In the Dead of Night

It's cold, Sloan is kicked up on a small dusty old two-seater couch by the fire, watching me sit on a rocking chair.

His 'bat-cave' and 'bunker' was a tiny forest cabin he stole from an elderly couple.

I know because all their family pictures are around but the couple are nowhere to be seen.

I don't question Sloan's acquired 'property' I just know he used whatever magic he could to conceal our presence out here, in the middle of the Wilder Forests.

He's given me a handheld mirror, an antique heirloom; also not his.

I have a cloth over it, preparing to peek in at Dremon. Sloan's idea was for me to approach the Angel Killer and not have him come for me. It was safer if Dremon thought I was succumbing to his new reign on Earth and in Hell.

But I had been doing some thinking.

Some soul-searching.

The demonic way was not my way – murder, bleeding another, stealing another's soul, dark magic... I might be a slut-pup but I was born mortal, I wasn't even a witch.

My heart was still true to my mortal blood, which was leaning toward the light, even though I had no trouble co-existing in the dark.

I knew logically fighting fire with fire only created a bigger fire-storm.

And I knew I couldn't take an innocent life.

So, my desire is a little different this time round – and I knew how to scare Phire off from looking in at me, at least temporarily, to clear my head of his influence in regards to what I was thinking about doing next.

In one hand I hold a kitchen knife, the other the mirror.

"I'm ready," I tell Sloan, "I have a new idea... you just have to trust me."

"Go for it," Sloan isn't scared for me, he's just patient. He's happy to be the look-out and he's just mostly waiting for Onyx. The rest? Was up to me.

This was my chance to take these demon circumstances into my own hands – my own way.

I close my eyes and I think of the birthing pit, full of roses, curling through and around the dead Lycan Queen to Phire and his demonic pack of Lycans.

I take off the cloth from the mirror, and I do not see Lycans – I see the birthing pit.

I want in.

The first time I came here, the mere thought of it was enough to get me through – and I'd never forget the evil magic that permeated this place. It was so strong, I knew it would pull me in again.

That's exactly what happens.

I blink.

I open my eyes, as I'm now standing upon the hot hell-fire soil of Hell. In front of me is the birthing pit. The rose bushes. The polished skeleton.

Onyx and his pack came to life here, and their mother died.

In my hand I still hold the kitchen knife.

I sit down on the ground, looking the polished skull in the hollow eyes.

"There's too much murder," I whisper to the dead Queen, hoping she can hear me, "There's too much darkness. Doom took Onyx from me. Mostly from being scared of doom. We all made a mistake bringing the Angel Killers back," I know it's just a corpse I'm speaking too, but it's helping me make sense of everything, "...the thought of your love... your soulmate who lives... just dying... the thought of Onyx losing his father... I doubt Zarphire even told him to spare him the burden of loaning him his beast... but why does a good Lycan, have to die? Why did Obsidian get to take all that was Zarphire's. Why did you die in childbirth – why did Onyx grow up without a mother or a true father... why did the Angel Killers brutally murder my Lycans who I love so dearly. The answer, I believe, is fear of darkness... right now that's all hell is, a pit of darkness spread through the fear of more darkness, inevitably attracting more and more of it. Even our female light – the soulmates of these demons – we get swallowed by it. I was swallowed by it. So were you. What can I do, besides submit?" I crawl over to her bones, and I turn and lie back into the thorns. They prick my skin and I start to bleed but I don't move off them. I sit back next to her and I press the knife's flat blade against my arm, "I don't have much time," I whisper, "To create light from darkness. I want my pack to live. I want Zarphire to live. I want Onyx to have a father," I switch the blade to the sharp side.

I would hurt no one else.

But no one said I couldn't use my own position.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

I stop before I make a cut, to look up into the darkness.

Lucifer is doing is classic walk-around-a-hell-tree entrance, it's not Phantasy, it's full Lucifer... with his archangel black wings and all. He watches me with a heavy gaze I can't ignore, "...what are you doing... Silvia..."

"I feel the darkness in this place, they're all buried here, aren't they, Phire's pack?" I speak through gritted teeth, not taking the blade from my arm just yet, "I can bring them all back. This is the perfect place to do it."

