Job Well Done
The screams were heart-rending. Tearing at his chest then hitting a pitch that had Nathaniel covering his ears, collapsing to his knees just as the old house shuddered around him. The black maw that opened to something other, oozing the stink of sulfur and rot, began to narrow on the wall in front of him. Leaving behind cracked and moldy plaster.
More screams as dark, obsidian-glistening limbs reached out of the portal. Too long with clawed fingers that glistened in the flickering basement light. They scratched into the cement floor, trying to find purchase as the entry to the world slowly worked itself closed. Shuddering and cowering in the presence of Nathaniel, who knelt and endured the mental strain. He had to stay, he had to be there until it was well and truly gone.
The house groaned and an unnatural wind ripped around the basement, creaking the floorboards above him where the fight continued. Where his monsters kept the others at bay. It would be all for naught if Nathaniel was pulled away now.
It was an eternity. A timeless torture as the portal slowly closed, cutting off the sleek limbs that didn't retract, that still tried to find something to hang on to in the world that had suddenly rejected them.
The room became a vacuum of sound, of motion. He fell forward on his hands, panting softly into the sudden stillness. The pressure in his head throbbed behind his eyes and at the base of his neck. The king of all headaches. It was all Nathaniel could do to remain semi-upright. A detached part of him wanted to help upstairs but he just couldn't.
He'd be in the way. Too slow, too fragile.
There was another groan from the house as a thunderous crash shook the foundation over him. Would it collapse on top of him now that his job was done? Did it really matter?
A door nearby was thrown open then the basement steps creaked under heavy weight. Nathaniel would've turned but he feared looking into the light. He wasn't even sure that his limbs would continue to hold him up if he broke the braced posture he'd managed thus far.
A massive hooved foot stepped in his peripheral, followed by a large clawed hand. Only then did Nathaniel tilt his head and risk the pain of the basement light overhead to look at the exposed animal-skull face of Marcus' monster form. Twisted, pointed antlers branched off from the back of his head, a macabre mockery of deer antlers. The black hollow of the eye sockets regarded Nathaniel, the weight of attention the only indication that he was being seen, before one long, furred limb wrapped around his waist.
Nathaniel was scooped up and gingerly cradled to the broad chest of his monster. Neither said anything as Marcus turned toward the stairs, having to hunch in the small basement, before he carried Nathaniel upstairs.
If Marcus was here, that meant the fighting was done. That they were done. Nathaniel wouldn’t close his eyes until he'd witnessed for himself that all of his monsters were alive.
Trick actually greeted him, smoothing blood stained fingers that hummed with energy along his jaw before the fae grinned. Wild, his dyed hair as much a mess as the house around them.
That was nothing compared to Lothar. The decadent, prim and proper vampire had lost all semblance of propriety for the fight. His suit jacket was gone, his dress shirt shredded where something had torn into his chest, staining the fabric. One of the sleeves was entirely gone. His carefully controlled hair vied with Trick's for the messiest.
When Lothar smiled, though, it was with a feral glint that touched his golden eyes. Flashing his fangs in one of those rare crazy smiles that told Nathaniel that this had been fun for Lothar. He would lament the loss of his clothes once he came down from his blood high.
Marcus carried Nathaniel out onto the front yard, amongst the destruction of the front of the house. The entire block was a mess of debris where other houses had suffered from the confrontation. The den of demons had been dense.
In the center of the street, Reimse stood. He'd been inspecting something that used to be some manner of creature, though he'd straightened at their approach. Acid green eyes regarded Nathaniel in that clinical, critical way he did before Reimse asked, "Are you hurt?"
"Tired. The portal took up the entire wall in the basement." Nathaniel sighed his answer while he closed his eyes, resting against Marcus' chest. They were all fine.
Reimse's cool, ungloved fingers moved over Nathaniel's neck. He couldn't help how his pulse skittered at even a simple touch, prompting him to crack an eye open and study Reimse. "If rest is all you need..." Those bright green eyes lifted to Marcus, as though giving the hulking monster permission to take Nathaniel away. "Sleep, Angel." It was a dismissal but one that he was happy to oblige. They could talk later.
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