What Must Be Done

Part 2 - Predators

"Never enter a witch's house uninvited."

As Leanne stared into Rick's eyes, two strong hands grabbed his shoulders and forced him to his knees. Blood dripped onto the floor beside him, and a strong smell of copper told him the former Sharon had him pinned, despite her having no head and being very dead.

"Necromancy," he murmured. He had a strong stomach but being held captive by a headless henchman of a mad woman was a little past his threshold. His stomach rolled, and acidic bile threatened to explode up his gullet.

Leanne stood before him, smirking and throwing the knife into the air, watching it spin and catching it. The golden hue of the metal contrasted against Dogma's silver sheen. She continued to do this for what felt like hours—just staring at him. She watched his attempts at suppressing the gag, squirming with his head fixed on the floor, counting splinters in the wood.

"Enter one, that which shields us, that which travels with the power of our Lord, the archangels of old. Bless my desecrations with your fury, or embrace my heart if the end should come. I accept you, my Lord, and those you send..." he continued with his prayers despite the laughs that erupted from the witch in front of him.

And then the repulsion, the fear fell away. The hand of God had found its way into the house and ignited his very being with a righteous blue light. Giddy excitement, foreign and aggressive, flooded through him and the runes tattooed into his body.

Leanne's laughing continued, "There you are, the hypocrite comes forth. Pray away, little boy; let us hear what charlatans sing."

Smoke rose from Sharon's body, particularly at her hands, searing them until she flinched away from Rick's skin, her hands almost on fire.

"Ashes to Ashes. Dust to dust. Amen," Rick finished. The prayer forced Sharon to jerk and flail in a grotesque silence. Her whole body burnt and sizzled until she was ash, disintegrating into dust.

"Impressive display..." Leanne said, still unperturbed by his show of holy fire. "She made for a poor zombie, though; it was a rush job, so don't get too cocky, Priest."

Leanne caught the knife she'd been playing with in her hand. Then in a sudden burst, she screeched and lunged forward. As the knife hit the skin of his chest, it shattered in her hand, the force sending her flying backwards. She smacked into the back of the sofa, knocking it onto its side. She skidded to a stop on the other side of the room.

Rick stood, his bulging muscles regaining their function. The tattoos etched into his skin, the crosses and the Chi Rhos, among others, faded with every step he took. The magical energy ebbed into the background of his awareness as he grounded himself.

Rick prepared for witches, but he'd foolishly thought Sharon had been the high priestess. He let his guard down. He should have known as soon as he saw Sharon shambling through the garden. Rick cursed himself for getting sloppy and overconfident. Proud.

"That's what you've been doing to those people you snatched," said Rick as she inched closer to the turned-over sofa. "Experimenting with necromancy," he paused and grimaced, "Or at least I hope just -mancy. But you never know with sorceress bitches like you."

He peered over the couch, but Leanne wasn't there. He snapped his head up, straining his eyes. The magic in the house made it difficult for him to focus; his eyes wouldn't adjust to the dark as they should have. The Shadows had come alive, smothering the room into nothingness and blacking out the windows.

"You know, I thought Sharon was the High Priestess. That trick with the spiders was impressive," he called out into the dark, talking to Leanne, who still skulked somewhere in the shadows. "It was creepy. Summoning spiders to crawl over the place, but ultimately pointless. All show, and now bang. A bit like you."