Otherworld Soldiers- Rise of the Apocalypse

by Fox Lancet

  Kaleb was to receive the same punishment but was quick enough to leave the Demon Lord’s left swipe with empty air. Elijah was not as lucky as Saliea was pulled from his grasp. The Seraph’s eyes lit, sending a white sheen over Nefarion’s monstrous figure. He opened his mouth and ejected another roar into the Seraph’s face while he tore the arm that had held Saliea from its socket. The flesh tore like paper and the joint separated like a twig under Nefarion’s strength. Elijah screamed, blood shooting from his severed limb. Then he was knocked away as easily as Jacob had been.

  The cloud of dust slowly drifted to the ground, clearing so subtly it was as though the area was being conjured into existence. Nefarion’s form shrunk back at the same rate, claws retreating, fangs shortening. Blood seeped from his lips where the jagged teeth had sliced into their resting place. His body still rose and fell erratically, attempting to catch his breath.

  Once the night was clear again and there was no sign of any Seraph, including the wounded, save for a swath of blood across the pavement, Nefarion twisted around to find Saliea. Syler was already knelt over her, surveying the damage Jacob had inflicted. Hunter stood behind him, but his attention was bouncing across the vicinity, keeping a close eye out for the Seraphs’ return.

  “The wound is not deep, nor is it shallow. Fortunately, he missed her fatal artery by a mere half-inch.” Syler pointed to the pulse pounding beneath her skin, just above the tip of the wound. “But, Lord, we must get her to a hospital.”

  “Then we shall go.” Nefarion’s chest expanded in a deep breath, his eyes stitched to Saliea’s unconscious body. He bent down and lifted her in his arms as he had done the first day he had found her and she had collapsed from exhaustion.

  Syler watched his Lord, perturbed by the way his ever callous and apathetic King treated the frail woman. Never in all his experience with the Demon had he seen concern cross his Lord’s features. The fact the look was still laced in fury relaxed him partially, but the careful hold he had on her made his eyes pucker. He dared not broach the subject, at least not at the moment, not after what he had witnessed of his leader’s rage. Syler knew the question would not incite the same reaction. He knew he needed time to dwell on what he had just seen first.

  Saliea’s breath had deepened and become steadier in the last hour. The progress did not relax Syler or Nefarion--both sitting rigidly on either side of her hospital bed.

  “When will she wake,” Nefarion snarled, bracing his hands on the bed rail. Syler only growled.

  Slowly standing, Nefarion lifted his chin as if sniffing at the air, his focus clearly turning elsewhere. Strands of black hair fell away from his eyes. His skewered spikes were now limply lying around his head, the gel having worn away and Nefarion having rinsed it out in the sink after Saliea had been stabilized.

  He rolled his shoulders and shut his eyes. “I feel a presence.” His brows crinkled slightly. “A foul one. It is strong.” After a second more, he dropped his head and opened his eyes, looking to the door.

  Syler squinted then nodded once stiffly. “I feel it.”

  At that moment, a young woman walked in, gazing at a clip board tucked in her arm. She was fair and blond. “Hello, I’m…I’ll be your…” The woman, wearing a white coat, trailed off as her eyes fell on the ominous men who had gone rigid at her appearance.

  “It is the Seraph key!” Syler took a menacing step toward her. The woman dropped her clipboard, clearly fearful of the brawny men in her new patient’s room.

  “Capture her,” Nefarion growled just as Syler began moving toward her.

  She vanished from the door frame, Syler whisking after her.

  Nefarion moved into the hall shortly after, maintaining visual on Saliea’s sleeping form. He watched as Syler charged down the hall after the lithe doctor, her white coat flailing after her refined running skills.

  Saliea’s room was catty-corner from a nurse’s counter at a three-way hallway intersection. A security guard came out of the adjacent hallway, lifting a pistol tightly in his thick hands.

  “Hold it,” he called uselessly. He disregarded Nefarion as he focused down the long hallway at the chase.

  Nefarion smiled and hit the underside of the man’s arm, tossing the gun from his hands and snatching it out of the air.

