Goetic Justice 2

Ryan crouched low, moving slowly through the tall grass. He wasn't quite invisible, but he was hard to see in the darkness. These men would no doubt have night vision equipment too, he had to stay in their blind spots until he could get close enough to strike.

He heard rustling in the undergrowth and dropped to his belly just as two men emerged from between the trees a short distance away. He lay completely still, shielded by the plants. They didn't seem to have noticed him yet. They were making a lot of noise, one of them talking into a radio as they crashed through the thick brush.

"...and where are you? I know there are no landmarks, you don't have to tell me that. I don't know, I can't see ten feet in front of my face! We're on our way, yeah, stand by."

Ryan waited for them to pass him by, then slowly rose to his feet, following the pair and staying behind the trees. When he had a bead on both of them, he raised his gun, pointing it at the nearest soldier. He snuck up behind him and delivered a punishing kick to the back of his knee, the man crying out as his leg buckled. Before he could fall, Ryan wrapped one arm around his neck and pressed the barrel of his gun against the Mason's temple. He was wearing a ballistic helmet, but Ryan angled the handgun beneath it, and his captive froze. His companion spun around, training his weapon on them.

"Drop the fucking gun," Ryan hissed in his captive's ear. The soldier let his rifle fall to the grass and then raised his hands, still unsteady on his feet. Ryan used him as a human shield, inching closer to the other soldier and keeping his handgun pressed against his head. He could see that the other man was twitchy, uncertain, and he braced his rifle tightly against his shoulder in an aggressive move as Ryan got nearer.

"Let him go!" he shouted from behind his mask.

"Drop the gun!" Ryan shouted, "drop the fucking gun right now!"

"Stay the fuck back!"

"Drop the gun, or I'll blow him away! Drop the fucking gun!"

His shouting had the intended effect, and he took advantage of the soldier's panic and distraction to aim the handgun at his thigh where there was no armor. He put a round through it, and the soldier bellowed in pain, dropping his weapon and grasping his leg as he toppled to the ground. These men were probably wearing bulletproof vests. Getting hit at this range would feel like being kicked in the chest by a horse, but he couldn't be sure that the rounds would penetrate.

He returned the barrel of the gun to his captive's head and let off another round, dropping the limp body as dark blood poured from its nose and ears. As the body slumped to the ground, Ryan advanced on the injured Mason. He was lying in the grass with his hands wrapped around his upper thigh, trying to stem the flow of blood that was gushing it from the ugly wound with every beat of his heart. The bullet had hit the artery, he would bleed to death within a couple of minutes. The man raised his hands, but before he could utter his plea, Ryan put him down.

Three dead, between seven and nine to go. He had expended three rounds of ammunition so far, and he had fourteen left. He had felt so conflicted when he had shot that first corrupt policeman in his apartment. Even in self defense, the taking of a human life was no easy decision to make. He had felt a pit in his stomach, a sickness, as if he had swallowed a lead weight. Now he was just trying to keep moving. He didn't have time to contemplate the moral ramifications of what he was doing, he felt like he had ice water running through his veins and he didn't know if it was part of Vapula's magick or if he had just become numb. There would be time for self-reflection when this was all over, that or he'd be dead and it wouldn't make any difference.

He leaned down and removed the dead soldier's radio, placing the receiver in his pocket and hooking the earbud into his ear, listening in on the conversations as he rummaged through the carrier looking for more magazines for his pistol. He tried not to look at the mess where the man's face had once been. There was some chatter going back and forth, everyone was lost, and they were trying to find some kind of landmark so that they might get their bearings. They couldn't even see the moon anymore due to the thick canopy.

He heard automatic gunfire coming from somewhere nearby, along with the braying of a goat. It sounded like one of the soldiers had encountered a Seirim. As he moved cautiously in the direction of the sound, keeping his handgun ready and sticking close to the trees, another figure emerged from the forest directly in front of him. It was a Mason goon, one arm hanging limply at his side. He was limping, and he seemed to have lost his rifle, wielding only his sidearm in his good hand. His clothing was torn and tattered, stained with blood from what looked like a series of puncture wounds. Those hadn't been caused by bullets, he had been gored by a Seirim.

