Ace in the Hole

Summary: [Sequel to Celtic Aurora's Dark Ripples in Blood] When an arcane necromancer offers his allegiance and powers to help him defeat the vampires in the grisly war, Lucian cannot refuse. With Kraven as an unpredictable factor in the game, he needs an ace in the hole to win. [LucianxSonja & other various parings]

VIII: The Battle of Blood and Sin

Text:

"Speech"

Thoughts

Flashbacks

Music/Poems/Sonnets:

"The Conqueror Worm" by Edgar Allen Poe

"Sonnet 60" by William Shakespeare

Disclaimer: Don't own a single bloody piece of Underworld. Catherine and her brood are on a loan. So onto your crappy animated cartoon—I mean, onto the chapter!

"Mimes, in the form of God on high,

Mutter and mumble low

And hither and thither fly—

Mere puppets they, who come and go

At bidding of vast formless things

The shift the scenery to and fro,

Flapping from out their Condor wings

Invisible Wo!

That motley drama— oh, be sure,

It shall not be forgot!

With its Phantom chased for evermore

By a crowd that seize it not,

Through a circle that ever returneth in

To the self-same spot,

And much of Madness, and more of Sin,

And Horror the soul of the plot."

-The Conqueror Worm, Edgar Allen Poe

Ukon studied the man–no, creature–before him, katana in hand. The man called himself Wrath right before changing into a werewolf. Ukon was rather surprised that a rogue lycan would be working against someone who wanted freedom for all werewolves but he knew how many men could be tempted by gold and other rewards.

But Ukon was not those men. He was a warrior, once a samurai and assassin, but most of all, the last of the Ryuunosuke clan. He was a dragon and dragons do not submit to weaknesses. And dragons cannot be killed by a mere wolf, lycan or not.

"Come," he spoke in a low, calm voice, leveling his long, razor-sharp katana at the lycan, who was snarling and flashing his gleaming white fangs at him, "Meet your doom, Wrath-jukeisha (1)."

Wrath growled and lunged forward, jaws opened wide while he raised his clawed hands to strike Ukon but the trained former assassin easily dodged the attack and slashed his blade forward, slicing off a few of the werewolf's fingers off while nicking him the face. Wrath howled, jerking himself back to avoid the oncoming advances of Ukon's katana. Dark drops of cramoisy sprinkled everywhere from the swollen stubs on the lycan's hands as he climbed the wall to the ceiling, far out of reach from Ukon's sword. He then turned around, gnashing his teeth furiously at the Japanese warrior, back legs dipped back in preparation for another assault. Ukon remained unafraid and composed; his battle stance ready and katana positioned for counterattack. His atrous eyes, emotionless and adamant, never blinked nor averted their gaze from the creature.

Enraged, the werewolf assassin growled and leapt out at Ukon, who used his sword to block the impending attack. However, at the last second, Wrath tricked him and instead of assailing him outright, he had reached out, grabbed a hold on the pipes attached to the ceiling, and kicked Ukon across the head with one of his feet. He stumbled a bit yet quickly recovered and advanced forward to hack off Wrath's legs but the nimble lycan swiftly eluded the arc of his katana, planting all four feet on the ceiling and rapidly crawled out of range from Ukon's sword before landing back on the ground on his back two legs perfectly.

"Crawling away from danger will do you no good," Ukon told him staidly, discreetly flicking the blood on his face away. A long gash from his head had blood trickling down his cheek but he ignored the blood, the blazing pain, everything. All that mattered now was his opponent. "Face me with honor and courage and I will make your death clean and swift."

The werewolf snorted at him derisively and began licking the blood off his fingers, stubs and all. The assassin didn't speak but Ukon understood his body language well enough to know he had rejected his offer.

So be it then.

Hands grasping his prized katana tightly, Ukon held his blade up high to his face and sprinted forward, meeting the wretched, gnarled face of an animal and cruel ebony claws caked in fresh blood. Sword parried claws, cold steel against fur and flesh while blood of wolf and man ran like a gory brook against the stone floor of the sewer.

Never in his life had Jacob Tornincasa wanted to so hard laugh, especially when he was in the middle of the battle.

The two assassins (who fancied themselves as Greed and Gluttony) reminded him so much of him and Blanca–they even fought as pair, much like he and Blanca would do when they were feeling exceptionally blood-thirsty and wanted to sex each other up later on their foes' rotting corpses after the onset was over and done with.

These demons Greed and Gluttony were walking replicas of him and Blanca and now, they had to kill them. The prospect amused Jacob so greatly that he couldn't wait turn the idea of theirs deaths into a reality.

With a flick of his wrist, he lashed out at Greed with one of his spiked whips, laughing manically as the demon attempted to dodge one while he sent the other whip to cut him off. Meanwhile, Blanca was shapeshifting into number of creatures and engaging in a hand-to-hand combat with the demon mistress called Gluttony. Apparently, she was a descendent of Lamia–or so she claimed. Jacob put little stock in demons that ran around and manifested they were related to notorious, famous demons, most them were liars anyway, just like one Blanca was fighting.

Next we'll be going up against one who claims he is Satan's cousin seventh twice removed!

"So, Greed," drawled out Jacob, lashing his spiked whips at the said hired blade again, "your mate says she carries the blood of Lamia in her veins. What other nonsense you hacks are going spout now? Are you related to Jezebel or something?"

Greed's amber eyes blazed with fury and irritation at Jacob's taunts and he sent a stream of fire at his face. Laughing the attack off, Jacob ducked just in time to only have the tips of his inky hair being singed off instead of his entire visage.

"Neat parlor trick you have," he jeered, tripping the demon with one of his whips and hopped another pile of rubble to avoid another burst of flames, "Tell me, is that all you can do?"

"Petty demon!" spat Greed, a dark temperament awash on his broad features, "I am the son of Rahovart himself, a comrade of Lucifer. You do well to show me respect but I shouldn't have expected that from a baseborn fiend such as you."

