A/N: Sorry for the delay getting this one out. I've had a busy week and I didn't want to give you a half finished chapter last week. I do hope it is worth the long wait for this cliff hanger, and thank you once again for your patience. I'm going to do my best to keep this weekly but I can't always guarantee it, my personal life has become a bit more turbulent as of late. My continued determination to not let you guys down however drives me on, and I hope you will read, review and enjoy this next instalment! :)
Chapter 31
The room had descended into anarchy. Lambert was being jostled from all sides as people tried to escape the shouting men who had entered moments ago. He searched for Ellie, who had been stood watching him from a raised section of the floor but now he could see nothing but pressing bodies. The man he had been dancing with had vanished, he scanned the crowd but couldn't see him either. Then something grabbed at his ankle and he looked down to see a pair of desperate blue eyes.
He had followed Dante down to the dancefloor somewhat reluctantly, the flashy vampire staring at him like he was a starving peasant and Lambert was a lame doe. The music was unfamiliar; fast paced and very loud, there were no musicians or bards in sight but the melody seemed to be coming from all around them. He had stood stiff and unyielding, watching the people move around him in time to the strange music. It wasn't until the unnervingly beautiful couple had approached him that he had begun to feel a little more at ease.
The woman was stunning, that much was certain, but she didn't have the honest blue eyes and simple attractive face of Ellie. The man on the other hand bore a striking resemblance to the only other person he had ever opened up to, Aiden. He had the same high cheekbones and twinkling eyes, although his were sky blue not golden and cat like. He swayed towards Lambert with the same tall, lean structure and cocky confidence, giving him a cheeky grin.
Now he was looking down at him, crushed beneath the press of bodies and an instant, primal rage erupted inside the witcher. Grabbing the fallen man by the arm he shoved aside the people keeping him down and heaved him to his feet. As he touched the bare skin on the man's arm he felt a pulling sensation on his gut, and his medallion which was tucked under the tight tunic he was wearing, gave an ominous shiver. The blue eyes he was now looking into glowed subtly and the panicked man gave him a shaky smile.
'Thanks.' He breathed, his brown hair dishevelled. Before they could get their bearings, there was a loud boom and several blood curdling screams erupted from the back of the room. Looking up sharply, Lambert saw the man that had caused the mass panic was stood, a thick, stick like object clutched in his hands. The end of it was smoking and the witcher vaguely remembered a similar, smaller object that also smoked and made a loud booming sound when used. He had seen it bring down a nightmarish boar monster in Ellie's memories.
'I said nobody move!' The man roared over their heads. The crowd convulsed pushing Lambert and the other man he had rescued towards the front. Straining around he tried to find Ellie, unsure whether she was still nearby. All he could make out was the panicked faces of the people around him, he let out a frustrated growl. This was why he hated crowds. The man with the stick raised it again, this time scanning the sea of people in front of him, he lowered it indiscriminately into the seething mass and smiled grimly. The man that Lambert had rescued turned wild, panicked eyes towards him.
'We're going to die here.' He said, his voice filled with horror. Lambert looked around for a way out, a way to escape the pressing cage of bodies, but before he could there was a high-pitched whistle and then the unmistakable thud of an impact. The stick wielder let out a shout of alarm and pain. His arms were now encased in what looked suspiciously like ice. It crept up his limbs until even the stick he was holding was sealed inside. He was looking down at his arms, now frozen in place, his face a mask of angry outrage. His eyes flashed up to find the culprit just as a loud, cheery voice rang out with such confidence that it caused the panicking crowd to fall silent.
'You've either got to be incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, to walk in here and threaten us like that.'
As one, the crowd turned towards the voice. Even Lambert found himself straining to see who had spoken. If it wasn't for the rough edged, Skelige sounding accent he would have assumed it was Dante, it had that same charisma about it. From the back of room he saw movement as the crowd began to part, then striding through the corridor they had created came a hulking mass of a man sporting a mop of curly red hair and two distinctive blue horns curving out from his forehead.
