…I am sorry for the wait.
Things have been…hectic lately. And not just college. Its things like wisdom teeth, dry socket, volunteering for things, helping out with helping the homeless, and getting addicted to JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. Steel Ball Run was fucking awesome in my opinion. And Joseph became my favorite JoJo after surviving against Kars, AND THE VOLCANO.
But I digress (line stolen shamelessly from clement). This is going to be a two parter. This is Part one of Demons and Humans. Enjoy.
Demons and Humans: Part One
If there was one thing that Lilith enjoyed, it would be stories. That, and alone time. Away from people. She had a…very peculiar mindset towards people. People, humans specifically, where mean, malicious, and cruel. She was speaking from personal experience of course considering she was the outcast among humans, a black sheep, only meant to be rejected by those around her.
And then she got stuck in a car wreck. And was barely able to remember the sequence of events from that time, even though it was only two or so days ago. The only thing that she could recall was the pain, and the desire to live. That alone fueled her crawl until she…well, she couldn't quite remember. But the outcome of whatever happened after she stated into a set of eyes, one red and the other blue, was obvious.
She had become a demon. Or a half-Fiend according to Pixie, her only source of guidance on what to do with her life now. And if there was one thing that she would readily admit, was that she enjoyed living as a demon compared to her tenure as a human. For one, she could eat the emotions of people! She could control the elements! But best of all…
She wasn't weak! She could fight back against those that would hurt her! And she was strong to boot!
Well, if being able to lift up a car with both hands was considered strong then she was. Ironically enough (that was a new word she just learned!), despite her size, Pixie could do that as well. In fact, Pixie could do a lot of things that she didn't expect her to be able to do. Like create shiny magic sphere things, and shoot lighting out of her finger. She learned how to do the last thing just from watching her friend- her first ever one!- do it. She got called a copy-cat by the small fairy, but she said it with a smile.
That honestly confused her. Did that mean that she was mad at her…or happy at her? Was that something she would be 'educated' on as well? There was so many new things that Pixie was introducing to her. Like of why the Vile clan of demons can all go 'die in a fire' and why stereotypes exist, and how to make fun of them.
She still had yet to be introduced to the internet. And although she was in no hurry to learn what exactly the internet was, she was still curious about whatever '4chan' was, and why she should stay away from it. However, at the end of the day, there were still some things she was worried about.
Namely her place in the world. What was she supposed to do now? Her uncle was dead- a fact that still did not stem the rage, hate, and anger she held inside her formerly-human body- and no one in the world knew about her. She had no other family, and no plans for the future other than to survive.
She was free, and yet she didn't know what to do. She had no place to go to, and no place to go back to. The world was her oyster, but she didn't know how to open it. Such was the dilemma that held her min at the moment.
A frown marrying her face, she went back to examining the bookshelf that the nice librarian lady had pointed her to. She added said librarian lady to the file of 'nice humans' in her head after she was pointed towards the small row of comic books that were imported from America.
So far, she was not impressed. Seriously, these were pretty stupid. Who in their right mind would go out and save the day while wearing their underwear on the outside of their outfits? And what was with the spandex? The only one that she actually liked out of all of the ones that she had riffled through was the guy in the bat costume.
That was guy was cool. Wasn't there a show about this guy from somewhere? Last she heard from Dudley (literally) was that it was a good show.
"Oh. Batman huh? Remind me to introduce you to the sixties batman show. It's probably one of the greatest things humans invented."
Turning her head, Lilith was mildly surprised to see Pixie hovering over her shoulder. She had done that a few times already, normally when she was reading through a book. Oddly enough, unlike when she was a human, she didn't have a problem reading big words, or even stuttered at all when trying to pronounce something.
Pixie explained it off as something involving a 'sundering of languages' applying to humans and not demons. She mentioned a tower of something as well, but she didn't really get what her mini-friend was saying. She kinda tuned her out when she began trying to make sense of the strange tango dance thing the humans in the illustration she was looking at were doing.
A little while later she put back the 'Kama Sutra' back into the shelf. She couldn't make heads or tails of the drawings inside. There were a bunch of fancy words next to each drawing, but she didn't care for those. She wanted to read through a picture book, like Dudley did all the time. That was one of the things she had always wanted to do, but never could.
Back to the matter at hand, there was a question Lilith had wanted to ask the little fairy earlier, but before she could ask, Pixie had flown away to look for a 'Xanth' book, whatever that was. It was something that had been prickling the back of her mind for a while. Originating from an old instinct she had developed around her cousin.
"Hey Pixie, mind if I ask you something?" she said as she turned her head to look at the small fairy as she layed down on her shoulder, her head propped up on her elbow, making her hair fall over one of her eyes, slightly obscuring it.
The leotard wearing fairy spun around and jumped off of her contractors shoulder, flapping her wings in the air to keep herself suspended. She then flew up into the six-year-old half humans face, her arms held behind her back like a little kindergartner. "Sure! Go right ahead little miss curious sadist!" she winked towards Lilith.
At that, Lilith had to frown. She was not a sadist just because she really liked the flavor of human fear! And she said as much to the fairies face. "I'm not a sadist just because I like to make whiny humans scream and cry. It's their fault for making the stuff in the first place." She pouted, crossing her arms as she stared into the mirth filled eyes of her companion.
Pixie only retorted with a smirk on her face and a crossing of the arms. "Sure you're not. And the burn marks on the basement floor of that church from yesterday, as well as the screams of the damned haunting that place say otherwise."
"…shut up. How was I supposed to know that that nuns lingering will would try to get back at me by haunting that church?"
Pixie: one. Lilith: zero.
"Well, maybe if you would take your education on all the demon clans more seriously, you would learn more about how the supernatural world works." Retorted the fairy with the ever condescending smirk on its face.
