Suddenly A Succubus Ch. 73

Vee lingered just long enough to watch Amara and Camilla awkwardly stumble through their greetings. The family resemblance was more than obvious, present not just in their appearance but also the way they carried themselves, how they avoided eye contact in the wake of their prior argument. Chuckling quietly to herself, Vee drove away to give the two of them privacy, hopeful they could find a way forward.

As the coffee shop vanished from the rearview window, Vee's thoughts drifted to her own concerns. The last time she'd wandered the neighborhood, she'd been focused on refining her abilities and finding safe outlets for her magic. This time, following a curious piece of information from Amara, her goal was far more specific.

Forced to park farther away than she would have liked, Vee locked her car and turned her attention to the surrounding neighborhood. Far in the distance, barely visible behind many blocks of buildings, was the graveyard she'd previously explored. Just beyond that, while not currently visible, sat the source of her suspicion. Acutely aware that her vision was a touch too sharp today, Vee redoubled her concentration on her aura reading. The well of Creation inside her realigned to her whims, and glimmers of energy quickly blossomed around the various strangers around her.

Vee started walking, determination guiding her steps but not controlling them. She was unfamiliar with this part of the neighborhood, and happily took the time to examine the various local businesses she passed. Most were tasteless strip malls packed full of bland, corporate retail fronts: cell phone stores, insurance outlets, gas stations, nothing with any real personality. On rare occasions she found genuine, locally owned businesses, but most offered services she couldn't indulge in. She had no need for a haircut, knew nothing about comic books, and didn't have any vintage technology she needed repaired. Roughly twenty minutes into her walk, she happened across a small sandwich shop with an outdoor patio. Although it hadn't been that long since finishing breakfast with Amara, she wanted to support the local business, and figured that one of them would happily eat the leftovers later.

After a short wait in line, Vee found a cute little corner of the patio and settled down. As she bit into her early lunch--a chicken wrap with chipotle mayo and bacon--she drank in the quaint neighborhood surrounding her. The umbrella overhead created a lovely bit of shade, and a slight breeze tussled her hair as she appreciated the food.

Across the patio, a small group of kids had poured all their chips into a giant pile. They talked amongst themselves as they picked away at the pile, complaining about school and drama involving their classmates. Their auras betrayed nothing of much significance. Several tables away, two women in hijabs spoke in a language Vee didn't understand, but their auras bloomed with reddish-orange warmth; perhaps some kind of passionate positivity?

While Vee studied these auras, a faint whimper pulled her attention to a table much closer to her own. Nestled in one of the patio chairs was a large, extravagant baby carrier flanked by a loving couple. They both had fair skin and brown hair, though the man was much taller than the woman. Dim, heavy motes of light clung to them both, their luminescence shielded by whatever ailed them. These were the most dynamic auras around, and Vee took her time studying their intricacies. Her current theory was that she was reading inner strife, or inner peace, and she hoped that these fraught parents might help prove her right. After several minutes of observation, she heard the child in the carrier cough several times in quick succession. As the parents doted on their baby, their eyes met with concern and their auras clouded further.

They're worried for their kid. Of course that would sit heavily on their hearts. This is nothing like the gentleman at the graveyard, though. It's not a problem they can fix with a simple emotional journey, this is an active problem they likely have no way to solve. It's most likely just a slight cold, but... what if it isn't?

Were there any other angels in the area, they might have seen a similar cloud of indecision stir to life around Vee. Powerful, conflicting thoughts battled for her attention, and conflicting memories of her upbringing resurfaced. She remembered Sunday school, learning about her religion long before discovering her true heritage. How many times had her pastors encouraged selflessly improving the world? How many times had she volunteered at her church for that exact purpose?

Learning about her angelic heritage brought a change of curriculum. Her powers were far too grandiose to use for anything other than slaying demons. Heaven's job was not to involve themselves in the affairs of man, it was merely to ensure that they lived a life free of supernatural turbulence. Life on Earth might not always be fair, but it was inarguably an existence crafted for humans, by humans. How many times had Vee been told that intervening in mortal affairs would only cheapen the purity of their lives on Earth?

The Church also believed that demons were irredeemably evil, but Amara and Evelyn disproved that. They claimed Purgatory was nothing but a realm for lost spirits, yet she'd found terrible monsters lurking in the depths of that frigid plane. What of all the other creatures? If the Church was to be believed, demons were the only threats worthy of stamping out. Were werewolves and vampires not terrifying enough to stop? Did the Church somehow believe that demons threatened the purity of mortality, but all other cursed creatures somehow didn't?

Barely a dozen feet away, Vee saw a family in need of help. The Church would tell her this wasn't her place, but her childhood pastor might have preached otherwise. Tessa would argue that Heaven was in the wrong for turning a blind eye to the suffering of humanity, yet wasn't she also the first to argue for secrecy?

Clenching her fists, Vee looked to the Heavens.

Is this really all I'm meant to do? Watch as people suffer?

