Purple and Green

“I don’t suppose you could port us out of here,” Tibias asked, though he feared that he already knew the answer.  He was supporting all of Kole’s weight and his clothes were already soaked with his partner’s icy blood.

“No.”  There was only the slightest hint of fear in the reaper’s voice, but that was more than he had ever shown in the long years of their friendship.  Mammon began to laugh again, a deep sound that reverberated in Tibias’ chest.  The last thing that he was going to hear was a demon prince, mocking him.  The Brit stood as tall as he could while supporting Kole’s weight and stared Mammon down.  The monster’s form blurred as warm blood dribbled onto Tibias’ good eye.  This time, he didn’t bother wiping it away.

Without warning, a purple blur appeared from beyond Tibias’ vision and crashed into the blur that was Mammon.  Both went sprawling.  In an instant, Tibias was dragging Kole off to the side, where he’d be out of the way and relatively safe.  Placing Kole on the ground, Tibias tore a strip of fabric from his soiled shirt and tied it to the cut above his eye to divert the flow of blood.  Checking to make sure that his brass knuckles were still on his hand, he headed back into the fight.

Tibias’ stomach dropped as, across the hall, Mammon batted what had before been only a purple blur out of the air; Keera was pinned between the demon’s horned tail and the floor.

Dammit, he mentally cursed as he ran.  I told her to leave!  The angel lifted the demon’s tail and slipped out of the trap before he could reach her.  With the beating she took earlier, Tibias was surprised that she still had the strength for such a feat.  Keera took off into the air, daggers in hand, and then dived, attacking the demon from above and weaving to avoid his deadly tongue.  Taking advantage of the distraction, Tibias darted forward and landed a solid blow to Mammon’s abdomen just as the beast’s paw knocked Keera out of the sky.  The demon fell backwards and the angel landed with a thud a few yards from Tibias.

“I thought I ordered you to leave,” he barked, not taking his eyes off of the demon.

“You did,” Keera said, amazingly on her feet and standing beside him.  “But, you never ordered me not to come back.”

“Mere semantics,” he grumbled, but she was already in the air.  Tibias charged Mammon, drawing his attention, while Keera crashed into his head, getting in a few slices with her dagger and causing the demon to growl in pain, before she was flung off.  Hurtling downward too fast to recover, she bowled into Tibias.  She seemed to rise as soon as the pair hit the ground and offered a hand to help Tibias to his feet.  He took it, but noticed for the first time that her pale skin was glowing a faint and ghostly violet.

“Ms. Trean, please tell me you have not done what I think you have,” Tibias implored as she pulled him up.  He had never heard of an angel drinking demon blood before, but this was Keera and she was exhibiting all of the symptoms.  The young woman ducked her head and flushed with shame, silently confirming his accusation.

“Let’s not worry about that until we’re sure that we’ll both be around long enough to make it worth our while.”  She lifted her head to face the graying man, her eyes betraying the fear in her heart.  Tibias nodded his assent.

“Shall we have another go then?” he asked with a determined smile.  Keera responded with an impish grin and took off.  She occupied the demon’s tongue and hands, while Tibias charged his torso, but, this time, the demon was ready for him and the human was forced to dodge his swishing tail.  The stalemate continued for minutes without anyone landing a blow, but Mammon only had to wait for his opponents to tire; he did not have to wait long.

Switching tactics, Mammon lowered a hand to block Tibias and swung his tail into the sky, smashing Keera into the ceiling.  The angel fell to the floor.  She tried to stand, crawling to her hands and knees, but her limbs shook and collapsed underneath her; the effects of the demon blood had worn off.

Unhindered by the flying pest, Mammon flicked Tibias backwards into a nearby wall.  He roared and laughed in victory.

Lit from behind by the lights beyond, a bulky figure appeared at the entrance to Faneuil Hall.  A female voice, raspy with age and tainted with a Boston accent, started chanting in an ancient tongue.  The woman smashed a bottle into the ground, releasing a cloud of green smoke.  Mammon’s laughter sputtered to a stop as he began to wheeze and cough.  He moved off away from the scene, defeated, but only temporarily.