A Hand in Hell

The man lunged at me before I was even done sizing him up, a blur of flesh that darted past me and tore through my side with sharp claws that put his sister's to shame. I staggered away from the blow, blood gushing geyser-like from the four gashes in the side of my corset, only to fall right into the path of the next as the man circled me. A growl rising in my throat, I locked on to his barely visible form with determination, and when his massive talons lashed out at me again, I caught him full-force in the throat with a punch he never could've seen coming.

He flew straight back into the side of the shelving unit I'd fallen against only moments ago, and I leaped after him, my fist already heading for his throat in anticipation of the final blow. He dropped so quickly that he seemed to vanish, and my knuckles met the metal bars of the shelf instead of the malleable flesh I'd expected. I grunted, but I could only feel the noise instead of hear it as the metal twisted beneath the strength of the attack, my fist now resting in a crater of bowed steel and the bolt that kept the nearby leg of the unit secured to the floor pulling violently from its moorings to set the whole unit swaying.

A foot in the small of my back forced me face-first into the bent bars, and the instant it fell away, I threw myself to the side to avoid the attack that was sure to come. A set of bloody claws struck the steel head-on, snapping cleanly off at the base with a low growl from the man. I straightened, a set of claws all my own springing from my fingertips, but the man ducked beneath my initial attack and tore through my stomach with a fresh collection of talons.

The old wound there ached, my still-growing liver throbbing beneath, but I didn't let it slow me down. Adopting the speed he so seemed to love, I dashed around to his back, then again when he spun to face me, and stabbed the whole of my clawed hand into the fleshy surface just to the right of his spine. Angling my nails upward upon entry, I aimed to rip through as many of the bastard's organs as I could, aiming for a quick end to this stage of the battle; but before I had the time to destroy as much tissue as I'd have liked, before I'd even had the time to savor his pained half-screams, I felt a new set of claws hurtling toward my back.

With my hand still inside the man, I whipped around and forced him in front of me. My would-be attacker tore into her own brother instead, driving her claws straight into his chest, unable to stop. I watched with sick satisfaction as a wet gurgle bubbled its way out of the man's throat and his eyes rolled back into his head, and his body went limp, hanging from the willing skewer that was my deep-reaching hand. I smiled wickedly at the woman as she withdrew her hand, but any satisfaction I'd been expecting upon seeing her face quickly dissipated. She was entirely unmoved, staring me down just as calmly as before as she shook what she could of her sibling's blood from her fingers with a hard shake.

"Your daddy wasn't kidding, was he?" I said wryly, jerking my hand unceremoniously from the man's abdomen and catching him by the hair before he had time to fall far. The scent of blood filled the air around me, and I grew giddy. "You're just the perfect little killing machine, ain't ya?" For good measure, I plunged my already gore-covered claws into the man's throat and tore haphazardly through his flesh until a hard tug at his hair was all I needed to separate his head from his body. Blood was everywhere now, a massive puddle at my feet speckled with bits and pieces of tattered flesh, and the high I'd gotten from the kill mixed with the euphoria brought about by the incense of blood in my nose until I was weak in the knees.

I tossed the body and its dejected head aside, but she remained unmoved and unspeaking, merely waiting with the utmost patience until the fight was ready to continue. Her father, however, clicked his tongue from his safe spot by the boxes, waggling a finger back and forth in rebuke. "Come now, Zerakeina. That had better not be all you have to say for your dear brother." This gentle prompting seemed to be all the woman needed, as she was suddenly all bared fangs and growing claws, and she bounded across what little space separated us to begin slashing at me with those talons anew.

I followed her movements as closely as I could, ducking and dodging her claw strikes with careful precision until just the right moment, when I found an opening that allowed me to escape the place where I was pinned between this whirlwind of a woman and the damaged shelving unit. Once again using the speed her brother so loved, I made my way under her arm and around to her back, even emulating her brother so far as to ram my foot into her back, forcing her front-first into the warped metal.

She began to shove back against my foot with a strength I hadn't quite expected, enough to shove me over as she obviously planned to do, and I quickly dropped my foot and leaped backward, over her brother's body, to escape the onslaught of claws that I was sure would come the moment she was freed. Oddly enough, on this front, I was proven wrong, as she turned to face me without attack. Oh, no. She saved the strike for when she suddenly appeared before me, faster even than her brother, inches from my face, and slapped her palm flat against my stomach, digging her claws into my flesh to keep me from slipping away from her.

