by Leon Logos
Serenity gulped, retreating behind the others as Patrick edged into sight. His weapon was pointed at them, Gunther first. They were moronic to discuss so absentmindedly when only meters from the kitchen. Patrick must have heard every word, suspicious from the start.
“Maybe I don’t even need those damn Aurelian assassins,” Patrick growled snidely. “I can blast all of you to Hell by myself. Here and now!”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Tell me, dear friend,” Gunther said calmly. “How long have you harbored such resentment towards me?”
“Funny you ask,” Patrick replied, continuing to corner them. “The answer to that question is quite hazy. I’d say this antipathy has been dormant inside me for years; only recently, when I came to the conclusion that you do not trust me as you should, do I realize you must perish.”
“What gives you the impression that I don’t trust you?” Gunther asked, prolonging the conversation. “I certainly do, having entrusted my children in your care. Has that not ever occurred to you?”
“It has; but explain why your children have done nothing but prowl about the house and break my rules,” said Patrick derisively. “I know they’re up to something, under your orders.”
“I’ve only told them to obey you,” said Gunther, surveying them all in annoyance. “It was in the letter I wrote to them.”
“Like I should know, I know you forbade your children from letting me read that letter,” spat Patrick. “Treachery!”
Serenity looked at the other brothers. Everyone was circumspect, assessing the predicament they were in. Desmos and Garen were next to Gunther, clearly ready to charge if necessary. Cackle, Agno, and Kyler were looking around the room, searching for any possible way out of this plight. She stood behind them all, slowly and furtively edging out of the room. Patrick’s pupils would dart in her direction, making her halt.
“If you’re going to shoot, what’s taking you so long?” Garen tested.
“Patience, lad,” Patrick grinned. “Your demise is nearing. But first… Helena! Stay in the kitchen, don’t come out.”
“Okay, Patrick!” Helena’s voice called, from the kitchen. “But don’t be out too long. The supper will get cold!”
“Is your wife not aware she’ll have to mop up blood and gore very soon?” Gunther asked humorously.
“Making jokes, Gunther?!” Patrick scowled. “Don’t act so equanimous, I can see the fear in your eyes. It’s clear as glass!”
“It’s not you that I fear,” Gunther said. “You’re mistaken.”
“Ah, yes. My good friends, the mercenaries. I’ll spare you from their malevolence and end you myself. Consider this moment respite.”
“I fear you’ve made a mistake in conspiring with them,” said Gunther solemnly. “They are not your ‘friends,’ but your enemies. Prepare yourself.”
“Prepare myself? For what?”
“Unforeseen repercussions,” Gunther smiled deviously. “You’re the real fool, associating yourself with those beasts!”
“SILENCE, I WILL—”
It was fortunate that they were away from the window. Suddenly, the glass from the window shattered as a bullet whizzed past her. Simultaneously, they all dove down for cover. A millisecond later, Patrick dropped the rifle, hands scrabbling up to his neck. He choked and gagged, blood leaking out his throat. Then, he dropped onto his knees and fell onto his side, his heart and breathing eventually ceasing. Patrick lay dead in a pool of his own blood, hands clamped around his throat. Serenity stared in horror, aghast.
“Brilliant,” Agno cheered.
Kyler crawled towards the rifle, picking it up. Desmos motioned for him to hand it over. Kyler gave it up in acquiescence.
“Get up and stay away from the windows,” Gunther commanded, immediately preparing for siege. “Kyler, take the gun back from Desmos and drag the body into the kitchen. Make sure his wife stays put. Agno and Cackle, sprint to the toolshed and bring back all the weapons you can find; be quick and vigilant. Garen and Desmos, barricade the doors with me.”
Everyone got to work immediately. She was still on the floor, back against the wall. Gunther did not assign her any task; she didn’t know whether to be upset or happy at being belittled, neglected, and forgotten. But she couldn’t stay undetected for long. Desmos saw her and had to say something.