Lucifer slowly raises a brow, and then leans back against the thick tree trunk, shrugging his shoulders and giving me a handsome, dismissive look.

"I can't stop you sacrificing yourself, if that's how you want this to go, even though I advise against it," the devil even smiles a little, "...but it is brave... you don't mind if I watch, do you..." he gives me a slightly sick look.

I just screw up my face and shake my head, "Do whatever you want, Lucifer," I dismiss him too, realising the knife to the arm is probably a little slow – considering my time will be limited. It won't be long before I am interrupted again – by Lycans sniffing me out.

I close my eyes, I breathe in deeply and bring the blade up to my throat instead, shaking as I try to focus on the pain of the thorns in my back, causing adrenaline to flood into me – I'm trying to get that crazy feeling back.

So I can do it.

I open my eyes and I look to Lucifer.

He's watching me, arms crossed over his chest.

My own eyes harden and gloss over... then I close them.

It's time.

I start.

"...fucking wait... shit," Lucifer is annoyed, interrupting me, now he adds, "Allow me."

Oh, gentlemanly, much? I open my eyes to see Lucifer helping himself, stepping over me, he grabs my arms and lifts me up, twirling me around to face the bones of the Lycan Queen.

The devil takes the blade out of my hand and presses it to my throat, holding me back against his torso, his lips on my hair, as he takes over.

Whatever gets the job done, I guess.

I close my eyes again.

"...there's ways..." Lucifer whispers, "...to cheat this... and still get what you want. But this," he slides the flat part of the blade right against my throat, causing no wound, just showing me the movement, "Is a little barbaric, don't you think? Let me do it my way... you just have to fight it – it'll be the worst pain you ever feel and you'll start your own death, separating from your body – but when that happens, and you can also touch the demons waiting on the other side of the veil, that's all you need to do, touch them, it'll open a portal, and I'll stop the bleeding... but if you don't fight you'll just die anyway... so remember that," Lucifer throws the kitchen blade into the soil and puts his hands on my head.

I have no idea what's happening, until I feel warm trickles of blood... running out of my ears, my eyes, over my cheeks, over my lips. I'm bleeding out of my head, he's taking me out of me

At first I can't feel anything, just the warm trickles of sticky life blood pouring out of my orifices.

I touch my face and my hands come away super-bloody. Ew.

But then my body starts to tingle.

And that tingling starts to heat up, until the nerves are targeted.

And my heart just stops beating altogether.

I only stand through the support of the devil's hands on my head.

Holy shit, Lucifer is pulling my soul out of my physical body.

That's what it feels like.

Being separated from within.

He's splitting me in half.

If I could scream I would, but I'm just still, frozen, as I'm bleeding and the pain is now excruciating all over – while I feel the stiffness in my chest.

And then I'm floating.

I see myself floating outside my own body.

It's happening so fast. My ghost is pulled out of my physical self, I'm almost lifted entirely from it, and when I hold onto the pain – the ghost starts to sink back into the body.

Okay, those are the controls.

If I choose pain, I keep living.

If I choose to float way, I can, technically, choose painlessness.

And then I have to slow it down, so I'm not dead, but I'm not alive, so I can start to see past the veil, and I can start to see more stuff in hell.

Another dimension.

Another pack of wolves.

All the wolves.

All of them, waiting for me.

It's every Lycan that's dead.

Onyx's pack, looking cold and tortured. Around them I see Phire's old pack, like zombified Lycans, looking much more starved and hungry and barely aware of anything, although waking slightly as they see my delicious, fresh and slow soul, sacrificed for them to make contact with the realm of the living.

A tiny opportunity.

I hold out my ghost's hand, "Come to me, choose the light," I beg them, "Come on, choose to live again. Please! Quickly! Or I'm going to really die."

As I say that, I notice something has changed.

My body in the physical world of Hell has collapsed into the soil, a pale lump of dead flesh – and only my toes of my ghost touch the body, about to separate.

Lucifer is gone.

I don't know why – until I spot the Angel Killer stalking into the birthing pit.

Dremon is here!

He's looking over my freshly dead body, with drying blood shown all over my face.