There was no reply, of course. She was used to that. After a lifetime of seeing herself as undeserving of a response, now a different thought surfaced. Hadn't Zadkiel told her that even the archangels of Heaven had no proof of God's presence? What did it mean to preach doctrine in the name of something that might not even exist?

Vee set her wrap down, brushed off her hands, and walked over to the small family. "Hi there! I couldn't help but overhear a bit of a cough. Is your little one doing alright?"

The father, a man with tired gray eyes, looked at Vee with surprise. "Oh, well... We're not too sure, honestly," he said, a recognizable British lilt in his words.

"What's going on?" Vee asked, pulling up a chair.

The man turned back to his wife, then sighed. "We're here on holiday, actually. Our daughter is just old enough to travel, and we wanted to visit some friends of ours here in the States. This cough appeared shortly after landing, but our physician is all the way back in Britain. We're trying to schedule a visit over the phone, but he's terribly busy, and we're not entirely sure how to go about seeing someone here."

Even if Vee had ignored their heavy auras, their tired faces betrayed their worry. Before responding, Vee allowed a tiny sliver of her true essence to leak out, hoping that her magic might put them at ease. "I'm quite good with children, actually. Would you mind if I gave her a quick look?"

A sigh of relief left the mother's lips. "Honestly, we'll take any advice we can get. This is our first child, so we're feeling a little out of our depth."

Vee smiled, then shifted the chair to move in front of the baby carrier. Laying inside, fretting uncomfortably in a light pink blanket, was the most adorable baby girl Vee had even seen. She grumbled quietly, coughed, then accidentally kicked her blanket off as she vented her frustration. "Hello there, you precious little angel! Are you not feeling too well?" She reached into the carrier and held out a hand, hoping that even someone so small might recognize her divine presence.

The little girl reached out and grabbed Vee's pointer finger. Small, incoherent mumblings passed her lips before she sighed heavily. In that moment of connection, Vee opened her senses even further and looked deep into the baby's eyes for the source of her discomfort. While she saw nothing technically readable, a sense of understanding manifested inside her nonetheless.

A simple cold, but the first she's ever had. She's still learning what it means to be sick. Who can blame her for being a little grumpy?

Laying her other hand across the baby's forehead, Vee pretended to check her temperature. In actuality, she closed her eyes and prayed for a minor miracle. With a tiny pulse of magic, one hopefully small enough to escape notice, she vanquished the cold entirely. As the magic left the little girl, a wide smile appeared on her face and she began to laugh. The cheerful noise brought smiles to her parents' faces, and Vee even saw their auras brighten somewhat.

"She hasn't laughed like that in days! What did you do?" the man asked in surprise.

"It's probably just a common cold," Vee clarified, "and it looks like it's already on the way out. I don't think there's anything to be worried about. If you get a chance to speak with your doctor, you should obviously still do that, of course."

The father reached into the carrier and tickled his daughter, who laughed again, this time even brighter. "Of course! Well, whatever you did, thank you!"

Vee stood up and pushed her chair back to the adjacent table. "I didn't do anything. Probably just some lucky timing on my part, if I'm being honest. I've got somewhere to be, but you three enjoy your vacation, alright?"

Waving goodbye to the family, Vee wrapped up her food and returned to the restaurant to ask for a to-go bag. With her spirits high and a fresh spring in her step, she returned to the sidewalk with her conviction redoubled. Of all the guilty pleasures she could have possibly engaged in, what was the possible harm of helping someone with such a simple matter? Any true person of faith would have done the same.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Vee opened the front door of the Episcopal Church of the Resurrection. The building itself was just as gorgeous as she remembered, if not more so, but this time there was beauty beyond the physical. The light drifting through the windows sparkled with hope, and as she ventured towards the main altar, she heard echoes of the faithful who had prayed here earlier today.

When was the last time I visited a church on a Sunday? Certainly not since my powers awakened. It's like I can hear their prayers, and they weren't even praying to me.

Warmth spread through Vee's body, nourishing her Miracle and expanding her senses even further. Overcome with emotion, she kneeled in front of the central altar and bowed her head, paying tribute to the community this building served. Their faith and hers connected them, even across time, and she listened. She heard their hopes, their dreams, but also their fear and shame. Joy welled inside her as they sang and courage steeled her resolve as they sought redemption through silent confession.

It was beautiful.

How can Heaven hear all these prayers and do nothing? How can they expect me to see such inspiration in my fellow man, yet keep silent as tragedy befalls them? Perhaps this is why my forebearers separate themselves from mankind. Decades upon decades of hearing this beauty, knowing they cannot act to help those in need...

"I'm afraid you're a touch late for service, my child," a stiff, matronly voice said.

Pulled from her moment of transcendence, Vee quickly gathered her thoughts and rose to her feet. She turned to face Mother Callows directly, and in spite of herself, smiled with all the warmth she could muster. "I had other plans this morning, unfortunately. I imagine it was a lovely service."

