigh, which came out as an inarticulate burst of air and sound. She had no idea how much time had passed since she'd been taken. She was groggy, disoriented and had no way to tell the time. She was completely helpless and at the mercy of the enemy.
Whoever they were.
She wondered what became of her friends. Were they fine, or had they been taken? If so, where were they placed? If not, would they come and get her? Were they all alive and well?
Buffy hoped for the best, but sudden defeatist thoughts came rushing to the forefront of her mind, niggling and harassing her to accept the sordid 'truth'. Faith had been alone last night(?) and may not have survived whatever onslaught had been thrown her way, if what Buffy had gone through was any standard to measure by. Dannielle might not have been able to beat that gigantic shadow thing, even with the help of the stranger, and Willow and Tara. Maybe none of them survived the nights, except for her. Why did they want her?
Buffy sighed again, as best as she could, then winced. It hurt to take a deep breath and her head pounded like a thousand sledgehammers were trying to reconstruct the roadways of her brain. Thinking hurt, so she stopped doing it.
She strained her ears for a sound, a clue that she wasn't alone, that maybe someone else was in here with her. Maybe someone was standing outside to guard her, maybe one of her friends, or one of the other Slayers had been taken as well.
The only sound she heard was the plinking of water as it dripped down onto the rough floor.
She was alone.
++++++
Kaine squeezed his way through the small tunnel, scraping his bare shoulders badly. A good thing he wasn't claustrophobic and had Soveliss with him, or he would have gone insane ages ago. He'd seen where they kept the Slayer and had taken some measure of the enemies forces. Vampires mostly, no demons to speak of. Yet.
He could find Tristan, or anyone who might have looked to be in charge. Of the Master vampire- if any- he saw no sign.
The cave where they held the Slayer looked like a ritual chamber of some sort. Stone tables, intricately designed sacrificial daggers and the like adorned one side of the cavern. The Slayer was shackled, gagged and blindfolded at the other side.
The chamber itself was huge, an underground cave thirty feet high. Kaine's small tunnel was located somewhere near the top. If he crawled to the lip and reached up, he would have been able to touch the rocky surface. There wasn't an easy way down. He had to crawl down the wall head first, swing into an upright position and climb down the wall from there. The handholds and footholds were plenty. He would have no trouble once he got into the proper position.
No guards he could see, though they might be posted outside the chamber, out of sight. But as long as he kept silent, no one would be none the wiser of his presence.
Getting out seemed to be a bigger problem than getting in. Buffy was weak and didn't look to be in much condition for heavy duty climbing. The only other way was to brave the main passage way and hopefully find a side passage to the outside. But even then, the chances of remaining unseen were slim.
Kaine crawled to the edge of the tunnel, poked his head out and looked down. If he wasn't used to heights- or depths- already, he would've heaved the contents of his stomach right out. Good thing his stomach was empty. He reached out, gripping and out-jutting piece of rock that seemed sturdy enough.
/You can't be serious!/ Soveliss screamed. Kaine winced from the mental feedback and shoved the presence some distance away.
/Don't scream at me. And yes, I'm dead serious/
/If you're not careful, you'll end up plain dead/
/I've no time for flippancy now, Soveliss. Anyway, I can't waste the time to get the others and risk her being sacrificed… or eaten/ Kaine retorted, then shut out the sentient's pleading protests.
++++++
Everyone was awake and refreshed, though some heads were still pretty sore. Not to mention the bruised egos that filled the room. Faith had no patience for either and stalked the floor like a wounded tigress. The smarter ones noticed her mood and backed away, while the others, like Riley, kept his protests loud and clear.
" I still say we go after them. We have to get Buffy back!" he repeated for what seemed to Faith the thousandth time.
" Sure… let me see, we should check the Yellow bloody Pages for their numbers, right?" Spike retorted.
" We can't just sit around here doing nothing!"
" Of course we can. I for one, am not about to step outside. Especially not now of all times," Spike jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the stream of light that filtered in through the window blinds.
" So you stay here, while the rest of us go! Right guys?" Riley looked around for support. He found none.
" Spike, you said you knew this Tristan guy?" Faith suddenly asked. The vampire looked caught for a moment, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
" Yeah, I did. Why?"
" How?"
" How?"
" Yeah, how?" Faith shot back, nearly at the end of her patience.
Spike heaved a sigh shrugged. " He came to me, wanted me to be a spy," Accusing glares fixed on the vampire, who looked back indignantly. " What? I didn't say yes, okay? I got a better offer,"
" What type?" Faith asked, at the same time Dannielle asked, " From who?"
Both glared at each other, Doyle, Gunn and Xander hid smiles behind their hands. The two Slayers were really getting on each others' nerves.
" Do I always have to bloody repeat myself? It was from Kaine, alright? The guy with the sword," he grumbled, slouching in the chair.