Lilith would have retorted right then and there instead of trying to ask the question she was going to ask. But she was a six year old. Demon body or not.
So of course she gave in to her impulses and retorted. Much like a child would. Even if she could have come up with a decent comeback if she pointed out that her supernatural world education had only just started.
"Well if you're so smart, why didn't you do anything to stop the ghost from haunting the place?" she replied with a 'I-just-won-this-argument smirk on her face'.
Pixie raised an eyebrow, that same dangable smirk on her face. "Simple really. Magatsuhi is more than just human emotions. Its human emotions, with the occasional soul thrown in. The liquid stuff you keep getting is the Magatsuhi created from regular human emotions. But Magatsuhi made from a soul? That stuff becomes crystallized. And it packs even more of a punch than regular ol' Magatsuhi."
Oh really now? "And just where did you hid this crystal then?" demanded Lilith with her arms crossed. A disbelieving stare being directed at the small of the two.
If possible, Pixie's smirk became even more condescending. With a snap of her fingers, a crystal with appeared in her hand. It was a small thing, but eye-catching as well. It was shaped like in diamond-shape, four points, two obtuse angles, and two acute ones. In actuality, it looked a bit like a laval-lamp. With red and blue 'goop' floating up and down inside of it.
Distantly, Lilith heard a *crack* sound in the back of her hand. And just like that, she had a pretty good idea of what Pixie did to summon the crystal in the first place. But she wanted to confirm it anyway.
"Magic?" she asked, her face blank.
"Magic." The fairy answered, her face still smirking towards Lilith.
And then the little Fiend felt her old instinct creep up again. Her question she meant to ask returned to the forefront of her mind. "Hey Pixie," she began, looking into the fairies eyes to make sure she was listening, "is it possible for another demon to track down another demon?"
At that question, Pixie stopped and adopted a thinking pose. Literally, she posed just like the thinker sculpture.
"Well, certain demons, like the Divine clan, emit auras that effect demons and humans differently. I've heard horror stories about Metatrons presence, and of how just being around Mara makes people more likely to do the bedsheet tango. But hunting down another demon? Well, every demon has their own unique 'presence' for lack of a better word. For a demon to hunt down another one, they would have to get a whiff of their prey, or enter into a contract where they can automatically lock onto another's presence."
At that last bit of information, Lilith tilted her head curiously. "…Enter a contract to hunt a demon down? What else can contracts do?" she asked the tiny Fairy, intrigue taking hold of her eyes.
Pixie blinked at the question, slightly startled by the question. She then sighed and moved towards the bookshelf to sit down on the wooden shelf, just in front of a Captain America comic.
"For a demon to enter a contract is for them to gain something in return for their services. Contracts have the power to break conventional rules that impose limitations on demons. Some demons will enter a contract to hunt someone down in return for a small, permanent boost in their power granted to them by the contract. Others will enter a contract that entitles them to protect a place, a person, or even a bloodline. In return they will get something they seek, an object, or maybe because they feel obligated to enter a contract like that out of a genuine sense of honor. Some demons are like that, and most of them can be found in Japan. Those ones tend to be super powerful though. There's a reason very few willingly cross the national defense divinites, the four heavenly kings, or even Masakados. You would have to be stupider than a slime to even try and go against him."
Taking a deep breath, Pixie continued on. "Contracts are something of a universal oath to us demons. When we enter one, we will always fulfill them. Even if we don't want to. Some are binding, some fight against our wills, and others are simply agreements. The contract I entered with you is the last of those. An interesting fact about contracts is that they're not just limited to humans. A demon can make a contract with anything. Special mention goes to Beldr, who made a contract with the world itself so that nothing could harm him. Too bad for him, Loki pulled a few strings." She finished with a smirk.
Letting a sigh out while Lilith ingested all that information, she began to stretch her limbs out. First her arms and legs, and then her neck and wings.
"So," began the small fairy with a slightly tired look on her face, "What brought up that question? The one where you asked if a demon could hunt down another demon?" she drawled out, laying down on her back against the bookshelf. Her head dangling off of the wooden shelf as she kicked her feet into the air.
"Meh. Just felt like I was being chased by someone. Used to get this feeling that would go down my spine when my cousin used to chase me around. Been feeling that same feeling for the past two hours." She nonchalantly replied as she pulled out yet another comic.
Pixie meanwhile, had stilled and froze. Her eyes widened in shock. Flopping back into the air, she made a beeline for Liliths head. Lilith, taken by surprise, could do nothing as Pixie grabbed her ear, and took a deep breath, before letting it out.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT EARLIER!? WE COULD BE IN DANGER YOU IDIOT!"
Lilith, not having expected the sudden shouting I her ear, stumbled back and almost crashed into the bookshelf behind her. Instead, she managed to catch herself, and fell onto her rear end onto the cold, white tile floor of the London library.
Staring up at the scowling Pixie, who floated above the half-Fiends head with her arms crossed, Lilith sent a glare towards her.
"What was that for!?" shouted Lilith as threw her arms to the side in outrage. The green tattoo markings on her arms, bare chest, face, and pretty much the rest of her body glowed much brighter than usual, as if reacting in response to her anger at the sudden, unexpected action taken by her companion of two days.
"We could be in danger! A demons instincts are to be trusted at all times! You have to tell me when you start feeling things like that!" the Fairy responded in kind towards the half-Fiend.
At that, Lilith's face scrunched up in anger. "Then why didn't you feel anything then!? You're a demon too, you should have felt what I felt then!"
Pixie scowled at that. She then locked eyes with Lilith. "I'm from the fairy clan, and belonging to one of the weakest species from the fairy clan. But you? You're a Fiend. One of the most powerful kinds of demons out there. It's only natural that your instincts would be better than mine, or any other low class demon. And now we might be in danger if there's a demon hunting you, especially so if it actually is gunning for you specifically."