He was wearing a loose-fitting white shirt and open waistcoat, the sleeves rolled up to expose his muscle-bound arms. In one hand he held a heavy looking iron hammer, similar to one a blacksmith or armourer might use, and behind him a long russet coloured ox tail tipped with matching red hair flicked in time with his steps.
'Demon.' The frozen man standing above him breathed. Unconcealed hatred in his voice.
The red headed demon smiled. 'Not just a demon'. He said, holding up his free hand, showing a branded mark on his wrist. An exact copy of Ellie's. 'And not just one, but two.' He indicated behind him with his hammer, pointing it towards a familiar set of blue eyes. They were a dark shade of navy that Lambert hadn't see in a long time. Her mouth set in a tight line, her brow furrowed and lowered over her eyes to create harsh shadows on her face which gave her a very ominous appearance.
'So maybe you should rethink your plan and leave these people alone, or you can stay and deal with me.' The red-haired demon flexed his arms, cracking his neck from side to side. The frozen man sneered, although his demeanour had become a bit more uncertain. Glancing over his shoulder at one of his comrades, he gestured for them to come forward. An equally muscle-bound individual wearing all black like his peers lumbered over to him and raised a metal bar, smashing the ice covering his leader's arms. It shattered, sending crystal shards flying over the heads of the gathered crowd. A few people screamed and ducked out of the way. The man nodded to his rescuer and rubbed his now freed limbs, the sneer growing.
'We don't except threats from demons, and things have changed around here. It's high time this place was shut down and the scum that dwell here eradicated.' He flicked his gaze over the watching faces. 'Now I'll say it again. Any humans amongst you are free to go. Just approach us slowly and we'll assess you, the rest stay put until we're ready to deal with you.'
The people around Lambert shifted uneasily, a few of them detaching and cautiously making their way up off the dance floor towards the waiting men. He clenched his fists. These slayers, because that's what they must be, clearly had a way to distinguish man from monster, much like he did, but he doubted whether they had seen the likes of him before, and they certainly knew Ellie. He wasn't leaving here without her regardless. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he tried to control his rage. Killing harmful monsters was one thing, but indiscriminately slaughtering creatures who had been doing no harm was similar to how the witch hunters of Novigrad operated. It made him sick that Ellie had even compared him to these whoresons.
'That's quite enough of that.' Dante's smooth voice carried across the room. The vampire was stood next to Ellie with the bartender, Moses, flanking her other side. 'You'll leave my establishment in peace this instant. Or they'll be hell to pay.'
The leader raised his shooting stick again, this time aiming it straight at Dante. 'You'll be the first to go, you blood sucking arsehole!' Before anyone could utter another word, he fired the weapon straight at the group gathered around Blue eyes. Lambert let out a hiss and strained to see if she had been caught in the blast, but as quick as he could blink Dante and his partner Moses had vanished, leaving Ellie stood defiantly alone. The wall behind her exploded as whatever the stick expelled embedded itself into the stone. There was a moment of silence, then to Lambert's dismay he saw a pinprick of red begin to blossom on Ellie's pale blue vest. The stain grew and grew, blossoming like a macabre rose across her abdomen. All the while she stood as still as if she were carved from stone, her face still set in that fearsome glare, her arms tensed and hands clenched into fists.
'So be it.' Dante said from another side of the room. He must have evaded the shot and moved there faster than Lambert could follow, which was impressive. His eyes were focused on the slayers, and his lips curled back into a terrible snarl, his canines flashing wetly in the dim light of the club.
'Everyone! Get to the back, now!' Moses shouted from the opposite side, ushering the crowd around Lambert away from the slayers. This broke the temporary spell they had been under, causing them to erupt into screams and cries once more. This time they surged towards the back of the club, although Lambert had no idea where they all planned to go. Trying to fight against the flow again, he felt a hand tugging at his sleeve. It was the man that he had rescued.
'Come on, there's a safe place. We have to go.' He cajoled, attempting to pull the witcher along. There was the sound of an angry growl, rumbling over the cacophony of screams and a streak of burgundy zipped past in his periphery. Another loud boom echoed behind them and he was almost certain the leader was firing his weapon at their retreating backs. They were almost level with Ellie now, the steps up to reach the back right next to where she was stood. She was still motionless, surveying the fleeing crowd and watching the beginnings of the fight between the slayers and the monsters unfolding in front of her. Lambert's attention however was on the dark red stain, that had now mercifully slowed but still made his stomach twist in apprehension.