  “Thank you,” he said with a smile before popping the surprised guard in the head with a bullet. Without hesitation, Nefarion turned the 9mm on the nurses at the counter, eliminating three flawlessly before turning the gun on the phones. The hallways had been rather empty, but the commotion had lured several doctors out. Nefarion cursed quietly and finished the magazine on three. He sloughed the gun to the floor and extricated his own 9mm from the waist of his pants. Doctors began scurrying away, down halls and disappearing into rooms. Nefarion scowled but skillfully took out any visible witnesses. When both hallways were clear and his second clip exhausted, he heard his name.

  “Nefarion.” It was a distant whisper and he whipped around to see a conscious Saliea. Vaguely noting Syler’s successful approach, he reentered the room and went immediately to her bedside.

  “How do you feel, Saliea?” He looked as though he was going to touch her, but held his hand back.

  “Weak,” she managed. She glanced past Nefarion as Syler entered the room with the female doctor draped over his shoulder effortlessly. “Who is that?”

  Nefarion deigned to look in Syler’s direction. The woman was unconscious, her long blond hair swaying behind Syler’s legs. She wore blue scrubs and a doctor’s white coat. Her presence felt similar to the anxiousness that a Seraph’s produced, but it was more subdued and had an added quality of power.

  Before either Demon could answer her, Saliea jolted upright. “Oh fuck, I think I’m going to be sick.” Nefarion stood at attention, a look of vexation crossing his normally stoic features.

  “What do you need?”

  Saliea didn’t have a chance to answer and leaned over the bed rail, vomiting onto the floor away from Nefarion and Syler, who traded awkward glances.

  When she came back, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth she glared at Syler’s baggage. “She’s making me ill, get her away from me.” Nefarion made a motion to dismiss Syler from the room. After he left, Saliea sighed in relief. “Again, who was that?”

  “That is another key. I believe she is bound to the Seraphs.” Nefarion pulled the sheet off her. “And we created quite the disturbance to procure her so we must leave immediately.”

  Saliea’s eyebrows arched. “Oh, okay. Well, where are my clothes?” She glanced down at the hospital gown draped over her naked body. Nefarion pivoted on a heel and went to a cupboard in the corner to pull out her clothes.

  “I must converse with Syler. Please dress swiftly.”

  “Of course. Hey.”

  He stopped before turning to the door. Saliea grabbed the front of his black shirt and pulled him down to her level to press her lips to his. When he stood straight again, his eyes sparked with red and he stared down at her, licking his lips. After a moment, he bowed his head at her and turned to slip out of the room.

  “Have you heard from Hunter?” Nefarion walked toward Syler, who stood a short way down the hall.

  “I just spoke with him. He has a vehicle waiting next to a side exit. The front is swarming with human authorities,” he stated irritably.

  Nefarion glowered. “Of course.”

  Saliea appeared a second later, tugging her shirt down over her midriff. “Let’s go.” She stopped a distance from them, glaring at the woman in Syler’s possession.

  “This way.” Syler led them from the main elevators, to the west side of the building.

  As they jogged through white hallways, many people watched confusedly, unaware of the events in the distant corridor they had left wrecked.

  When they reached the far side of the building, Nefarion and Syler separated into opposite rooms. Saliea stood in the middle of the hall before a large window that dominated a dead end. In less t
han two minutes, both Demons returned to the hallway, nearly at the same exact moment. Their eyes met and Syler nodded. The woman in his clutches was now bound and gagged, and Nefarion held a steel stool in one hand and a red cylinder in the other. He jerked his chin toward his soldier as if inviting him to make the first move.

  Syler reached under his shirt and pulled a Magnum from his waistline. As he aimed it at the center of the window, Nefarion turned and tossed the red cylinder behind them down the hallway. The heavy object clanged as it bounced against the linoleum before rolling to a stop in the adjacent hallway. Then the angry bark of Syler’s gun sounded three times, the excruciating pop echoing off the walls and around the corners.