Ryan raised his weapon, but the soldier was surprisingly alert and responded in kind. They stood there for a few moments, locked in a Mexican standoff.

"Drop it," Ryan shouted, "and I let you walk."

"You think I'd trust a servant of the Devil?" the man replied, his grip on his handgun unsteady. "I'm not afraid to die, I know what's waiting for me on the other side. Can you say the same?"

A servant of the Devil? Was that how the Masons saw him? This man was injured, unpredictable, could Ryan out-shoot him? They stared each another down for about a minute, neither one willing to budge, each hoping that reinforcements would find them first.

Suddenly they were distracted by the sound of trees being felled, the soldier glancing briefly to his left before a massive shape came barreling through the forest and buried him under its bulk. Samael's white armor illuminated the trees around him as he smashed them to splinters and uprooted them like weeds, the giant figure falling on top of the soldier and abruptly silencing the beginnings of a scream. The Seraphim had been knocked to the ground by a powerful blow, his many gilded wings flapping and kicking up a cloud of dust as he rose to his feet again to block a downward strike from Azazel's molten halberd. Sparks showered where their steel met, a thunderclap ringing Ryan's ears.

The Seraphim struck back, his spear cleaving through the tree trunks like a knife through butter, Azazel braying as the beast deflected the blow. Ryan had to leap out of the way to avoid the falling debris. He landed on his side, a mass of branches and leaves crashing down where he had been a moment before, and he watched in awe as the pair of battling giants moved away from him.

The creatures hadn't even noticed the Mason, they were too focused on trying to kill each other. At about twelve feet, even they couldn't see over the tops of the trees, but the dense woodland seemed to be doing little to hinder the powerful entities.

Ryan climbed to his feet and moved into the corridor of smashed stumps and splintered wood that they had left in their wake. It looked like a herd of elephants had stampeded through here. He could finally see the sky again, the light of the moon illuminating the scene. Perhaps if he followed the path that had been cleared he might come across someone friendly. There was an equal chance of encountering another hostile, and so he stuck close to the edge of the forest, keeping his handgun ready.

He had no idea if he was even inside the boundaries of the grove any longer, there was an entire national park beyond its borders. Now that the barrier had come down and the Seirim had filled the clearing with trees, there was no way to distinguish the two.

Movement caught his eye, something was coming up the path. He darted behind the cover of a mostly intact stump, peeking out from behind it to get a better look. He saw twisted horns, white wool, and pale skin. He emerged from cover, waving to the figure, hoping against hope that it was Nahash.

"Ryan! It's Ryan!" she brayed. No, it was one of her sisters, but he was glad to see a friendly face all the same. He jogged towards her, hopping over felled branches and torn roots, meeting the Seirim as she leapt deftly over a fallen log to land beside him.

"Ryan! Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," he said, turning his back to her and keeping his eyes on the trees. "Have you seen Nahash or any of your sisters?"

"No, no sisters, no Nahash. We are weak Ryan, our magick is waning."

"You used it all up growing this forest?"

"Yes, all used up. No more left."

"Shit," he grumbled. If the Seirim had expended all of their magick, would they be able to reform if their physical bodies were destroyed? He usually counted on Azazel to take care of its family, but he wasn't even sure that Azazel could take care of itself right now.

"Listen, we have to get out of here," he added. "We need to find your sisters and regroup, figure out what to do next. We can't stay here anymore."

"No more grove," she whined, "history repeats. Where will we go now?"

"Hey," Ryan said, turning to look up at her. "I'm not going to let you guys become refugees again. I'm going to find a way to set this right, but first, we have to find the others."

She nodded, then her sheep-like ears twitched as the sound of gunshots echoed through the forest.

"This way," Ryan said, moving off into the trees in the direction of the noise as the lone Seirim followed behind him. Despite how large she was and how tightly packed the trees were, he was surprised to see that she was able to keep pace with him. There was something about the way that she traversed the forest that seemed unnatural, like she wasn't obeying the laws of physics as he knew them. The dense undergrowth didn't hinder her as it did him, and she seemed able to squeeze between trees that Ryan had to turn sideways to get through. Even with their energy reserves dwindling the Seirim were avatars of nature, the forest seeming to bend to their will.