"And that's bad why…?" asked Lilith as she got up from sitting on her ass. The floor really wasn't built with comfort in mind.
"Because that means that all the other demons know about your existence. And if all the big ones know, then all the other ones will know. Fiends aren't common. They're all unique and different, but there are always a few similarities between them…" spoke Pixie with apprehension in her voice.
Lilith was not used to this Pixie. The Pixie she knew was a rather fun person with a slight mischievous streak. Then again, she had only known her for two whole days. Who was to say that she had seen the entirety of Pixie's personality colors?
"And what are those two things?" asked Lilith, curiosity getting the better of her. Who could blame her? She was a Fiend, but she didn't know what all that entailed. And she wanted to know.
"Fiends are all powerful, almost absurdly so…ever hear about the Four Horsemen? Those guys are Fiends. The guy normal humans call Father Time? He regularly ventures out into this world to claim the souls of random people. That Dante fellow-'who the hell is that?' Lilith wondered- over in America? He's classified as one as well." She spoke, her brow furrowed as she explained just what Fiends were.
"But why would a demon hunt me down if all the other ones are so powerful?" questioned Lilith, her eyes gliding over the rest of the building, and her arms crossed over her shirtless, tribal tattoos covered chest.
"Power." Answered Pixie. Her face calm and frowning as she answered Lilith's question. "Demons gain power from killing other demons, and absorbing their adversary's power. A Fiend, a naturally powerful demon, is one of the more rare, and deadly kinds of demons out there. That's an acknowledged universal fact. But if every demon out there knows about your existence…well, to put it bluntly, you're like a chocolate corn dog, wrapped in bacon, and buttered up with sugar. You're a Fiend, but at the same time, weak. A newborn. Demons won't be out for you per say, but your power is something they will want like nothing else. And if there's one thing demons like a lot more than anything else-well, in general- its power."
There was silence after that admission. Lilith found herself with her mouth dry as that drop of knowledge sunk into her brain. Comprehension-and with it, understanding- dawned onto her. And she only just now realized the danger that her very existence as a Fiend brought her.
This was nothing compared to what her cousin would do during a 'Lilith hunt'. This wasn't about her getting beat up and physically abused. This was about her life, and of how it could quite easily be cut short by beings far stronger than her. Beings that would kill her and take her power if it meant that they could receive a boost in return.
And quite honestly, that didn't scare her. No, it terrified her.
"How…how do stop them from coming after me?" she asked. Anxiety and fear creeping both into her form, and her voice.
"…The only thing that all demons, regardless of clan affiliation, or personal grudges, respect above all else is power. If you're strong, they will follow. Many demons will flock to overlords with prestige, the lord of Bel being the most notable. But if you want demons to stop targeting you, you'll have to show them that you mean business. That you're not someone they want to attack without fear of retribution."
Lilith frowned at that. That sounded like…
"What you're saying is that, to stop strong demons from attacking me, I have to be stronger than the ones that come after me?"
…the most simple and basic answer. But the one that sounded a lot harder than it should.
Pixie snorted. A sardonic grin etched itself into her face. "Pretty much. Demons don't really have any 'human morals'. There are a few 'noble' ones out there as the trope goes, but their far and few in between. You're more likely to run into something like a Wendigo or a Legion or something like those two. Somewhere around the in between of 'strong' and weak' demons. Those are the most likely to come after you." She expositioned to the younger of the duo.
Lilith began to stretch out her muscles at this point. Hours of laboring over prettily colored books, various dictionaries, and multiple books on different mythologies had caused her muscles to cramp, and her tattoo covered behind. However, she still tilted her head to look at the floating fairy in front of her, above her head.
"But why won't the strong and weak demons come after me?" she asked as pulled her arm over and behind her neck and shoulders.
Pixie too then started stretching out her muscles, specifically her arms and legs. Her wings were already getting a workout. "The strong won't bother with you until you get more powerful. Figuratively speaking, you're not on their 'radar' yet. That doesn't mean they won't kill you if you get in their way. You're like a fly to them; they'll swat you out of the air with a burning hot frying pan if you annoy them."
She then tilted her head as she watched Lilith pull her leg so that her foot was right next to her head. Lilith seemed surprised she could do it as well. "The weak are just that. Weak, lower class demons that are too pitiful to even bother with trying to kill a Fiend. And they know it. Your reputation as a Fiend is enough to drive them off. The middle class of demons won't be driven off by that reputation though. They're the ambitious ones. The ones that will do anything to survive, as well as gain more power. Watch out for those."
Silence followed after that. After a couple of minutes, Pixie turned to Lilith, who was reading yet another comic from the DC shelf. Personally, she was more of a Marvel Fairy, but that was currently the farthest thing from her mind.
Unlike her companion, she was taking the news that they were being hunted very seriously. Which brought another question to the forefront of Pixie's mind.
"Lilith…do you know, by any inconceivable chance, how to suppress your power? You know, to hide yourself from more powerful beings that you can't take on yet? Most demons can do it instinctively, kind of like a defense mechanism. I think the human equivalent is pissing themselves or something like that…it's a pretty stupid one if you ask me…"
Lilith, ever the astute adorable little half-demon, looked up from where she was leaning against a bookshelf, her head buried in yet another comic that she was skimming through.
"Pixie, I've been a demon for little more than twenty-four hours. The only things I know how to do is set people on fire, which is a lot of fun by the way, heal them up, and then rip them to pieces with my bare hands. Which is also something that's a lot of fun to do. What do you think?" she deadpanned with a blank glare towards the flying fairy.
