Prelude: Piazza di San Pietro

(Page 16 of 20)

Abandoned Hospital; Naples/Pozzuli, Italy
Sunday, February 20
8:09 AM

Cheval was covered in blood, little of which was his own. Samantha understood now how a boy of his age could belong to the organization’s head. He finished his conversation with the patient, even through the beast’s final intoxicated moments. Next, he called in five members of the Guard that arrived with him, instructing the creature’s annihilation. Then, he pulled out his own knife. It was a long, jagged eyesore made of some type of bone (a material as effective as wood against the demon-bound), hand carved into an awkward, but deadly shape.

The Guard entered, two with cattle prods in hand, the remaining three carried weapons of silver and wood. Prods spit hot sparks as the two men lunged toward Demetrius. Samantha expected his final moments to be short, the drugs leaving him little better than a corpse prior to the attack. Yet, unexpectedly he dodged. The movement was simple, slow by the standards of the creature, but effective.

Sliding into a kneel, Demetrius arched his back and reached out to the staffs held by the men. Already they were leaning in, attempting to keep their distance from the patient while pressing forward with their weapons. He cleanly grasped the hilt of each prod and lightly tugged the weapons toward the men on either side of him. Falling into the motion, both Guards were sent a shock that coursed through their systems like lightning. Thrown to the ground by the force, they lay paralyzed and unconscious.

The strain seemed to make the patient dizzy, and he immediately threw up. Still, this too he used to his advantage. A gore-filled projectile of vomited claret splashed across the face of his next attacker. Blinded by partially digested blood and stomach acids, this attacker too fell to the floor. His agonizing scream was enough to bring Samantha toward the doorway in preparation for attack, but Cheval sent a look that gave her pause; an awful glare of contemptuous threat that told her to stay. She promptly obeyed.

A silver hilted sword was swung at Demetrius, blood still dripping from his partially open mouth. The cutting edge struck his hand, which rose in the way of its swing without even a glance. A small wound opened, betraying the force of the blow. The woman holding the blade felt a harsh vibration as metal struck rock-hard bone. Sliding it out of his grasp, she opened the wound further.

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Author's Notes: Mapping the Beast