When they reached the source of the gunfire, they came across a body that was slumped against a tree, his rifle lying beside him. Ryan kept his weapon trained on the man, kicking the rifle out of reach once he got close enough, then quickly realized that the man wasn't going to be getting up any time soon. He had been gored by a Seirim's horns and smashed up against the tree with tremendous force, his body was pulverized. There was no sign of the Seirim, but that didn't mean that she had gotten away safely. When Nahash had been killed in his apartment, she had seemed to turn into a cloud of ink in the air, her physical body dissipating when it was subjected to fatal damage. They wouldn't necessarily leave a corpse behind.

They moved on, Ryan keeping his attention on the radio as they stalked through the brush. There were occasional snippets of chatter, mostly people asking for directions or instructions. They sounded panicked, and he was almost certain that their squad leader was either dead or missing, as their queries did not seem to be directed at any one person. Once he heard gunfire and shouting, but it quickly fizzled out into static. He could still hear the ongoing bout between Azazel and Samael in the distance, but the sounds of battle were still moving away from them.

As they searched through the forest, they came across two more Seirim, but neither of them had seen Nahash. At least his entourage was growing, he felt a lot safer with his small army of Nephilim in tow. Ryan was conflicted, they needed to move clear of what had once been the grove and take refuge in the forest. The national park was hundreds of square miles of uninhabited woodland, and the Masons would not be able to find them through conventional means. But there was still no sign of Nahash, and he didn't want to leave without her. He was considering sending the Seirim on alone and turning back to go look for her when his companions alerted him to danger.

He took refuge behind a tree, watching as two more Mason soldiers struggled through the undergrowth. The Seirim were too large and too brightly colored to go unnoticed, and when the men caught sight of them, they leapt into cover and began laying down suppressing fire. Bullets chewed through the bark on the other side of the trunk that he was hiding behind, splinters of wood flying. The Seirim did their best to get out of view, scattering in all directions, but even in the dense forest they made for large and conspicuous targets.

Ryan returned fire as best he could, but his handgun couldn't hold a candle to an assault rifle when it came to power and rate of fire. They were all going to get chewed up if they stayed here, they had to move.

"Rush them!" he shouted, exposing his arm and firing blindly at where he assumed the enemy to be. The sustained fire faltered as the men ducked into cover, creating an opening that was quickly taken advantage of. The Seirim didn't hesitate, racing through the forest with an ease that surprised both Ryan and the Masons. They closed more rapidly than their exaggerated size should have allowed for, weaving between the trees, and they were upon the soldiers before they could even react.

One of the Seirim barreled into the first man, her head lowered like a charging bull, and she lifted him clear off the ground. Her crown of twisted horns punctured through his clothing in places, but the bulletproof vest that he was wearing beneath his carrier did a decent job of protecting his vital organs. With one of her half-dozen horns embedded in his upper arm and another in his shoulder, she slammed him into a tree, pinning him as her sharp prongs dug deep into the wood. He bellowed in pain, dropping his rifle to the floor as blood poured from his wounds.

The other two sisters descended on the second man, knocking him to the ground with their bulk and beginning to trample him beneath their cloven hooves. It looked like a vicious street fight, both creatures putting all of their weight into the powerful strikes, trampling him to death as his pained cries slowly petered out.

Ryan was already moving to support them, but as he neared, he saw the trapped Mason reach for his sidearm. There was no clear shot, Ryan risked hitting the Seirim that was pinning him. Before he could shout a warning, the man succeeded in freeing his service pistol and pressed it against his adversary's head. He pulled the trigger, and the Seirim vanished into a smear of dark smoke, her physical form dispersing like a cloud of ink in water.

Now free of her horns, he fell into the tangled roots of the tree below, struggling to free himself and aiming at the two surviving Satyrs. Ryan emptied the remainder of his magazine into him, cursing under his breath as he arrived beside the tree.

