Chapter 6: Awakening

"I told you I heard it! Come on, come on, come on! I want to play with the dog!”

The woman’s shrill, manic voice cut through the growl of the motor carriage idling outside the half-collapsed house. Inside, Dog barked frantically, darting between the entrance and the kitchen as if torn between warning and terror.

With a quick, eager leap, the blonde-haired girl bounded toward the doorway, but she never made it through. A flash of motion and Tony’s boot slammed into her ribs mid-step. She crashed against the broken threshold, her smile wiped clean by pain.

"Starr…” Tony’s voice was low and cold. "I told you not to rush.”

He stepped closer, the shadow of his frame falling over her as she struggled to catch her breath. "Don’t make me say it again, sweetheart. This house isn’t like the others.”

The leader of the four Reavers gave her one last look then turned to the two men still seated in the carriage, watching the scene with dull, empty stares.

"Kill the engine,” he ordered.

Both moved at once: massive, bald-headed brutes whose thick skulls collided with a hollow thunk as they bent toward the ignition. Groaning, they rubbed their foreheads while the machine kept rumbling undisturbed.

"Idiots,” Tony muttered, exasperated, brushing past them. He was much smaller than either of the two giants in their suffocating leather gear and slipped easily between them. He cut the engine himself and turned, his voice low and hoarse.

"Until we find her, not one word.”

The twins tightened their grip on their nail-studded clubs, nodding in unison, though Tony doubted they truly understood. He might have valued their savagery, but together their wits barely rivaled those of a beaten animal.

Tony ignored Starr, who licked the blood from her torn lips with manic delight, and clambered over the rubble. He stopped at the threshold, staring at the fractured doorway. The instructions had been clear, and though they felt strange, he would follow them to the letter. Immortal masters tolerated no mistakes, especially in matters of precision.

A cold knot of fear coiled in his stomach. He swallowed hard and drew from his inner jacket pocket a small, sealed metal flask. Hands trembling, he opened it. The metallic scent of cold blood slammed into his nostrils. For a fleeting second, he wanted to drink it straight. Instead, he poured it into his palm, the liquid heavy and sticky, and positioned himself before the invisible wall that barred entry.

The barrier was imperceptible, but he felt it pressing back at him: an unseen weight that rejected his presence. With careful, yet reluctant movements, he traced the ritual symbol directly upon that invisible surface, the hook in his left hand trembling as the blood smeared across the empty air. Every line he drew pressed against the wall’s resistance, the magical force quivering under his touch.

Blood dripped from his palm onto his forearm, but ha had more than enough to complete the symbol. For a heartbeat, nothing moved. Then the air thickened, buzzing with a strange, electric energy that clawed at his senses. The barrier shivered, then cracked in scattered, uneven places, and a deep, purple light seeped through the fissures, painting the rubble in ghostly hues.

The symbol hung in the air, burning against nothing, defying every natural law. Time stretched, each second a drawn-out eternity. Then, with a shattering crack like some immense mirror splintering, the invisible wall surrendered. The first drops of blood fell upon the wreckage. The hush that followed felt endless; a suspended breath over a city long dead.

He had opened the wardrobe.

The creature stood upright and rigid inside, its long, bony arms hanging limp at its sides. A wooden stake, carved with runes of old magic, was driven through its heart; the only thing keeping it senseless. The sight was macabre, ripped straight from the stuff of nightmares. Rotten, moth-eaten rags clung to the skeletal frame like abandoned cobwebs in a haunted house. Its skin was gray and translucent, stretched tight over the eternal bones beneath as if trying to protect them. Thin strips of greasy black hair ringed the grotesque skull, framing hollow sockets and a mouth yawning obscene and empty. Its fangs loomed monstrous from that sunken maw.

Fabio shuddered as he hauled the torpid Immortal over his shoulder and began to climb the stairs.

He reached the kitchen breathless just as the engine outside cut. The weight on his shoulder strangled the blood flow in his arm, but adrenaline kept the numbness at bay. Dog continued to bark - sharp, urgent - while Fabio’s eyes skittered across the ruined room for an exit. He was a step away from the shattered window and the safety of the backyard when the fatal hum broke loose.