He pulled his arm away from the man and shook his head, even as he tried to reach out to grab him again. 'Go, I need to help here.'
'Help?' The blue-eyed man said, his face morphing into confusion. 'What can you do? The gatekeepers are here. We'll be useless.'
Lambert gave him a wry smile and planted his feet. The man continued to be swept away by the crowd. 'I'm hard to kill.' He stated before turning to find Ellie. With sharpened elbows and years of practice wrestling his brothers, he managed to wade through the stream of panicked people towards her. She didn't seem to notice his approach, or at least she didn't move, not even when Lambert broke through the press of bodies and half stumbled, half jogged to her side.
'Are you hurt?' He gasped. Her head barely twitched as she replied in a clipped voice.
'Nothing worth noting.' His apprehension quelled, his attention turned towards the dance floor and the action unfolding on it. In stark contrast with the sinuous movements and joyous dancing that had been there moments before, was a scene of feral anger and desperate fighting between the two sides. Joining Dante were a number of other vampires and the bullish red-haired demon which he could only assume was Ellie's partner.
As he watched, the demon was set upon by three of the slayers. One had another shooting stick, this one smaller. Another had a wickedly curved knife that flashed through the air with lightning quick speed, and the last had no weapon, only his fists which were the size of boulders. If it had been Lambert in the middle of it he doubted whether he would have got out of it completely unscathed. Oh, he'd win, but he'd collect a few bruises and maybe a split lip along the way. The demon however grinned in giddy anticipation as they surrounded him, twirling his hammer experimentally in his hand.
They attacked as one. Lambert would give them that, they were fighting to win; not giving him a chance to pick them off individually. That's what he would've thought if the leering demon hadn't launched into them with his hammer. Despite his size he moved like a cat; flexing and bending to strike at their shins, their elbows, bringing them all to their knees in a matter of seconds, then with a flourish striking his hammer on the floor between where a sparkling sheet of ice exploded from the end locking them in place.
Lambert gave a low whistle. 'Well, colour me impressed.' He saw Ellie glance at him out of the corner of his eye.
'Enoch's a quick learner.' She said simply. It was then he recognised the style of the big demon's fighting. It was the same as Blue eyes. Low and quick. Using his enemy's momentum against them. It was almost comical in such a beefy fighter. 'You should go in the back room.'
Lambert felt a stab of indignation at her suggestion. 'I'm not a shrinking damsel, I can look after myself.'
She gave him a reproachful look. 'Fine, but be careful…please.' Her plea was said in a softer, more concerned tone and Lambert felt his annoyance lessen. There was a high-pitched shriek as one of the vampires leapt at a slayer, knocking him down. Behind them the crowd were slowly filtering into the back room, two more vampires guiding them through. Most of the slayers were preoccupied with the brawl, but a few were starting to make progress towards the other side of the club.
The heavy-set demon and Dante were now engaged in a battle between the leader and serval other slayers. They seemed to be multiplying. One thing was obvious, this wasn't a last-minute raid, this had been planned. The non-humans were doing well, but the sheer numbers of the other side were clearly starting to overwhelm them. Suddenly the lights began to flicker and dim, turning the whole scene into a strangely hypnotic ballet. Lambert glanced up at the ceiling and watched as the ever-burning candles struggled to stay lit.
'What's wrong with-' He began but Ellie was no longer stood beside him. She was crouched, a faint blue glow seeping up from the floor and into her legs. The air around them became hot and metallic, a familiar taste of ozone burning on his tongue.
'Don't do anything stupid.' She said before the lights went out briefly with a buzzing pop and an iridescent streak of blue lightning flashed across the room towards the fight. As the lights stuttered back to life Lambert saw the slayers had been sent into chaos. Where before they had been surrounding Dante and Enoch, now they were spread across the floor, some on their backs, some struggling to their feet clutching their heads. In the centre of this ring of confusion stood Ellie, sparks of blue crackling over her arms and legs, dissipating in the air around her.