" How do we now that's true?" Dannielle and Faith returned. Stares were shared once more.
" How'd I know he had a bleedin' sword, then?" Spike replied angrily.
" I don't see where we're going with this!" Riley suddenly cut in, standing up. Xander reached out and pushed him back firmly onto the sofa before he could hurt himself.
" It's no use charging into a situation we don't know fully, Farmboy. We could be putting B into more danger by rushing into fuck knows where," Faith coolly reasoned. Willow and Giles exchanged surprised looks. That wasn't the type of advice they expected from the headstrong Faith.
" Plus, we don't know where she is," Xander added. He was personally proud of the Slayer. He had spent years drilling that fact into her thick head and was pleased his efforts had paid off. He smiled faintly at her, but she seemed not to notice. He shrugged it off and reminded himself to bring it up later.
Spike however, noticed the quick gleam of pleasure that flitted across Faith's eyes. He suddenly found himself jealous of the hold Xander unwittingly had on her, the stupid poof.
" We also have no idea who this Kaine guy is, and where he disappeared to," Tara meekly offered. Willow chirped in, triggered by her girlfriend's addition.
" I noticed something weird about him, but it might've been my imagination,"
" It maybe useful. Tell us anyway," Xander coaxed. Willow frowned doubtfully but nodded.
" He had slightly pointed ears, at the tip," she said, indicating the position and shape. " Like an elf," she added.
" You think he might be an elf? Giles, do your books say anything about that?" Faith replied, equally doubtful.
" No, I don't believe so. I've never heard of anything like it. But… it might be something else. I better go check," he answered, deep in thought. He got up and disappeared into his study.
" Man's always looking for a chance to research, it ain't natural, I tell you," Spike mumbled under his breath. No one heard him.
" Maybe he's Vulcan?" Xander supplied cheekily.
" Maybe you're nuts," Faith said, at the same time Dannielle did.
They both glared at each other once more. Spike sighed, Xander and his pals grinned. Willow and Tara looked worriedly at each other. This was going to be a long day.
++++++
Lucifer lounged on a stone slab that served as a bed. Lying on each side of him were the two female Angels. All three were nude.
" Did you have fun last night?" he wrapped a huge arm around a set of perfect, milk-white shoulders each. " I know I did,"
Ariel snorted. " All I did was look at the Slayer kill vamps. Not much of a night,"
" Take it out on Tristan then. He's the one who assigned you," Sophiel replied mockingly. The age-old rivalry between the two females ranged from petty bickering to duels to the death- all of which were interrupted before they got out of hand.
" Fuck you, bitch,"
" Love to. But I'm already taken," Sophiel said as she stroked Lucifer's hairy chest. The Master vamp turned his head to give her a quick kiss, which fast escalated into a passionate make-out session. Ariel snorted again and rolled off the 'bed'. She had better things to do than to watch the bitch and her 'daddy' suck face.
She got dressed, pointedly ignoring her underwear. She was desperate for a little carnal fun, maybe with a young teenager. Boy or girl, it didn't matter. At that age, they were pretty much sexually ambiguous in her point of view. Not to mention lust-filled and hormone-driven. Azhael should've brought in a few last night. He always did.
She padded down the passageway, unerringly finding her way to the small cave that had been designated as the prison/torture chamber. Her bare feet made no sound and disturbed nothing but dust as she made her way down the winding tunnels. Two turns away, she heard a sound that sent thrills of pleasure running down her spine.
A human scream.
Shriek more like it. Azhael did his work so well. He was inexhaustible, could go for hours, days even. There had been one time in Moscow, she and Azhael had kept this one young boy alive for three days before cutting his head off and bathing in the blood. They had been nude and made love the entire time. It was one of the times Ariel had lost her smirk and replaced it with a laugh of pure pleasure.
Her nostrils filled with the scent of freshly spilled blood. Warm blood. She peeked around the corner and saw the red-haired male vampire straddling a strapping young man, maybe eighteen. The human's clothes were in tatters- so was his skin.
" Enjoying yourself?" she asked sarcastically as she swished into the room, hips swaying seductively from side to side. Azhael twisted his upper torso around to look at her, his exposed chest gleaming with blood and sweat.
He was thin, lanky, hardly any muscles. Then again, he wasn't much for fighting, unlike Azrael or herself. His smile was wide, his canines naturally long. It gave him a rather feral look, especially with his large, piercing gaze. He could stare a person to the point of orgasm, male or female, no matter the sexual preference. She knew from personal experience.
To quote the spiky-haired vampire, " I swing every way, babe,"
He pointed downwards. Ariel peeked over his shoulder to see his erect dick, lying in the hollow of the boy's ribcage. " That answer your question?"