In the distance, I see red eyes off a giant demon watching as Dremon is distracted by my fresh corpse. It's Onyx, he took over Phire's body!!! And he found me in hell!

"HURRY UP," I scream at the spirits of Onyx's pack, "Someone, take my hand."

Onyx's pack move forward, looking cloudy eyed – and almost completely depleted from being able to interact in any realm.

They are shuffling toward me, they're just moving too slowly.

I'm going to fucking die.

But then I see another fresh soul, walking with strength into the clearance.

"Move," Phire drawls, commanding all of them, his Lycan soul reaches for Magnus, his claws wrap around his mortal arm, as he orders them, "Create a chain. Whoever wants to live, hold on."

But out of the veiled darkness, I see another limping, determined outcast demon making his way forward.

Oh, my fucking god.

Obsidian.

Of course he's here trying to interfere!

Phire and I both see him shuffling forward, swift, his red eyes clouded over, but his strides are determined to join the chain to get back to the living realms.

Phire is trying not to react.

But even so, the string I hold to Hell and my body is getting thinner every second, I don't think we have enough time.

My toes are about to leave my body forever, and only five of Onyx's pack had managed to hold hands.

Phire's own pack are too dead and cold to move.

But aside from Obsidian – one more unexpected shape walks out of the darkness, dragging her feet, holding a dagger, a corpse of a woman who looks suspiciously like me – with long blonde hair and hollowed out eyes, rotting skin and bloody thighs. She barges into the last two Lycans struggling to join the chain. She's deliberately pushed them into line, then drags herself right past us, putting herself between Obsidian and Phire.

When Phire recognises her, he calls out in immediate pain, "Srebrenka, please, join the chain. LISTEN TO ME, please! Puppy, please," his snarl almost turns to a whimper, and the dead leaves shake and tremble over this cold death realm, because his pain becomes physical. Phire is so disturbed by her appearance. Fuck. If he lets go, we're all dead.

She disobeys him.

Srebrenka holds up her hand and the dagger for Obsidian, who is snarling at her, opening his claws to slash into her, just as she will into him at the same time if she does not stop dragging herself to him. But she will not stop raising her arm, her choice is final.

I nervously glance at Phire.

If he acts on their feud, if he tries to save her, he will kill me and ruin everything.

"I'm so sorry, Zarphire," I whisper to him, "She made her choice – it's for you to live again! Don't waste it –"

Zarphire turns to me, his eyes raging as he reaches out all his claws, and places them around my neck.

I notice as he does that, when I look to see if the chain is complete – all seven Lycans got in line with Srebrenka's help, including one more – a different brother of Phire's kin, while the rest are too dead or too slow to make it.

That's nine all up.

Thank god he's focused on me.

"The rest is up to you now, bitch," Phire reminds me, coldly, but he is strong regardless of his pain, and his giant stature looms over me, while I obey this part.

I look back down to my corpse – and I choose pain.

Everything flashes before my eyes.

Lucifer, waiting for me.

Every important milestone in my life thus far. All while the pain of gluing myself back together, when Lucifer ripped me from every Earthly atom, consumes my entire soul until all I am is pure pain.

It's not a pain you can fight.

It's a pain you don't even try to fight.

But I am choosing Onyx, his pack, Phire, his brother and I am choosing consequences for Dremon, and justice for what he did to my family.

Fighting for others is what seals me back inside my physical body.

The searing hot pain, finally comes to an end.

I open my crusty eyes, and none of my limbs can so much as twitch. My breath is so meagre and weak, my heart thumps in my chest and it's all messed up as it's beating based on will-power alone. I think I'm pretty much empty of blood.

Dremon has moved back into the shadows.

Onyx is not in the clearing yet although I know he's watching from somewhere close by, timing his attack.

He has no idea if I'm alive or dead, but I hope he could hear my weak breath rattle out.

I just don't know if this is enough.

This time I feel a peaceful pull, grabbing my soul again – a natural death.

I'm going to die anyway?!

I lie there, completely helpless, having no idea where the resurrected have gone, or if they even made it through at all.

But as I lie dying on the ground, I see a literal angel fly in from over ahead like a shooting star.