She mimicked me as I'd mimicked her sibling, flooding me with enough concentrated energy, enough precisely targeted mana, to sear through every organ, every tissue, every ounce of fluid within my abdomen. I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out as the first organ ruptured, the delicious irony of it too much to keep me, even in all this pain, from smiling — my newly grown liver.

I chuckled through the pain, the humor enough to return my faculties to me for just a moment, and grabbed her wrist tightly enough to snap the bones right then and there, even as I tore her hand from my stomach with no care for the claws ripping through my battered flesh. Her free hand hurried toward my throat, flickering with the same pale energy that now surged within me, rushing to regrow my freshly destroyed liver, but I caught it in my own empty hand, smiling wickedly.

"Now, now, Zera dear," I said flirtatiously, pulling her body flush against mine with a sharp tug at her arms, and for the first time, she seemed stunned, though her expression still didn't shift even a hair. "You can't possibly be so eager to end this dance so soon." I pressed my lips to hers forcefully, and, still holding tightly on to her wrists, I forced a stream of raw energy from my lips, from my fingertips, and from every inch of me where our bodies touched. Finally, finally, I saw her empty mask fall away, and as her eyes widened in shock, fear, and pain, I let my eyes drift shut and held her inescapably to me with the very power that now crushed her very being.

She screamed into my lips for the barest moment, then fell perfectly silent, sagging against me. I freed her wrists and caught her in my arms as she dropped, savoring the scent of melting flesh and liquefied entrails as I slowly lowered her to the bloody puddle that made up the floor. I could smell it, fresh on the air — the mingling blood of siblings torn to shreds long before their time. It smelled sweeter somehow since I knew it was their own father who had sent them to their demise, their own father who had watched them die.

When I could feel no hint of a pulse throbbing anywhere within her, I withdrew what remained of my mana and let my arms slip from around her. I opened my eyes to survey my handiwork, finding her cheeks streaked with rivulets of blood, her own eyes having burst long ago. I reached up to touch my own eyelids, finding them covered in the same gory coating that ran down her cheeks. You'd think I would've noticed something like that.

What could I say? She was a good kisser.

I stood and turned from the bodies of my decimated enemies, smiling sweetly when my eyes landed on the leader, on the reckless father who let them die. He looked wholly unperturbed, but I wouldn't let that dampen my good cheer. "Didn't even think about stepping in, did you?" I remarked. "Didn't even consider saving the lives of your own children even though you so obviously could."

He shrugged but otherwise didn't bother to change his posture. "Survival of the fittest, my dear Vera. What good would they be to me if they were weak enough to let you take them out?"

"But even after you'd taken such pains to mold them into exactly what you wanted them to be?"

Another shrug. "A wasted effort, as you have seen. They weren't worth the time I put into them, and they certainly weren't worth saving in the end."

"Cold, dude," I said absently, my eyes now drifting to my main concern: Lauren. She still sat perched on her knees on the floor, purplish chains of shimmering energy wrapped around her limbs and torso, but now, she only looked at me, such pleading shining in her blue eyes, such helplessness emanating from her very core, that I immediately bristled. When I noticed the blood dripping from her freshly busted lip, my rage redoubled, and I whirled on the red-skinned demon who still crouched beside her. "Did you fucking hit her?"

He smiled innocently. "Well, how else was I supposed to keep her quiet?"

I took a threatening step toward him, hands tightly balled into fists, angrier at this one simple sentence than I had been throughout the entire battle, and the leader laughed. "You'd better get up, Oltoigar. I think the lady's looking for a fight."

The demon sneered. "Why don't you deal with her yourself? She just killed your kids. Do something about it."

The leader chuckled. "Don't you know how this works? The king is meant to be the last of his kingdom to fall. His underlings are meant to rise up in his defense. What would be the purpose of your Council membership if you didn't stand to defend your leader? You're my last defense, dear boy. Do you not care about your leader? Or are you merely afraid?"

Oltoigar sneered again, rising to all six feet and some odd inches of his massive height. "Am I afraid, or are you? Last I checked, you were the one hiding behind your fellow demons, not I."

"If you don't have the courage to face your challenger, just say so. I will fight her, I will win, then I will hunt you down and end you myself for your insolence."