Before the shell-shocked slayers could regain their advantage she and Enoch launched themselves at the men. The two of them flowed together seamlessly, it was like watching a dance. A dance that involved taking out the slayers one by one. Neither of the demons did any mortal damage to any of the men, instead knocking them out much like Blue eyes had with those mercenaries in the woods back home.
The same could not be said for Dante and his crew. They may not resemble any vampires that the witcher knew, but the speed and ferocity with which they attacked was eerily similar. He watched as Dante himself flew towards a slayer, his body a blur, and fall upon the man with a feral growl. He half expected the man to be a bloodied corpse by the way he screamed as Dante dealt with him, however he was still very much alive when the vampire leapt off him. The man sat up and clutched at his neck, blood seeped from between his fingers, and a look of horror was plastered on his face. Lambert slowly raised an eyebrow and looked back towards Ellie and her partner. She didn't seem to notice her friend's interesting approach to dealing with these humans, or she didn't care. He made a note to ask her later once this was over.
As he looked on, feeling out of his depth and as useless as if he were a trainee witcher staring at a rabid fiend, a flurry of motion caught his attention to his right. Two slayers had managed to slip by their supernatural assailants and were sprinting to the back of the club. Both of them had weapons, a shooting stick and a long dagger, and expression twisted with hatred and anger. Lambert side stepped neatly in front of them as they barrelled up the short flight of steps. They both jolted to an abrupt halt, their angry faces morphing into one of surprise at the unexpected obstacle.
'I think that's far enough, don't you?' Lambert drawled, folding his arms menacingly. The two men looked the witcher up and down, most likely noting his lack of weapon, then both of them smiled nastily.
'If you know what's good for you, you'll move out of our way. We're only after the freaks.' The one with the knife said. His friend nudged him, his eyes growing wide.
'Look at his eyes.' Their stance changed. They both brandished their weapons, their lips curling up into a sneer of disgust.
'Looks like you are a freak after all.' The one with the knife said. Lambert smirked at them, he'd heard a lot of unfamiliar words and see a lot of things that didn't make any sense, but this he could understand.
'It's been a while since I beat up a pair of whoresons like you. I think I'm going to enjoy this.' He said, cracking his knuckles as the men charged at him. He easily avoided the man with the knife, the blade swinging over his head as he ducked out of the way. The slayer staggered past him with a look of surprise, but quickly regained his footing and came back at him, slashing wildly. Lambert sorely missed his steel sword, he would've made quick work of the amateur by now with it. Sadly, in his weapon less state, it was safer to dodge and wait for an opening than to mount his own attack.
He was so preoccupied with the knife wielding idiot that he nearly forgot about his other assailant. It was only when he caught a shift in movement out of the corner of his eye, that he saw the man with the shooting stick had flanked him and was stood a few feet away. Of course, the stick was a ranged weapon, he was getting distance to fire at the witcher. Mentally kicking himself for his faux pas, Lambert wheeled away from his slashing friend and attempted to put him between himself and the shooting stick.
It gave him enough time to gather his thoughts and assess the man's loose grip on his weapon. Before the slayer could resume his frenzied attack, Lambert dashed towards him, crowding the man. His initial shock at the sudden offensive manoeuvre loosened his grip even more on the knife, allowing Lambert to knock his wrist deftly with his elbow, popping the blade cleanly from his hand. Snatching it easily out of the air, Lambert felt a swell of satisfaction as the whoreson gave him a fearful look.
With the weight of a weapon in his hand, the witcher felt the tables swiftly turn. Widening his stance, he tossed the knife to his sword hand and twirled it nimbly. It wasn't as comforting as his hefty longsword, but it was better than nothing. He leapt at the now unarmed man who tried to sidestep away from him. However, his mutations mercifully hadn't been cancelled out in this world, and he easily blocked the slayer's escape, holding the knife up to his trembling face.
