"Azyazel will be backing me up with Piricca," said Cimerus, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings through the eyes of all the Shifters in battle. Frostites continued to advance silently through the snow and ice. Cimerus bared furious teeth, which the weak light. "Abaddeon has gone ahead to track the Sentinels. I hope you can assist him."
Tora said nothing, surveying the destruction before her eyes. Each fallen Frostite felled at least two buildings nearby, their blood turning everything they contact into crystals, which shatter when frozen all the way through. Patches of the city were collapsing, leaving gaps in the landscape. Their city was gone, replaced by this expansion of Frostite world. The crystal blue comprising the city structures and the thick whiteness would have been beautiful, if there wasn't such an atmosphere of irreversibility and finality in the air. All the humans were dead. All the Seekers were dead. There were just Sentinels and Shifters, now.
The small demons by the walls ducked out of the way, relaying messages outwards. Cimerus swiped a glowing talon through the air and disappeared through the rip.
Tora stood in the quiet hum, leaning against the softly-lit Smallgrill table, biting her lips. Seeing the army of Embirites tearing down the Frostites made her bloodlust itch. The bright blood looked dangerous and enticing and appealed to her demon side. Her role was to pay Markl back for the Seekers, but she knew she was equally effective in battle.
The loss gnawed like an abscess in her heart. The surroundings felt so empty without the familiar banter and life sounds. The silence of the Shifter realm might be the same, but it no longer felt like home. No; home was the stir-fries and bad sitcoms, the sweaty unwashed clothes and comfortable mess. Not this pristine, eerie chamber with eyes in every corner.
She waved her arm. The veil rippled, changing from the centre-of-town governmental buildings to the suburbs. Rows of houses lined the roads, the windows frosted over. Plants either lay beneath feet of flawless snow or sat wilted and grey in the abandoned gardens. Abaddeon was still in his Spectre form. All the details in the surroundings blended into nothingness. His sharp eyes picked up on movement down at the other end of the street. It was subtle, almost inconspicuous, but it was a Sentinel.
Tora raised a glowing talon on her right hand and scored it into the space. Her limbs lengthened and thinned, becoming diamond-tipped and long. Facial features melted into a blank nothingness. Her new legs making no noise on the smooth floor, she slipped through the rip before it closed by itself.
The air was mind-numbingly cold, but Tora's Spectre form noted only the tiniest lingering scent in the air of fear. The Sentinel knew he was being followed. Why was he here on his own? There was nothing in this part of town aside from playgrounds and houses.
She joined Abaddeon in his pursuit, keeping about twenty metres away. He paused, turning his head slightly when her presence alerted him, and then he continued. The Sentinel's scent was foreign – not that she expected she'd see Markl again, at least not so soon – and it grew stronger the more anxious he got. The footprints left in the snow increased in distance; he was running.
Tora took the next alleyway. Her limb tips scraped against the jagged layer of ice on the garden brick walls that stretched on either side. Lithely slipping past the wilted willow trees threatening a snowfall, she darted across the gardens like a skittish spider. There was only silence in the air save for the light sounds of movement she made.
She scuttled to the end of the road and saw a figure dart past the opening of another alleyway. She was on to him. With fluid limbs, she slid to the next opening. His footsteps approached, tiring, clumsy.
Without a sound, Tora shot out of the break in the wall. There was a panicked yell, a thump in the snow, followed by a scream.
Tora shifted back to her original form, golden eyes surveying the creature before her. He snuffled like a pathetic human, pieces of his armour scattered on the ground. Blood – darker than fresh human blood – stained the white snow. Abaddeon tilted his head, giving his limbs an extra wrench through the Sentinel's limbs for good measure. His scream pierced the air again.
Spread-angled in the snow and nailed in, it was obvious he was lost and alone. Long ragged hair framed his pinched face. He had no weapons beyond the weak Sentinel armour and judging by his retaliation – or lack thereof – he was a low-ranking specimen.
"You are far away from your people," she said with a purr, enjoying his helplessness. He whimpered. Sweat plastered his straw-coloured hair to his forehead. His cheeks were pale, his pupils huge. A set of tattoos ran beneath his collarbone, like Markl did. "I see you, too, have Lyre magic infused in you."
"Then you will know not to cross me, Shifter scum!" he seethed, his voice giving away his fear by quivering.
"The ink has faded." Her eyes narrowed. "You've been using it recklessly, and now you are defenceless."
He swallowed, his eyes darting from Tora to Abaddeon.
"If you tell us what we wish to know, we will be merciful."
"I do not strike deals with Shifters!" He spat at her. The saliva fell with a sorry plop onto the snow.
"Then we kill you. Slowly. Have you ever suffered the slow chemical burns by Specktacles? Or perhaps how the Crows will remove your flesh, layer by layer. Or perhaps by Watermongers?"
