Chapter Twenty-Three
The first step in their plan was to draw Patience and Puriel out, then lead them to Baal's fortress. To do this, Murron and Victor, still possessing Angelica's body, would have to expose themselves just long enough to give their enemies their scent. Crowley would be waiting for them in the forest near Baal's castle. Together, they would guide Patience and Puriel into the thick of it and hopefully come out of it with their skins intact.
While Victor waited downstairs in the living room, Crowley and Murron lingered upstairs. Crowley stood with his hands in his trouser pockets while Murron mentally prepared herself for the fight ahead. The idea of two angels clashing in front of her admittedly gave her pause; she'd never seen Baal, but based on the level of damage he'd inflicted on Crowley, she knew he was a formidable enemy. Puriel was no slouch, either, nor was Patience. And with her daughter in danger, Murron knew Patience wouldn't pull her punches. And neither could Murron. If she was going to do this, she had to go in for the kill.
Crowley glanced over at her, his gaze taking her in. "Ready, then?"
Murron took a deep breath, slid her fingers through her hair, and nodded. "As I'll ever be."
"Good. One more thing."
"What's that?"
In response, Crowley whistled, a piercing sound that made Murron jump. The familiar propane hiss of Growley's presence filled the room as the large hellhound appeared at his master's side. Crowley snapped his fingers in Murron's direction, his eyes on the beast. Growley immediately went to Murron and positioned himself beside her. "He'll go with you and Victor for added security. If the witch gets shirty, he can take her down a peg or ten," Crowley said.
"Thanks," Murron replied, giving the hound a grateful scratch behind the ears. "I've been missing Growley." She licked her lips anxiously. "We should probably get going, then. I want this over and done with."
"Preaching to the demonic choir, love," Crowley replied with a crooked smile. "Victor knows where to go once you've got them on your tail. Be quick about it, though. If you give them any room to take you down, this whole things fails."
"No pressure, got it," Murron quipped. Crowley chuckled and approached her. When he bent his head towards hers, Murron accepted the kiss he pressed to her lips. She curled her fingers around the front of his suit jacket, gripping the notched lapels tightly. She knew this wouldn't be the last time she did this. She was far too determined to let it be. Still, she kissed him back as though it were, pouring all of her hopes for his survival into it.
Crowley gave her a brief wink when he pulled away, chucked her gently beneath the chin, and vanished. Murron pressed her lips together, savoring the sensation of his kiss, then looked down at Growley. He chuffed, as if to reassure her they'd be fine. Giving him another appreciative scratch behind the ear, the two went to Victor and together, they teleported away.
Victor stood in the middle of the open field they'd chosen for the first confrontation while Murron and Growley hung slightly back, ready to push in when the time was right. Fortunately, it wasn't long before a shadow passed over the waving grass, revealing the figures of Patience and her angel, Puriel.
Immediately, Patience was running for Victor, potentially thinking her daughter had been released from the demon's hold. But when Puriel put himself between the witch and the little girl, Patience realised her error and went on the defensive. Puriel made to snatch Victor when the demon blinked out of his grasp. This only enraged the angel, who whipped around and attempted to blast Victor with a holy bolt. In the next moment, Murron and Growley were flanking Victor.
Patience cried out to see Murron and sent out a wave of telekinetic energy. Invisible to the other witch, Growley bounded across the field and bit down on Patience's outstretched arm, dragging her to the ground. Murron ignored the panicked screams coming from the long grass and turned to Puriel. The angel, able to see the hellhound, moved to attack. Murron drew the angel blade from where it hung at her side and, sending a silent prayer to Kali, telekinetically launched the sword towards Puriel. It struck him in the upper arm, crippling his attack and causing him to cry out in pain and anger. Murron whistled for Growley, grabbed Victor's hand, and shouted, "Now!" just as Puriel made to grab at them. Murron felt him catch her sleeve just as the field disappeared from view.