  The window remained intact, but the webbing of cracked glass burst across its surface. Syler had replaced his Magnum with his cell phone almost immediately and Nefarion once again took over, lifting the metal stool over his shoulder and slamming it into the window with uncompromised strength. The sound of the damaged glass surrendering to the force was music to Saliea’s ears. One of the hospital’s outdoor fluorescent lights lit the shattered shards, causing them to glitter as they rained to the floor, melting from its frame and leaving open air.

  Saliea walked to the opening and peered over its cleared edge. They were three stories up. She glanced back at Nefarion, vaguely noting the hum of Syler’s baritone discoursing with Hunter over the phone. Nefarion felt her gaze and looked from the red cylinder where he had been training the barrel of his gun. She arched one of her brows at him in question. “Now what?”

  The hint of a smile played on his mouth as he answered, “Down.”

  She had no time to respond as Nefarion pulled the trigger without looking away from her. The red cylinder exploded. Saliea was captivated by the bright flames and gasped when Nefarion suddenly hooked an arm around her waist and bolted out the empty window.

  Once the night sky prevailed in her vision, she screamed, unable to stop herself. For a split second, the anchor of Nefarion’s arm disappeared and she felt one of his hands push her up and away from him. Confusion shot through her, but fear could not seem to find a hold. With a jolt, she found herself cradled in his arms at the base of the hospital. She threw an accusing stare at Nefarion, who was already awaiting her reaction.

  His smile was devious and wide with slightly pointed canines. The lids of his eyes were squinted mischievously and Saliea could all but suppress the swelling warmth filling her body. Her vision went black around the edges and the searing sensation she felt just a couple of weeks ago in her backyard fought for a hold. Nefarion’s smile faded, pulling his features from playful to proud.

  Movement out of the corner of her eye wrested her attention and she glanced up from whence they had come in time to see Syler descending through the air, his pale luggage following. She witnessed as he repeated Nefarion’s actions and pushed the woman up mid-air about ten feet before he caught himself with a hard landing on the asphalt. Seconds later, the unconscious doctor fell into his arms. Once again the two Demons regarded each other silently, adding curt nods.

  When Nefarion set Saliea on her feet, she finally noticed the small white car parked a few feet away. Its headlights lit up and she followed as Nefarion and Syler headed in its direction.

  Ten minutes later, the five of them were speeding down a main road, just out of reach of a helicopter’s search light. Everyone was silent as Hunter turned off the street onto a smaller, less active one.

  “This car is hardly suitable for an escape; the five us cannot even breathe our own air,” Syler grumbled as he squirmed to fit comfortably in the back seat between Saliea and the blond woman. “And it will be useless if we encounter human resistance.”

  Hunter’s eyes flickered into the rearview mirror. “Nothing I do is ever acceptable for you, Syler.” His attention returned to the dark road ahead as he killed the headlights. “Perhaps this will impress you.”

  They had driven by several large, nameless buildings for many blocks and now came to a row of ram-shackle houses. Faint porch lights added dreary illumination to the sparse yards embraced by short chain link fences.

  “This car belongs to a man who leaves for work in one hour. He drives twenty-eight miles east in it, including major highways. Before then, he sleeps.” Hunter paused, parking the car and sliding out. Everyone else followed suit, without comment. “In other words, he does not know his car was ever gone or left the scene of a crime.”

  The trunk popped as if announcing the end of his statement. Syler approached the open compartment, acting unimpressed.

  “There are several changes of clothes and hats for everyone. I did not anticipate the second woman, but there are extra items still. I suggest leaving any weapons that were used in your escape here.” He reached in and drew on a black hat, the bill casting a stark shadow across his eyes. It failed to conceal the red pinpoints wavering there.

  “Good work, Hunter.” Nefarion helped Syler with the woman as they pulled off her restraints so they could replace her doctor’s clothes with sweats that did not fit and a solid black t-shirt that fell slightly past her hips.

  “And the new vehicle?” Syler inquired without accolade.

  “We will be driving west in a vehicle that I have procured one mile in that direction.” Hunter pointed down a black street with burnt out street lights. “It is equipped with a large arsenal and has a push bar, in case we run into trouble, as well as being spacious enough for the five of us.”