Fabio froze as the silence cracked, splintering around him like a shattered mirror. He had no idea what had made that sound; all he felt was the sudden sense of standing inside a dense metallic bubble charged with static. The hairs on his arms and the base of his neck prickled. Time, for a moment, ceased to exist. And then... footsteps approached.

He had to move.

As fast as the dead weight permitted, he lunged for the window. He propped the body on the sill - half in, half out - and leapt outside. His hands trembled as he gripped the shoulders and hauled. His breath came in ragged bursts; cold sweat stung his eyes and blurred his sight. He almost had it, until he heard a hysterical laugh fill the ruined house.

Fabio felt his heart miss a beat as the voice reached him:

"Don’t cry little doggie... it’s only a little blood! You have so much still. Come play with me, please! I won’t bite, I promise! All I want is to cut you… slowly… slowly and prettily…”

"Kill it, for fuck sake!” one of the men grunted, impatient. "You two, start searching. Quickly!”

A few steps separated Fabio from freedom and the cursed world outside. The creature’s body teetered on the sill; he needed only a small pull. He could already see New Hope - the promise to Alexander still burning in his chest, the one thing keeping him from falling apart. The choice should have been simple. At least it was until the dog tried to bark again, and only a broken, strangled whine escaped its throat.

Without quite knowing why, he shoved the body back inside the house before climbing through himself. He snatched a knife and moved along the wall until he reached the doorway. Seconds later, a vast shadow licked the threshold.

Fabio held his breath, hidden in the dark that until now had proven a most faithful ally.

When the broad, completely shaven head of the hulking man emerged, he was ready. The towering brute didn’t even have time to shout before the knife sank to the hilt into his carotid.

Hot blood spilled over Fabio’s hands as he clenched his jaw and twisted the blade deeper into the man’s throat. The giant’s small brown eyes bulged, then a crimson torrent roared out, the body collapsing like a ruptured beer barrel.

The man began to choke on his own blood. His knees gave way; the bat he carried fell and rolled toward the kitchen with a dull clang. His shovel-like hands went instinctively to the gash in his neck, but it was already too late. He was dead before he hit the floor.

For a few heartbeats, no one moved.

Fabio was still turning the knife in his grip when he noticed the pale-blue stick glassing by his boot. He hadn’t seen it fall from his pocket. Now he stood exposed to three pairs of stunned eyes. His face remained hidden beneath the shadow of his hood, but his gaze darted instinctively to the bleeding animal a few meters away. A girl with a greasy blonde mohawk and a pale, heart-shaped face crouched on all fours. She held a crude dagger in her hands, but she’d stopped paying attention to Dog. Her stare was fixed on Fabio, fascination and madness flickering together in her eyes. A second brute, identical to the first, looked from Fabio to his fallen comrade in disbelief, struggling to understand what had just happened.

Last was the man Fabio had heard called Tony; his face calm and unreadable.

He stood at the base of the collapsed staircase, utterly still, observing the unexpected turn of events.

At last, he broke the silence pulling down the bandana from his mouth.

"Let’s be reasonable. We can all be civilized, can't we?” Tony said; his voice calm as a blade.

"Let me go and there won’t be a problem,” Fabio said quickly, too quickly, trading time for breath. He had no plan beyond improvisation; he only hoped to buy a sliver of one.

Tony’s smile was sly and patient as he answered, " I could agree on that. All I ask in return is a few answers. Let's start simple: who are you?”

"No one. Just a traveler. I meant to shelter here for the night, but there is no need to make this ugly. Just give me the dog and you won’t see me again.”

Tony didn't look convinced. He peeled himself off the collapsed staircase and stepped forward - the hook replacing his arm scraping the wall as he moved. Fabio backed away. A malformed grin crawled across Tony’s pale lips - wrong and too wide for the battered face - a fake smile that belonged to a man who’d long ago learned cruelty as manners.

"You’re sharp, kid. Rare trait. Don’t squander it by talking shit to me." He took another step. He lifted his hands in a mock-placating gesture that was anything but innocent and added, "Name’s Tony. How did you get inside?”