In a tangle of confused limbs, Murron, Victor, Growley, and the piggybacking Puriel tumbled to the forest floor just beyond Baal's fortress. Crowley was upon Murron in an instant, lifting her to her feet and pulling her away from the flailing angel. The blade still pierced Puriel's arm; he seized the handle and tore it from his flesh, sending an arc of blood over the grass. He threw down the sword and roared like an angry beast in their direction.
"Oooo, Polly's angry! Good!" Crowley taunted. "Hold onto that anger, sweetheart, I'm gonna need it!"
"I'm glad you're okay with this," Murron muttered hastily behind him.
"But this is fun!" Crowley returned with a sharp laugh. He snapped his fingers; the grass at Puriel's feet caught fire, forcing the angel to leap out of the way. "C'mon! There's always more where that came from!" With Murron, Victor, and Growley clustered tight around him, the King of Hell carried them all to Baal's fortress, where the fallen angel undoubtedly awaited.
Just as the group touched down on the bridge, Puriel descended as well, the force of his impact causing the entire structure to shake violently. Murron gripped Crowley's arm for support just as Victor clutched at her side, screaming about wanting a bigger body. "Get inside!" Crowley barked, pivoting and making for the inner courtyard. Puriel thundered after them, howling his rage.
As they raced through the further crumbling ruins of the fortress, Puriel close at their heels, another figure appeared on the walkway above them. Crowley looked up, grinned, and called, "Back for more, Barbatos? Lucky for you I brought a friend! Sic 'em, boy!" Growley broke away from the group and leapt for the slim figure on the walkway. The two tumbled over the wall, snarling and clawing. Crowley turned next to Victor. "Smoke out and find a new body! There's plenty of corpses around still!"
"What about Angelica?" Murron cried.
"She's your problem!" Crowley replied.
"What?!"
"Handle it!"
Before Murron could respond, Victor exploded from the girl's body and sailed over the high wall in search of a new meat-suit. Immediately, the little girl regained her senses and, coughing, tried to fend off Murron's hands as she lifted the child and zigzagged away from Crowley. She skidded to a stop behind a pillar, Angelica struggling in her arms, and watched with wide eyes as Crowley disappeared into the castle proper, Puriel still tailing him. She didn't have time to think about his safety for Angelica continued to kick and bite at Murron's hold on her.
Murron pinned Angelica's arms down and quickly sought a place to put her. A nearby chamber revealed an opportunity and she hurried towards it. Just as she made to cross the threshold, another figure darkened the doorway. Murron drew to a clumsy halt and fell back, the impact jarring her enough to almost release the girl. The figure loomed above her and, reaching out a large hand, knocked Angelica from Murron's arms. He then gripped the front of Murron's shirt, hauling her upwards till she was well above him. "You're Crowley's whore, aren't you?" he sneered. "I'm going to enjoy this!"
Murron kicked out with all her strength at the man's face, putting an extra burst of telekinesis behind it as she did so. She hit her mark, but it only seemed to make the man laugh cruelly. Whatever she was dealing with, it wasn't human. "You must be one of Baal's party boys," she managed with a bravado she didn't entirely feel.
"Indeed. I am Astaroth and I'm going to enjoy killing you, whore," Astaroth returned, unfazed by the nickname. He drew his arm back sharply and hurled Murron from him with such force she heard the wind whistle in her ears. She crashed into a pile of stone, crying out when her back gave a loud cracking sound. Astaroth was upon her almost instantly, his leg whipping out to kick her across the courtyard. She spun out dizzily, feeling everything she'd ever eaten in her life fighting to come back up. She came to a shuddering halt near the gates, her breath knocked entirely out of her. She knew she had to fight back and soon or else she'd die then and there. Summoning every ounce of strength left to her, Murron created a wall of demon fire between her and the stampeding Astaroth. It gave her just enough time to scramble to her feet and make for the forest's border.