"Baseborn? Aren't you a dunce." snorted Jacob, who was in no mood to exchange bloodlines and heritage stories with this assassin, he was getting more and more annoying with his mouth open.

All the more reason to shut him up permanently.

Just when he was about to block another onset of fire–and this time, a volley of bullets as well–Blanca, in the form a lioness, came out of nowhere and tackled Greed to the ground, jaws clamped down on his forearm while blood seeped out everywhere, down the demon's arm, into Blanca's muzzle, and against the dirty ground of the sewer system. Thinking quickly, Jacob wrapped one whip around Greed's leg while the demon born from Rahovart used his free arm to aim his automatic pistol at Blanca and pull the trigger.

"NO!" he roared, cracking his other whip at Greed's face, knocking the gun out of his hand just in time. Gluttony, having recovered from the last hit Blanca gave her, returned to the fray and practically dragged the Spanish shapeshifter off of Greed and the two women continued to duel each other once more, leaving Jacob and Greed to themselves once more.

"Almost got your bitch," grumbled Greed with a satanic laugh, "She'd look nice with a bullet in the brain. I doubt even a shapeshifter could survive that."

"You're even dumber than you look," growled Jacob, picking Greed up with his whip and hurtling him against the wall, giving the demon a snigger of his own as he watched Greed collided painfully to the concrete surface, "For no one harms my Blanca but me. Only I can cause her agony."

Greed looked up him with perplexed and perturbed eyes. "What kind of sick fuck are you?"

This only made Jacob grin even wider. "The kind that would make bloody Jesus Christ roll around in his grave."

"You're not like the others," stated Magna curiously, muttering a quick shield spell. A sheet indigo haze of energy and light immediately appeared out of thin air and deflected a bombardment of bullets from Sloth, who simply reloaded another road and stalked Magna's movements carefully. "You're human–am I correct?"

"Yes, witch, I am. Stop your rambling and fight me! Assassins don't talk to those they kill." Sloth replied scornfully. Magna sent a swirling orb of electric energy straight at him and he easily rolled out of harm's way. Magna frowned and delivered a few more magical spells his way, scorching him here and there but not killing him.

"Ah, but you forget, Mr. Sloth, that even though assassins may not converse to those they plan to dispatch, they can still die at the hands of their victims."

Sloth smirked at her words. "What humorous sayings from an old bat. Have any other proverbs for me, granny?"

Magna strike the ground with her staff, another chant already leaving her lips when Sloth had finished his taunt. The ground beneath him already began to shake and the human assassin already was having trouble regaining his balance. This time, it was Magna's turn to fleer at him.

"'Pride cometh before the fall'," she quoted, cackling madly as he nearly fell to the floor. Cutting her a dirty glower, Sloth simply shot more bullets at the seer, provoking her to bring her shield up again. However, she raised the shield a bit too slow and as a result, a few bullets got through. Once grazed her bicep, the other skimmed along the skin of her calf. The pain was sharp and lingering and the old witch cried out in alarm as the fiery sting soared through both her arm and leg. Unfortunately, the detriment was enough to shake her concentration and the mauve energy shield collapsed, forcing Magna to retreat and hide behind a stone slab as the rest of the bullets embedded themselves into the wall. Ribbons of puccoon and vermillion poured sluggishly from the grazed bullet wounds and Magna coughed raggedly into her shawl, trying to collect her strength and breath.

Ah, what I'd give to be fifty or sixty years younger…I would have been done with this louse in no time. Thankfully, the ground is still shaking so he can't come after me just yet.

"Still…'tis best I keep him busy," the witch whispered to herself, peeking around the slab to see Sloth collecting his bearings and rising to her feet. Sensing her opportunity, she raised her staff and sent a bolt of lightning out of the tip of her staff towards the assassin's back.

Edward whipped away a drop of blood from his lips and glared murderously at the woman who had just socked him in the jaw. She was fast, he'll give her that, but she was starting to irk him bit by bit. Earlier, in the beginning of their fight, the vampire calling herself Envy stated she wanted to savor this battle and discard her guns, saying it would much more invigorating and challenging if they simply fought with their hands and strengths. Edward didn't care in which many they fought, he could kill her anyway. (Besides, he had some amazing and insightful martial arts lessons from Ukon himself, who had been trained to be a feared assassin since the day he could walk.)

"You're a slick one, copine (2)," she remarked with sly grin, several bruises already forming on her face and arms, "I going to be waking up sore tomorrow morning."

"I don't think there's going to be a tomorrow morning for you," Edward groused, feeling his nails elongating slowly, his demonic side fighting, screaming for control. Oh, how bad he wanted to let all restraint go and unfurl his wings, let the fire remain supreme against his foe—

Edward immediately snapped out of his reverie as Envy's fist came sailing towards him. He easily caught it and delivered a side kick into her abdomen, hitting the ribs. She stumbled back, cursing as she clutched her side. He quickly went at her again, a punch aiming towards her fact but she blocked it with her free arm. Using his other hand, he came around and took a rear punch to the head, discombobulating her completely. He was then about slap his hands against her ears when out of nowhere, Envy suddenly, turned to her left side, raised her right knee and began pivoting so rapidly Edward only had mere seconds to block and evade the mounting impact of her roundhouse kick.

"You recover fast," the hybrid grunted before dodging another series of punches and kicks, cutting a nice left hook below her armpit. She, in return, gave him a mean open-palmed fist into his solar plexus. Edward quickly retreated, getting out of striking range to collect his bearings. Both of them were panting but Edward sensed Envy was a little more banged up than him. She already had a cracked rib or two and that was where he would strike again and again until she fell on her knees begging for mercy.

"Man, you're a tricky salopard (3)," grumbled Envy, cracking her knuckles, grimacing as she moved her muscles around, "Son of bitch, I'm beginning to regret the no guns rule."

Edward couldn't help it but to smirk. "Little good that will do you now. I'm going make you rue that decision even more."

The bloodthirsty, fiery vampiress sneered right back. "Oh really? Hand it to me, you bloody bastard!"

