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8. Hey there

Delilah woke up in a cold sweat, desperately trying to remember what had happened. Had the sanctuary got her?
She looked around, taking in her surroundings. The bed sheets weren't scratchy and thin, the mattress she was now sat up on wasn't hard or cold, but soft and warm.
Not a sanctuary goal bed.
She looked around, and saw that she was in a large room, with soft LED lights that cast a lilac haze about the room, and soft furnishings.
Definitely not a sanctuary goal cell.
She spun around, and dangled her legs off the side of the bed. She was about to try to stand, when she saw a pair of crutches leaning against the bedside table with a note attached.
'Oh right,' she suddenly remembered.
She looked down at her leg, which was, in Delilah's opinion, pretty fucked up.
She snatched the note, which read,
"Best I could get on short notice."

Delilah's brow furrowed as she tried to remember who had brought her here - wherever here was - when she heard music coming from outside the door.
She supposed she'd probably find out soon enough.
She slowly opened the door and was met by a chic modern interior. Her eyes followed a stray beam of light to a window.
A window presenting the Manhattan skyline, the lights of the city contrasting the dark night above it.
She watched for a moment, happy to see the world going by, when the music once again beckoned her to continue.
She rounded the corner, revealing a large open area, one of those penthouse living rooms, spacious, yet lacking personality.
The music stopped, a guitar was put down, and a voice called out to her.
"I know what you're thinking," it said, "and I've been meaning to redecorate, but I only bought the place last year." She recognised him from the airport. He had deep red hair, and spoke with an inviting English accent, though it was hiding under years of living in the states.
"Who are you?" Delilah asked. Inviting accent or not, she still didn't trust him.
He got up, and casually walked across the room, "Lilian Nameless," he offered, extending a hand, "and I could ask you the same."
Delilah ignored the hand, and sighed, "So my reputation doesn't precede me? How disappointing."
"You'll have to forgive me for not knowing," Lilian explained, "I've sort of been out of the loop in recent years."
Figuring it couldn't do her much harm, Delilah finally answered, "Delilah Valour."
She didn't shake Lilian's hand.
"How long have I been out?" She asked.
"Not too long, maybe eight or nine hours."
Delilah realised that was the longest she'd slept in a while. Sad, really.
"Wait," she realised, "where's Otis?"
"Otis?"
"My dog, is he here?"
Lilian paused.
Delilah extended her claws. She sliced them across Lilian's face, already fearing the worst for Otis as she lost her balance and fell to the ground, clutches clattering.
Lilian lunged, unable to catch her, but at least able to slow her fall before she hit the cold marble floor.
Delilah stared in disbelief. She was weak sure, but a slice like that still should have taken his head off.
She blinked, refocusing on him. Not even a scratch on his face.
"Ah, yes," Lilian said, almost apologetically, "about that. I'm immune to magic."
"What?"
"I was born without a true name. My magic is that I don't have any," he continued to explain whilst extending a hand.
Delilah deliberated for a moment, before grabbing his hand.
Once she was standing again, she stared at Lilian again.
"I'll find your dog," Lilian assured her, "just stay here. Rest."
Delilah wanted to protest, but realised she wasn't in much of a state to tag along. Plus, this Lilian feller had found her, so he could probably find Otis.
"You have 24 hours, then I'm going to burn this place down and find Otis myself."
"No pressure then," Lilian joked in his cocky English accent, already heading towards the door.
Once he left, Delilah sat down on the couch. When was the last time she had watched anything other than the news? She turned the TV on.
The first decent looking thing she found was some program about some military guy hired to infiltrate an arms dealer's inner circle. TV had gotten a lot more complicated since The Dick Van Dyke Show. She shrugged. At least the actors were attractive.
***
Once Lilian had checked around the airport, and found no trace of the dog, he headed towards the nearest Gaol. He figured it would make sense that the sanctuary would use the dog as bait to lure Delilah in, and there would likely be a trap in place. Lilian looked forward to it.
He arrived there and a half hours later at what he believed was the Gaol. He knocked on the door, and an old woman answered through a little hatch on the door. It was like an old speakeasy, and it made Lilian smile.
"Can I help you?" She asked.
Her accent was definitely not that of an upstate New-Yorker.
"Sorry to bother you ma'am, but there's been a change of plans. Miss Valour's dog is being transported to a higher security area," he said casually leaning against the door. It was just a large door as far as he could tell. No enchantments, or none that he could see anyway.
She tried to see into his mind, but of course, she saw nothing. She would have to interrogate him the old fashioned way.
"I don't see your transport team," she questioned, looking out into the street.
"We couldn't bring the van up to the door in case Valour's operatives were watching."
She looked him up and down.
"I've never seen you before."
"Well, that's because I'm British," he said confidently, "I'm working abroad to help deal with the chaos Miss Valour caused up north."
"She sure made a mess," the old woman added, "but unfortunately I can't give permission to transport a prisoner unless I see ID from someone with level 4 clearance or higher."
"No worries, I've got it right here," he reached into his pocket and then produced an ID from when he had done some work for the American sanctuary over a century ago.
"That's an ancient ID card," the old woman remarked.
She was catching on.
"They had to give me an old one since they were on such short notice," he offered. A good excuse, but this was a Gaol officer he was dealing with.
"I'm gonna have to call my supervisor," she said.
"Completely fair," Lilian agreed, "I don't know why they couldn't just print a new -"
He finished picking the lock and slammed the door open, knocking the woman on her back.
She tried to cry for help, but Lilian delivered a swift kick the the chin, which knocked her clean out.
Suddenly two rippers were running toward him sickles out. This extra security must have been that trap he was looking forward to.
He knew that whilst he may have been immune to magic, he could still be sliced to ribbons by their twirling manoeuvres.
He ran back out of the door, and once they had crossed the threshold, they stood on the digit he had drawn before knocking.
They froze in place, and he now had about 9 minutes before they would get unstuck, maybe a little less.
He ran back into the house and quickly found the entrance the Gaol, sneaking down the stairs and quietly but as quickly as he could. If those rippers got free and blocked his exit, he was fucked. And also probably dead.
He crept past a few guards, who were, luckily for Lilian, not doing a very good job.
He went to the temporary holding cells. Surely they wouldn't have put a dog in an actual cell, right? He hoped not.
A few prisoners leered at him as he went by, likely assuming he was a guard. He rounded the corner, and saw a Golden Retriever chained to a cell door.
He went over to it, and it bared its teeth at him, growling softly. He took the freezer bag out of his jacket and tossed a lump of bacon to the dog.
It quickly ate it, and looked back at Lilian, no longer aggressive, but instead wagging. Then he took a piece of Delilah's jeans that had been torn up at the airport and held it out to the dog. Lilian figured the bacon would have been enough, but he wasn't taking any chances. He sniffed it, and then licked Lilian's hand.
"Ok boy, let's get this chain off of you."
He took a file from out of his jeans and started working on the link that kept the chain around the dog's neck.
After a minute of cutting, he looked at his progress. Shit, this was taking too long.
He worked as fast as he could, and by the time the link wore through, his hands were grazed and his finger tips bled.
He freed the dog, and it followed him out of the temporary holding cells, and back up the stairs. When he reached the top of the stairs, he froze. The rippers were gone.