"It's apparently enough time for an abused child to learn how to be a sarcastic brat." She snarked back with a snap of her fingers. Thankful for the sixth time for the day that she had set up a Barrier after she had…befuddled the reception lady at the front. Seriously, humans were so damn easy to mess with.
"What I think is that you need to learn to control and suppress your demonic powers. There are humans that can kill you easily. And I already told you that there are Demons that are all too willing to eviscerate you due to your status as a Fiend. All it takes is a simple magically charged steel bullet to the head to kill you. A lighting spear to the chest. A hand twice your size crushing you under its sheer weight. There are easily over a trillion ways to kill you that I could name right now. And over more than twice that amount for the methods I'm not accounting for."
There was a hard and harsh light in Pixie's eyes as she said that. The regular mirth and playfulness in her voice was gone, and replaced with an echo of knowledge. Of experience long etched into the confines of her memory. Of witnessing destruction and death on a scale that only a Demon could conceive.
It occurred to Lilith that Pixie would know a lot more than she let on.
It occurred to Lilith that Pixie could be a lot more powerful than she suspected.
It never occurred to Lilith that Pixie might be as ancient as an actual demon from the pits of hell. It was only now that she was beginning to comprehend the idea of what a demon truly was. Of what the title meant. Of the magnitude that comes with being a demon, a monster born of the blackest womb, and what such a name truly represented.
It was the first time that she had seen the Demon aligned to her by contract actually serious. Not playful. Not taking jabs at her. And not messing around with her own abilities.
In all honesty though, it made Lilith smile. Sure, it was different from how she usually was. In fact, it was a stark differences. Completely unexpected and out of character. But, at the same time, it made relating to her Demon companion all the more easier.
Growing up she had to often keep up a mask of sorts. A false Persona, something to drive suspicion and paranoia away. Acting like they expected her to in order to get them off of her back, and to save her own skin. From the moment she had become a Half-Fiend she had thrown that mask off, reveling in the freedom it granted her. Unchaining her anger, speaking without thought. Exploring just what it meant to be free. To be away from a Prison forced upon her after her parent's death in a car crash.
But now, she knew that her companion only showed her a part of the person behind the title of Pixie. That she wasn't just a playful, cat-smiling fountain of knowledge on the world of the Supernatural. There was more to Pixie than just being her teacher in the Demonic Arts.
Teacher…now there was a word that brought up distaste in her throat. The Elementary School teachers were never any good to her. Always ignoring her when the other kids made fun of her. The only time they stepped in was when that one kid grabbed her glasses and broke them against a wall when he missed throwing them to his friend.
That say she learned a valuable lesson when she got back home. Tread on feather feet when around the eerily calm. If they show no emotion, then avoid them to the best of your ability.
And tread carefully she did. She kept her head down, acted submissive and terrified. Because what else could she do but be scared? And now, that was all in the past.
And for once, she could think of the word 'Teacher' in a positive light. Pixie was her teacher for the moment, her guide in how to be a demon. And she was thankful for that.
A sigh escaped Lilith's lips as she put the comic book in her hands back into its place on the shelf. Taking in a deep breath, she turned to face her contracted Demon, and then let the breath out of her throat.
"I get it Pixie, I really do. Look, can you just tell me how to suppress me power? At least until the feeling I got goes away?" she asked her partner, who smirked at the little half-fiend. The hard and ancient look in her eyes disappearing; making way for the mirth and playfulness that Lilith had come to associate with the little Fairy.
"Well, first you need to-"
*crack*
*crackle*
*RIP*
The moment Lilith heard those sounds, she knew something horrible was about to happen. When she felt the terrible, terrible pressure fall onto her shoulders.
And then the cold feeling grew in her stomach. Like a ball of ice, taking her insides and freezing them, making them frigid and unmovable.
The itchiness then spread all across her body, making her skin tingly and uncomfortable. It made her body shake and quiver, as if she was a prisoner struggling against their binds.
And lastly, she felt the need to run. To fly away. To get away from the library. To get as far as she could. Run, run AWAY! FLEE WHILE YOU STILL CAN! ITS NOT SAFE HERE! ITS NOT SAFE! NOTSAFENOTSAFENOTSAFENOTSAFENOTSAFE!
That feeling stopped as soon as she felt the metaphorical bounds wrap around her and the library. Chaining them, binding them. There was no escape, this Lilith knew as her instincts told her. She could only fold in on herself as she felt the oppressive monster chain her to the building, trapping her inside of it.
This, Lilith realized, was the great and primal fear all things felt when faced with their own imminent demise.
And she didn't know what to do.
Her amber eyes locked onto Pixie's terrified bright green ones. She too felt the great fear that she felt. But that did not stop Lilith from pleading with her eyes, speaking not what her mouth would speak. Speaking not what her pride allowed to speak. Pleading, begging desperately one word, spoken not through words, but through body language.
In all her time living with her relatives, in all of her life, she had never spoken that one, damning word. The one word that could have probably saved her earlier in her life. If she had shouted it just once someone might have saved her from that cupboard beneath the stairs. If only she said it…if only…
Bu she didn't. What was it that stopped her? Was it fear for what would happen if that word did nothing? Was it pride, that wouldn't allow her to lower herself so on the off chance that doing so would save her?
It didn't matter. For in the end, what Lilith wouldn't speak with sound, her body did for her. Even if she would rather curse herself to the very pits of hell, her body language could not lie. Hey eyes could not lie.
Gazing into the eyes, Pixie knew what her contractor was asking her. And it was with the greatest regret and disappointment that she could not say anything positive. That she well and truly could not do anything.
Their fates were sealed. And no one could change them. Not even Norn.
When Pixie looked away, despair in her eyes, Lilith's heart sank then and there.
