Uninvited Guest #4
The hound comes at me again. It stays low and goes for my leg.
Then it dives under my next swing and slashes its claws out.
They ring against the metal of my boots, doing little damage.
I eye the claw marks for a brief second before pressing my advantage and moving it away from Kahill, so I have room to move and distance from the other creatures in case they turn their focus toward me.
The hound settles and begins to circle me, but I move with it.
Its body vibrates as it gives off a menacing growl, peeling back its lips to show me its not-so-pearly teeth.
They’re jagged, knife-like, and half the size of my forearm, and by the looks of them, he’s in dire need of hygiene standards and a good deal of floss.
Bones jut out under his rib cage. Its distended belly is nearly touching the ground, as if it’s eaten more than its fill recently.
“Come on, then. If you want a piece of me, you’re gonna have to be brave enough to come and get it.”
Its next lunge earns it a massive gash across its side.
Inky black blood spills to the ground, and muscles shred apart.
The beast snarls and, in a rage, now dashes forward.
I wait, and wait, then fall back and impale my sword through his neck.
I close my mouth and turn my head as blood leaks out and over me.
The hound attempts to bite my face off, but I dodge it at the last second and twist my blade.
The wound is fatal, and slowly the hound stops moving and goes limp above me.
I toss the corpse to the side and roll to my feet.
The creatures attacking Kahill are more cautious, darting in and out of reach.
He works his blade as if he’s conducting a symphony, wielding it back and forth, and their gazes track the movement.
However, they continue working in concert with one another to distract him and get at his back.
And though wounded, burned, and bleeding, these two are more intelligent than the hound.
They wait with vicious gazes for an opening.
Kahill splits the torso of the first one who rushes forward in half, but it costs him.
The second one jumps and latches onto his back.
Before he can reach out to grasp it and before I can get there, it sinks its claws through his cloak and armor above his shoulder blades and bites at the back of his neck.
Kahill lets out a snarl of his own and reaches around, grabs the creature by its leg, and yanks it forward, throwing it a few feet in front of him.
His entire body lights up, and flames ignite across his cloak and armor from hem to hood.
Before advancing, he spares me a look. Irises no longer deep green dance with flames, and his grin isn’t visible, but I know he’s enjoying this.
Most likely, his body has already mended itself, and now, he’s enjoying letting his inner beast out of its cage, if only for a moment.
He lowers his sword, walks forward as he drags the tip across the ground a few feet, leaving flaming earth in its wake.
Then, when the creature launches for him, he simply grabs it with his left hand by its slender neck and lets his body do the rest. Heat spreads from him into the creature, and it begins to incinerate the demon from the inside out.
Its veins fill with fire. Its skin turns to charcoal, red lines blaze through its organs, and in seconds, it becomes nothing more than a burned husk.
Kahill squeezes.
The head collapses in his grip, bone giving way with a brittle crack before disintegrating entirely, crumbling into ash that spills through his fingers. The body follows seconds later, folding in on itself as it breaks apart and joins the mound at his feet.
A demon no longer.
Just more ruin for the wind to claim and carry away.
Kahill grinds it into the dirt with the sole of his boot, scattering the remains. Then, with a sharp, impatient motion, he shoves his hood back and tears the mask free from his face, letting it fall carelessly into the dirt.
His arm lifts as he cracks his neck—once, then again—sharp pops breaking the quiet. He rolls his shoulders after, working out the stiffness, then sweeps his blade through the air in a loose arc, testing its weight.
“Fuck… it feels good to be free.”
A chuckle follows.
The sound slides down my spine like a blade made of ice.
“Kahill?”
Slowly, he turns to face me.
“Well… hello, old friend.” The voice, the malicious grin, doesn’t belong to Kahill, nor do the eyes that have turned solid black, which tells me this situation has gone from bad to worse, and there’s no telling how long it will take Kahill to rein this demon back under his control.
“Polly, Polly, Polly…” he croons, savoring the name as he strides toward me. “It’s been too long.” Less than a foot away, he tips his head to the side. He studies me, like I’m an insect. “Tell me, did you miss me?”
Fuck. He’s back.
Dread coils tight in my gut. I brace for what comes next. Because, unlike Kahill—who delights in ruffling my feathers, in pushing, provoking, coaxing—this version of him doesn’t know the meaning of no.
He takes. No restraint. No half measures. And he’s insatiable. All impulse. Hunger. And fury. The equivalent of Kahill, on a massive amount of habituates and fueled by hellfire.
The Devil’s spawn in the flesh.