Mother Callows returned Vee's smile, but was unable to mirror the angel's warmth. "It is difficult, but I do my best to inspire and anchor all those who wander through my doors."

Amidst the beauty of all the faith gathered in this place of worship, Vee found herself acutely aware of whose prayers she'd heard moments earlier. Despite having never met them, she found understanding and connection in those prayers. She knew them as she knew her treasured friends, and in remembering their hopes and dreams, she also found a suspicious absence. Prayers that should have sang the loudest were missing entirely, faith that should have led by example nowhere to be found. She looked deep into Mother Callows' eyes and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this woman hadn't sincerely prayed in years.

"Of that I have no doubt, Mother Callows. Was there a strong turnout today?" Vee asked.

"As strong as can be expected in times like these. As much as I hope for our numbers to grow, the younger generation always seem eager to turn their attention elsewhere. I will admit, I am surprised to see you back here, child. Vee, right?"

Vee nodded. "I'm quite used to being the only person of faith among my friends."

Don't jump to conclusions, Vee. Yes, her faith appears to have wavered, but that alone doesn't mean she outed Mimi to her parents. I should find proof of that before making any unfair assumptions.

"Perhaps there is strength to be found in standing defiant against an increasingly apathetic youth," Mother Callows mused. "You have a lovely name, Vee. Does it carry any significance? Perhaps it's short for something else?"

"It's just Vee, I'm afraid."

As their conversation found its rhythm, Vee took note of the pastor's aura. Just like last time, it was quite strong yet oddly conflicted. Thick blankets of turbulent warmth swirled amidst and between deep wells of darkened static, the two forces intertwined like yin and yang, though lacking the implied unity.

"What inspired you to return to my humble church? If you don't mind me saying, you claimed to be here solely for the architecture last time. I can't help but feel like you misrepresented your motivations. You're not ashamed of your faith, are you, my child?"

Her sinister implication, laced with undue venom, fed the well of static churning deep within her aura.

Vee chuckled at the irony. "Not in the slightest. Everyone in my life knows that I practice, and none let their opinions of religion taint their opinion of me. I do apologize for any unintended rudeness last time, Mother. I was hoping for a bit of silent appreciation, and the church was busier than I expected. As for why I've returned, well... I'll admit I have something weighing on me."

"I'm more than happy to hear you out, child. Would you care to join me in back? It's not exactly a full confessional, but I promise we won't be overheard."

Mother Callows gestured to the same room in which she'd spoken with Mimi, but Vee opted to instead turn her attention to the nearby pews. "If it's alright with you, I find my thoughts are easier to process when I'm up and about. Seeing as we're the only ones here, perhaps I could help clean up following your service? I can't help but notice all the pamphlets lingering beneath the seats."

"What an eye for detail you have! I would be honored to accept your help, young Vee." After showing Vee where to place loose pamphlets and hymnals, Mother Callows returned to her question with unusual fervor. "So, what troubles you, Vee?"

"I'm worried about a friend, actually. Her parents are somewhat old-fashioned in their ideology, and they always made it clear they expected her to marry a man. Several years back, she discovered her interests lay more with women, but she's always kept this a secret from her family. Given their beliefs, she assumed that coming out to them might upset their relationship, and she didn't know how to break the news."

Vee's words, while not entirely truthful, did the trick. The tangled well of static in Mother Callows' aura grew larger yet again, hinting that this situation sounded familiar to her.

"And you're worried about what it means to keep that secret? Are you close with your friend's parents as well?"

"The secret is no longer mine to keep, I'm afraid," Vee said. "Sometime in the last week or so, my friend's parents learned that she's dating a woman. We have no idea how they learned this, but ever since then, things have been truly terrible for her. They're banning her from seeing her partner, and they're restricting which of her friends she's allowed to see. They even took away her car keys!"

Mother Callows' grip on her current book of hymnals tightened considerably. "This friend of yours, what is her name?"

"I'd prefer not to say. Although her lifestyle isn't as secret as she'd prefer, I still want to do my part in keeping it," Vee said, taking care not to tip her hand. "I'm just torn about my role in her life. I want desperately to help, but I'm not sure if there's anything I can do."

"Secrets often lead to heartache, child. Was your friend hoping to live in the darkness forever? Perhaps it is better that this secret came out now, rather than festering any longer."

The conversation paused, and in the silence, Vee and Mother Callows locked eyes. The last time Vee spoke with a pastor, she found nothing but warmth and sincerity. Here, in the presence of a faithless community leader, Vee saw only defensive posturing.

She outed Mimi. How could she?

Vee fought the urge to clench her fists. In the corner of her vision, a tiny spark of iridescent indignation leapt from a beam of sunlight. Mother Callows, thankfully, was too preoccupied with their conversation to notice Vee's tiny slip in concentration.

