Chapter Thirty-Five

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The male Vetala drags Kyiah's body down through the basement. She groans through her drugged daze. Feeling her arms rise above her head, being tied to a ceiling pipe. Mark's hands scavenge her body, admiring her busty chest as he finds the silver knives beneath the fabric of her back. Stripping them from her person with a hankie, tucking them away in his suit. Running a hand down her figure that brought her into waking.

"Princess, wake up." He coo's. Kyiah sneers, keeping her eye on him as best as she could while he circles her like a vulture.

"What do you want with me?" She prolongs. Watching him move back in front to finish his track.

"Well you know, hunters chase." He waves her blade towards her throat. "You, dead. Me, moving up in the world."

"I don't get it. Ocula is marching you into war." She breaths, tugging slickly on the rope above her. Keeping him talking. "What are you getting out of helping him?"

"Oh sweetie." He says disparagingly. "Ocula is up for the throne. If I get his appreciation, I'll be set for life."

- - -

Sam and Dean run into the evicting ballroom. The gunfire had frightened the patrons into a human stampede. Causing them to swerve through the hoards of people, making it over to the back hall in record time. Following Dean's direction of his internal map to her. They race to the basements locked door, and Dean fires a triple shot in the bolt pattern from the upstairs door. Blowing it wide open and rocketing down it's cement steps. Finding Kyiah's hands tied to a suspended rope, hanging in a dizzied consciousness. The Vetala had her corded handled knife under her jaw, shielding himself behind her.

"Sam." She breaths happily, her eyes fluttering. Inspiring a boost of rooted desire to protect through him.

"Take it easy, boys." Mark warns, lifting her head. "Would want to see pretty Princess on the floor, now would we?"

"Let her go." Sam demands in a rage, panting as his heart thrashes in his chest. Infinitely bonded to his warrior sister.

"Okay." He agrees, cutting Kyiah down from her ropes. Cradling her body against him to cover his vital organs. "We we're just leaving."

"Put her down, now!" Dean barks, stepping forward. Aiming Kai's onyx, Glock 21, as Mark moves the knife closer into her neck. He froze, stiffening himself from any extra movement. The Vetala sinfully smiles.

"Thought so."

"Sam." Kyiah's voice breaches his brain. Attempting to minimize his visceral reaction he discreetly glances to her. "Door, to your right." His eyes cooperate to her instruction. Briefly flicking his focus aside to locate the exit. Formulating a plan. "Run." She whispers. Bringing him back to her with a flash of distraught shock to his face. He gave a small shake of his head, unable to pull his eyes from her.

"Now, if you don't mind." Mark notes, backing her towards the end of the basement.

"If you make one more friggin' move, I will blow your god damn head off. " Dean threatens, cocking the pistol.

"I don't think you will." He arrogantly taunts, further provoking Dean. "You know how I know that? Because if you could do it, you'd have already made your shot." He was right, and Dean knew it too. He was too afraid to hit Kyiah, too afraid to miss, too afraid to fail her again. His eyes shift, and his arms come down to his sides.

"You're right." He grants. "I cant." Mark's face brightens. "But he will." Dean raises his chin, looking just over Mark's shoulder. Bringing him to do the same, putting Castiel center stage. Standing tall behind Mark. The Vetala's face fills with horror.

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