  “Let us move,” Nefarion commanded once he had finished restraining the woman once again.

  The sky began glowing behind them, Saliea behind the wheel of a customized black van. She glanced at the passenger seat where the blond doctor slumped in a drunken stupor, lacking restraints. It had been Saliea’s idea when the woman had begun to stir before they left town. If they ran into trouble, the last thing they needed was a tied-up young woman with welts on her head where she had continuously been knocked out. It had not taken much seeing as responsible doctors were not exactly drinkers.

  Saliea’s eyes moved to the rearview mirror to peer into the dark interior of the van. Either side was equipped with a long bench, Hunter’s arsenal stowed beneath in drawers, hidden from prying eyes. The three Demons spoke softly to one another, Nefarion on one side, Hunter and Syler beside each other on the other.

  They had been driving for two hours, having taken back roads out of town before getting on the highway that led into the mountains where the Demons claimed the gate was located. Traffic had gotten heavy earlier than Saliea would have guessed for going out of town. The fact actually had her anxious and tensing at every bend. Half-way through the third hour on the highway, she saw her anxiety had not been wrong.

  “Fuck.” She slumped back in her seat as she slowed the vehicle in accordance to the ebb and flow of traffic.

  All three Demons came to attention. “What is it?” Nefarion leaned between the two front seats to look out the windshield.

  “Time for a game plan; they’ve set up a check point.”

  “A check point?” Hunter looked over her head.

  “First, ya’ll need to sit back and relax so we don’t draw attention.” Her voice raised an octave and received immediate results.

  “It is a police barricade. They check each car leaving town. The procedure is used most often to identify those driving under the influence of alcohol. Less often, it is used to catch fleeing criminals, like ourselves,” Syler clarified.

  “Fuck,” Hunter echoed Saliea’s first thought.

  “Do you have any suggestions on how we should approach this situation, Saliea?” That was Nefarion.

  Pride swelled in her chest, though she wasn’t sure she had any ideas. “Well, we can try to skinny through. If that doesn’t work, we’re just shit out of luck.”

  “How might we attempt to skinny?” Nefarion asked.

  “For one, you will all need to pretend to be asleep, your eyes are going to be a dead giveaway. Pull your hats low over your eyes
. I’ve already got a story in mind. But, depending on how desperate they are, they might want me to wake you and that’s when I’m out of ideas.”

  “If that is the case, I believe we are capable of handling it from there,” Hunter interjected. Nefarion nodded once. “So it shall be.” He pulled the bill of his hat down, the grim reaper covering his right hand looking darker than usual. Closing his eyes, he leaned back and dropped his head. His Elite followed suit.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am.” The authority’s voice eked through the van.

  Somehow Saliea was able to remain calm, a slight spark shifting through her bloodstream as she practiced remaining cool.

  “Officer.” She propped her weight on her elbow as she leaned on the open window of the van.

  “Where you headin’?” Saliea watched his eyes slide past her, eyeing her still and silent passengers.

  “Home, sir. Grand Junction.”

  “Your business in Denver?” His eyes rested tight on the men in the back seat.

  “These guys were playing a gig. All of them and one of their girls drank themselves into next week.” Saliea felt her lips flourish in a reassuring smile, rocking her head toward the passed-out blond in the next seat over.

  The officer gave her smile a brief glance at. It brought him back for a more focused reply.

  “Well, I’ll need you to rouse them. I need to check these men for tattoos.” His attention returned to the Demons feigning sleep in the back.

  Saliea gave him a regretful smile before adding, “Sorry.”

  His smile slowly drifted away and his eyes glittered as his mind sparked with curiosity at her reply.

  Bang.

  The glitter depleted and his body crumbled. Saliea gasped involuntarily and couldn’t keep herself from leaning forward to watch as his body dropped to the road, vaguely aware of the shouts breaking behind her.

  Muffled clamor, cloudy images, and nostalgia enveloped her all at once. Voices calling to her, a man she shot laying still, a sense of chaos unfolding in her senses.