He had lost one of the Seirim, Nahash's beloved sisters. Was she really dead, did they have enough energy left to save themselves from disappearing for good? These entities had lived for thousands of years, they were almost unique in the world, it was unacceptable for one of them to die on his behalf.

The two Seirim wailed for their sister, and Ryan was left speechless. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know what to say or how to help them. He wasn't a leader or a strategist, the fact that he could now hold his own in a fight didn't change any of that.

"Keep moving," he said, waving the two remaining sisters forward. "We can't do anything for her right now."

He jogged through the trees, dropping his empty magazine and slamming in a fresh one, the Seirim following close behind him. He tried to ignore the pit in his stomach, staying alert as his eyes scanned the forest. His adrenaline was wearing off now, he just felt sick and exhausted. They wandered for a few more minutes, and while the thunderclaps of Azazel's duel continued to shake the ground, he hadn't heard any gunshots for a while.

Ryan had to rest for a moment, leaning against a tree to catch his breath as the two Seirim stopped nearby. He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees, feeling like he was going to vomit. Whether it was from exhaustion, shock, or a combination of both he couldn't say. He dry heaved a couple of times then stood upright again. His legs were shaky, and a cold sweat dampened his brow.

"Sisters!" one of the Seirim called out, pointing into the distance. Ryan narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the darkness. There were several figures, tall and pale, crowns of tangled horns protruding from their heads. One of them met his gaze, and he saw recognition on her face.

"Ryan!"

"Nahash!"

She cleared the distance in mere moments, wrapping her arms around him and lifting him off his feet. She plunged his face into the soft wool above her bosom, her familiar, earthy smell filling his nose as her soft coat brushed against his cheeks. Relief washed over him, and he felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. She was alive, she was okay.

The Seirim placed him back on the ground then waved her companions over. She had four Satyrs with her, and they approached to embrace their sisters. There had been eleven Seirim, twelve if he included Nahash. Now he only counted seven. He didn't know how to tell her that he had lost one of her sisters, and so he just came out with it.

"We lost one," he said, Nahash's ears drooping as she heard the news. She knew what he meant, she sensed his emotions no doubt, felt his sorrow and regret. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't do anything about it. You're low on energy, is she..?"

"I do not know," Nahash replied solemnly. "We expended so much of our energy reserves to grow this forest. I cannot be certain that her soul is safe."

"Are these all the ones that you could find?" he asked, glancing at her companions.

"Yes, there are four missing."

"I think another one lost her form," he said, "I came across what looked like a gunfight, but there was no Seirim. She either fled or was...dissipated. We've killed or come across the bodies of seven guys."

"We killed two," Nahash said, the contempt in her voice palpable.

"Good, there can't have been more than about ten. Have you seen Haures anywhere?"

"No," she replied with a shake of her head. "Haures is coming for you, Ryan, he wouldn't waste his energy dealing with us if he didn't have to. I am relieved to see that he didn't find you before I did."

"He's out here somewhere. Listen Nahash, we have to get moving. We need to get the Seirim to a safe place before we can start planning what to do next. The grove is gone, and the summoning circle along with it. I don't even have my gear, it was all in my bag."

Nahash perked up, then turned to her sisters. One of them was holding his rucksack, he hadn't even noticed it in the darkness, and another produced his leather-bound copy of the Lesser Key. He took them, stowing the book in the bag and swinging it over his shoulder.

"Thank God," he sighed, "I can't believe you managed to recover them. Without these books and wards, we'd be hopeless."

Another crack rang out, it sounded like someone hitting a church bell with a sledgehammer. Ryan looked up instinctively, the sound seemed to be coming from the sky, but he couldn't see anything due to the thick canopy. Nahash waved her hand and the branches parted, the wood creaking and twisting as a hole opened up so that they could see the stars.

Samael and Azazel were in flight, climbing high above the treetops, their great wings flapping to propel their massive bodies into the air. Ryan wouldn't even have been able to see Azazel's dark form against the night sky if it hadn't been illuminated by Samael's brilliant light, the Seraphim shining like a star. He couldn't believe that their fight was still dragging on, watching as they lunged and swooped, flashes of bright sparks showering to the ground wherever their weapons made contact.