"Like you. There was no door, if you hadn’t noticed.”

"Balls. I’ll give you credit for guts.” Tony’s tone sharpened. "But my patience isn’t endless, Traveler. Lying to me is bad business.” He took another step. "You’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, so help me to help you. Where is the Immortal?”

"I don’t know what you mean.”

Tony’s look flicked to the kitchen and back. He was intelligent, far smarter than all of his companions combined and he watched Fabio the way a huntsman watches a caught rabbit. The other two closed in. It appeared that the broad-headed brute had finally understood what had happened and his face was slowly hardening into a bestial snarl. Fabio’s hand went slow into his coat, fingers hunting for the shotgun.

"Don’t,” Tony said softly. The word dropped like a stone and Fabio stilled. Tony’s voice turned colder, threaded with amusement. "One word from me and my friend there will gut you. He may look like a brute, but let’s be honest: you just killed his brother. Last time I ask: where is the Immortal?”

Fabio stumbled back two quick steps, giving a curt nod to Dog. Immediately the hound limped forward, growling low. Before anyone could react, Fabio moved. A flick of the wrist, a flash of steel and his knife cut through the air straight at Tony. In the same breath, he drew the shotgun and aimed at the giant with the bat.

The blade grazed Tony’s cheek. A deep cut, but not fatal - just enough to widen the crooked smile spreading across his face.

Fabio pulled the trigger. Too late.

The bat swung.

The shotgun flew from his hands as pain burst through his skull. He hit the floor, vision swimming, jaw half-broken. The bald brute loomed over him, froth bubbling from his lips as he roared striking again - ribs, gut, then a fist that shattered Fabio’s nose with a crack loud enough to drown out his gasps.

The Reaver was out for blood. His brother’s blood. And Fabio’s life was the debt.

The bat rose high, ready for the final blow.

Then came the scream.

Two rows of sharp teeth had sunk deep behind his knee, tearing through tendon and flesh. Dog held on, growling through the blood. The man’s leg gave way with a wet snap, buying Fabio the moment he needed to crawl away. Every bone in his body ached, but he dragged himself across the filthy floor all the same.

"Bad dog!” Starr spat. "Time you learned some manners!”

She sprinted toward the hound, wild and fast. Fabio shifted just enough for his leg to catch hers. She tripped hard, hitting the ground face-first. Her dagger clattered away as she spat blood and broken teeth onto the concrete.

Still, she laughed.

Then pounced.

She climbed over Fabio like a feral thing, legs locking around his waist. He barely had time to breathe before she sank her teeth into the side of his neck. He felt her chew and swallow. His scream turned into a gag: part pain, part terror. He kicked her - once, twice - until she flew off him and hit the wall at the opposite side. Dog was still fighting, tearing at the brute’s leg even as the bat crashed down on its back again and again. The thuds echoed, wet and final.

"ENOUGH!”

A gunshot split the air.

Fabio screamed as fire tore through his leg. He dropped, pressing his hand to the wound, trying in vain to slow the bleeding. The old revolver smoked in Tony’s grip. He looked down the barrel with calm certainty; the certainty of a man who’d counted corpses too many times to care.

Dog limped to Fabio’s side, bloodied and shaking, crying faintly through broken teeth. The beast was the only thing standing between him and death. Fabio knew it wouldn’t last. When Dog fell, so would he.

He forced himself to breathe. Each inhale was a blade. The taste of blood filled his mouth, metallic and thick.

"Think. Move. You can't die here, you idiot." he thought to himself

Behind his blurry vision, he saw the blonde - Starr - closing in again, eyes wide with fury, a knife flashing in her right hand. Fabio moved on instinct. He ripped the last blade from his belt and drove it upward into her stomach. Her breath hitched; she folded soundlessly as he shoved her off.

The brute was still alive; crawling with his ruined leg useless, dragging the bat behind him like a broken limb. He came for Fabio with blind rage, muttering incoherent threats through a mouthful of blood. Dog met him halfway, clamping down on what was left of his leg. The room erupted in chaos once more: growls, screams, the dull thud of wood against flesh.