Home for Horny Monsters Ch. 113

The kitsune summoned a sphere of ice that looked like a snowglobe. She stood inside and raised her hands as multiple mercenaries opened fire on her. Bigfoot picked up one of the SUVs and hurled it like a shotput. It crashed through the attackers, who quickly broke rank to flee.

Death casually strolled in through what was left of the front door, his hood pulled back to reveal his skull.

"I warned you," he said in a voice that carried across the room. Someone took a shot at him, the round passing harmlessly through the Reaper.

"Death!" Cyrus screamed, hoping to catch the Reaper's attention. "Callisto, Grace, go!"

The shadows came for Cyrus. He fought them off with blade and wand, but their amorphous nature made it hard to predict their movements. His left arm got slashed open, the sleeve of his coat drooping away to reveal a bloody bicep. Hissing in pain, he stuck his hand in his inside pocket and pulled out a flashlight.

"Fuck you, too!" he shouted, then clicked it on. The shadows immediately withdrew as if terrified of the beam. Cyrus sneered at them, daring them to come closer. Along the far wall, Callisto broke free from his hiding place, galloping across the hangar as Grace clung to him. The little Arachne stared at Cyrus with wide eyes.

"Keep going!" He turned to shine his light on the shadow nearest him and was surprised when it regarded him with bloodshot eyes. The smell of burnt hair somehow forced its way through his nasal passages, and he realized he was looking at Elizabeth herself.

He wasn't sure what she struck him with, but it sent him flying across the room. When he landed, he felt something in his chest pop, and it suddenly hurt to breathe. Gasping for air, he scrambled to his feet and backed away from the witch. With her return, the shadows were coordinated once more, and moving toward Yuki.

"You," she declared, revealing that she had chipped a tooth. Her eyes shifted away from him to look at the children. "So you couldn't handle it, could you? You've forgotten that they're nothing more than monsters, creatures to be used and then discarded."

"They're..." Cyrus wheezed, unable to properly speak. He had been about to espouse the virtues of humanity and how Callisto and Grace were still kids. There was also a good chance he would dramatically reveal that he had been working against them since the beginning. However, it hurt to breathe, and monologuing was for villains. How many ribs had he broken? He felt his ribs, then slipped his hand into a pocket to grab the heart seeker dagger.

"Goodbye, Master Cyrus." Elizabeth's eyes turned white, and a funnel of black reached out for him. The temperature dropped, and he realized if that stuff touched his body, it would drain him of what little life he had left. The shadows closest to Yuki turned into a tide of ink that flowed across the opening of the hangar, causing Callisto to turn at the last moment to avoid them. His eyes were large and frightened.

"I resign." Cyrus drew his hand back as if firing an invisible bow, the dagger hovering just above his palm. When he shoved his arm forward, as if doing a palm-strike, the dagger made a high-pitched whistling sound as it slammed into Elizabeth's sternum, piercing her heart. The witch stumbled back, the cyclonic spell fading away.

"Wha...what?" She looked down at the hilt of the dagger. "You...stabbed me?"

"Yep." Cyrus said, looking for his flashlight. "I'm...surprised...worked."

Elizabeth glared at him in contempt, then grabbed the handle of the dagger and pulled it out. The heart seeker blade hissed as if releasing steam, the enchantment that sought to stop a target's heart not yet fulfilled. The witch grunted as the dagger tried to stab her again, her eyes flashing as her magic battled the dagger's.

"Uh oh." Cyrus tried to limp away, but the shadows had surrounded him. He saw his flashlight lying twenty feet away, the glass shattered out. Grunting in disapproval, he started chanting an Enochian passage under his breath. A cone of white light surrounded him, severing the limbs of the nearest shadows.

"That may work on my shadows, but it won't work on me." Elizabeth walked toward him, the blade clutched so tightly in her hand that she was bleeding. "I'm going to pull your spine out through your ass."

"At least...buy me...dinner first." Chuckling, Cyrus closed his eyes, wishing Lily could have heard him.

IT'S MY TURN!

The mage opened his eyes to see that Elizabeth had stopped and was contemplating the menacing doll that stood nearby. Jenny cackled in glee and took a step toward the witch. When Jenny spoke, it was like she was shouting inside Cyrus' head.

"I do know you," Elizabeth muttered. "I'd recognize my own spellwork anywhere."

Jenny said nothing and took a step forward.