She burst forward with fists flying and he returned the fire with equal fervor and force, kicks and punches alike.

Thanatos smashed the hilt of his saber against the face of the werewolf and then delivered a nonlethal cut across its chest. Pulling punches was an absolute bitch but Thanatos didn't want to kill Lucian's own men, especially when they were attacking him against their will.

The second–and the last–werewolf crumpled to the ground, injured and thankfully, unconscious. Now, all he had to deal with was this Pride fellow.

"Let me guess–you had some sort of mind control over them," the necromancer mused out loud, viridian eyes narrowing suspiciously at the russet haired man, garnet eyes returning the stare.

"In a way, yes," replied Pride, eyeing Thanatos's saber calmly, keeping his distance, "but I only need that for my human puppets. My other puppets…they need something else."

Before Thanatos could inquire what he exactly meant by that, he heard a whoosh and deftly rolled to the side, barely missing the sharp edge of a knife that was aimed for his ribs. He looked back, rather stunned to see a little girl holding a dagger. Waves of sorrel curls framed her delicate, porcelain face and her light brown eyes seemed so lifeless and were glossy as glass. Her entire countenance was blank and expressionless. The young child aimlessly gazed back at the Russian necromancer. For a moment, she seemed so real but those eyes…they were like a doll.

"One of your puppets, I presume?" remarked Thanatos nonchalantly, "Excellent craftsmanship, I must add."

This time, Pride's emotionless façade broke and he grinned proudly, walking over the living doll and gently stroked her hair. "Yes, Beata is one of my finest works of art. My sister always looked so innocent and sweet, she was blessed with good looks."

Thanatos stared at him pointedly. "Please don't tell me that's really your sister I'm seeing."

"Oh-no, this is just a replica of her, a dedication to her memory, as some would say. The real Beata is dead, rotting six feet under." There was a trace of bitterness in his voice, nostalgia even, but Thanatos didn't have time to analyze for the Beata puppet moved again and was flying right about him, knife in hand. He stepped left and pivoted out of reach, raising his saber up high and slashing at the doll's back. The girl quickly maneuvered herself away from his blade, pointing her dagger at him malignantly. Then, all of sudden, her arm elongated and rocketed itself straight towards the Russian necromancer. He barely evaded the clock-and-dagger trick but he wasn't quick enough to fully elude the attack. The dagger, meant for his heart, brushed brutally up his pectoralis major and past his shoulder. If he had didn't move fast enough, he would have had a knife buried in his heart or shoulder.

Ignoring the pain blazing in his chest and shoulder, Thanatos simply swung his sword around and brought the razor-sharp saber down on the extended arm of the Beata doll. The severed limb bounced carelessly to the ground and for an extra measure, he whirled around and kicked the puppet squarely in the face. The force didn't break the head but several deep and long cracks were already forming all over the doll's features. Before he could do more damage to the doll, she rapidly flew away from Thanatos and scrambled back to Pride's side. The assassin frowned as he inspected the damage, the fire burning more and more in his scarlet eyes.

"You're pitting wood against steel, boy," Thanatos commented tonelessly, sensing the time was near for him to assail again, "if you don't want your precious Beata getting ruined, you shouldn't have sent her out." Pride snapped his head around in his direction.

"I didn't expect you to put up much a fight after dealing with those two werewolves. Clearly, I was wrong." Thanatos didn't like how placid and collected his timbre sounded just now, especially when his eyes were crimson pools of rage. "But I won't make the same mistake twice."

As if on cue, two more puppets descended from the shadows, blades and other weapons in their hands. One was a teenager version of Beata, the other was a young adult Beata.

Seems like someone is obsessed over the recollection of their dead sister…

"Really, more dolls?" drawled out Thanatos, rolling his eyes to hopefully prick Pride's nerve, "Instead fighting with them, why don't you go play with them?"

Pride stared impassively back him, unmoved by his taunt. "The last man who said that to me ended up dead. I hope to repeat that. Beata, kill him!"

By his decree, the three Beata puppets lunged out at him, glossy eyes devoid of life and a soul, while their bodies and limbs were controlled by the strings of another.

"Lucian," said Raze, "Why cannot we attack the assassins now? They wouldn't suspect us if we all came out at once."

The said lycan fixed his stare back on his right-hand man and suppressed a sigh. No doubt Raze longed to fight and shred those assassins into tiny pieces but he also had his suspicions that his long-time friend and soldier was really worried about the well-being of a certain succubus.

"Raze," he began, locking eyes with him, "I promised Thanatos that neither I nor my men would get involved. As much as I want to engage combat myself, Thanatos made it specifically clear he and his entourage should fight the assassins to gain and earn my trust."

"Can you trust him, Lucian?" asked Sonja calmly. Lucian shrugged his shoulders.

"I have no idea. If they prevail, I will start to. However, I do want to learn more about him and find out why he seems to bear a grudge against Victor. He seems to know more about me than I do about him."

"I tried getting information out of one of his followers but the search proved fruitless," Sonja added, shaking her head at Magna's elusiveness. Not even she, a close member, knew for certain what Thanatos was after. And Sonja didn't like the sound of that.

"Somehow, I'm not shocked," murmured Lucian, getting up from his seat. "Raze, keep a watch for the battle. I'm going to check on Michael."

"Michael?" Puzzlement was written all over Sonja's face. "Who is he?"

"He is a human who carries the bloodline of Corvinus. He can successfully become a hybrid of the two species, vampire and werewolf."

Sonja's mind was reeling from this single piece of news, hardly able to believe such a person existed. She thought a hybrid of vampire and werewolf could only be created through an union akin to her and Lucian's but apparently, she was wrong. "Why do you need him?" The thought instantly came to her. "To defeat my father?"

He nodded. "Yes, and for past couple of days, we've been informing him off his new place amongst us, about the war and how it all began." The emotion was brief and fleeting but Sonja managed to catch the glimmer of past agony in her lover's deep smalt eyes.