He instinctively lunged back and a sickle came for his throat, and fell down the stairs to the Gaol, the noise alerting the previously slacking guards.
They ran over, and threw fireballs at him whilst he got up.
He ignored them and turned his attention back to the rippers, who were already upon him.
He caught a boot to the chest, and sprawled backwards, managing to roll back to his feet before the rippers attacked again. One went left and the other went right, flanking him.
He narrowly avoided slice after slice. These rippers had clearly been given permission to kill, and he was pretty sure they were going to manage.
One ripper then pushed off of a rail, and got a kick past Lilian's block, aiming straight for the diaphragm. He gasped for air, and a split second before the sickle met his head, a familiar set of teeth sunk into the ripper's wrist.
With Otis keeping the other ripper busy, Lilian was able to focus on the other. He was able to compose himself enough to pull his own blade out, a dagger about the length of his forearm.
Without magic, Lilian had had to find other ways to prevail in combat. Over three hundred years had given Lilian plenty of time to learn how to use a blade.
The ripper was fantastic, as they always were, but he was not as experienced as Lilian. With his own blade drawn, Lilian was able to fight back.
He was able to win.
He took no chances, fighting defensively in order to avoid catching the nasty end of those sickles. He only had to keep himself alive until the ripper made a mistake. Eventually, the ripper's footwork faltered, and Lilian step into him, hitting his helmet with the hilt of the dagger.
Then he kicked out, and the ripper's balance failed. He stumbled, and Lilian slammed his head into the wall.
He let out a muffled groan, and collapsed into a heap.
He spun just as the other ripper managed to get Otis off of his wrist. Clearly they weren't allowed to kill the dog. Dead bait is not usually very effective.
Lilian threw his dagger, and it caught the ripper as he spun around to face Lilian, lodging itself slightly in his shoulder blade.
Lilian had already crossed the distance in the time it took the ripper to get over the pain of a knife in his back, which, in fairness to the ripper, was fairly quickly.
Lilian quickly jabbed at the torn sleeve were Otis had drawn blood, and the ripper recoiled in pain. He stepped back, but stumbled over Otis and fell.
Lilian watched as the dagger was pushed through the ripper's shoulder and he hit the floor. He writhed on the spot for a moment, before passing out from the pain.
Lilian spun him over, and the ripper's arm twitched as the dagger was pulled out.

Lilian wiped his forehead, beckoned to Otis, and ran back towards the stairs. The other guards were nowhere to be seen, probably having gone for backup. He bolted up the stairs, and found the old woman, standing in the doorway with a gun.
"Oh come on..." Lilian whispered.
He had come here with the intention of stealing the dog, hopefully without killing anyone, and he had done a pretty good job so far. The ripper's downstairs were injured, but would live if they got treatment.
"Don't move," the woman commanded.
"Please, put the gun down," Lilian asked. He knew she wouldn't.
She didn't.
Lilian sighed, rubbed his stubble, and quick as a flash, drew the revolver from the holster hidden in his jacket, and shot the woman clean between the eyes.
Blades weren't the only thing Lilian had gotten good with.

As he drove back to the city, Lilian thought about the woman. He wasn't a murderer, but when it was his life, or someone else's?
There weren't many people he would choose over himself.

Otis fell asleep in the back of the car as they got to the edge of the city. Lilian looked at him in the rear-view. He decided that he should get a dog once he got back to England.