Hellfire

Interval Thirteen

The pain was constant. Lucius felt the bullets burning within his body, refusing to budge. They spread poison in his blood, making his bones ache and his eyes to throb. The hellfire the witch had blasted into him lingered, eating at his face and neck, and digging in deeper into his chest. Still, he'd experienced worse from Susan. Her fire was far greater, hotter, angrier. That witch had paled in comparison.

Lucius cradled Susan closer, looking down at her asleep in his arms, her weight a comfort and her warmth telling him she was truly safe. He softly touched her cheek, pushing her hair from the blood sticking to her as he slowly knitted the damage left by her own fire and the bruises from bullets. He gazed at her lashes, the elegant shape of her face, her lips parted and soft, his arms tightening about her slight body, warm and feminine against his chest. A whirlwind possessed him - fury she had fought another witch and been harmed, his teeth hummed with the need to feed, her throat coaxing him to, and a blossoming ache in his chest that she was safe.

Lucius was aware that wouldn't be the case for long though.

And Ella had been taken.

He could feel Alistair's rage. It was raw, wild, instinctive. He was willing to dive into the midday sun to find his Ella, willing to destroy himself to bring her home from those who'd harm her. It made Lucius smile ever so slightly. There was a vampire in his nephew after all.

But that drive was going to kill him.

Lucius' mind fled for just a moment, diving into a bat. He didn't pay attention to Oliver blocking Alistair's way, the sweat glistening over his honey skin, nor to Sam who was ashen with dread and exhaustion. He didn't listen to the words Alistair shouted. He just dove to Alistair's shoulder and surged into his mind, commanding him to sleep.

Just like that, his nephew crumpled to the floor.

'Get him to bed then sleep yourselves. Arnold is hunting Ella. Doc will guard. The bats and wolves will devour the bodies.' Lucius instructed. 'We'll deal with this mess at dusk.'

Oliver sighed in relief, before hauling Alistair away, melting into mist. Sam remained though, her gaze on the bat flitting in the air.

'Uncle. What about Ella? Will she be safe?'

'We'll find the witch who took her.'

'And Susan? That witch fought her. Saw her.'

He flashed a hot spear of aggression into her mind. He wasn't going to repeat himself.

Sam nodded timidly before she, too, folded away into mist.

Lucius wasn't done yet. He had to find what information he could, before exhaustion and the sun grew too much. As a bat, he roamed the house, observing every inch of damage with dull interest. His home had been ripped apart. Holes and rubble, blood and ruin. The damage didn't matter. He knew a lamia group who'd rebuild the foundations within a day, and Miriam was a hardy worker, always cleaning up after Susan's burning without a fuss. It was the fact hunters drew this close. That a threat had torn through his home, fought his family and tried to open that door.

Acidic hatred sputtered through him.

No one could open that door.

All it led to was Hell.

Lucius flexed with still fury and released himself from the bat to dive into the nearest of his wolves. It had been devouring the dead, alongside the other six; his muzzle bloodied as it curled its snake-like tongue about bones, organs, flesh and sinew and drew in everything into its unnaturally gaping maw, the corpses tumbling into its belly of emptiness.