"Tonight is simply full of surprises." Smirking, Elizabeth stretched a charred hand in Jenny's direction. "What was your name again? That's right, Janey. To think that little Janey is the doll that gave us all so much trouble."

Jenny took another step forward.

"I guess you're in luck, then." Elizabeth made her fingers look like scissors. "Let's just snip that thread holding you here, shall we?"

She made a cutting motion in the air, and the doll flopped lifelessly on the ground. The witch tilted her head to one side, then looked over at Cyrus.

"My magic was the only thing keeping her here," she explained. "And just like that, she's free to move on. Now about your spine..."

Elizabeth stepped toward the protective barrier of light, but her head suddenly jerked backwards. In the dim shadows of the hangar, the spirit of a young woman with long black hair that hung over her face had appeared, one hand closed tightly around the long, scorched braid in Elizabeth's hair.

Not so fast, wicked witch. The spectral figure lifted her head to reveal a demented smile that stretched from ear to ear. Nobody tells me where to go.

"What?" Elizabeth screamed when Jenny dragged her across the ground and slammed her into the nearest concrete pillar. The shadows all leapt at Jenny in an attempt to protect their summoner, but the spirit ignored them as she flew into the air and carried the witch with her.

Let's go to Oz, the spirit declared, dragging Elizabeth toward a nearby air vent. Click your heels for me, bitch.

Seeing that Jenny had things well in hand, Cyrus moved toward the doll's physical body and scooped it up. His knee locked up when he jogged toward the exit, making his movement more of a stiff-legged dance. Death stood with the children now, consoling Callisto by patting the boy on the head.

"There, there," he said, then pushed the centaur behind an SUV that Bigfoot had thrown earlier. "Master Cyrus, you are looking well."

Cyrus spat a mouthful of blood onto the dirty concrete. "We need to get through this mess right away," he said, gesturing at the shadows that blocked their exit. "These shadows might be some kind of summoned spirits. Here, Grace. This is yours." He handed the doll to the Arachne, who scooped her up. "No man left behind, right?"

Grace nodded and squeezed the doll against her chest.

Gunfire ricocheted off the nearest wall, and the group ducked down as a result.

"Hmm, yes. Okay." Death turned to study the shadows while pulling out his scythe. "There may be some room for interpretation here. I may be able to cut them."

"What's to interpret? It either works or it doesn't."

"Reaping is an artform, Master Cyrus." Death walked toward the mass of clinging shadows. "Though I admit, I often make it look effortless."

The Reaper studied the wall for a few seconds, but was interrupted when a silver blade sliced through the shadows from the other side, followed quickly by another. Death stepped away from the barrier and placed a hand on his chest as the shadows exploded, revealing a slender figure behind them, carrying a blade of the Order in each hand. Dana stepped into the hangar, her eyes looking to Cyrus first, then the kids.

"Take them and go," she said. A bullet punched through her shoulder hard enough that she spun in place and fell into a crouch. "Okay, maybe not yet," she muttered.

A wall of ice sprouted up from the ground between Cyrus and the SoS. Cyrus picked up Grace and ran for the opening in the hangar door with Callisto right behind. The centaur shot ahead of them and through the gap, followed closely by Death. They had just cleared the opening when the ice behind them exploded, showering Cyrus with razor sharp shrapnel which dug into his flesh. He fell to the ground, using his body to cover Grace.

"You're not going anywhere." A figure strode forward from out of the darkness, the crimson light shining on Elizabeth's face. The skin of her face had been partially peeled away to reveal a scaly visage beneath.

"On the contrary, I believe we are." Death placed his body between Cyrus and the witch. "May I ask where our friend Jenny has gone?"

Elizabeth spat, then tried to push her skin back into place. "I'm surprised you didn't cull her yourself."

"She has unfinished business." Death put away his scythe. "It would have been rude."

"Well then she's going to have to stick around for a very long time if she thinks she's going to get one over on me." Elizabeth moved toward Death, but spun around and caught the edge of Dana's sword. "The pizza girl," she sneered.

Dana yanked her blade away and slashed repeatedly at Elizabeth. The witch dodged effortlessly and then summoned a handful of shadows from the ground which restrained the zombie by wrapping her up in dark tendrils.

Inside the hangar, Bigfoot let out a roar, followed by a scream of rage from Yuki.