“Go hide somewhere, maybe try not to die,” he said, assisting Garen with lifting the couch. They were in the process of barricading the front door.
“I want to help,” she said confidently, tired of being useless. “Anything, just let me do it. You’re not going to say I’m use—”
“Serenity, go down to the basement and stay there,” Gunther interjected. “You’ll only get in the way. I don’t want you here.”
She wanted to argue, but then it registered who she would be arguing with. Desmos and Garen finished barricading the front door. Half the furniture from the living room was stacked on top of each other, blocking the door. It would be impossible for the door to be breached or kicked open physically by any single human.“
All that’s left is the back door,” said Garen, picking up the coffee table.
“What are you still doing here? GO!” Desmos snapped at her.
“Patrick has the key!” she said. “I need to get it from him, hold on.”
Serenity entered the kitchen and gasped, halting immediately. Helena was crouched over it. She stared speechless, watching as Patrick’s corpse was being feasted upon. At this juncture, the outer skin that belonged on Patrick’s face was missing. More notably, his eyes were not in their sockets. Not only was it grotesque visually, but auditorily.
“H-Helena?” she tremored.
Helena paused, and then spun around; there was no denying that Helena was in her deranged state again. Blood was gushing down her mouth, her eyebrows were furrowed like an animal, and her eyes emitted sheer lunacy. Her back arched, Helena slowly crawled towards her on all fours.
“You!” she croaked, wagging a long, slender finger at her.
“Snap out of it, Helena!” she urged. “Please!”
The old woman was beyond reason. Without warning, Helena bounded towards her and lunged. Serenity slid out of the way in panic. Helena crashed into the oven. It took only two seconds for Helena to recover from this. With a second attempt, she charged her again, leaping towards her. Again, Serenity dodged it, keeping her distance. She didn’t intend to hurt Helena, but at the same time, she didn’t have any weapon to inflict harm anyway. Serenity scuttled to the drawers, pulling them open and searching for a weapon. It didn’t take long for her to find a kitchen knife.
She wielded it, keeping it in front of her for protection.
“Pitiful!” Helena cackled manically, saliva spewing out of her mouth. “YOU DON’T HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO KILL ME!”
“Stay back!” she exclaimed, hands trembling. “I’ll kill you if I have to!”
She really meant it; having to use this knife was a contingency to be avoided. Helena was not in her right mind. It was still unclear what exactly triggered her to go into this psychotic state. Was it a nocturnal thing? Nonetheless, this was the worst time for the crazy to manifest, considering worse danger was upon them already. The knife did not faze Helena at all.
Helena attempted another attack. Knife clutched firmly in her hands, Serenity was ready to thrust; but before Serenity had the chance, Helena was blasted away. BANG! Helena’s head burst off; it was as if a watermelon had exploded. The walls were now painted with her blood.
Kyler, Agno, and Cackle had returned from the tool shed. Agno had arrived first, just in time to open fire on Helena. Chest heaving, Serenity dropped the knife, her legs now quivering. This was a close call; she had been seconds away from committing her first murder. If not that, having her neck torn off.
“Good riddance,” Cackle gibed, stepping on Helena’s corpse. “She met the same fate as her idiotic husband.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Desmos said, en
tering the kitchen with Garen; their hands were full with furniture. They would now be sealing off the back door. “She had it covered.”
“You were watching?!” Serenity asked, astounded. “I could’ve died!”
“You were the one with the knife,” said Garen, setting the coffee table upright against the door. “And it wasn’t death you were scared of. Knowing how much of a wimp you are, you just couldn’t bring yourself to shank.”
“Woah, was she eating her husband?” Agno whistled, taking notice of Patrick’s severely mangled face. “Now we know why there’s a dead body in her closet. This psycho is a damn cannibal!”
Desmos reached into Patrick’s pocket and pulled out the basement door key. She caught it as he tossed it to her.
“Go hide now,” he pressed. “Stop lollygagging!”