He still can't get over the memories my death even though I'm here now. I have to help him…help him heal and move on. I know he can, he's strong and resilient enough to overcome the past scars.

She put her hand on his arm, beginning the steps towards recovery. "Don't let the past wear you down, Lucian," she told him softly, "I'm here now. I died once but I promise you, I won't let the same thing happen again."

This time, Lucian did smile. "I know you won't," he replied as he opened the door, letting her entire the room where they kept the Michael human in.

"Look, I told you guys a hundred times–I don't want to be a part of your damned war!"

Lucian faced the fuming, frustrated American doctor before him, resisting the urge to sigh. It was like this whenever he or another lycan would enter his room, he would demand to be released and then claim he wanted nothing to do with his war against the vampires.

"I am well aware of that, Michael," Lucian stressed calmly, wishing things were simpler–but then again, when was anything? "But if I let you go, there's a high possibility the vampires will kill you on sight or, if you're lucky, capture and interrogate you mercilessly. I cannot risk any information regarding me, my men, or this base falling into the vampires' hands."

"I won't tell anyone!" he protested, standing up from the wooden chair abruptly, light eyes demanding yet pleading. "I promise, no one will hear about this! I swear!"

"It's not your comrades we're concerned about, it's the vampires," interjected Sonja, snaring his attention, "You may say you won't say anything under interrogation but that's your naivety speaking for you. You have no idea what my father's coven is capable of, he could have you tortured if he knew how many secrets you possessed. And he'll kill you once you revealed everything to him because you can become both a vampire and a lycan, a threat to him and his authority."

"What, your father?" faltered the baffled doctor, glancing to and fro from Lucian to Sonja, "And who are you exactly?"

Sonja gave Michael a wry half-smile, almost as if she wanted to reassure his confused, troubled mind. "I am Sonja, daughter to Victor, one of the Elders of the Ordoghaz coven. I am the very reason for this war."

"A succubus?" repeated Kahn as they headed to the main meeting room between Death Dealers and other powerful members of the coven. Selene hoped Kraven wouldn't be there.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. My gut tells me she's with the lycans but as for the reasons why, I cannot say."

"Amelia might need more than that." The mentioning of Amelia halted Selene's pace immediately.

"Wait, Amelia is coming here?" she demanded, both eyebrows rose up in utter shock, "When? How long to we have for preparation until she arrives."

"About a day or so. She should be here tomorrow."

"Does she know about Markus?"

Kahn nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid so. From what I heard, she is considering the idea of awakening Victor to inform him of the dire news. If the lycans have Markus, we're going to need the entire force of the coven and Victor's guidance to win him back."

"Let me infiltrate their base, Kahn," argued Selene, "I know the location of their base, I can breach their defenses and retrieve Markus's tomb with a bundle of Death Dealers. It doesn't have to be a full-out frontal assault, it can be cloak-and-dagger and furtive, we won't alert them all of our presence."

"I would go with you, Selene, if the plan is approved. You better see what Amelia thinks of the idea when she arrives." Kahn answered after he had mulled her suggestion over.

"Hopefully she'll have more sense than Kraven. He'd shoot down my plan the instant he heard it." she grumbled, wholly relieved the said bureaucrat wasn't around to pester her or try to control her everyday actions. Of course, Amelia also came from the realm of politics and Selene knew if Amelia had other political motives in mind and her scheme to covertly infiltrate the lycans' lair and steal Markus back interfered with those motives, the female Elder could very well rejected her idea. Unless, of course, Victor was behind the notion.

All the more reason he should be awakened. I can only hope it will be soon. Maybe then Kraven will stop hounding me.

The two Death Dealers sat down in their respected chairs, waiting for the rest to arrive so they could begin to report the current situation and map out any strategies or battle plans against the rebel lycan army for the next assailment.

Even though their encounter had been somewhat brief and formal, Erika's head was still full of memories regarding the past moments she had spent with the gentleman Thanatos. He had helped her find a dress for Selene (it went far quicker than she had expected) and then, despite her protests, bought her that corbeau gown he thought would look lovely on her. After the purchases, both she and Thanatos had left the store, only to part ways soon. Thanatos said he had other business to intend to and was afraid he couldn't accompany her on her way back but Erika didn't mind much, she was use to it. Instead, he gave her his number in case she should ever need anything from him. On her walk back to the coven, Erika had to laugh at the fact that a stranger, someone she had just met, was showing her more kindness than Kraven ever did in his whole life. She was beginning to wonder if he was really worth the effort.

Just as she stepped into the foyer of the coven and was making her way towards Kraven's quarters, the said vampire appeared right around the corner.

"Erika, finally! How long does it take to find one measly dress?" he demanded, seizing the dress for Selene. He inspected the gown casually, not really paying much attention to it. Inside, Erika bristled. After all that browsing, he now was barely casting a real glance at the dress. She and Thanatos might as grabbed the first black dress they saw, size be damned.

"I'm sorry if I took so long shopping for a dress to your–and Selene's–liking," she responded snippily, resisting the urge to yell at him for his inconsiderate, thankless behavior. Kraven arched one brow at words, detecting the sarcasm in them.

"I didn't expect such attitude from you, Erika," he remarked snidely, cutting her an unhappy glare, "And I don't appreciate it. Curb your tongue next time. And when I want something fast, I expect it to arrive fast."

Frustration, ire, and indignation boiled in Erika's veins, churning and percolating inside her. All the times she carried out tasks for him without a word of compliant, doing everything in her power to get his attention or approval or a hint of affection. Instead, all she received was his indifference and angry words.

No matter what I do, it's not enough!

"Has he shown you any gratitude at all?"

Thanatos's words echoed hauntingly in her head, the truth mocking her left and right. She was tired of this, tired of all her failed attempts to gain Kraven's affinity, his love. Maybe I should let it all go and stop pursuing him, just like Thanatos suggested. Maybe I'll be better off that way.

Rolling her shoulders back, Erika fixed her icy azure eyes squarely into Kraven's coal-black ones, realizing he wasn't nearly as attractive as she once that he was. For some reason, she suddenly liked the color green better.