Ariel ran one manicured fingernail down its incredibly long length. Even Lucifer couldn't match Azhael in terms of size. Hell, no one could match Azhael when it came to sex. It twitched and jumped at the touch, covered in cum, sweat and blood. The best cocktail anyone could ever drink.
Ariel looked up and instantly felt his cold lips mashing against her own. She returned it with fervor unmatched by anything short of a wounded tiger fighting for its life. His hands pawed at her body; he loved to strip someone down by cutting away their clothes. He kept his claws long and sharp for just that purpose.
Both let their demon side out in full force, reveling in their cruel, sadistic nature, taking pleasure in the bloody and the gruesome. Ariel's small tank top was done away with by a single swipe of Azhael's expert hand; he cut her skin above her breasts and drew blood. She moaned into his mouth. So did the boy beneath Azhael.
Ariel climbed up onto the stone altar the boy lay on. Azhael's hands ran down the sides of her legs, slitting open her leather pants. The material fell away, and crimson bloomed in their place. Hands smeared in her blood, Azhael cupped her face, turning it red. She shifted, so her legs straddled the boy's face and mouth.
She would bleed later, she knew it. What better way to turn someone? Another muffled shriek filled the dank air as Ariel pierced the boy's stomach with all ten claws. She came instantly into the boy's open mouth, moaning and bucking her hips.
Now this was fun.
++++++
Randall Flagg was livid. Due to the ineffectual way this Tristan had employed his forces, five of his brethren were dead. Never in the history of the Ravagers had they suffered such a loss. It was shameful.
The seven remaining stormed down the main passageway that led to the lich Faustus' throne room. Their swords were held in loosely in their hands, swinging with every step they took. The passageway was unlit and was strewn with small rocks and a sharp stalactite protruded every now and then. Yet Randall didn't let this hinder his way to punish the craven Tristan for his uselessness and cowardice.
They barged into the throne room, interrupting another one of their pitiful excuses for a strategy session. Why bother? Everyone knew the best strategy was to strike the enemy where it hurt most and that meant crippling their emotions, flooding the other, weaker feelings- love, compassion and friendship.
Both looked up as the Ravagers came in, spikes on their armor and swords glinting with still wet blood. Randall wasted no time on talk; he rushed forward at Tristan, swinging his serrated blade at the weak point of flesh just under the ribs. The points on the edge would saw and rip the flesh, creating a wound that wouldn't close.
But Tristan moved with a speed that was unbelievable, turning and twisting his body to the side, letting the blade flash past harmlessly. Even as Randall began a backhanded response, Tristan was drawing his own sword, a huge weapon which nobody human could wield with one hand. Yet Tristan lifted it like it weighed nothing, once again casting doubts on his origins.
It was a greatsword, four and a half feet long. The blade was wide at the base, tapering slightly towards the middle, than flaring out in a leaf shape towards the last foot of the blade. A sword like that could cleave through flesh and muscle with ease, its incredible weight dealing with whatever bones might be in the way. The snake on the hilt seemed almost alive as it caught the flickering firelight.
The two blades met in mid-air clashing with a shower of sparks so bright Randall's eyes hurt. The sudden change in lighting blinded him for a moment, but a moment was enough. Tristan- who seemed unaffected by the flare- slammed a shoulder into the Ravager's chest. It was a stupid move because of the spikes on the armor, but Tristan ignored that. The sharp spike didn't even graze his skin. Randall was thrown back, surprised by the man's immense strength.
He came on relentlessly, not bothering to find out the reason for Randall's unprovoked attack. His blade sliced his armor between two spikes, revealing a weak point, a chink in his armor. Randall brought his sword up in both hands to block another blow. He barely made it, and the shock of impact nearly dislocated his shoulder.
Tristan seemed impervious to all the weaknesses and the frailties of the human body, his sword moving quickly and gracefully through the air despite its size. Randall got a cut on his arm, then suffered three more on his legs and face before he realized the first blow had landed. That got him angry, and an angry Ravager meant a dead opponent.
He should have known Tristan was the exception to that rule, as he seemed to be with all other rules. He met Randall's overhead swing easily, shoving him back with contemptuous ease. He came in low, for the legs, and Randall found himself helpless. The razor-sharp edge of Tristan's sword sliced his thighs open, severing muscle and tendon. Randall fell to the floor, legs unable to support his body. But he didn't scream, taking in the pain and using it to strengthen himself.
Even that didn't work.
Tristan slashed his cheeks, creating a huge bloody maw where his mouth once was. Then his belly was torn open, spilling his guts and intestines all over the floor. His sword arm was chopped off at the elbow, hand still gripping the hilt as it clattered to the floor.
Tristan wasn't human; Randall was sure of it now.
Then the blade sheared through the top of his head, cutting his brain in half. The Ravager fell dead to the floor, all manner of insides on the outside.