“Everybody in the living room! NOW!” Gunther called.
She was the first to leave, heading towards basement and taking the kitchen knife with her. While she was in the midst of dashing out of the living room, Gunther stopped her, grabbing her by the scruff of her neck.
“Stay put!” he asserted, taking a rifle from Agno. Everybody in the house was now armed, but her.
They formed a circle in the now-empty living room. All the furniture had been taken out and used to barricade the doors. Serenity glanced at the others uncomfortably; she felt unsafe without a gun. The knife she had didn’t give her a sense of security at all.
Since both entrances to the house were blocked, the only possible path for the enemy to take was through the window in front of them.
“Why didn’t you board up the windows?” Kyler asked.
“Too little time,” Desmos replied. “And besides, we’re blocking all the other paths into the house. They need a place to come in. At least we know where they’re coming in from. One place to leave, one place to enter.”
“Correct, we can’t hide in here forever,” Gunther explained. “Our foe is one I’d fervently steer clear of. You are all about to face the likes of something you’ve never experienced before. Tonight, we end them.”
“Them.” There was only one in the forest. Did they bring back-up? She imagined an army of Aurelians, prowling about outside and surrounding the perimeter of the house.
They waited in anticipation, but they did not need to wait long. Suddenly, three of the assassins bounded through the window and into the room. These ones were not like the one she saw in the forest; she assumed they were underlings. They charged them with the full intent to kill, wielding daggers. The brothers fired relentlessly, killing the first wave of the three. In no time, it was a war zone; more assassins entered through the window, and there were two loud explosions that went off in the house simultaneously. Both the front and back doors that were previously barricaded were blown off their hinges. Both entrances into the house were now open.
Serenity stood close behind Garen, who was largest, covering her ears and crouching down. So far, she was safe and unscathed. Gunther and the brothers were slaughtering the enemies down like livestock. She couldn’t help but feel that this was too easy; these Aurelians were charging at them like brainless zombies, completely prepared to die. It was suicide. Furthermore, the Venator had not shown up yet.
“I’m out!” Cackle yelled. “We need ammo!”
“Out here too,” said Garen.
“Same here.”
“Me too.”
“That makes all of us.”
“We may be out of ammunition, but you still have your bodies,” Gunther said composedly.
She knew what this meant: the usage of their arms and legs was still intact. This was what Gunther had taught them about “becoming a weapon.” Serenity was never proficient at hand-to-hand combat; to compensate for her weak stature, she utilized the efficiency of weapons. But these Aurelians were bigger and stronger than her; she’d have to be wary of fighting anyone head-on.
Before she had time to think, another wave of Aurelian fighters sprang into the living room, attacking from all directions. Cackle and Kyler both wielded knives they had acquired from the toolshed. They slashed and stabbed at the nearest enemies, their eyes glinting red in bloodlust. Instead of hiding, she dodged her incoming attackers, weaving and rolling all around. Her senses were heightened, maximized by the danger. There was too much going on for her to focus; her objective was to survive, nothing more.
“Is that it?!” Garen jeered loudly, as the last of the wave was eliminated. More and more corpses scattered around the floor. “COME ON!”
“They brought a whole army,” said Agno, wiping blood off his face.
“Where’s Kyler?” Desmos asked, scanning the room. “And Father?”
“Somewhere else in the house!” she said, crawling out from under the table.
Kyler and Gunther had been forced out of the living room; their battle had moved someplace else. She had witnessed it from under here.
“Get to the damn basement!” Desmos rejoined. “Seriously, I don’t want to see you cowering like a rat!”
“I’m going out back,” said Kyler, returning. “Somebody needs to impede them.”
“I’ll do the same out front,” said Agno, leaving right after Kyler.
The basement key in her pocket, she bolted out of the living room. To her right, the front door was gone. The furniture that had previously barricaded it was in pieces. Agno was out in the porch, in a scuffle with another Aurelian. She took out the key and went into the hall where the door was. She unlocked it and sidled into the stairs. There were lit-up candles downstairs, thankfully. Briskly, Serenity descended the stairs.