My eyes rested on Lauren throughout the entirety of this petty exchange. Her lip quivered, and her little bell jingled, and her pretty eyes pleaded, and I was shocked at myself for finding it all to be endearing instead of pathetic. I should've killed her when I'd had the chance. I should've stopped this travesty of myself and my nature from ever happening!

In spite of myself, I took a step closer to the girl and murmured, as comfortingly as I could, "It'll be okay, Lauren. I'm your wife, remember? I won't let anything happen to you." She shook her head sadly but said nothing, and the leader let loose a hearty laugh.

"Wife? Are you two playing pretend again? I've overheard little snippets of your games before, and I must admit, the two of you are quite adorable together." The leader chuckled to himself, but I wouldn't let my eyes leave Lauren's. I should've killed her back then. I should've avoided all of this.

But God, was I glad I hadn't.

"Aren't we, though?" I said, smiling gently at her in an uncertain attempt at raising her spirits. "And I have a feeling we'll be quite adorable together for some time to come."

"Oh, ho ho," the leader jeered. "Even after she ran from you? Even after she made it so plain that she wants nothing more than to return to her old life, free of demons?" He tsked, and my smile faded. "Selfish, your feelings for this poor creature. Wanting to keep her against her will even as you claim to be so fond of her. Perhaps you're more of a demon than I've given you credit for."

My jaw clenched. He was right. It pained me to admit it, but even if I couldn't feel the guilt as keenly as a human, even if I couldn't let the girl go out of the goodness of my own heart, I had sense enough to know just what I was doing — and to know what I was morally obligated to do.

"Once I kill your peon and finish you off," I said, finally turning to the leader, "I'll be free to let her do as she pleases. If she wants to return to her family, she can. And if any more demons decide to interfere in her life, I'll put a stop to them, just like I'm going to do with you fuckers."

"Vera," Lauren gasped, and Oltoigar cackled behind me.

"Well, then, let's hurry this along, Verapaini," he said, positively ecstatic, as I looked back at him. I could see mana shining within him, sparks falling like snow from his fingers, his horns, even his nose, and I smiled darkly. Yes, he would be some opponent, even compared to the siblings. "I want to see just what's given you the ability to tear through five of the highest ranking demons in Hell."

"I can't wait to see you join them in death." And with that, I charged.

I didn't want to admit it, but the previous battles of the day had taken quite a toll on me. My attempt at getting the first hit in this fight, tapping in to what I thought was a great deal of speed, was thwarted with embarrassing ease. A red hand caught mine like a human catching a softball, and with a twist, a crack of bone, I was on my knees with pain lancing down my arm. I remembered his sparking fingertips too late, and before I could pry my broken wrist from his grip, a surge of energy forced its way in.

It felt like I'd stuck my arm in a fire, the scent of melting flesh heavy on the air in an instant, the marrow in my bones beginning to boil. I gritted my teeth to squelch a scream and pulled violently at my arm, but his grip was too tight, my pain too great. My vision began to dim beneath it, and desperately, I forced my feet under me and sprang up and backward with all my blind strength.

The deluge of mana stopped instantly, and Oltoigar and I toppled to the floor as one. As my vision returned, I dared to spare a glance at my battered limb as I rolled off of my opponent, and the sight of blackened, sticky flesh brought a snarl from my throat. Directly for the arm, not for what lay beyond! He was toying with me.

And he was winning.

I guided my own mana into the limb, mending the flesh and what lay beneath while trying to dull the searing pain, and began to rise. But that red hand caught my good arm and drew me back down with a sharp tug.

"Nice trick you had there," he said to me, smiling, as he wrapped his arms around my struggling form, and when the heat of rising energy began to swell around me once more, I began to flail harder. "Draw your opponent in for a full-body work up. Really nice." The power began to seep into me, but I was quick to counter it, redirecting mana from my mending arm, my regrowing liver, to force into him.

Something between a hiss and a moan left him as I targeted his power with mine, striving to push him back with all I had left, and I glared when he smiled. "I didn't think you'd have quite so much left. Bravo."

Suddenly, I saw only black, heard a shriek in the distance that couldn't have possibly belonged to me, but somewhere, deep inside, I knew it did. My mana was nothing to him, not even a barrier. My skin was nothing to him. My body. All was nothing to him. White-hot agony was lacing through my every pore, my every cell, my ever atom and ion, with surgical precision. I was encased in it. I was it.

