Fallen Angel

Chapter 28.2

Cesare smiled maniacally, revelling in the ongoing pandemonium. Things were going much better than expected. The Master would be pleased. After the first few disappointing raids under the Impaler's leadership, Cesare'd mustered his courage and requested to be given command of the assault on Resia. Much to his surprise, the Devil gave his consent and ordered his pet monk to ensure every lower demon and hell beast Cesare wanted to take along could enter the Sanctum as well. The concoction did not work as long on the beasts as it did on Cesare and the others, but it didn't matter. Even with over a third dead already, the remaining numbers yet overwhelmed the Nephilim.
Two young women fought back to back with their swords, holding of the group led by de Rais, but they were tiring. A man attempted to get to them, foolishly using his bare hands to fight the hell beasts after losing his weapons. Cesare caught the faint whiff of Nephilim ancestry on the women, but not the man. Considering they were mere mortals, he was impressed at how well they fought.

Cesare's eyes travelled to the other combatants. The two Nephilim swordsmen, the Lionheart and Ponce de Leon, battled the Ripper and the Impaler. All were equally matched and challenged each other ferociously. But Cesare didn't care about them. All he cared about was the Boleyn whore. But neither she nor that damned husband of hers were anywhere to be seen.
Sudden screeching drew Cesare's attention. He turned to find the imps and serpent beasts had fallen through the floor into spikes. Those that hadn't died by impalement melted away by the foul-smelling acid the female Nephilim mage conjured on their skin, fur, and wings.

Yet another Sanctum prepared for an attack. Someone tipped them off, I'm sure of it. Question is, who?

Cesare didn't have long to ponder on this. He barely perceived a silvery flash from the corner of his eye when a sharp pain suddenly pierced through him as something clawed at his face. Howling, he searched wildly for his attacker. A gyrfalcon soared through the air and landed on the shoulder of the female mage. He grinned, instantly recognising the bloody animal. Finally, his adversary had arrived. His grin widened as he turned and met Anne Boleyn's menacing glare.

"We meet again." Cesare wiped the blood from his cheek. "Are you ready to meet your final death, Your Majesty?"

"Are you?"

The dark-haired Nephilim leader dropped her bow and picked up a sword from the floor to charge at Cesare. Her skill with the sword was not as formidable as the bow, yet still impressive. Every time she had a hand free, Boleyn would take an arrow out of her quiver and try to stab him. But Cesare had a surprise hidden for her.
He drew the dagger the Devil had given him, the one with Lucrezia's golden hair wrapped around the handle. All he needed was a single cut. The poison would do the rest. Cesare waited for Boleyn to lunge at him. He kicked at her knee to make her fall, held the dagger up and... felt the blade turn to dust in his hand, the golden hair dwindling to the ground.
His opponent took that moment of confusion to slice at Cesare's hip. Her blade went all the way through his armour, and he cried out in agony. He flailed with his sword, trying to strike, but the Nephilim whore was already gone.
The pain was almost unbearable, but Cesare willed himself to bite through it and focus. He saw his prey running to her husband, who held up a force shield to protect a group of teens, one of which lay wounded on a mattress. Cesare made for them but was suddenly struck down again and smacked against the ground. He shook his head to clear the daze and looked up at whoever had attacked him so brazenly. It was the young woman he had attempted to kill in France. One of the Boleyn descendants.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," she spoke, knuckles turning white as she gripped her sword tightly. 

Cesare scowled at her, his rage rising at her survival. He tried to get to his feet, but the Frenchwoman was quicker. She hit his wrist with her blade, forcing him to release his sword, and then kicked him hard against his chest. Her blade swung overhead. Steel clanged against steel when de Rais jumped in to save him.
With the woman now distracted by her new foe, Cesare seized his sword and got up. He moved behind her and signalled de Rais. But before he could pierce his weapon through the woman's back, the hilt of the sword was set on fire. Cesare let go with a beastly roar before the flames consumed his hand and looked around him, wild-eyed, searching for the person who had dared to do this.