There was a beat where Lambert could happily have sliced his throat open from ear to ear. The old Lambert wouldn't have hesitated, delighting in disposing of another low life. However, something inside him whispered that killing a man without cause was no better than what they were doing. In a momentary decision, he flipped the knife so he was brandishing the handle rather than the blade, and brought it cracking down on the unarmed man's temple. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious, his friend swearing loudly and levelling his weapon at Lambert. With a tired sigh, the witcher raised the hand still holding the knife by the blade, and flicked his wrist at the other slayer. The knife sailed through the air and struck the man's arm, causing him to flinch with a cry of pain and drop the shooting stick with a clatter. In three quick strides the witcher was on him, curling his hand into a tight fist and punching the man squarely in the temple. He collapsed to the floor like his friend, motionless, and Lambert cautiously picked up his discarded weapon.
The stick was cold and made of dark metal. It was heavier than he had expected, weighing it experimentally as he held it on his palm. It was a mechanical devise, clearly made up of different interconnecting parts, and there was an obvious handle that fitted his hand snugly. His index finger naturally wanted to curl around a jutting piece of metal that when he tested it carefully, he could feel gave slightly. This must be how the weapon fired. Lifting it up to eye level, Lambert looked down the stick, his mind already trying to figure out how this marvellous invention worked.
Before he could get too deep into his own thoughts, a shout from the back of the club startled him. 'Hey! Thanks for dealing with those slayers!'
He turned, automatically stowing the weapon away in his leather tunic; he had discovered earlier that it had a convenient secret pocket in the lining. The shouts had come from the two vampires who had been ushering the crowd into the back room. The mass of people was miraculously gone with only the two of them guarding the closed door now.
'You're welcome.' He replied. The vampires gave him a nod, their eyes then travelling over his head to the action behind. Before he could follow their gaze, he felt a subtle breeze next to him, then a small hand on his arm.
'Looks like you got involved anyway.' Ellie said. He half expected her to be annoyed but there was a smile on her face and a glimmer of amusement in her now sapphire blue eyes. Turning in a full circle Lambert saw the room had now settled down, the fighting practically over. The slayers Ellie and Enoch had knocked out were being propped up against the wall. The others that Dante and his troupe had bitten were left writhing from their wounds. Lambert was about to ask Ellie if she was okay with her supposed 'good guy' friend biting all these humans when he noticed Moses, the quiet bartender, moving from slayer to slayer administering something to their necks, then waving his hand and laying them prone on the ground.
Ellie saw him looking in confusion at the disjointed scene. 'Dante likes to give them a scare. Make them think they're one of them now. He never follows through though. Moses extracts the venom before it can take and then wipes their memory.'
'Why not just knock them out like you?' Lambert asked, puzzled.
She gave a small shrug. 'Dante likes his theatrics. Besides, his history with the slayers is a lot rougher than ours. I think it only fair to give him some semblance of revenge when he can get it.'
With all the slayers dealt with, the victorious party gathered around Ellie and Lambert. Dante was tucking a wayward strand of hair that had escaped his ponytail, but apart from that he was still impressively immaculate. He gave Lambert a roguish wink as he approached. The witcher quickly averted his gaze and found himself looking at the hulking demon called Enoch.
'So, is this the one you brought back boss? Looks interesting, not your usual type-Hughn!' Ellie elbowed the massive demon hard in the ribs, causing him to bend over comical in pain.
'Shut your mouth Enoch.' She hissed, tossing Lambert a guilty look as he raised an eyebrow quizzically at her.
'Well done friends. Is everyone safe and accounted for?' Dante interrupted the awkward moment. He had taken on a more powerful stance, his posture and voice now exuding the aura of a leader. A marked difference to the smooth, debonair style Lambert had encountered earlier.
'Everyone made it to the safe room. Only minor injuries.' One of the vampires that had been helping people through the door replied. Dante nodded, tugging on his waistcoat to straighten it.
'Good. We'll have to wipe the memories of the humans. Not my usual practice but they saw far too much tonight, and I'd rather not garner a reputation for shootouts in my establishment.' His gaze turned to Ellie. 'My thanks dear. It would have been a different story without the two of you. As always I am grateful for your alliance. And you…'. He turned to Lambert, looking him up and down appreciatively.
