Husk fired the gun and ducked behind an overly ornate column. One eye was trained on Angel, who slipped into one of the halls. A spindly orange-eyed demon raised a gun to shoot at the spider-demon, but Husk shot him through the head before he could even aim.
Angel turned around with wide eyes that found Husk's and then beamed with relief. Husk flashed an awkward thumbs up and Angel returned the gesture before running back into the halls, a bit quieter this time.
For a brief moment, he just watched the porn star disappear around a corner, unexplainable feelings swimming around in his chest. That morning had been... interesting to say the least. But out of all the things that he should be thinking about, like Charlie getting kidnapped by the Vees and Alastor showing up with an army of cannibals once again, his mind was stuck on the way Angel had held his wrist and asked him to stay.
Him.
A bartender who had more shit to deal with than Hercules had in the Augean Stables. A gambler who fell from the top rung of the ladder to the dirt. A low-life magician who died from alcohol poisoning.
Someone who didn't deserve to be loved. Someone who was scared to love others.
But Angel had asked him to stay. So he did, because he cared about the sinner, in more ways than he'd ever admit.
Not the right time, Husk chided himself. From his position behind the column, he had a pretty clear view of the battle. Valentino and Vox weren't doing anything really - they were just watching the fight and laughing together. Their hands were moving and their eyes were trained dazily on the battle. With a sickening pool of dread forming in his stomach, Husk realized that they were controlling their contracted demons like it was their twisted idea of a puppet show.
Husk felt a twinge of pity but it still didn't make his aim hesitate as he blew the brains out of a demon who was sneaking up behind one of the cannibals. He wasn't the best at hand-to-hand combat, but when it came to killing people from a distance... Well, aren't all magicians great at that?
Sleights of hand and misdirection were Husk's specialty. So he made sure to utilize it to his best.
When a pair of demons spotted him and pulled out guns, he aimed his and shot in the wrong direction only to whip out a card and slice it through one's throat. Before blood could even pool in the marble's cracks, the stunned partner's head had lolled to the ground near Cherri, who picked it up and whacked a now-probably traumatized demon in the face with it.
The battle's rough edges began to smooth out into a blur, a game of poker Husk knew just how to manipulate. The cards were at his hand and all his senses molded into one, obeying his every command. A split thought of his was a beheaded demon, and a flick of his wrist was a card piercing through someone's liver. A slow, painful death, he thought giddily. The whole battle was at his mercy, and Husk found himself almost smiling, his back even straightening at the thrill of it.
He had missed this. The unbridled stimulation of being in control, of not having to hold his breath for that inevitable moment that Alastor would call him and he would be helpless to resist.
That small thought brought Husk out of his stupor and he glanced around wildly, his heartbeat calming down from the frenzy he was in. Where is Alastor?
In fact, now that he thought about it, the radio demon was nowhere to be soon, not since he had led them to the headquarters. Although Alastor was a very powerful overlord, it didn't seem like him to not fight. Alastor always fought. If to show off his power or his mercy, Husk didn't know. But he couldn't recall an instance where Alastor had let his contracted demons fight without him, without him by their side.