"How about next time, Kraven, when you want a dress or something for Selene, you get it yourself!" She ended with a low, furious hiss, storming away right before she slammed the door shut behind her. She didn't even glance back over her shoulder to see his reaction.

Frankly, at that precise moment, Erika didn't give a damn.

The werewolf was angry, raging like a bull. Now, he had to be quick and clever. The battle had been dragged on long enough and he had to end it as soon as possible. The werewolf's judgment may be clouded with fury but the assassin Wrath still had the cunning of an animal. He would just have to outsmart Wrath then.

The lycan charged directly at him, jaws snapping and snarling, saliva flying out everywhere. Ukon dodged a swipe at his face, then one to his leg–which he then proceed to do a roundhouse kick into the growling lycan's mug. The creature whimpered but recovered fast, lunging at the Japanese swordfighter, attempting to tackle him to the ground. Ukon moved out of the way, slashing his katana at Wrath's side. There had to be a way to make him overstep his bounds, to create an opening for him to deliver the killing blow—

There! The charge!

It was simple, really. Wrath had fallen into the pattern of mindlessly charging at him and running past him, stopping a few seconds later to start again. Whether or not Wrath had lost control of his reasoning abilities due to his anger all Ukon had to now was wait, position himself and his sword correctly, and then react to whatever Wrath attempted next. He was trying to use brute force to win him victory and Ukon knew strength could be easily circumvented when you were cunning and quick.

Wrath, instead of charging him outright again, opted for a different approach. He first jumped against the wall, then to a broken, crumbling pillar of debris to finally spring off and head for Ukon. Despite the change in his attack pattern, Ukon was prepared. After all, steel cuts flesh, no matter how much muscle and bone was underneath. His katana came down in a deadly arc, the movements small and precise.

First slash, across the face, blinding the lycan assassin. Wrath howled in agonizing pain, stumbling through the rest of his assault. Ukon pivoted away from gawping jaws and brutal yet aimlessly range of his claws. He raised his katana again for the second strike.

Second slash, against thick muscles of his inner back legs and before Wrath could react, Ukon already sunk his blade into his side, slipping past the ribs and piercing the lungs. Streamlets of blood gushed out of the lacerations and Wrath's mouth and while hacking up his own lifeblood, the assassin slowly began transforming back to his human form, Ukon's katana still buried deep inside of him.

Ukon yanked his sword out of the dying man's torso, raising his weapon and long-time companion up high over his head. The assassin named Wrath was finished; there was no need to prolong his death anymore, especially when he was choking on his own pool of blood.

As Wrath coughed, moaned, and wheezed out curses, Ukon's katana sailed through the air effortlessly and embedding itself deep into the lycan's neck, severing the bone and flesh for good.

"Well, you aren't a pretty sight when you shed off your human form," snickered Blanca at her opponent Gluttony, "And pun intended, snake lady."

A few minutes ago, Gluttony finally lost her temper after many failed attempts to kill and incinerate Blanca (and not necessarily in that order) and shifted into her true, demonic shape–which wasn't the most comely picture on the planet. She had an extremely distorted, misshapen face, teeth stained with fresh blood while from the waist down, she had the body of a snake. Gluttony was indeed a descendent of Lamia.

"How dare you insult me, shapeshifter?" spat Gluttony, dark eyes aflame with fury, "I'll kill you and your mate, devour your children, and then your womb!"

Blanca wrinkled her nose at the demon. "My, my, aren't you in a bitchy mood today. First off, I had no children for you to eat–as if I'd let you near them if I had any. Secondly, you're getting nowhere near my womb, and thirdly, only no one but me touches my man. Understood?"

As she spoke claws already had replaced her fingernails as she stalked Gluttony, ready for anything the demon threw at her. Gluttony hissed at her words and dived immediately at her, twisted face screaming with rage. Blanca quickly changed into a bird and flew out of reach, then shifted into lioness, landing behind her to attack her back. Gluttony shrieked, flailing her body around until she managed to fling the Spanish shapeshifter off her. Blanca crashed to the floor, ignoring the slight stings wracking all over her body. When the Lamia-esque demon turned around to face and attack her again, Blanca rapidly changed into a horsefly, flying out of sight, much to the outrage of Gluttony.

"You get back here, whore! I want you dead! Fight me now!" she roared and hissed, serpentine tail smacking against the hard cement ground in a furious gesture. Blanca simply simpered to herself and buzzed around Gluttony's head, determining her next move. She had to do something soon before the assassin realized that the fly over her head could potentially be her and bring out her fly swatter.

Thankfully, her constant whining and screeching is droning out my buzzing.

As Blanca flew a little bit over her face, a brilliant idea sparked inside her head. Why doesn't she blind the bitch and then finish her off while she's preoccupied?

Looks like there's one nasty bite coming up!

In a second she was on Gluttony's eyes, biting down hard on her eyelids. The next second, she was fluttering away to escape the relentless writhing and squirming of the whimpering, shrieking demon. Once she saw her chance, Blanca transformed back into a lioness and with a triumphant growl, lurched forward and violently mauled the demon mistress, her blood, flesh, and pained cries tasting so delicious and refreshing to the shapeshifter's ears and mouth.

The pain of others (and sometimes his own) always gave him great pleasure and never failed to titillate him. Of course, the sound of Blanca dispatching that demon bitch was music to his ears and he made sure Greed would be suffering from her demise.

"What a shame, Greed. So much for her Lamia ancestry." he jeered, dodging another jet stream of fire sent by the said assassin.

"Oh, you're just asking to die!" growled Greed fiercely, loading his gun and firing. Jacob easily flicked one of his whips to deflect some of the bullets but a few managed to escape the blockade. One grazed his cheek and the other skimmed near the calf of his leg. The demon assassin then started running towards him, shooting away but Jacob merely laughed and cackled and snapping his spiked whips at his assailant.

"And I'd say you're begging to die, Greed."