"Stop." His voice was hoarse. He swallowed again.
"You have information we want, and we want it. How we wish it to be delivered is of no consequence. The choice is yours."
"You'll kill me anyway," he said weakly.
"Yes, that is true." She cocked her head.
"You can't eat me." He misunderstood her thoughtful look. "My blood and flesh is poisonous to your kind—"
He was interrupted by raucous laughter from Tora. Disdain curled her lips from one end of her face to the other.
"I do not want to eat your flesh, you filthy scum of the universes!" she seethed, stamping just above one of his speared ankles. The shin bone splintered. The Sentinel shrieked. Tora teased the bone away, snapping the sinews, and then crushed it in her hands. Bone marrow and blood spurted over the top. "Now, speak."
"Go die in an abyss."
She gave him a hollow smile.
"I already did."
She ran a sharp finger down the length of the thigh of his injured leg. The Sentinel convulsed, biting his lip, not wishing to give in to her whims. She eased the skin back, revealing the tendons and bright red muscles. With a flick, she snapped the tendon of one of the thigh muscles, which pinged out of sight around the knee cap. The creature screamed.
She repeated on his other leg, tearing the skin off like it was orange peels. Blood dribbled down the side, staining the snow further. The Sentinel spat at her again; it was a wild shot that missed by a mile. She stomped on his hip; the socket and left pelvis crunched beneath her heel. Music entered her ears.
"Is this your only pointer, Abaddeon?" she said. The tall and gangly demon tilted his head at her and nodded. "Never mind; we'll have to find another to trace."
"What—" The Sentinel's eyes bulged in realisation as her intention hit him. "No – wait!"
With a casual toe, she flicked it up his abdomen. It opened like a delicate peach, soft fat sliding away to reveal his chest and abdominal muscles. She parted the parallel muscle fibres running diagonally across his abdomen, layer after layer, until, with one wretch, she exposed his abdominal cavity. The obsolete muscles slid away onto the floor. Bowels, shiny and wholesome, moved slowly of their own accord. The Sentinel was weeping, now, his body twitching every now and then.
Tora dropped the intestines and rooted upwards. Her fingers locked around one of the floating ribs. In one fluid movement, she yanked, snapping it at the junction with the spine. A crack whipped through the air. The Sentinel screamed afresh, his voice echoing around. She worked her way up his ribcage, taking particular care to snap the breast bone into two before tearing it from the other ribs. Blood ran freely, but she made sure not to send the creature into unconsciousness. She licked her lips.
When his chest was sufficiently opened, she surveyed her handiwork. His front opened like a delicate flower, the petals fanning around him, parted intermittently with ribs and muscles. The blood pooled on either side of his body, thick and dark. A panicked heart pulsed in the middle; the three lungs struggled to work but she knew he had enough reserves to last a while yet.
Every crack of bone reminded her of the pain of Markl's betrayal. Every snap of tendons and ligaments there accompanied the smiling faces of her friends. The Sentinel's pale eyes bulged and rolled, his mouth gaping open in another bloodcurdling scream. None of his pain would measure up to what she felt or what her friends went through during their last moments – but it made her a little better.
His body lay bare like a cadaver, all of the organs visible, guts trailing around. His face was pale, bloodless, the eyelids fluttering like little birds. The pitiful appearance didn't stir anything within her. If anything, she enjoyed the scene. It took her a little more self-control to remind herself why she was doing all of this. The fire within her still burned.
"Welcome back, Lilitha."
She glared at Abaddeon, whose blank face tilted in her direction.
"It's refreshing to see the sadism arise once more."
"I'm not doing it for my own enjoyment," she spat.
"There is this odd human thing, too." Abaddeon appeared to mull over his words, peering at Tora but remaining impossible to read. "Is this what they call 'compassion'? How fascinating."
She snarled at him, her leathery skin bristling. How typical for him to psychoanalyse her like this. Saliva dripped from her fangs. Abaddeon remained unfazed.
"You think I mock you, but I am not Azyazel."
"I don't give a rat's ass."
Abaddeon let out a demon equivalent of a snicker. Frustrated, Tora turned back to the Sentinel, whose eyes grew dimmer by the second. The screams died about a minute ago and only weak snuffling remained.
"You will tell me where Markl and the Artefact are, you scumbag of the universe."
A small light glinted at her from those half-dead eyes. Defiance.
The anger flared in her core again. She drew her arm back and smashed her fist into his face. His head exploded like a dropped watermelon. Brain and blood sprayed around her, splattering on her face and Abaddeon's side. A bitter taste wormed its way down her throat as his blood trickled in. She gagged and spat onto his still body.
Typical Sentinel, infuriating to the end. She gave her fist an extra wretch for good measure. The last of the blood spurted out.
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