"An impossible question to answer, I'm afraid," Vee muttered. "We have no idea how her parents found out, and at this point, I don't think I care. My friend is hurting, she's being kept from the people she treasures most in this world, and I just want to find a way to help. The more I think about it, the more I fear there's nothing I can do. I try so hard to live a life worthy of His light, and the thought of doing nothing just... eats away at me."

"Are you present for your friend? Do you still talk with her and offer support?"

"Not as often as I'd like, but that is beyond my control."

"Perhaps, at the end of the day, there is nothing to do but pray and have faith for her. Would you like to join me in silent prayer for your friend and her family? Perhaps hope and understanding will win out, and soon this will all be a distant memory."

How dare you offer prayer to ameliorate your own shortcomings as a pastor.

"A lovely idea, Miss Callows."

"It's Mother Callows, child," the pastor said, sliding a hymnal into place with far too much force. "Let us pray."

They bowed their heads in observance of prayer, yet Vee offered no words of faith to the universe. Her attention was entirely focused on the pastor across from her, the one hiding behind her station to seed discord for her personal satisfaction. Here, amidst the echoes of the truly faithful, Mother Callows did nothing but pretend her faith was genuine. Despite her clasped hands, despite her words to the contrary, it was obvious she was not praying.

-----

Amara bristled with anger as she stared down the three men holding her and Camilla hostage. The man with the gun was obviously the biggest threat, yet ironically, he was the smallest of the three. He had short blonde hair, a thin face with a pointed chin, and the aura of someone who clearly thought himself hot shit. With a simple nod of his head, he directed his accomplices toward the girls.

"You're gonna come with us, alright, ladies? Any funny business, any phone calls, any attempts to fight back or run away..." The thin-faced man gestured at his firearm briefly before tucking it into his waistband and covering it with his jacket.

Camilla's breath picked up as she shuffled closer to Amara. She was on the verge of hyperventilating, and Amara heard her heart rate skyrocket as the two other men closed in. One of them, a bigger man with shaggy, dirty blonde hair and a matching scruffy beard, walked to Camilla and ripped her purse from her shoulder. After digging through it, he looked back at the man with the gun and said, "No weapons in the bag. Want us to search 'em?"

The thin-faced man laughed. "Why bother? You really think they're packing heat?"

Beside Amara, the other man spoke up. "Not saying you're wrong, but we know what'll happen if he finds out we didn't." This one was the biggest of the three, with impressively broad shoulders and a series of tattoos across his neck.

"Tch. Fine, whatever."

Tattoo Guy and Beard Guy searched Amara and Camilla respectively. They weren't gentle, but they also didn't take advantage of the situation to cop a feel. Amara had nothing on her to find, but the man searching Camilla found the flash drive she'd tucked into her pocket. He tossed it to the thin-faced man, then continued.

Guess they could be worse. Who are these assholes, anyway?

They all wore matching black jackets, but Amara didn't see any distinguishing marks on them. No patches, no emblems, no initials, nothing. The jackets themselves were remarkably simple: monotone black from top to bottom, a short collar, a small zipper, and made from a stiff, somewhat reflective material that was unusually bulky. Definitely weatherproof, and Amara suspected they were bulletproof as well.

"All clean," Beard Guy said. After the other guy nodded, the thin-faced man stepped up towards Amara.

"You've got one chance to cooperate with us, and I highly suggest you do so. Our employer is not known for his generosity. You two don't exactly look like career criminals, so tell me: how'd you break in here? All of our cameras went down, and this door, well... Shit, it looks like someone took a blowtorch to it."

Amara bit her tongue. "It was like that when we got here," she hissed.

"That's how you want to play this? Fine. Be my fucking guest." The thin-faced man spun on his heel and walked to the exit. The other men encouraged Amara and Camilla to follow him with a quick shove, and soon everyone had piled into a large, black SUV parked in front of Avalon Financial.

Thick, uncomfortable silence permeated the vehicle as the engine roared to life. Amara hoped she might be able to track their location by studying street signs, but these hopes were immediately dashed. Mere seconds after the doors closed, Tattoo Guy grabbed two black bags and tossed them at the girls. Amara must have reflexively scowled; as she held it up, the thin-faced man pulled out his gun again to remind them they didn't have a choice.

Now blind to the outside world, Amara had nothing to do but wait. Camilla found her hand and squeezed it, likely terrified out of her mind, and Amara did her best to silently communicate that she wasn't as scared as these idiots wanted her to be.

They drove for at least twenty minutes, and Amara suspected they were headed deeper into the city. She expanded her senses as much as she could, and through them heard the telltale sounds of downtown Chicago. Heavier traffic, more pedestrians, and noise bouncing off countless mirrored surfaces that likely represented taller and taller buildings. In time, she heard a clunky garage door slide open, and the noises of the city darkened as they descended into an unknown basement.

With any luck, they're taking us to an isolated facility. Once we're alone, I'll have more freedom to break us out without attracting any attention from passing strangers.