Wynter floats down softly with her angelic wings spread out in a wide arc, landing on top of me, she puts her hands to my head and my heart.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

My heart starts to beat stronger.

Strength starts to fill me from the miracle she is performing.

"I could feel you dying suddenly... I won't let that happen, I got you, Silvia," Wynter speaks so calmly, even though she doesn't know what's going on.

But that's a big-bad problem.

She is completely unaware of the giant Angel Killer that has silently stepped out of the shadows, his crimson eyes focused on the Angel – as a hunting instinct completely drowns out all other thought.

Dremon. Is drooling. Bucket-loads.

A switch was flipped.

He looks famished.

He wants her Angel Blood.

I try to warn her.

"Wynter," I croak out, but her hands just gently brush the hair off my face, as she keeps warming me up full of life, slowly, "Be...be...hi...nd... you."

Dremon reaches down with his claws, smoothly piercing into the backs of her wings – about to rip them off.

Wynter curls back from me and screams in pain.

And although one of her wings is severely broken the other remains in-tact – only because a fast and giant shadow seemingly flies over us.

Onyx runs in as his father's Lycan, bigger and more powerful, as he lunges for the Angel Killer King, his jaws about to clamp and snap right through Dremon's neck.

However, Dremon, old and wise – narrowly, narrowly ducks, so Onyx's Lycan lunges past him, to the other side, his claws cutting into the soil instead as he stands to face him.

Dremon lets go of Wynter and moves back, his snarl now directed at the pure demon Lycan.

Onyx is much bigger than him.

"And I thought you were dead thousands of years ago, Phire," Dremon grins anyway, more lithely built as an Angel Killer.

"Not Zarphire," Onyx snarls, "Onyx. The Lycan King."

Just as quick as he's spoken, Dremon looks around, and he sees something he doesn't like.

Using his lightning quick reflexes, the Angel Killer runs off in a flash.

Wynter has collapsed beside me, in horrific pain form her broken wing as she bleeds silver blood into the ground.

"It hurts," Wynter trembles, "Fucking ow."

Meanwhile, even though I have 10% of my strength back, I haven't moved beyond rolling my eyeballs to look at her, and then my soulmate, as he walks in with shining orbs of red hell-fire, in the ultimate beast form.

A god damn Lycan-Lycan.

It suits Onyx.

I smile at him, unable to talk, as my throat chokes up with emotion.

I just focus on my wheezing breaths, as Onyx walks over me, looking down, drooling and snarling.

"What did you do?" Onyx asks, curious, confused and enraged that I almost died. He ignores Wynter and he reaches down for me, picking me up by my waist, he lifts me in front of his teeth, "I said to get a Lycan Queen, Silvia."

"I...am...the...Lycan...Queen..." I whisper out, crying tears into my blood-stained cheeks, "You're...welcome."

Onyx shakes his head, snarling quickly, "Bad whore."

Then my King swings his head around. Looking.

Seeing. Spotting.

His gums stop curling over his teeth when Onyx sees plenty of movement in the shadows.

He continues to hold me up, but now he is frozen still as he watches as all his brothers stalk out of the shadows – with bright red healthy demon eyes.

Between them, walking through the middle, is Zarphire – in a brand-new body.

His beast duplicated.

Oh, wow.

There's ways to cheat – said Lucifer, probably.

I watch with weak but sly eyes as Phire comes forward to meet him in the middle, standing identical to Onyx in every way aside from his blue eyes, to Onyx's red.

They stand close, a little closer, as Phire smiles next to Onyx's stunned face.

"Uncle?" Onyx asks, shocked, "How are you –"

"Your Queen. Now don't be stupid," Zarphire says, with a friendly grin, "Use your sense of smell, what does it tell you about me?"

Onyx tilts his head a tiny bit, unsure, "What in hell do you mean?"

Zarphire leans his head on his son's head. It's so cute, "You're my son, Onyx," he just tells him.

Onyx pulls back, stepping away, still holding me as he looks between Phire and my body. I'm still feeling a little like death-warmed-up, but I enjoy the reunion.

"But... how can I be you," Onyx smiles apprehensively but doesn't refute Zarphire's statement, he simply changes the subject, to process the emotion later, "If you're you... this is impossible for us both to be like this."