Her heart stopped at the last step, petrified at who was standing by the bed. The Venator, the assassin from the forest. The same black hood, armor, and mask; not to mention, the chains wrapped up from his legs to his waist.
She looked back up the stairs. The door was closed but not locked. It was time to make a spur-of-the-moment decision; either make a run for it or stand her ground and fight. The latter would inevitably result in her defeat. There wasn’t even a one percent chance of her winning. This enemy was somebody not even Gunther could beat; it was an enemy that struck fear into his heart.
Serenity decided to flee, scrambling up the stairs. She wrenched open the door and hurtled out into the hall. Just as she crossed into the main hallway by the front door, someone grabbed her; it was one of the henchmen.
“I got her!” he exclaimed frantically. “Let’s flee, I got her!”
Serenity resisted, wrestling from his grip; he had both his arms locked around her waist tightly, securing her in his grasp firmly. He led her out into the bitter-cold night. It was too dark to see anything, but she could easily tell Agno (who had been here only moments before) wasn’t outside any longer. He must’ve been inside the house again. Serenity continued to fight, disinclined to scream and call for help.
As strong as her will was, it didn’t emulate or equate her physical strength; the man that captured her was too strong. Subduing her was no feat, unfortunately. She exclaimed, jabbing her elbows into his ribs and attempting to bite his forearms. The house’s windows were brightly lit in the dark. They were fading farther and farther away. But them, there was nobody else in the vicinity. The Aurelian henchman was attempting to drag her into the trees, away from the house and its madness.
After being taken at least five minutes into the woods, the grip that ensnared her was suddenly relinquished. She tumbled onto the dirt, landing shoulder first onto the rugged ground. It was too difficult to see clearly. But there was clearly a struggle; two shadowy figures were brawling two meters away from her, their bodies glinting briefly as they slipped under the moonlight.
She only identified who the other person was at the cessation of the scuffle; it was Desmos, who was currently being strangled by his opponent. She recognized his distinct discernible grunts. It was rare for Desmos to be bested in a fight, yet it was happening here and now. She groped blindly for anything to use as a weapon. Her hands gre
eted a heavy stick. Springing to her feet, Serenity dashed towards the enemy without thinking. She swung with all her might. Considering her hindered vision, she could’ve easily missed; but her aim was on target. She felt the vibrations within the wood of the stick, as the end of it smashed against the back of the enemy’s head.
With a cry of pain, the enemy fell backwards. A second after Desmos was released and could breathe again, he lunged forward. Within moments, he had gained the upper hand. The enemy was the one being choked violently now, Desmos crushing his neck until his last breath. The enemy fidgeted once more and then grew silent, gazing up at the sky.
Serenity dropped the stick, astounded at what she had done. She had done something useful for once in her life, being the rescuer rather than the rescued. However, she couldn’t relish the moment—not now. They were still in the midst of a deadly battle that would extend indefinitely.
“I thought I told you to go in the basement,” he said, spitting into the dirt. Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t a shred of gratitude in his tone.
“Sorry,” she whispered, catching her breath.
“Never listens to me, as usual,” he continued tartly. “I should’ve let you be kidnapped. Would’ve been a relief to see you gone…”
She frowned, despondent at being belittled and deprecated. Even when she succeeded, she failed. Though, this must’ve been his reaction to having been saved by her. Desmos was too proud (and possibly humiliated) to admit that she had done something beneficial—that her presence had been worthwhile. Or at least, she had believed.
“That was a nice hit,” he said flatly. “Quick thinking for you to grab that stick, especially here in the pitch blackness. Good job.”
“Thanks?” she stared, wide-eyed.
“Let’s head back to the house,” he ordered. “We’re clearing out the stragglers. Not long before they’re all killed.”
“What about the Venator?” she asked worriedly.