After parking, Amara and Camilla were forced from the car. The two bigger guys each grabbed one of their arms, then directed them through the underground structure with their vision still blocked by the thick bags. They stopped briefly to listen to a series of whirring gears, then clunky sliding doors opened in front of them. Someone clicked a button, the floor shifted, and soon Amara felt the familiar change in pressure as the elevator carried them up several dozen floors.

Camilla's hand again found Amara's as they waited.

With a quiet ping, the doors opened again and fresh air flooded the lift. As Amara played along with her captors, she listened closely to the new ambient noises of this mystery building. Thin carpet covered the floor, and although walls scattered the entirety of this floor of the building, they didn't extend to the ceiling. Maybe a series of office cubicles?

As the men paraded them through the halls, Amara counted several other people lingering nearby. She estimated at least half a dozen more people, but their inactivity made it difficult to learn more about them. Were they just as muscular as the men pushing them around? Were they carrying guns? None of them posed any threat to Amara, but without an understanding of their capabilities, she didn't feel safe breaking Camilla out of here.

One final shove interrupted her thoughts. A door closed behind them, a lock clicked, and someone pulled the bags off their heads. As Amara adjusted to the harsh lights of the room, she saw the thin-faced man grinning in front of them.

"Why don't you ladies take a seat. You're gonna be here a while." He gestured to two chairs set up in the corner. Amara nodded at Camilla, squeezed her hand, then looked around the room. It appeared to be a small break room: thin gray carpet covered the floor, and two small tables rested against the side wall. One corner housed a tiny kitchenette, complete with a small sink, a series of cabinets overheard, and a large fridge.

As the girls sat down, Amara noticed that Tattoo Guy still held Camilla's purse. He handed it to the thin-faced man, who quickly rummaged through it again. Instead of looking for firearms, however, he pulled out Camilla's wallet. Amara's eyes flared as he slipped her driver's license out, then he took a picture with his phone and dropped everything back into the bag.

"Alright, Carmina." The thin-faced man tossed Camilla's purse at her. "Who sent you? What information are you after?"

Camilla's breath quickened as the thin-faced man paced in front of her. "I-I...

"What, cat got your tongue?" He held up Camilla's flash drive with a smug grin. "We're gonna find out either way, love. I'm just giving you a chance to get on my good side. See, our boss... he doesn't have one of those, but if I tell him that you're not worth killing... Well, he's not likely to listen to me, but there's a first time for everything, right?"

"If you're gonna kill us either way, then fuck you," Camilla spat.

"Ohoho! Little Latina's got some kick! You keep that up and the boss will love you." With another laugh, the thin-faced man headed towards the exit. He whispered something to Tattoo Guy, then knocked on the door. Another click, the door opened, then the thin-faced man left. One final click hinted that this door locked from the outside. Amara and Camilla were now alone with Tattoo Guy, who caught Amara staring daggers and pulled his jacket aside to reveal a gun of his own.

Shit. That complicates things.

"So, what, we just wait for your boss to come kill us?" Camilla asked.

Tattoo Guy said nothing.

Camilla scoffed and slouched against the wall. Silence overtook the room, and each passing second stretched out for hours as they settled into their captivity. Camilla alternated between nervously bouncing her leg, drumming her fingers on her thigh, and wringing the straps of her bag as she waited. Amara, normally the bundle of nerves, felt comparatively calm. A small group of men with guns seemed like child's play against armies of demons and massive skeletal monsters. Still, Camilla's presence complicated things.

If I knew who their boss was, I could summon an illusion of him, but I don't. Plus, I didn't have time to memorize the layout of the building, so I wouldn't be able to make him convincingly walk around anyway. Hm. I'm not seeing any cameras here, which makes sense, but there are a bunch littering the rest of the floor. It'll be pretty easy to fight my way out of this room, at least, but how do I escape while keeping Camilla safe? Maybe if I--

"I told you something was up," Camilla muttered.

The surprisingly petty comment jolted Amara from her thoughts. "Really? You think now's the time for 'I told you so'?"

"As good a time as any. You're the reason we're stuck here."

Amara laughed in disbelief. "Oh, I'm the reason?! I wanted to leave, but you insisted that we stay just a little bit longer!"

"At least I'm doing something!" Camilla jabbed a finger at Amara.

"So it's okay to lie to me? To manipulate me to get what you want? For all I know, you left that drive behind on purpose! Whatever it takes to get your way, right?"

"I'm trying to make the world a better place! What's your excuse?"

Amara's voice rose to match Camilla's, both girls on the verge of shouting at each other. "I've saved more people than you could possibly imagine! You don't know half of the shit I've suffered through in the name of protecting the people I love!"

"Oh, so what, I don't count? You're just gonna let me die because you're too stubborn to get involved, is that it?"