She knew her plea would go unheeded.
And that's when they began to hear the screams. The bloodcurdling cries of suffering, death, and terror. The shrieks of the despairing, and the whimpers of fear. She heard it all, and felt it all. It was like a miasma of human emotion, dark, negative, inversive.
It was suffocating to her. There was too much, too many responses and feelings. Too many human emotions, too much stimuli of the same things. Fear and abject terror being the prime responses amongst the throngs of humans.
But it was still too much. To Lilith, fear and terror were visible in the air. The dread was physical, a black and grey smog of human emotion, and it felt like it was all just crushing down on her. Bending about around her, pushing against her. It was like the air itself was trying to push her down, to keep her rooted in place.
And suddenly, she felt it all lessen. It was still there, but the feeling was muted. The pressure on her shoulders, the pressure that was choking her, asphyxiating her was still pushing down on her, bearing down on her. But it wasn't like it was before. It was manageable now to a degree.
Taking in great gasps of air, Lilith realized that that wasn't the only thing that was diluted. The screams of terror were muted as well. They too, where still there, however, they sounded like they were coming through a wall. As if there was a barrier of sorts in the way, preventing the great majority from reaching her.
It was only now, with her senses restored, no longer overloaded, that she was able to take in her surroundings. With her six senses restored, she could feel the tremors in the ground. The cracks that littered the floor. The smell of human ashes and rotting organs. The smell of ozone, and the tingle of the lightning element.
And still, the screams continued. Her sixth sense, her instinct, magic, and spiritual awareness all wrapped into one, absolutely throbbed with active stimuli. She could feel human souls passing on towards heaven and hell. Could feel the screams of them as they were being devoured, it throbbed and ached as it pulsed again and again, alerting her to more and more death and destruction.
There was too much going on, too much. She was still all too new to this; she was but a newborn that had been brought into the great cosmic war between Heaven and Hell.
She was not ready for this.
"-ith! Lilith! Listen to me damnit!" screamed Pixie into her ear. The sound of her contracted Demon snapping her out of her sensory overload trance, Lilith turned to face Pixie. Her arm, formerly covering her face in some instinctual, pitiful attempt to hide herself from the threat that lay beyond, moved to support her against the bookcase that she turned to lean against.
"Pixie-whats…whats happening!? Who? What? Why? Its so heavy-why!? Why is this happening!?" Lilith babbled as she tried to process it all. Her still developing, half-demonic mind was barely able to keep up with it all, and the strain was visible on Lilith now as her tattoos blared and dimmed at erratic intervals.
Thankfully, Lilith was snapped out of her hysteria by a swift roundhouse kick from Pixie. The demons strength being more than enough to make Lilith visibly flinch. The pain did its job however, and the half-Fiend's attention was solely on the redheaded Fairy.
"You feel that? You feel afraid? Do you feel scared? Use that fear. Make yourself small. The more you suppress yourself the better you hide from other demons. The more you suppress, the more likely it is that we'll survive this." She spoke, eyes wide and constantly looking around. Viewing their surroundings and looking beyond them.
Lilith sucked in a deep breath as she tried to follow her contracted demons advice. Trying, and succeeding to some degree, to make herself smaller. She used her fear. That Primal desire to make herself smaller, to hide herself away from the rest of the world. And in the end, focusing on that fear helped her.
And then she stepped out of the aisle, and walked right onto the sea of blood on the library floor.
Meanwhile: Outside of the London Library
Outside it was a hailstorm of activity as the London Police Force scrambled about to do their job. Outside of the Library the Police had formed a protective Barrier of cars, roadblocks, yellow tape, and a few sandbags here and there.
Around the entire building was a purple, flame-like barrier that killed any who touched it with their bare hands. They had seen enough civilian and Police casualties burned to ash to testify that by itself. The barrier was shaped like a prism, encompassing the entire structure with three sides and six vertices. Various shades of purple scrambled over each and every facet of the construct. Creating flame-like patterns that blended into various blends and hues.
If it hadn't already killed a lot of people, and obscured what was inside of it, many would say that it was a work of art.
But if only they could ignore the piles of ashes and violet flames just barely two inches away from it all. If only…
"Well…shite. How in the bloody hell do we get through this barrier?" Questioned one irate Police Chief. Long red hair, trailing down her back, and shinning in the afternoon sun. Behind her was an entourage of police cars and various panicked individuals.
Of course there was also the saber strapped to her hip, and the revolver twirling in her hand. A scowl marrying her face, and a black suit and dress pants to compliment her figure of authority. One brave officer ended up answering her though.
"We can't Sir. We've tried everything. Bombs, battering rams, they did nothing. Not even a dent. Bloody hell woman, we even pulled out a Pile Bunker. It cracked it but…the cracks fixed themselves. Just what the hell is this thing?" spoke up an officer wearing the standard uniform. A baton to his side, and a star of sorts emblazed on his Officer hat.
It should be noted, that the barrier only burned flesh to ash. It was apparently selective about the things it hates.
A sigh escaped the Police Chief as she continued to twirl her blessed silver revolver (with a leather grip!) in her left hand while she fondled the hilt of her saber with the other. "Well then that's a dead end. Tell those on standby to open fire on the barrier with anything heavy they can find. Tanks, rocket launchers, C4 explosives. Find what works, and then keep on using it. As long as there is no skin contact they should be fine. Have them wear protective equipment if they had to put anything on it. Understood? Then spread the word!" the Police Chief barked at the Officer she was addressing without having to turn to face him.
The Officer in question simply nodded and went about to relay her orders. Leaving the Police Chief to stand alone on the square tile concrete. That is until another officer hobbled up and began to address the Police Chief.