As she stumbled through the brambles, Murron heard Astaroth giving hot pursuit. She cried out in alarm as trees suddenly began exploding around her, sending thick shards of wood and dirt to impede her progress. She hopped over these obstacles as skillfully as her battered body allowed, searching valiantly for a clearing, anything where she could possibly build up a defensive position.
Murron permitted herself a sigh of relief when such a clearing presented itself just ahead. She glanced back over her shoulder quickly. Astaroth was nowhere to be found. She slowed, clutching her throbbing side, and finally stopped altogether to look about her in confusion. Had she outrun him? Impossible. Something could have distracted him; perhaps Victor had found another body and was taking him on now? Either scenario seemed more likely than his having given up on her.
A sharp blow to her back was her answer as Astaroth exploded from the thicket beside her. She flew back to the ground, her chin striking a protruding rock in the dirt. She tasted blood in her mouth and was certain she'd bitten straight through her tongue. Astaroth flipped her over violently and put his foot at her throat. Murron gripped his ankle in both hands, struggling against his inhuman strength futilely. What she needed was the angel blade, but Puriel had thrown it aside back at the cliff. No, what she really needed now was a miracle.
Suddenly, Astaroth reared up, mouth open in a silent scream as something pierced through his chest. Orange energy crackled from the wound and out of his open mouth and eyes. He tumbled to the ground, a lifeless husk. Murron looked up at her savior, a grateful smile curling her bruised lips. "Kali..." she whispered as the goddess bent over her and helped her sit up.
"I can't decide if you're brave or foolish, Murron Guthrie," Kali remarked, further assisting Murron to her feet and supporting her. Murron saw the goddess had Gabriel's blade in her hand. Good. She would've hated to have owned up to losing it. "Where is your demon king?" Kali asked next, bringing Murron back to the present.
"He's in the fortress, fighting Baal. I assume, anyway. He had me doing something else when he disappeared," Murron replied. "Puriel was after him, too. I have to get back there. He might need my help."
"A moment," Kali gently prevented Murron from taking another step. "Let me help you." The goddess passed a hand over Murron's battered face and down her body. In an instant, the pain vanished and she felt her wounds closing of their own accord. Kali had healed her.
"Will you stay and help us?" Murron asked. Kali shook her head.
"This is no longer my battle. It is between you and the King of Hell. I merely wanted my blade back."
"Thank you for lending it to me," Murron said with genuine gratitude. "With Crowley's plan to have the angels duke it out, I guess I don't need it anymore."
"I will take you back to the fortress," Kali said. "You're on your own from there."
Murron nodded as the goddess touched her shoulder and instantly transported them back to the stone bridge. Kali vanished before Murron could thank her again. It was just as well. The sounds coming from within the castle proper send chills up her spine. Whatever was happening, she knew she had to be in there. Clutching her fist, Murron raced through the courtyard and into the massive audience chamber.
The sight that met her eyes was like something out of a biblical epic.
Puriel, his wings manifested in all their shining glory, was locked in combat with what Murron could only assume was Baal. The fallen angel's wings were flesh as well, stark black to his brother's pearl white. Both held angel blades and when they brought them down upon the other, sparks flew and what sounded like heavy church bells echoed through the chamber. Murron searched the room for Crowley anxiously, drawing in a sharp breath to see him crouched in the corner of the chamber.
"Crowley!" she cried, vainly trying to be heard above the sounds of angelic combat. Knowing it was foolish to try, Murron cast caution into the wind and started for him. The path led her behind where Puriel and Baal clashed swords, but she didn't care. She'd just endured entirely too much to not be beside Crowley now. She broke into a frenzied run, dodging what she could of the white sparks that flew all around the angels.
Suddenly, a great flash of white-hot light pierced the space between Murron and Crowley. Murron felt herself being thrown back from the force, arms coming up to shield her face. Through the pulse of blood in her ears, she heard a single scream:
"Murron!"