Tattoo Guy cleared his throat. "Miss, if you and your cousin don't--"

Amara and Camilla turned and shouted at Tattoo Guy in unison. "WE'RE NOT COUSINS!" He flinched somewhat in surprise, then backed off. Camilla scoffed in annoyance, then stood up and started pacing back and forth near the wall opposite their tattooed guard. Amara saw his hand slide closer to his gun, just in case.

"You don't understand what's at stake," Amara hissed.

"It doesn't matter!" Camilla shouted. "There are always going to be assholes abusing the system! They rely on people like you being too scared to change things, too scared to disrupt the status quo because you don't want to ruin your own chance at a normal life! Every day you sit on the sidelines, every day you turn a blind eye, they hurt more people like me!"

Heavy, smoldering flames roared to life deep inside Amara, who just barely managed to keep them from spilling over. "You want to see what my life is like? You want me to get involved that badly?!"

"You're already involved!" Camilla stormed closer and shoved Amara back. "The only question is whether you give enough of a shit about me to save my life!"

Certain lines were not to be crossed. Amara had been accused of, and even committed, many terrible things throughout the last six months, and she was used to weathering the horrible assumptions of others. Camilla's implication that Amara cared nothing for the lives of her family, however, was a step too far. Indignant, hellish sparks leapt from her body and threatened to ignite her clothing. They sizzled against her skin, itching for battle as Amara's fury over this kidnapping finally boiled over. Growling in frustration, Amara kicked the chair beside her and cracked it in half before glaring at Camilla.

"FUCKING! FINE!"

Amara turned towards their tattooed guard and charged him. Driven by rage, she closed the distance at inhuman speeds as Tattoo Guy scrambled to unholster his gun. Amara struck the side of his chin, hoping to knock him out, but her inexperience fighting normal humans yielded too much caution. He stumbled sideways, crashing into the wall before raising his gun. He barely had time to fire a single shot before Amara lashed out again, this time rendering him unconscious with one final punch.

Camilla screamed as the gun fired. The noise set off a chain reaction outside the door, spurring a stampede of footsteps as everyone on the floor rushed towards the break room. Hoping to buy themselves a few seconds, Amara ran to the refrigerator and picked it up, lifting it overhead before slamming it down in front of the door.

Grinning with excitement, adrenaline flooded Amara's veins as she turned to look at Camilla. She had backed into the corner, her face pale and eyes wide as she pointed at Amara. "H-he shot you! Are you okay?!"

The pain was negligible, so much so that Amara barely even registered the bullet lodged in the upper right side of her gut. What little pain she felt only heightened her anticipation for the coming fight. She rolled her neck and sighed with relief as she released her inner fire, savoring its demonic warmth as it leapt from her body. The flames announced their presence by melting the twisted metal lodged in her shoulder, turning it to molten hot slag that dripped from the open wound with an audible sizzle. With the bullet gone, her body stitched itself back together with a flurry of sparks. A thick blanket of hellfire sprang into existence next, incinerating her mundane clothes and replacing them with thick, blackened exoskeleton that covered every inch of her body. Her tail manifested in a flurry of embers, and a loud snap filled the room as she tested its precision with a powerful whip. Horns, tall and powerful with a deep crimson tinge, fed Amara detailed information about her surroundings as they appeared in another cascade of fire. The transformative inferno finished its journey across her body by concentrating on her back and spawning two massive, terrible wings. Their razor-sharp talons accidentally speared the opposing walls as she stretched her wings, eager for the freedom of her true form and thrilled to be herself once again.

Amara welcomed the comforting embrace of her exoskeleton by slamming her knuckles together in front of her, scattering a shower of sparks. As the transformation finished, she once again looked at Camilla with sinister, glowing amber eyes suspended in black as deep as the pits of Hell. What little fear the gunshot had inspired in Camilla was dwarfed by the look of awe she now wore.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Amara growled. "Ready to get out of here?"

Camilla, still shaking with fear, quickly nodded. Behind them, the door rattled as someone slammed into it, unable to move the refrigerator blocking the exit. Amara expanded her senses as far as she could, then turned her attention to the gauntlet awaiting them. Just like in Avalon Financial, she saw an impressive tapestry of cameras sweeping the floor, and one by one she shorted them out. As she did so, she extended her tail towards Camilla, pausing just long enough to not further terrify her.

"Hold on tight," she warned. Another wave of hellfire spread across her wings, spawning thick plates of exoskeleton. Although significantly heavier, the armor was now strong enough to deflect bullets. Hopefully. "I'll keep you covered, but you need to follow my instructions without hesitation. If I say duck, you duck. If I say jump, you jump. Understand?"

"Oh my God, this is insane, this is fucking insane, I--"

"Camilla!" Amara stepped closer and grabbed her great-grandniece's arms. "Please. Trust me."

The inky void of Amara's gaze receded just long enough for them to look into each other's eyes. Camilla nodded slowly, then Amara turned around and extended several of the chitinous plates on her back and shoulders to give Camilla something to hold on. Once she was situated firmly on Amara's back, the demon wrapped her tail around Camilla to both keep her safe and hold her steady. Through this quick touch, she felt every terrified shudder racing through Camilla's body.

