“I’ve been waiting for you, Inquisitor,” the demon hissed as it withdrew its blade.
“I’m sorry to have kept you,” Simon replied.
Gideon swung at Simon, which he easily parried. Luthor knew the pain he must have felt from its impact, but Simon showed no signs of discomfort. Instead, he rolled the saber in his hand, driving Gideon’s rapier wide before going on the offensive. He slashed, parried, and reposted with incredible precision.
“I’ve longed to taste your blood,” Gideon said.
The demon swung his rapier at Simon’s neck, but the Inquisitor quickly blocked the strike.
“You’ll be waiting for some time, hell spawn,” Simon replied. “I was always the far better swordsman.”
Gideon howled angrily and attacked again. After a volley of parried strikes, the two warriors separated. The Inquisitor looked over his shoulder to where Luthor lay, fighting through the poison coursing through his system. From his periphery, he saw Mattie shivering on the floor, her convulsions significantly weaker than they had been minutes before.
“Are you well, Luthor?” he asked.
Luthor nodded as he rolled onto his belly and began dragging himself toward Mattie. “I’ve certainly felt better, sir. Be careful. Gideon is deceptively faster and stronger than he was during your last encounter.”
As Simon turned back toward the demon, Gideon reached out with his free hand and grasped Simon’s wrist. With a powerful jerk, he lifted Simon from his feet. The Inquisitor flew through the air, landing awkwardly on the top of a table. Unlike the heavier demon lord, Simon bounced off its surface rather than smash through. He slid off the other side, tangling with a series of chairs as he fell.
“Duly noted,” Simon replied as he pushed the chairs aside.
He could feel an angry welt forming across his shoulder from his landing, but he miraculously maintained a grip on his sword without accidentally injuring himself during his landing.
Simon looked around the room, taking note of the layout of the furniture, the open spaces around the dance floor, and his fallen associates. He worried most of all for Luthor and Mattie, who were clearly weak and exposed. Should the demon choose to turn his attention back to the pair, there would be little anyone could do to stop him.
He bit his lip as he glanced across the room toward the large, closed double doors that led onto the ballroom’s balcony. It hadn’t been so long ago that he had followed Mattie onto that balcony, though it seemed like a lifetime ago. At the time, he would have never expected a camaraderie to exist between himself—an Inquisitor—and a werewolf, much less their entire pack. The idea was preposterous, yet there he was, risking himself to protect a wounded werewolf.
Gideon stalked the Inquisitor. As he reached the table behind which Simon was kneeling, the demon simply grabbed the wooden top and tossed it aside. It crashed into the wall, splintering and shattering into pieces.
Simon knew he was the better swordsman, but skill would matter little in this encounter. He needed to find a way to exploit Gideon’s burgeoning confidence.
The Inquisitor tried to stand, but his foot slipped on a splintered piece of wood. Rather than cursing, he smiled and turned, grasping the wooden chair beside him. As Gideon strode toward him, he threw it at the demon. It shattered against Gideon, who growled as he staggered backward. Finding a splintered piece of wood beside him, he hurtled it like a spear at the monster. The fractured table leg struck one of Gideon’s curled horns, forcing his head to the side.
With the demon distracted, Simon leapt to his feet and rushed across the room, weaving carefully around the jumble of furniture, leaping nimbly across tables when the way was impassible.
“Coward!” Gideon bellowed. “Get back here.”
The demon tried to follow but found himself blocked by protruding chairs and broken tables. As he maneuvered through the maze of furniture, Simon threw pieces of fallen debris, taunting Gideon as he retreated.
Simon looked over the demon’s shoulder and saw Luthor crawling ever closer to Mattie. The further he could retreat, the greater the distance between the demon and his fallen friends. Moreover, his true goal was growing steadily closer the further he ran.
A pair of chairs had fallen across his path, and he leapt easily over the pair. While he was in midair, however, a broken shard of a table struck him between the shoulder blades. Simon grunted as he pitched forward, landing in a heap amidst the discarded furniture.
The air had been knocked from his lungs and his chest screamed for air. He opened his mouth, but the muscles refused to relax. Simon rolled onto his elbow and looked behind him, for once feeling the panic of the situation settling over him. Gideon smiled at him as he pushed tables aside, though it seemed far more like a violent sneer when set against the jet-black of his skin.
“Two can play your game, Inquisitor,” Gideon mocked. “I hope I haven’t broken anything too vitally important. I’m not nearly done with you yet.”