"The area is secured Sir. All civilians have been evacuated and the area has been closed off. No one's getting in at this point. What should we do next?" he spoke in a gruff voice. He had a mustache on his face and spoke with a Russian accent. Something that was completely different from the usual British she was used to, or Phelps's semi-British/semi-Japanese accent. Honestly it was a novelty as far as she was concerned.
"Are Phelps and Connors back with VIP that they were supposed to bring?" she asked, her eyes never leaving the large, prism shaped, purple barrier hanging over the entire London Library. The Revolver stopped twirling in her hand.
"They just arrived Sir. Last I saw them they were weaving through all the Police cars we used to block off access. The VIP is with them." The Russian-accented officer replied. It was thick, but not overtly so. The man had been living in Britain for the past five years or so, his accent was beginning to wane if it hadn't already done so.
"Describe." She commanded without any inflection of ton. It was quick, decisive, and straight to the point.
"Tall. Medium-length black hair. White coat. Steel tipped sabatons. Carries a sword in one hand. Has a Scandinavian accent. Nothing else of note to comment on." The twenty-seven year old officer replied briskly.
The Police Chief stopped drumming her fingers across the hilt of her saber. "Dismissed. Go and join the officers keeping the civilians out of the area. This situation is a clusterfuck enough as it is without some random media vulture snooping around."
At that, the Russian-accented Officer smiled a crooked smile. "How much shit did they give you last week about that string of murders around in the downtown area?"
"How many cups of coffee did you drink during that fiasco Tuesday down in your department?" she retorted. Her face ever unchanging.
The man only chuckled in response. "Whatever you say Oga." He said in good nature.
The man also happened to be fluent in about thirty-six various languages. If one was to ask just how he knew so many, he would reply with saying that is family tree is really diverse.
A really freaking diverse as hell family tree. Like, the dude is related to at least 43 different lost civilizations and tribes…somehow…
There was a pause at that moment, a quite minute of silence. But it was broken when the Police Chief spoke up, her hand ceasing its action of tapping the hilt of the cutlass. "I want any and all civilians sent as far away as possible. I gave a similar order ten minute ago, I want that distance doubled if possible. Have someone call in the medics. I want them on standby, prepped and ready to dive in and save lives. Make sure the parameter is secure, we can't have anything slipping in or out. Spread the word Alexei." She commanded, her voice the song of authority as the man scrambled to work.
It would be a little while later, long after the pounding of leather shoes on concrete petered away that the Police Chief would hear the *Flip Flop* and *click clack* of three different sets of feet thumping and clopping against the floor she stood on.
Turning around for the first time since she layed eyes on the Prism Barrier surrounding the London Library, The Boss Lady of London's Police Force for over four years gazed upon what was hopefully the answer to the crisis on her hands.
Investigator Henry Connors. Born and raised in Chicago U.S. 1987. Left in 2004 and came to London with his sister, Mary Connors, after a falling out in his workplace, family, and social life. Applied to join the London Police Force after spending two years as a private detective. Was given the job eight months ago, and has done nothing but outstanding work. Was promoted from Arson to Auto after two months of solid word, but has repeatedly refused any future promotion due to personal reasons. And lastly, a very damn good crackshot with a six cartridge revolver.
The man was wearing a blue suit and red tie. A black fedora with a checkerboard pattern around the rim of the hat was placed on his head, covering a patch of brown-red hair. His favored revolver was strapped to his hip, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. And on his back was a pump-action shotgun that seemed to be of military quality. The man was dressed for war.
On the other side of the three was Takami Phelps. Born 1985, with a Japanese Mother, and a British Father, the man was orphaned at a young age due to sketchy circumstances. The details are classified by the Japanese government, something that raised every one of the Police Chiefs alarm bells, but everywhere else the man was clean.
The man immigrated to London for reasons unknown in 2006, and applied to join the London Police force as an investigator. Passing all of the tests with astounding grace, the man quickly became a bit of a rising star in the force. The man was partnered with Henry Connors two months prior to the current ongoing events. And ever since then the two have forged a solid partnership between each other through various cases, drinking hours, smoke breaks, and bar fights.
Lots and lots of bar fights.
The man, in contrast to his partner, was wearing a maroon suit and blue tie. A basic 9mm Pistol attached to his hip, and various cartridges of ammunition lining his pockets and belt. The man had a head of black hair that was covered by a peacock feathered black fedora. In contrast to his slightly tense partner, the man was as calm as an ocean with no breeze. His eyes were locked onto the Police Chiefs, giving her his undivided attention.
And in between the two men was a figure that seemed to have been displaced by time. His skin was pale, almost as if the sun had no effect on it. His hair was slightly curly, wavy, and was the color of the midnight sky. His white coat covered his arms, and trailed down his thighs. Underneath the coat was a stark white dress shirt buttoned up to the collar.
The man's pants where a slightly baggy white. But his feet were covered in sparkling silver sabatons. Fine, silver like steel that seemed to have an edge of their own. And in his right hand was a longsword with a bright, shiny blue sapphire jewel embedded into the center of the pommel. The blade was sheathed in a brown leather scabbard. Oddly enough, despite the rather large size of the blade, it seemed perfectly proportional to everything else about the man. Probably because the man himself was six foot three.
But the most striking detail to the Police Chief was the nobleman like face, and the ocean blue eyes that bored into her skull. The power, age, and wisdom behind them were barely hinted to her, but she could still see glimpses in them.
She decided to break the silence and get a move on. Time was of the essence. "You're not what I expected when I was told that we would be contracting the services of a demon to solve our little dilemma." She said curtly, analyzing the man's every action to get a read on him.
No reaction. That was what she received.
The man simply swerved his eyes away from the Police Chiefs and towards the purple-prism barrier around the London Library. The man then walked past the Boss Lady of London's Police Force. The man never broke his gaze, nor his gait as he moved to stand beside the Police Chief.