"I didn't want this, I just wanted to help..." Camilla whispered, her body shaking.

"It's about to get very dark and very loud, Camilla," Amara said, manifesting a pair of illusory earplugs. "Here. This should prevent any damage to your ears."

"Dark? What do you-- Sorry, right, no hesitation. Yes, ma'am." Camilla shoved the earplugs in, then nodded. As she finished, Amara moved her wings to cover Camilla and turned her attention to the lights overhead. With a tiny, concentrated burst of fire, she shorted out every bulb in the break room. She then extended her presence into the office, disabling every single light on the floor to a chorus of confused grunts from the men still trying to break down the nearby door. As the confusion spread, thick tendrils of pitch-black darkness dripped off of Amara's wings, billowing out until they formed a veritable wall of impenetrable void. It slipped beneath the door and spread throughout the office, replacing the dim ambient light of the exterior windows with absolute, blinding darkness: the perfect cover with which to escape.

"Three," Amara muttered. The men outside spewed vulgarities as void eclipsed their vision.

"Two." Rustling clothes and metallic clicking hinted at more unholstered guns. As Amara's own eyesight no longer mattered, she grew another series of chitinous plates around her face, creating a sleek, blackened mask to further protect herself.

"One." Camilla redoubled her grip, took a deep breath, then nodded quietly with one final gasp of fear.

Amara grabbed the fridge and tossed it aside. She kicked down the door and charged forward, grabbing the gun of the closest thug and throwing it away. A quick knee to the stomach knocked the wind from him, then she threw him into the break room behind her to clear a path.

"Johnny? What the fuck was that?"

Every second she lingered threatened Camilla. Relying entirely on non-visual senses, Amara lunged at the next closet thug and grabbed his gun as well. He gasped in surprise and fired. Wincing in pain as the bullet collided with the palm of her gauntlet, she whipped the gun aside and swept the thug's feet out from under him.

The action drew the attention of two more thugs, each of whom recklessly pointed their gun towards Amara. They each fired several shots, and Amara only barely raised her wings to prevent them from hitting Camilla. Relying on her chitinous armor to keep them safe, Amara fled behind a nearby wall.

"Piotr, watch the elevators! Carlo, the stairs! Someone get these FUCKING lights back!!"

Random thugs scattered throughout the office moved into positions that felt oddly practiced. Amara crept through the shadows to buy time, following their movements as they systematically blocked off various exits throughout the floor. She heard doors open and close, locks click, and several more people fiddled with their guns as they searched for Amara and Camilla. Their frantic movements gave Amara all the information she needed, a rough floor plan gradually taking shape in her head.

An obvious kathunk from the far corner of the office alerted Amara to the location of the staircase. Several sets of footsteps raced inside--at least three or four--each of them jumping in fear as the lights surrounding them shorted out as well. Amara's darkness billowed into the staircase, then she set out following its path.

Still carrying Camilla, Amara used her tail to scout the path directly in front of her. She crept between office cubicles, the heavy magical darkness thankfully negating any need to crouch low or keep her wings hidden. Several dozen feet away from the break room they'd just escaped from, Amara heard nervous shuffling as another thug passed in front of her. His panicked breathing and anxious muttering made him easy to track, and on several occasions he accidentally kicked bits of extended cubicle wall. As he tried to find his way through the darkness, he nearly turned into the office currently holding Amara, and she quickly manifested a copy of the voice she'd heard seconds earlier.

"Over here! I got something!" The voice spoke in the opposite direction of Amara, and thankfully the thug took the bait. He spun around and headed towards the noise, leaving Camilla to sigh in relief.

"Who said that?"

"You did!"

"I didn't say shit!"

They pushed onwards, continuously slipping past disoriented guards as they navigated towards the staircase. Discordant noises preceded all of Amara's actions, be they thrown voices, doors opening and closing, or sharp elevator pings. Their progress was slower than Amara would have liked, as she'd misjudged the number of people lurking in the office. She'd initially estimated half a dozen, but as she slid between cubicles and walls, she counted at least a dozen more that she'd initially missed.

Just before arriving at the stairwell, she paused to let another patrolling guard pass, one muttering confused nonsense under his breath. His relentless chattering happened to mask the presence of another thug just behind him, one that Amara accidentally bumped into. He panicked, firing two shots before she had a chance to grab his gun. Beneath her wings, Camilla flinched in terror as the gun went off. Amara threw the gun aside and grabbed the thug's jacket, tossing him into the first guy. They collided into each other and fell to the ground, but as they landed, one of them shouted, "They're heading for the stairs!"

Fuck!

