Hellfire

Interval Twenty-Six

Lucius stood before the well of Morrigan. No real cracks were appearing over his cage of ice, and Gabriel remained sealed – eyes and mouth shown shut and standing limply. Lucius breathed out, flexed his body, but found he couldn't relax. Morrigan was calmer, but her dreams...they weren't pleasant ones. He tried to focus her into something happier, something she wanted to be in, but they rolled over into blood and darkness, reliving her worst fears over and over – the witches hunting her again and the fall of her house into impurity.

Then he felt a shift as Morrigan's consciousness sharpened.

Eva's protection had abruptly fallen away.

He flicked his eyes open, finding himself within his usual chair in his room and he found the house coated in black ice. Oliver was standing near him, shivering with alarm and a determination to guard him.

Oliver looked to him. 'What's happening?'

'Eva.' Lucius snarled icily.

He melted in mist, locating her within the lounge, and already smelt her blood before he fully formed.

Alistair looked up at him with frustrated hope. He was looming over Eva, his palm against her yawning throat and trying frantically to stop the bleeding. Eva was collapsed on the floor, her pale skin grey and her chest fluttering frantically. Blood was pooling from clawed wounds over her throat, staining her dress and stiffening her hair, and it wouldn't stop, no matter what Alistair did.

Lucius took over. He scooped her up hurriedly, weaving the wounds of her gaping throat together and sliding his blood into her throat to ensure she was strong, but unable to stir her. Her eyes darted beneath the lids, and small distressed moans coming from her. She was locked in a nightmare – snatched there by Morrigan.

'What happened?'

'I don't know.' Alistair said with frustration. 'Morrigan was sleeping. She was fine, and then she just abruptly attacked Eva.'

'She didn't say anything.'

'Nothing.' Alistair bristled. 'But she's gone – I think to Susan. She was painting with her blood, drawing about hellfire and witches, and she'd stalked her a short time ago tonight.' His teeth thickened. 'Susan isn't safe.'

Lucius rumbled, an ice-cold fury rising up as he held Eva limp in his arms and gazed at her grey face. He shouldn't have tangled her in his mess. She was too fragile, and too important to both him and the Courts, to risk.

And Susan was in danger. He felt the numb fury in him, wild and instinctive – a roar to protect his bride heavy in his body.

He lifted Eva and slid her into Alistair's arms. 'Take her to my room and summon Samantha. Give her the best care you can.' He turned to Oliver. 'Watch the demons. Tell me if they're awake.'

Oliver nodded obediently, keen to make up for stabbing him in the head with Thorn, while Alistair cradled the slight form of Eva.

'Where're you going?'

'To Susan.' He informed them.

With a snap of his teeth, he dove to Susan - his bats a rushing black cloud descending upon the city, and found himself before Stan's rundown apartment. Ice was everywhere, Morrigan's rotting scent thick and curling, and death clung to the apartment - blood spilling from the walls. What life that had remained was dashed – Stan included.

The man had tried to run, but the ice had been too fast, erupting into spears to skewer through the back of his head, his chest and right leg. His mouth hung open uselessly, broken from the ice erupting from his mangled face in a bloodied spike, and his corpse was frozen in flight, his skin rotten from frostbite. Lucius flexed his jaw at the sight, before he swept by and pushed into the broken remains of the block, his body tense with a need to have his bride in his arms – safe.