The tip of his whip slapped the demon across the face, sending him reeling back into a mountain of broken, chipped bricks and cement blocks. Scowling, Greed began and then struggled to stand up. Then in an instant, his enraged face changed into one of astonishment and confusion. Jacob smirked, waiting for the realization to settle in before he made his move.

"How…what…I can't feel my legs!" blurted out Greed, toiling away to move his feet and prop them up. "I can barely feel my arms now… What did you do, you bastard?"

"If you paid closer attention to my whips, you would have noticed something very peculiar about them," drawled out Jacob drolly, slowly approaching the abruptly paralyzed assassin, "Every time I go into battle, I coat the spikes on my whips with either poison or some paralyzing agents. Obviously, you're feeling its effects, despite the fact you are of demon breed." He wrapped one whip around his left ankle and twisted it back until he heard a sickening crack and a howl of pain. He then went to the right ankle and did the same procedure again. He repeated this process to more times with both of Greed's wrists, relishing the detrimental cries he wrought from the wounded assassin's lips. "And that's to make sure you don't crawl away."

"What do you plan to do with me now? Leave me for lycan food?" spewed Greed, orange eyes full of loathing and rage. Jacob cocked his head as if he was mulling that option over.

"Tempting but I don't want to give Lucian's men a stomachache. Besides, I have something far more devious in mind." Dropping one whip, he bent down and touched Greed's left foot, a sadistic light in his endless onyx eyes. There was crackle and beautiful, bright flames of cerise, yellow, and amber burst out of thin air and began hungrily devouring Greed's foot.

As the demon assassin tried his best not to scream or holler, Jacob simply stared casually into the fire, saying, "It's too bad we don't have any meat to cook. We could have had ourselves a splendid bonfire."

Magna was nearing the end of her limit. She barely at any energy left from all that dodging, ducking, and raising shields. "I have to find a way to end this," she mumbled, sending another bolt of lightning to keep Sloth busy. She heard a string of oaths and while crouched, waddled away from her original hiding spot and secured herself behind another mound of rocks and debris. Soon enough, Sloth was over to her previous spot and merely chuckled at the vacant space.

"You can't hide forever, witch!" he yelled out, gun in hand, "Even people like you have their limits. When I'll find you, I'll beat you over the head with your own staff!"

Not likely. I'll shove my staff right up your arse, you insolent whippersnapper!

"Well, since I don't have enough stamina to finish him off, I'm just going to have to call for help," whispered Magna to herself, using the last of her strength and energy to issue a summoning call. Weakness and fatigue entered her body but she refused to surrender until she saw four scamps appearing in a blaze of a bright, fawn luminesce, all eyes fixed on the stunned, flabbergasted human assassin who cocked his gun and immediately fired upon them in a rapid, frenetic manner.

"Go get him, you little buggers!" decreed Magna feebly, letting her eyes rest as her four dutiful scamps chased Sloth down and began their deadly, relentless assault, claws and all.

Sweat dripped off Edward's nose, brow, hair, and face as he turned around to face his worn-down but defiant opponent. Minutes had dragged by albeit they seemed to be hours to him. He launched forward again, delivering a right hook to her face and then kneeing her in the stomach while in return, she managed to rotate around and elbow him in the ribs. He ignored the flickering pain and gave a sweeping kick to her legs, knocking her balance and sending Envy sprawling on the floor. But she rolled away from danger just in time to avoid a fatal blow on his part.

Dammit, I have to end this fight soon before I get too exhausted and drop my guard, allowing her penetrate that weakness.

Of course, there was one way to throw her off and use the element of surprise as an advantage: Use his demonic strength and allow his demon side to have more effect over his being. The vampire assassin would never see this coming and plus, he could use those few seconds of shock to render her dead.

All it would take is just a couple of seconds. That's all I need.

"Merde(4), I'm going to have to end this now if I want to come back in one piece," half-joked Envy, wincing briefly as she relocated her shoulder.

"Go ahead. Just try and stop me."

With that said, Edward unleashed his demonic powers and embraced his demon blood. His nails darkened into a shade of charcoal grey and elongated until they resembled thick, deadly blades, the tips sharp as any axe, sword, or butcher knife. Two enormous horns, pitch black as the darkest, emptiest, and starless night sky and polished like solid marble sprouted from his head, curving forwards before rocketing upward in wicked, pointed arc. Even the tips of his horns gleaned dangerously, honed to shred and tear anyone apart. But the most astounding and majestic part of him were his wings. They were bat-like and a mixture of ebony and burgundy, billowing outwards in tantamount to a regal cape of darkness. Smooth, glossy, and jagged pinions just added to the surreal, demonic mien of Edward Van Helsing as his inky eyes changed into a startling hue of deep amber orange that was color of Hell's flames.

When Edward, a symbol of an union between vampire and demon, cut his fiery, hellish gaze upon Envy, the assassin bent on killing him, he knew she was dead the moment he beheld her aghast face. He moved towards her and she prepared to block and strike back, didn't anticipate the amazing, silent speed gifted to one who summons both his vampiric and demonic ancestry to take over. He was on Envy faster than one could blink and with one sweeping motion of his arm, he knocked her head clean off, letting it bounce away onto the muddied floor and roll into the shadows. The headless body collapsed in an instead, near the severed head of Envy, who hollow eyes showed fear and shock during her last few seconds among the living.

"You should have used your guns. You might have lived longer." muttered the demon-vampire hybrid as he strolled away from the scene of battle.

Thanatos never liked dolls but he never found them irksome until now. Even though he could successfully block and parry all their attacks but there would always be one to try to stab him in the back. The three puppets consistently attempted to corner and surround him but Thanatos knew this game of puppeteer more than Pride was fully aware of.

Brandishing his saber, he cut left, slashing the teenage Beata's face while elbowing the little child Beata doll in the chest. He then whirled around to hack the limbs off the adult Beata, hoping to disable her mobility. He managed to sever one leg and arm before he was back on the defensive, retreating and moving around to prevent himself from being surrounded. The littlest doll came at him once more, the remaining arm still wielding the knife. He blocked the knife, bringing the blade down the wooden wrist, breaking it clean off. He then raised his saber up high and brought it savagely down on the youngest Beata's head, splitting the doll in two.