'If I had known you were such an accomplished fighter I might have kept you to myself.' The seriousness in his tone waned, a flirtatious edge to his words.
'Definitely taken, sorry.' Lambert replied smoothly. He saw Ellie baulk at his words, a slight tinge of pink entering her cheeks.
'Of course you are.' Dante said, rolling his eyes. 'We still need to address what happened here tonight.' He continued, smoothly changing the subject. Lambert reached down and found Ellie's hand to squeeze it, she squeezed back. 'That was the most brazen raid we've ever experienced, and I want to know why. I want to know how they got passed Carl and Owen. I want to know why our scouts missed them. I want to know where they got the balls to pull off a stunt like that. Make no mistake my children, I am angry.'
The gathered vampires watched him silently, a collective shame hanging over all of them. This was serious. 'Firstly, we will deal with the ones in the safe room, separate them and wipe the memories of any who aren't like us. Secondly, we'll take our uninvited guests somewhere less busy. Thomas, Able, you know a good place.'
'Yes.' One of the vampires replied shortly.
'Now go, go. I need to talk to our demon friends.' The gathering dispersed, all to their given tasks, leaving only Dante, Moses, Ellie and Enoch with him. Dante lowered his voice and fixed Ellie with a hard stare.
'My dear, something is not right. This goes against everything the slayers have done before. Attacking in large groups like that isn't their style. Something is making them bold and I want to know what it is.'
Ellie ran a hand through her hair. 'I might have an idea, but I can't be certain.'
'Is this to do with your disappearing?' Enoch asked. She glanced at Lambert.
'Yes, maybe…I don't know.'
Dante waved a hand in the air. 'Speak plainly. My people were just attacked, I have no time for riddlesss.' He emphasised the end of the word, letting it out between clenched teeth with a hiss.
'Lambert here wasn't the only person to come back with me. I let out another, a demon…a higher demon.' This time both Dante and Moses hissed.
'You think this one is the reason for the imbalance?' Moses asked. Ellie's mouth twisted into a sour grimace.
'I'm almost certain he is.'
'We need to catch him then. Send him back.' Enoch said, slapping the palm of his large hand with his hammer.
'It's not that simple.' Ellie said.
'Things rarely are.' Dante intoned bitterly. Lambert had to agree with the guy there.
'I came to find you, because I need to find out what's going on in Purgatory.' Ellie said to the other demon. He blinked down at her.
'I told you, I can't get back there.'
'I know, but you might be able to find out if anyone has recently crossed over. If I look he might see me, he knows who I am.' Enoch nodded slowly.
'I could try and get a message to Hester, see if he's seen anything.' She sighed loudly in response.
'Fine.' She turned her attention back to the vampires. 'I'll stop whatever is going on, I promise.'
Dante gave her a level stare, the silence stretched between them for an uncomfortably long time, then finally he nodded and raised his left arm, his hand clenched in a fist, his wrist exposed.
'May the wind guide your feet Tempest.' He said solemnly. Then with a subtle gesture of his hand, he and Moses walked away in tandem, leaving just the three of them. Ellie seemed to sag as she let out another loud sigh.
'Shit escalated quickly.' Enoch grumbled, and Lambert found he reminded him of Eskel quite a bit.
'You can say that again.' She said, rolling her shoulders back and straightening up. 'Right. Looks like we got a promise to keep.' Then without a backward glance she strode off towards the exit to the club. Enoch let her get a little ahead, hanging back with the witcher. The demon eyed him up, then glanced down at the two unconscious slayers still at their feet.
'Not bad work. Saw you take these guys out. I can see why she likes you.' He leant towards Lambert, a conspiratorial look in his eyes. 'I promise not to tell El about the gun you've got stashed in your pocket.'
He gave him a wink, then followed his partner. Lambert gripped the subtle bulge by his chest, where the 'gun' was hidden. Guilt washed over him in a wave. He should probably tell Blue eyes himself about it, but something about what he had just witnessed and the serious conversation afterwards made him think he was going to need a weapon for what they were about to do.