"It's a shame that Mike isn't here to see this." Elizabeth drew a dagger and moved toward Cyrus. "I would love to see the pain in his--"

Death took a step forward and punched the witch in the face. There was a flash of golden light along with the sound of sleigh bells as Elizabeth was launched into the mountainside. The Grim Reaper chuckled and adjusted the brass knuckles on his fist. The words Christmas Cheer were engraved into the top of them.

"I borrowed these from a friend of mine," he explained as he slipped a second one onto his other fist. "You see, I was feeling rather frustrated after being teased by the mercenaries about being harmless. It really didn't help that they broke one of my favorite mugs. After all, I do hold a position that demands some respect. But don't worry, they only work on people who've been naughty." The Grim Reaper stepped toward the witch. "And you have been very naughty."

Elizabeth growled and extricated herself from the rubble that had tumbled down with her. In the light of the moon, Cyrus could now see more of her scalp. The scales on her body were serrated, and one of her eyes had turned black.

"How dare you," she growled.

"Indeed." Death held up his fists like a pugilist from the 1920s. "Master Cyrus, I would suggest getting the children to safety now. Elizabeth the proper cunt, please put up your dukes."

"Fucking hell," muttered the mage as he scrambled to his feet with Grace in his arms. The Arachne repeated his words, but he didn't bother correcting her as he and Callisto ran away into the trees. Behind him, he heard a shriek of rage followed by another pealing of silver bells.

"HO HO HO, BITCH!" Death's declaration was followed by another high-pitched shriek of rage.

Cyrus didn't know which way to go. Callisto was barely visible through the trees, clearly following the mage's advice and running like hell. However, Grace was with Cyrus instead of her brother, which meant she was currently moving at the speed of a tired old man instead of a horse. He set Grace down and commanded her to stay close behind him. They would move much faster this way.

Groaning at the pain in his knees and his inability to take a deep breath, he tracked the centaur. Behind him, the sounds of gunfire and magic receded as he speed-limped after the boy.

Guided only by the light of the moon, he followed the centaur's footsteps for almost fifteen minutes before emerging from the trees into a clearing. A huddled figure lay crumpled on the grass and standing over him was a woman holding a wand in her hand.

"Cyrus." Laurel's face was inscrutable in the dark.

"Sister Laurel." Cyrus set Grace down. "I see you caught the boy. Well done."

The woman snorted. "Let's not waste each other's time. I'm aware you helped them escape. I just don't know why."

"Is the boy okay?" Cyrus walked toward the mage, his hands in his pockets. There was something off about Laurel, but he couldn't place what. "I'm guessing you got out through the secret tunnels."

"I did. And I hate running." Laurel shifted her weight and raised her wand. "Last chance, magic man. Who are you actually working for?"

"Does it matter?"

"Perhaps. It's a big world, and there are a few toes I don't want to step on that have interests aligned with ours." The tip of Laurel's wand started glowing. Cyrus frowned. That wasn't a wand or spell he was familiar with. "But I would rather beg for forgiveness than see you take another step forward."

"That's fair." Cyrus scratched his chin and gazed at Callisto. The boy was already stirring, shaking his head as if trying to regain his senses. A dark shadow moved through the grass, circling behind Laurel. Sometimes, it paid to monologue. "Okay, I'll talk. I was working for someone else before I got pulled into this job."

"Who?" Laurel's free hand started glowing with a similar crimson light to the runes in the hangar. It was enough to illuminate her eyes, which were no longer brown. They were an icy blue, almost white.

The mage casually adjusted the collar of his coat. His sleeve was still hanging from where the fabric had been torn. Digging his toe into the dirt, he shifted sideways to present a smaller target.

"Family," he replied.

"You don't have a family." Laurel cocked her head to one side, the light of the moon revealing that there were dark lines all across her face.

He nodded. "That's right, I don't. But there's something that you clearly forgot."

"Which is?" The way Laurel spoke, it was almost like she was an entirely different person.

Cyrus saw Grace take Callisto by the hand and pull. Laurel turned her attention to the children and raised her wand.

"They call me Master Cyrus for a reason." The moment the words left his lips, the frost wand was in his hand, an icy blast smacking Laurel's wand hand away from the kids. Rather than drop her wand, she let the blast spin her in place so that she could take aim and fire. The crimson beam of energy narrowly missed Cyrus, but tore a huge gouge across the landscape where it struck, eventually splitting a tree in half. Flames rose up from the blast, immediately scorching the hair of his beard.