One down, two more to go.

As if the other two puppets were surged forward by Pride's subtle rage over the destruction of Beata the First, the two other Beatas assailed him from both sides. Thanatos hopped backwards, dodging the cleaver the teenage Beata was flourishing but was unfortunately brutally poked (yet luckily not skewered) by the giant, rusty pitchfork by the adult Beata. Growling at the pain, the necromancer grabbed the pitchfork and pulled the doll towards him with all his might. The pull was a deep, strenuous struggle; he could feel Pride's control resisting his physical strength. While he tugged, he noticed out of the corner of eye the teenage Beata coming around behind, the cleaver glinting menacingly high in midair. Calculating the distance, Thanatos kicked the doll viciously, satisfied when he heard an ear-splitting crack, the dissonance of hard wood breaking against a forceful impact and solid cement. He then released his hold on the pitchfork, causing the older Beata doll to stumble back, as if both she and Pride were shocked by this move. Those few seconds of surprise were all Thanatos needed.

Lunging, he parried the weapon, sank the edge of his saber into chest and neck of the adult Beata doll. The puppet slowly began to crumple to the ground and Thanatos wrenched his sword silently out its wooden corpse, approaching Pride slowly. Meanwhile, he could hear the stirrings of the fallen Beata puppets–both the teenage and adult versions–but he paid them no mind. There was only one quick, sure way to end this puppet show and that was to kill the puppeteer. Thanatos drew out of his rosary, sheathing his saber as he did so. Both hands lovingly caressed and stroked the besmirched cross and beaded black necklace. There lied his true power.

"You are fool, Pride, to challenge the puppet master to game of dolls and puppets. I know how to end the show and rend your precious Beatas useless."

Pride merely smirked. "Ah, by taking me out. I'd like to see you try."

Thanatos felt the rosary grow longer with each passing second, by his will and mind. "I won't try, I will succeed." He heard the clanking sounds of the two remaining Beatas slowly pulling themselves together. "By the way, instead of fighting us first, Pride, you should have done a little research first."

Pride's smirk twisted up into a condescending, haughty sneer. "Oh, really? Why is that?"

"Because if you did, you would have known what I am capable of." The rosary, now over six feet long, exploded out of Thanatos's pocket, cruising through the air and heading straight towards the assassin. Right hand grasping the end of the rosary, Thanatos navigated the cross until it squarely landed on Pride's forehead, freezing his movements instantly. This time, the Russian necromancer was the one to smirk.

"As a necromancer, I can not only resurrect the dead and give them new life but also take life, the very essence of living." Thanatos felt Pride's quintessence steadily draining out of him and going into his body, his potency, his lifespan. He felt the assassin's soul resisting and almost laughed. Resistance in this situation was futile; he was called "The Reaper of All Souls" for a reason.

"And one more thing I must add before it's lights out for you, Pride," remarked Thanatos casually once he experienced the last of his foe's essence pouring into him, leaving Pride hollow and with very little life and energy left, "I can also return a man's soul…or take it from him."

When Pride's lackluster, dazed maroon eyes widen with terror and shock, Thanatos knew he had him exactly where he wanted. As the remaining puppets dropped to the floor like dead flies, Thanatos utilized his necromancy powers to reach deep inside Pride's spirit and tear his soul from his body, casting his bloody, sinful soul into the damned abyss. Thanatos had no use for souls belonging to those who tried to kill him. He never wanted a raging spirit or ghost coming back with vengeance. That's why he banished them for good, unless he discovered a use for them in the near future.

After all, he was the Grim Reaper, the master of death and life, the ferryman between the dead and the living. The world would be his oyster, his domain. He wouldn't have to answer to any man, dead or alive, while he was in control of his own fate. The world couldn't touch him; he was Thanatos Itzal Wakahisa, the Reaper of All Souls, mankind's most renowned necromancer.

And he would have his revenge.

The room around them was filled with jumping, crawling spiders and darting, screeching birds of prey while two sex demons, an incubus and succubus, pounced and tackled each other, nails and teeth raking each other's skin, attempting to sink their aphrodisiac venom into the other. And when they weren't wrestling each other, torn between duty and their natural sexual tendencies, they would sic their pets on each other.

Clarissa tore the wings off a golden eagle with a rabid scream, hurtling the abused, dying creature aside while Lust tore a spider in half with his bare hands. The sexual frustration and rage of their beloved animals' suffering was slowly gnawing on them and Clarissa was losing her patience. She wanted to end this battle, craved to have him on knees and under her control. She needed him alive–he could have information on who wanted them dead. After all, a living man had more secrets and news than a dead one.

All right, how can I get close to him without him knowing or sending his horde of birdbrains after me? A little distraction might help keep the birds away…

With her mental link to her spiders, she ordered several of the smaller ones to begin spinning a web around Lust while directing her giant spiders to assault the birds and distract Lust from noticing what was betiding down blow, near his feet. And while all that was going on, Clarissa was putting the last bit piece of her plan in place. Even though Lust was an incubus, he was still a man and Clarissa knew what all men's weakness was.

"Oh, Lust," she called out in a sing-song voice, catching his attention, "I have a present for you!"

Just when his eyes met hers, she slid off the straps and her pure white dress came sliding down her slender, voluptuous frame and gracefully pooled around her ankles. Sending him a come-hither look, she put her hands on her hips and struck a sensuous, enticing pose. Lust's eyes were practically bulging out of its sockets as he leered at her naked body, from the breasts down to the patch of dark brown hair between her thighs. She crooked her finger at him, beckoning him to come. Just by the look on his helpless face she knew she had him. As he took a step forward, the spiders had finished spinning the web and the gossamer shackles snapped around him, catching him off guard and causing him to fall. Clarissa immediately pounced on him and wrapped her hands around his throat, positioning her nails right up against the nape of his neck.

