FATE\Deus Decipit

Chapter 50: God Willing

...

Chauncey sped through the dark streets, far faster than what was safe, and found himself thankful for Caster's suggestion at every turn- not having to worry about traffic or the laws of the road in what would otherwise be a bustling metropolis.

Next to him, Cheval stared at his master with waiting eyes, sadistic glee burning behind the crimson exterior. Chauncey had never been in such peril before, and his familiar was very satisfied with the result.

"Enough of that!" Chauncey nipped before whipping out his phone and throwing it on the passenger seat, "Call that bastard's bitch of a wife, we're gonna go pick her up!"

The dog glared at its owner, taunting him.

"I know what I said, Cheval! Just do it! I can't stomach leaving those girls in this hellhole."

The hound rolled his shoulders as if it were a shrug, and the phone suddenly became alight with Filza's name as the call started. Cheval, being a devil, had limited abilities largely under the umbrella of 'paranormal'. This included limited telekinesis, but, more broadly, it allowed him to perform minor miracles, such as unlocking and subsequently starting a stranger's car without the keys.

After the second ring, the screen changed as if to signal a pickup, but it wasn't Filza's voice on the line, "Sorry, this number isn't available right now, please try again later."

It was hard for him to keep his eyes on the road, "What the Hell!? Try it again!"

Cheval called again, but with the same result. The hell-beast snarled at the dysfunctional device before pawing it away onto the floor of the vehicle in frustration.

"Ugh! Damn that Caster! It must be him right?"

He could feel the hound grant a knowing smirk as he drank up his master's distress.

"Fuck you, Cheval. I'll get them myself, and then we're out of here!"

Though the hound couldn't speak under normal circumstances, it was nonetheless a rare moment where Cheval had no sort of retort for his master. There was no such thing as a devil's love, but that didn't change the fact that Cheval was still Chauncey's familiar, and so was still reliant on the mage for his continued existence in this plane. Though the devil found glee in his master's suffering, he had everything to gain by preserving his life, and the danger was far from over- the night was yet still young.

Chauncey winded through the labyrinthine streets, his mind rushing to calculate the most optimal route back to the hotel, all the while doing his best to estimate how long it would take to get back. Turning onto another thin street- he found it blocked by an odd crowd. He instinctively slammed on the brakes, and, struggling to control the vehicle, swerved, the car doing a complete spin before landing nearly parallel with the sidewalk, the front of the car slamming into a lamppost and taking out the front light.

The street was thin, the buildings close together with no space between them. He could only go forward or back. Looking at the crowd in front of him, he almost thought they were zombies, but they weren't- or didn't seem to be. There were people of various ages and backgrounds, laughing with vacant eyes- but closer inspection showed that, indeed, there were undead scattered among them, blending in with the crowd. In front of them, a woman with short-cut brown hair stood hands-crossed. She wore a baggy tank with her bra showing, and cutoffs that may as well have been denim underwear with fishnets and high heels: a prostitute if he'd ever seen one, or, perhaps more likely, a woman so whorish that she wouldn't ask for money at all.

He was in no mood for nonsense, and prepared to hit the accelerator again- before noticing something else. Behind the crowd, too far away to see if they were dead or alive, figures in uniform stretched something across the pavement. They were most likely tire strips, or something that fulfilled the same purpose at least.