Simon forced his muscles to relax, holding at bay the threatening panic attack. As the muscles around his lungs finally eased, blissful oxygen flooded his body. Coughing hoarsely, he cringed at the pain that he felt up his spine. He moved his legs slowly, ensuring no lasting pain or, conversely, numbness. When he was satisfied, he pulled his legs underneath him and climbed to his feet.
He stumbled forward, listening closely as Gideon gave chase. The crashing of chairs and tables marked the demon’s progress. Simon’s legs didn’t seem eager to cooperate as he hurried forward, his eyes never leaving the balcony doors. When he reached the dance floor, the clearing for which led all the way to the balcony, he ran as fast as his body would allow, stopping only when he reached the double doors.
“Where is your brashness now?” Gideon chided as he threw another piece of fractured table. Simon leaned to the side and let the debris fly past, shattering one of the panes of glass in the door. “Are you at a loss for words or is it possible you’ve finally learned to respect your betters?”
A frigid wind blew through the ruined window, caressing the Inquisitor’s exposed skin with its icy breath. Simon forced himself upright, despite the discomfort it caused along his injured back.
He smiled at the demon and raised his sword before his face in a salute. “I’m a Royal Inquisitor, you bastard. I have yet to find anyone better.”
Gideon snarled and charged Simon, intent on driving him through the doorway and onto the snow-covered veranda. The demon was a blur, moving nearly quicker than the eye could follow.
As soon as Gideon moved, however, Simon dropped to the ground, rolling forward and out of the demon’s path. Gideon rushed past him, his momentum carrying the demon through the doorway, which exploded under the assault. Splinters of wood and shards of glass sprayed across the balcony. Gideon fell into the snow and slid unceremoniously to the metal banister, which stopped him from toppling the three stories to the ground below.
Infuriated, Gideon slammed his fist into the stone floor before climbing to his feet. He turned toward the Inquisitor with murderous rage reflected in his smoldering eyes.
Simon was already on his feet, his sword lying forgotten on the floor. In his hand, he held his silver revolver, which was pointed at Gideon’s chest.
The demon stared for a brief moment before tilting his head backward and laughing heartily. “A gun? You threaten me with a gun? Clearly the injuries you’ve taken have greatly affected your common sense.”
Gideon grasped the center of his shirt and pulled it apart, dislodging the buttons from both his shirt and vest as he did so. With the buttons removed, he exposed his inky black chest and abdomen invitingly.
“Do it then, Inquisitor. If you think a pistol will save you where your sword and razor wit could not, then shoot me.”
Simon pulled the trigger without a reply. The bullet flew from the barrel, striking Gideon in the stomach. The demon doubled over, his clawed fingers rising to conceal the wound.
For a moment, Simon felt a flood of
relief. As quickly as it appeared, however, the feeling dissipated as Gideon rose to his full height once more. The guttural laugh started deep in the demon’s chest and reached a crescendo as he tilted his head backward.
“For a last act of a desperate man,” Gideon chided, “this moment properly sums up the entirety of your existence—ineffective and pointless. You’ll die now with the knowledge that you couldn’t save yourself, you couldn’t save your friends, and you most certainly couldn’t save Haversham.”
Gideon took a threatening step forward but immediately paused. The mocking expression on his face melted to bewilderment as he raised a hand to the gunshot wound. His clawed finger touched the edge of the wound, and he raised his hand to his face. His fingertip was stained with silver.
The demon lowered his hand and looked at Simon confusedly. In response, Simon pulled the trigger twice more, striking Gideon in the chest with both shots. The demon staggered backward as liquefied silver dripped from both of the new wounds as well.
“Impossible,” Gideon said as the first lance of pain tore through his stomach. He looked down as silver tendrils wormed their way beneath his skin, starting from the oldest wound. By the time the veins of silver had snaked their way to his chest, new tendrils were emerging from the two newest gunshots as well.
“This isn’t possible,” Gideon said as he clawed at the tendrils. His sharp claws sliced his skin but did little to impede the spreading sickness. “I won’t be killed by a mere mortal.”
Simon lowered his pistol, placing it in its holster on his hip, and walked toward the broken doorway leading onto the balcony. “There’s nothing ‘mere mortal’ about me.”
Gideon howled in rage and staggered toward Simon. The Inquisitor leapt upward and grasped the frame of the balcony door, kicking outward as he did so. His feet connected with Gideon’s chest, driving the demon backward. Gideon staggered until his back struck the railing. His weight carried him over, flipping end over end as he plummeted the three stories to the estate’s courtyard below.
His screams filled the air briefly before ending abruptly upon impact.
Simon rushed to the railing. Far below, a dark stain against the purity of the white snow, the outline of Gideon Dosett was barely visible, unmoving as falling snow collected on his back.