The entire floor turned towards the staircase. With their direction no longer a mystery, Amara threw caution to the wind and wrapped her tail even tighter around Camilla. She charged the staircase door, hoping no one was guarding it, but raised an armored wing just in case. Her hopes were dashed when she ran into a powerfully built guard who flinched and immediately tried shooting her. One bullet glanced off her wings, the other her chitinous mask, before a furious punch knocked this guard unconscious. The sound of her bursting into the stairwell attracted attention from all the thugs inside; as they turned towards Amara with guns raised, she listened closely. The scrambling, panicked guards had uniformly extended down into the stairwell, thankfully. For anyone else, that would have been the logical choice, but Amara had other plans.

"Roof, now!" Amara whispered as she set Camilla down.

Camilla sprinted upstairs without question, leaving Amara to face the small crowd of thugs lingering on the stairs. Several of them fired towards Amara's voice, and she winced as more bullets glanced off her exoskeleton. To buy time, she manifested an illusion of her voice behind them in hopes of disorienting them.

"Keep running!" her illusory doppelganger shouted from several feet behind them. All at once, the men spun around in fear and fired several more shots into the emptiness behind them.

In the precious few seconds she'd bought herself, Amara sprinted after Camilla. She dropped concentration on the darkness in the office and redoubled her efforts on clouding the stairwell. As the inky void spread higher and higher, she also blocked the path behind her by manifesting an illusory wall of stone. As she raced onto the second story above the office, she heard several thugs crash into the wall and shout confused profanities. Seconds later, someone fired a gun into the illusion, and she felt it dissipate entirely.

The race continued. Camilla ran as fast as she could while Amara maintained a comfortable pace behind her, focusing on the illusions slowing down their pursuers. Unfortunately, the trained killers chasing them were much faster than Camilla, and Amara didn't have the strength to summon countless walls. After clearing three more floors, they finally arrived at the door leading to the roof, but the thugs were only a floor behind them.

Amara dropped the darkness entirely, instead pushing her presence outside to prepare an illusory bubble. She sprinted through the door, filling in details of her illusion as best she could to hide their presence from any potential onlookers. After Camilla joined her on the roof, Amara wrapped the bubble around them both, but Camilla froze.

"Amara, there's nowhere to run!" she shouted nervously, hovering close to Amara as they neared the edge of the building. A railing at least four feet tall encompassed the building, and stiff winds assaulted them from all sides due to the high altitude.

"Jump!" Amara shouted back. Looking around, she found some kind of antenna and ripped it off its mount, wedging it against the door to buy them time.

"WHAT?! You can't be serio--" Camilla's panicked shouts were interrupted by a loud clang. The thugs chasing them had finally caught up, and were now trying to break down the door. A gunshot pierced the ambient gusts as they tried to break the impromptu lock.

"JUMP!!"

Amara broadened the illusory bubble to encompass her wingspan, then sprinted towards the side of the building. Camilla looked back at the rooftop door, heard a second gunshot, then turned and fled alongside Amara. They both jumped over the railing, suspending themselves hundreds of feet over the busy Chicago streets. Amara's wings stretched as wide as they could and her eyes flared as she warmed the surrounding air. She angled towards Camilla, wrapped her tail around her, then hugged her close as she soared higher into the sky.

The illusory flight mirage, as helpful as it was to mask their visual, thankfully also masked noise. The entire first minute of their flight was punctuated by Camilla's full-throated scream of terror as she stared at the ground beneath her. Once they were high enough, Amara spun and repositioned Camilla to be on her back instead, which seemed to ease the fear of their situation.

Not entirely, of course. Camilla wrapped her arms around Amara's shoulders as she squeezed with every ounce of strength she could muster. While this didn't bother Amara in the slightest, she made sure to retract her exoskeleton so that Camilla wouldn't accidentally hurt herself.

Soaring between buildings, Amara did her best to avoid coming too close to any one structure. Her flight mirage only worked when viewed from the outside, and she couldn't risk the illusion breaking by accidentally flying too close to a window or camera. Once Amara reoriented herself, she recognized where exactly in the city they'd been taken. She turned towards the Magnificent Mile and warmed another pillar of air to carry her higher into the sky, then briefly turned her head to check on Camilla.

In any other situation, she would have urged Camilla to breathe deep and enjoy the thrill of flying through the sky, but now wasn't the time. Her great grandniece was terrified beyond belief, still partially hyperventilating and burying her face in Amara's back to avoid looking at the ground beneath them.

Minutes later, after circling the Park Hyatt several times to gradually slow herself down, Amara landed on the rooftop platform of Evelyn's penthouse. Camilla seemed to relish the feeling of hard floor beneath her feet, sliding off Amara's back with a tense sigh of relief. Her legs shook as she tried to find her balance, but it was a losing battle. Seconds after touching down, Camilla crumpled into herself and fell to the floor. Breath hitched in her chest, her body shook haphazardly, and tears burst from her eyes as she started weeping.

Kneeling next to Camilla, Amara pulled her close and hugged her tight. She wrapped her tail and wings around the terrified girl, knowing full well she had every right to be emotional right now. What mattered most is that they'd escaped with their lives, and that they had each other.