"No," I gasped. "Stop." I struggled even as he laughed. I pooled together every ounce of mana that I could scrounge up while lost in this sea of pain, and I thrust it at him, all of it, going right for the brain from where my palm had begun to shove desperately at his face. His laugh died away. His energy lightened just a hair. But it didn't stop. I didn't leave this metaphorical furnace.

In the distance, I heard her. I heard her screaming my name, screaming the demon's name, screaming obscenities and pleas in all the appropriate tones. But nothing would stop him, and nothing would resurrect me.

Was I still pushing at him?

I was. I felt my palms on his face, my knees stabbing into him, my whole body squirming.

Was I still using my mana?

I wasn't. There was nothing left. My stomach throbbed where a half-formed liver lay, useless. I felt woozy from a blood loss I'd staunched with my energy long ago.

Was I an alcohol-dependent bully afraid of her own demonic form?

I was. I was.

Then, suddenly, everything died away. The screams, the laughter, the popping of cells and boiling flesh. And there it was, the only thing on the silent air — the jingling of a little bell. The jingling of possession. The jingling of a struggle. The jingling of her, she who could only escape this if I did, she who had followed me into this world expecting me to protect her.

She who had piqued my interest, my addiction, my affection.

She.

With a breathless roar, I pressed my fingertips into the demon's face and forced my claws from them, straight into flesh, between teeth, through tongue.

His mana left me just as quickly as it had come, and for the first time in what felt like years, I was able to take a deep breath. It was knocked from me before I'd even finished inhaling, however, when the demon tore my hands from his face and threw me to the floor with such force that I swore I'd felt the concrete crack beneath me. I struggled to catch my breath once again, struggled to regain my vision and any feeling beyond agony.

Instinct sent me rolling to the side, and my sight returned just in time for me to watch a red fist shatter the floor where my stomach had just been. I leaped to my feet, and he was on me in a heartbeat, aiming punches that weren't nearly as precise as his mana strikes. It was an effort to dodge them, as I half focused on guiding what little energy I had left to my liver, my arm, my fresher wounds, but still, I could dodge them. I almost laughed when the reason for it dawned on me.

"You aren't…so good," I panted as I dipped and dodged my way around punches, slowly regaining my balance, "at the physical, are you, Olto Baby?" I was sure that my pissing him off by stabbing him in the face had contributed a little bit to his lack of accuracy, but this? Ha!

"Shut up, cunt," he growled through gritted teeth, and I ducked beneath a fist that now glowed faintly. He was recharging, and I needed to figure out a counter strategy. Now.

"Sure," I said laughingly, easing my claws further from my fingertips until they were nearly a foot long and feeling like fucking Wolverine all the while. I sidestepped an electrically charged attack and darted to his back, raising my claws. "I find that it's easier to kill with my mouth closed, anyway." I lashed out with one hand, but, already halfway through a turn to face me, he threw up a hand to block the attack. My claws pierced his palm with a spray of blood the color of his skin, and he lost no time in taking my throat in an iron grip. With a jerk of his impaled hand, he snapped off a good chunk of my claws, and I pulled my other arm back in preparation.

Mana flowed into me in a rush, and my every muscle tensed as it raced through me like an electric shock. How fucking much does he have? I snarled mentally, a flimsy attempt at keeping myself focused. I could feel my throat sealing shut, my breaths becoming less and less full, and panic surged within me. It was enough to force my arm free of its rigid bindings, and I thrust the length of my claws through his stomach, then tore them sideways.

His torso tottered to one side, blood bursting forth from his mouth, and his fingers fell away from my neck to clutch desperately at the gaping hole in his side. The pale glow of his only strength rushed to fix the failing of his greatest weakness — his own constitution.

Told you, I mouthed to the son of a bitch, at the mercy of my closed-off trachea, and with a final swing of my arm, I tore through the entirety of his middle with my talons, spine and all. His upper half fell away with hardly a cry from him, and as his legs toppled down after it, I stomped on his throat until it was a bloody, gory mess.

Had to be sure, you know.

Getting a bit hazy from not breathing, I used a sliver of my energy to reform the opening of my trachea and took a massive gulp of air. I paused just long enough to take stock of myself — my liver was moving along nicely but nowhere near complete, my arm fully mended but for a little bit of a black char on the surface, my cells throbbing with pain but as whole as I could make them with such little mana left — then I turned to face the leader with a devilish smile.

"Are you ready for me now, baby?"