"Now, Lust," she purred, "Be a good boy, call off your pets, and surrender, and I promise you'll get some loving. I mean it." He glowered at her and the succubus returned with a pout, and for good measure, gave her bottom a little wiggle. She felt him stiffen and harden beneath her and Clarissa grinned, sensing he would crack sooner or later. In an instant, the glower vanished and was replaced with a sheepish, carnal expression.

"Ah, fuck it," grunted Lust in resignation, "I want a piece of your ass, honey. I surrender."

When Thanatos and his cohorts had reconvened and went to go search for Clarissa, they discovered all the birds and spiders gone, leaving a very nude Clarissa straddling a highly pleased incubus underneath.

"Clarissa," began Thanatos, pinching the bridge of his nose, "What are you doing?"

The succubus flashed him a saucy smile. "Subduing him, Master. He surrendered to me so we can ask him questions about his employer." Lust jerked his head up, a frown on his face.

"Hey, I just thought we would be having sex," he protested, adding, "And I'll answer nothing!" His burnet eyes glared fiercely at Thanatos and his followers and unbeknownst to them, furtively slipped one hand (hidden from plain sight) into the pocket of his pants and withdrawing a small object.

"Who do you work for?" demanded Thanatos immediately, "Answer now or else I turn you over to Jacob." Jacob beamed manically, his dusky orbs alight with bloodlust and delight. He looked like a kid in candy store.

"I never tortured an incubus before…perhaps I should start with his balls!" he exclaimed feverishly, grabbing Blanca roughly and she giggled, plastering herself right up against his body.

"Can I help?" she asked him in a faux innocent voice, peering up at him through her eyelashes in a beseeching manner. He nodded and she gave him an aggressive, passionate kiss as a reward. Clarissa's lips curled up in an irked, displeased fashion.

"No way. You two aren't touching this man. He's mine and that's final. If it's answers you seek, Master Thanatos, I'll get it from him." She glanced back down to face Lust and noticed there was something wrong. He was smirking triumphantly at her, at them all, and when he grabbed her face to steal one last kiss, Clarissa reckoned straightaway they missed something and Lust had something they didn't know.

After when the kiss was over, he told to her, "I just wanted one final kiss from a gorgeous woman before I die." He then opened his mouth and horror zipped through Clarissa when she beheld the small capsule. It was a tiny vial of cyanide, ready to be swallowed.

"No!" she screamed, grabbing his jaw and throat, trying to prevent him to swallow. Thanatos and the others were right beside her, helping her keeping the mouth open and the throat, trachea, and larynx blocked off. Lust fought back, pushing Clarissa off while sending his predatory birds to attack the others to keep them occupied. Clarissa tried to use her spiders to ward the distraction away, yet it was too late. When the birds cleared away or dropped dead, they understood why. Lust was on the ground, turning various shades of blue while truculently quaking and convulsing, his once attractive face stiffening up. The death was almost instantaneous; the event lasted no longer than few seconds. By then, the corpse had stopped juddering and was still and silent, cyanotic.

"Well, that was uneventful," remarked Jacob, a bit miffed that he didn't get the chance to torture the incubus, "He could at least have send some interesting last words besides wanting a piece of Clarissa."

Thanatos, ignoring everyone else, walked up to the cyaneous cadaver, rosary in hand. "It doesn't matter. I can still bring him back and all the answers we seek."

Clarissa looked up at the necromancer hopefully. "And can you bring him back all nice and handsome? The blue doesn't suit his skin at all, Master."

Thanatos sighed exasperatedly but conceded. "Fine, Clarissa. After when I'm done, I'll be certain–with Magna's help–that he returns to us as good as new."

And good luck explaining your new sex slave to Raze.

"Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked elipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand."

-Sonnet 60, William Shakespeare

Word Terms/Glossary:

(1) jukeisha- a recent Japanese honorific used for the convicted or criminals

(2) copine- chum [French]

(3) salopard- bastard [French]

(4) merde- damn [French]

Color Glossary:

Cramoisy- crimson

Atrous- jet black

Puccoon- dark red

Smalt- dark blue

Sorrel- reddish brown

Corbeau- blackish green

Burnet- dark brown

Cyaneous- sky blue

So yay, another chapter done! My longest one yet—14 or 15 (with Verdana, point 9 font) pages, give or take.

Now, some of you might have been expecting the battle scenes to be longer but since these were more assassination attempt fight scenes, in reality, they had to be short. Most of my OCs, save for Jacob and Blanca, wouldn't draw the fight out unless it would be more of their advantage (ex: stalling, tiring their opponent out, etc.). Thus, that's why some combat scenes were so short, like Ukon's, for instance. Since he was born, raised, and trained to be an assassin, Ukon prefers to get the job done quickly and efficiently. I'd go on but I'd wait in case anyone has any questions regarding the fights that I haven't thought of. Again, I wanted to make the battles as realistic as possible so hopefully, I did well.

By the way, is anyone here afraid of Jacob? Likes/dislikes Jacob because he's out of his fucking mind? Or is there someone else you like/dislike (for example, Clarissa and her philandering ways?)? Feel free to let me know! I like hearing feedback about my characters.

For the last note, the next chapter will be chronologically parallel to this chapter and last chapter. The next update will take place in Catherine's house and you will learn a little bit more about the fate of Markus!

As for reviews, I totally forgot in the last chapter to thank the reviews so I'm going to cover reviews for both chapter seven and six.

Chapter six: I would like to thank Tu Es Chicago, Celtic Aurora, morgan12149, Cryostylz, and keili77 for reviewing! I appreciate hearing from you guys!

And for chapter seven: Thank you Celtic Aurora for still reviewing even after the long, arduous wait. You are always my constant, loyal fan and reviewer!

So readers, review, fave, alert, critique, or whatever strikes your fancy. I hope to see you guys around for chapter nine! Adieu!

:SpeedDemon315:

P.S. If you want to know more about the Seven Deadlies and why some assassins were demons, humans, etc., ask me via review or PM.