Cyrus' jaw dropped in shock. He didn't know the spell, but he recognized the smell. The faint stench of sulfur wafted across the clearing.

"You sold your soul to a demon? When?"

Laurel laughed. It was a loud, throaty cackle that filled the clearing. When she looked at him again, he could see the malevolent energy in her eyes. She raised her open hand and Cyrus saw a terrifying eye in the center of her palm. The eye blinked, and Cyrus was assailed by a terrible energy that blasted his mind. It felt like fishhooks had pierced his body, each one attached to a string that pulled in a different direction. Cyrus screamed and fell to the ground, clutching at his face.

"She looked up to you, you know." Laurel walked toward him, her hand outstretched and the eye watching. "It's why she felt so threatened by your presence. I don't pretend to understand. It was nothing more than some classic daddy issues, honestly. I guess that's just what happens when you grow up without parents."

Cyrus looked up at Laurel, blood leaking from his eyes. He muttered a single word in Enochian, using sheer force of will to dismiss the demon's oppression. Laurel's eyes widened in disbelief as Cyrus rammed the dagger he had tucked into his belt through her thigh. She went down on one knee, her eyes bulging out of her head in pain.

"The safe word...is...chucklebunny." He headbutted the witch wearing Laurel's body, then jammed the ice wand into her gut and fired. A starburst of ice flash froze the woman's torso, and she stumbled backward in shock.

"How dare you," she growled, flames now licking across her skin. The ice on her body melted and sloughed off. Cyrus raised his wand and attempted to fire again. However, his hand from the wrist down was encased in ice. When he tried to wiggle his fingers, he realized he couldn't feel them. The witch leapt forward before he could attack, then slammed the palm with the eye in it on top of his head.

"I regret that I can only kill you once," she muttered. He felt the eyelid open against his skin, and then pain wracked his body and he screamed so hard that something in his throat tore. Minutes, hours, days went by and his entire existence was agony. He prayed for mercy, for death, for oblivion, anything that would keep him from feeling the sensation of his soul being ripped apart.

And when the end came, it was in the form of a little girl who threw herself at the witch, biting and punching. Laurel staggered away from Cyrus, desperately fighting off the Arachne. The fight should have been one-sided, but the witch was strong. Eventually, she managed to grab the child with her demonic hand and slam her into the ground.

"What in the hell?" Laurel wiped blood from her face, which the eye seemed to absorb. "You're...the girl?"

Cyrus stared in horror as Grace rose from a crouch and stared defiantly at the witch. She bared her teeth, and Laurel fumbled to raise her wand. The eternity of torment he had just experienced was meaningless in the face of what was about to happen.

He opened his mouth and tried to tell Grace to run. But only one word escaped him, a single, powerful syllable.

"Why?" he whispered.

"No man left behind." Grace touched the dog tags around her neck. "Papa, up."

"Abomination." Laurel raised her wand and fired. Grace dodged away from the blast, the landscape exploding beneath where she had been standing. Hellfire rained across the landscape as the witch tried to blast the little Arachne, but Grace was far faster than the witch could ever be.

However, where speed was an asset, lack of experience was her downfall. Cyrus immediately realized that Grace was attempting to hunt the witch, and when the little Arachne slid beneath a beam of fire to leap at Laurel, the witch slammed her demonic palm into the child's forehead. Immediately, the Arachne fell to the ground next to Cyrus, her legs curling up beneath her.

There were no final words, no moment of contemplation. Laurel lowered the wand directly at Grace, the air around it shimmering with heat. By the time the magic surged down her arm and through the wand, Cyrus had wrapped his body around the child, using every last bit of magic and knowledge to wrap the two of them in protective shielding.

Cyrus screamed, the protective sigils on his coat igniting and flaring out before his own magic could take over. His magic wrapped around the two of them as a silken cocoon made of light, his adrenaline skyrocketing. There were so many rules of magic put into place to protect spellcasters, to keep them from accidentally killing themselves when they channeled magic.

Cyrus broke them all. He yanked magic from the earth without asking, even tried to pull it from the heat of the hellfire. The magical items in his pocket fell out as the magic of the coat failed, and he forced the energy stored within them into his barrier. Ice, lightning, and fire flickered around the edges of his vision, the protective magic reflected in the shimmering eyes of the child beneath him. The ground around them caught on fire and turned to ash as the flames burned his flesh, but did not penetrate his body.