"The situation is quite clear…in my mind."
He paused, taking in a small breath and exhaling.
"You have need of my services."
A flicker of killing intent emanated from the demon in a human guise. Not enough to be felt by the every other person in the area, but the redheaded woman felt it. Even if only just barely.
But it was enough. Faster than human reflexes should have been capable of, she had drawn her saber, and moved to swipe at the demon with a horizontal slash.
But it was for naught, as her blade clashed with the demons sheathed one.
"You have need of my power. My abilities."
Another swing, this time from a diagonal angle. Again, it clashed with the demons sheathed one.
"But what do you have to offer me? Why should I bother with forging a contract with you?"
*Clang*
"Tell me why I shouldn't just kill you and walk away? None of these humans here are powerful enough to face me."
*click* *clack*
And like that, Connors and Phelps were on either side of the Demon, guns aimed at his back and head respectively.
It was with a twist of her hand that the demon was disarmed. And then, in the next half-second, that her blade was tensed at the demons neck. Stopped millimeters away from lopping off its head only by the grace of the redheaded Police Chief.
The Boss Lady stared the demon right in the eye with her own turquoise green eyes. "You want a reason…?" she said, pausing simply to gaze into the man's eyes. Sapphire orbs conveying his answer.
"Because if you forge a contract with me, I will do everything in my power to assist you in your endeavor to protect as many people as possible from any and all supernatural threats. Be it God, Demon, Wizard, or otherwise. You have my word Kresnik, slayer of the Vampire Kudlack."
The man smiled a genuine smile then and there.
"It would seem that we have an agreement then Cordelia Bones…or should I say, Master?"
Inside of the London Library: Moments barely before the events of outside the Library
He heard the screams before she felt the wave of bloodlust. It was a terrible thing when one thought about it. What was bloodlust? What words could describe the inherent desire to murder? To maim, rip apart, tear asunder, and mutilate an entity? A human being? A demon?
There are very few ways to describe the feeling of bloodlust. When directed towards another person, it could be described as freezing cold water seeping into each and every pore of the body, saturating them with an icy feeling. Cold, slimy hands crawling down one's spine, freezing the bone in place, and stopping all movements. It is like your lungs are being frozen, unable to breath, unable to focus on anything but the chilling, all-encompassing feeling of ice filling your body.
That is the feeling of bloodlust directed unto an individual. One may wonder why all of the descriptions involve metaphors or similes related to the cold, or feeling ice in ones veins. That is for a very simple reason.
When death approaches he is cold. Death is a neutral force. An entity that accepts all without judgment, ignoring any and all pleas, but still embracing what you are and who you are.
Such was not the case for the victims of the Demon stalking the London library. And it was those descriptions of fear, of bloodlust, that perfectly described the feelings of the humans that were being ripped to bloody giblets and eaten by a soulless abomination.
Her face was as beautiful as it was bewitching. Ethereal and graceful. But behind the white paint that covered its face was nothing but a hollow monster. A Demon that gorged itself on blood and human meat. Sinew, and muscle. Veins and crimson icor. Skin and bone. Nothing as spared as her hundred teeth ripped and sawed through meat and fleshes of all colors.
Screams resounded and singed, various tempos and pitches. But their pleas, like death, were ignored. All that existed to the demon was its ravenous hunger. But human flesh was never enough, it never would be. It had to find it, that wonderful aroma, that delightful tinge of innocence, darkness, and power.
She tasted it, sensed it, and felt it. And she wanted more.
A whimper caught her hyper-sensitive ears. An her face swerved 180 degrees, going from straight ahead to staring straight behind her. Her face tilted up, a malicious glee forming upon its visage as it recognized the cry as that of a human child.
A child, up in the air ducts. Crying for help. Or was it out of fear? Shock? It didn't matter.
"Did you think you could hide from me? How…insect-like. Hiding from those superior to you…but that is expected. Humans are all the same…"
Her voice was warbly, changing pitch and octave with each letters pronunciation. It was as if the demons vocal cords were not meant to speak human words. And as such, whatever emerged from its blood-caked vocal cords was nothing but inhuman screeches and growls.
Its body, covered in an elaborate dress made up of greens, pinks, and whites, and fashioned in a style reminiscent of ancient Chinese female dresses, covered its body. Giving it a human look that would easily disguise it as one…if it wasn't for its bloated stomach, filled to the brim and beyond with human meat and crimson lifeblood.
A sickening, dreadful smile appeared on its crimson lips, lips that were hidden behind a decorative fan that was held in front of the lower half of its face. And then, the monster slithered towards the ceiling. It's body, unnatural already, moved and coursed about like a snakes. Bones dislocating and reattaching at will as its body moved about. Its movements were almost graceful in a way. They were like that of a dancers, smooth, twirling, at ease.
But there was no denying the bizarreness of it all, the inhuman grace and dignity with which it moved about. As if waltzing through a field of corpses and rotting flesh and blood. Dark, dry blood.
Its body coiled around a pillar, slithering onwards and onwards toward the ceiling of the building towards the whimpers and sobs of the crying child.
Finally, at the top, its body floating right in front of the air duct, the demon smiled. Its body was unmoving in the air, not bobbing up or down. The only thing that moved was the flaps of its clothing. Even the bottom part of its dress, the part the trailed behind it, the part that was sticking to the wall even as its bearer stood perfectly still in the air, was unmoving.
The smile began to stretch as the demon stare into the tear stained eyes of the human child. Growing wider, and wider, even as the limits of what should be possible for those facial muscles began to be stretched, the smile still grew wider and wider.
