Rituals, Regrets, and Really Dumb People

Chapter 6: Obligatory Bigger Baddie, Part 2

Okay, change of plans. Less losing, more winning. I looked down at the ground I was laying on and thought about what I could do; Dimitri was buying me some time.

"You should join with us, Dimitri," Typhous said. "We could use a man like you."

"No," Dimitri replied.

Good man.

I looked to my bandoleer and I pulled at my ampoules; which one, which one. The demonsblood formula. It was risky; I'd change over the course of time, but it was more potent than the warrior's formula. At least I still had these. I pulled the demonsblood out and I put it just under my jaw. Don't act conspicuous, don't draw attention, just change and surprise them.

Dimitri did his best talking with them, and Lilly kept the kid safe, they were willing to parlay. The dummy that Typhous was, he didn't even try to just steal the kid outright. He really didn't learn from me; much to my, and the world's, benefit.

"I'll ask you one more time, Dimitri," Typhous begged. "Please reconsider."

"I said no," Dimitri replied.

"Then you will die," Ishmael said.

I didn't exactly see what Ishmael did, I was too busy a'changing. My skin hardened to a tough, leather-like shell and my fingers grew actual claws, black and sharp. I could hear Typhous all the while say something along the lines of 'don't kill him, we'll convert him,' or some shit like that. No matter, I was changing, and I will stop them from hurting anyone else. Stupid asses didn't even watch me to see if I was up to sneaky shit.

They'd pay for that mistake.

I got up and saw Dimitri fall. Ishmael had stabbed him in the stomach with two of his fingers, left him crumpled on the floor. I charged at them for this, swiped Ishmael across the room and headbutted Typhous with my spiral horns. Damn, his breath was worse now than when he wasn't sick. Either way, it gave us the chance to escape, like we needed. I pushed through the monks and slammed into the door, throwing it wide open and knocking back the cultists in the room. I was super strong, and super wicked looking. My muscles were like steel cables, my crimson skin like flexible armor. It was damn good being a sorcerer.

"Thimble," I growled, my throat burning with the infinite cold of helfire. "Help Dimitri walk. Everybody, follow me."

They'd have to. I couldn't turn my head now. I had a couple of my own cultists out in front of me. I knew these men, I'd paid them, fed them; whatever folly they decided to follow, I did not feel it right to kill them. They were men of the township, the sons and daughters of locals, and it was wrong to do anything to them. I didn't have to kill them; I'd just beat their asses instead.

I charged into the room, headfirst, tackling the first three cultists in my way. I knocked them over and stepped past, ramming into the next set. They tried to gang up on me, but my fists were like lead weights, hitting them in their guts and sending them to the floor. When the next wave came in, I pushed them back, shoved the five or so into the desk, forcing the desk to the wall. I pinned them there on the furniture, their weapons snapping and hitting but useless; their arms had trouble in my giant bear hug, as well as the pinned bodies on top of one another.

"Go," I shouted behind me to my group.

They went, like they should have. The monks went first, Lilly with the kid next, and Thimble with the limping Dimitri last. When everyone was clear, I squeezed my arms around the few cultists I had in my hold, stepped back, and slung them to the side of me. A few of the cultists went to the floor, a few were left stumbling, and a few were scrambling to follow. I slammed the door right into their faces and ran down the tunnel.