"Entranced by my beauty are you not child? Tis' only natural of course. One such as you would have never encountered something as beautiful as I am at this point in your feeble life."
The sobbing child stopped shedding its tears. Its eyes never left the demon standing in front of it. For it was right, never before had the human child seen anything as beautiful as the monster before it. Even when its dress was stained with blood, there was still an ethereal beauty to it. A beauty that bewitched the senses and demanded the attention of all that layed eyes on it.
The child was already caught in its trap.
Reaching out it hand, the demon burned the metal plating covering the chute to liquid iron and steel. Not even phased by the unnatural feet, the demon cupped the side of the child's face with its pale white hand. Manicured fingers running across the skin of the human child, a child no older than eight winters.
"Tell me child, what is the most beautiful aspect of me? Gaze upon my face and see its radiance. Feel my blessed fingers upon your frail skin. Hear my voice and its joyful chimes. Tell me, what is the most beautiful aspect of Xi Wangmu?"
"I…" the child began, too enthralled to do anything else but commit the figure before him into memory. But how could it not? When forces beyond its comprehension were forcing it to relax, easing his tension. Making him more want to speak, to talk to the figure of pureness and beauty in front of his very eyes. To give this goddess before him what she wanted? How could any child, regardless of potential in life, be expected to fight against that?
"Yes…go on child. Tell me what is the most vaunted part of myself…tell me child…tell me…" she hissed into his ear as she took him from the chute he was in, and pressed him up against her bosom. His feet pushing slightly against her bloated stomach as his back was pressed into her chest.
But if the child noticed the change in position, it did not act on it. It was too enthralled, too deep into the demons grasp. Tentatively, the child reached out and curled its tiny hand around a strand of the demons hair. It gazed at the ebony strand of dead skin cells in its hand, an almost maddening glaze in its eyes at looked upon the small strand of hair.
"You hair…its…so beautiful…" the child mumbled, entranced by the figure smiling down on him. Showing her approval towards him in those jade green eyes of hers that glowed with power.
But then that glow turned malicious. And the strand of hair melted into nothing but black ooze in the child's hand. But it did not stop there, no it didn't.
The black ooze did not slip through the child's fingers. No, it stuck to them. And in the next instance, the child was broken from its trance, its eyes widening in pain, terror, and fear. And then it began to scream a horrible scream. A scream that no child should ever scream. And like that, the demon holding the boy smiled a serene smile. One of madness, evil, and pleasure.
The ooze on the boys hand began to fall away, revealing the rotting flesh beneath. Bones visible, and flesh falling off like liquid chunks. The muscle unraveled like a ball of string as it dripped blood from his mangled hand. The skin not touched by the black slime, but near the skin that was, turned a black color, and slowly began to peel itself away from where it was supposed to be.
And all throughout this painful, horrible process, the child continued to scream. It screamed and screamed and screamed. And it screamed even more when the Demon, Xi Wangmu, pulled the boy away from her bosom, and held him up in front of her face with both hands.
And those screams were silenced when the Demon. With but the use of one of its manicured fingernails, stabbed the boy in the neck, and ripped out his vocal cords. From that point on the boy could only make gasping noises as he choked on his own blood.
The demons beautiful face was marred by a sneer. A disproving look on its otherwise noble face. "You where wrong boy. There is no aspect of myself that is more beautiful than another. All of Xi Wangmu is beautiful! There are no imperfections belonging to this body of mine!" she barked into the boy's crying face.
"Learn the price of your folly human! Know your place among the food chain: at the very bottom!"
And like that, the Demons otherwise beautiful face opened up. The jaw branching into four different pieces. Each one armed with hundreds of pointy, yellow, blood-caked teeth that were all of different shapes. No tooth was similar to another.
The boy, being just a boy, tried to scream when it saw the figure of radiance morph into an abomination against all of existence. But he only succeeded in getting more blood to congest in his throat, chocking him down even more.
The boy tried to scream even more when it saw that there were mouths in the middle of each tooth, laughing at him. Filled with hundreds of even more tiny, sharp teeth. His head was then pushed into the demons mouth…
And the boy knew no more than the embrace of darkness.
Hey ya'll. This is going to be a two parter. This chapter…has been rewritten four different times. I won't go into detail about them at the moment, that's for part two of this little thing. But suffice to say, they were not pretty. I was not satisfied with them. Next part shouldn't take that long to upload…well, in comparison to how long it normally takes me upload something.
To give a hint of the original chapter, the London Library was on fire, and had three Pyro Jacks in it that Connors went duke nukem on with a shotgun. While awsome, it does not convey the kind of tone I want this story to have.
In other news, Bloodborne!Luna is the winner of that little poll. Honestly its kind of because I literally only got calls for that one, while Seer Luna got nothing, and Fruit Loops!Luna only got one vote. Sorry to disappoint that guy who voted for that option, but Bloodborne!Luna wins. On the other hand, things will be getting much darker from here on out.
As in, Grim Dark as Fuck kind of dark. SMT is never a safe world. It's rarely a place anyone would want to be in. War, death, betrayal, and demons killing indescrimnantly. You bet your ass things are gonna be dark.
Also, am I the only one that notices that sometimes takes words out of sentences when you upload something onto the site?
I promise though, after the next chapter, the part two to this one, things will be moving towards Hogwarts. And from there, even more disturbing things.
And for all of you who patiently wait for me to write these stories, thank you. Receiving feedback from people telling me I did a good job helps immensely with giving me a drive to write. And those of you who point out the flaws in my writing, or give me small suggestions to better the story, thank you. Don't know why I'm all sentimental at the moment. Maybe it's the work of an enemy stand?
Now that makes me wonder what my stand would be…
AND THAT'S ALL SHE WROTE!
CUE THE AIRHORNS!
BABABABWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
