I pause, my eyes darting between Emily and her hands, trying to process the mind-bending telekinetic badassery I just witnessed. "But seriously, Rainbow Brite, that was some impressive shit. I mean, I've seen some weird things in my time, like a midget wrestling a grizzly bear while wearing a tutu, but untying ropes with your mind? That's a whole new level of fucked up. If you could do that with bras, you'd be every teenage boy's wet dream come true. Hell, you'd be my wet dream come true."
Emily shoots me a withering glare that could shrivel a man's balls at fifty paces, but I can see the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips, betraying her amusement. "Really? That's where your mind goes? Teenage boys and bras? You're such a pig."
I shrug, a grin spreading across my face. "What can I say? I'm a man of simple tastes. And by simple, I mean perverted."
Bubblegum Girl clears her throat, her expression of amusement and impatience. "As much as I hate to interrupt this fascinating discussion, wereallyshould get moving. I don't think Azrael and Paige will be too thrilled when they realize their prisoner has flown the coop."
I nod, my face turning serious for a moment. "Bubblegum Girl is right. We need to make like a tree and get the fuck out—"
As if summoned by my words, Azrael and Paige burst into the room, their faces twisted with rage. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the twobitcheswho helped set the trap," Paige sneers, with malice. "You witches are going to pay for all their deaths."
Uh-oh. What did these two do?
The tension in the air is palpable as Paige begins to chant in an ancient, guttural language that sounds like a mixture of nails on a chalkboard and a dying cat's last meow. Suddenly, with a roar, a ring of fire erupts around us, the flames leaping and dancing like a pack of starving, rabid wolves.
The heat is unbearable, searing my skin and singeing my hair, making it feel like I'm being roasted alive in the depths of Hell's own kitchen. Rivers of sweat pour down my face, stinging my eyes and blurring my vision as I squint through the inferno, trying to discern whether this is just a vivid, alcohol-induced nightmare or if I'm actually about to become a crispy, vampire-flavored snack.
"Uhhh, now what the fuck do we do?" I manage to choke out, my voice barely audible over the deafening roar of the flames. "I don't suppose either of you has a fire extinguisher hidden in your ass? Or maybe a magical 'get out of hellfire free' card? Because I'm pretty sure my vampire healing factor doesn't cover 'death by supernatural barbecue.'"
Azrael prowls around the fire's perimeter like a predator stalking its prey, his features contorted to make him look like a demented, constipated gargoyle. "No one is leaving this place," he snarls."You will all burn, your ashes scattered to the winds, your souls forever trapped in the depths of my master's darkest, most nightmarish realm."
But Bubblegum Girl, her neon pink locks shimmering like a beacon of hope amid the chaos, refuses to be cowed by Azrael's threats. "Emily, take my hand!" she shouts, her words laced with a desperate, unyielding determination.
Without hesitation, Emily reaches out, their fingers intertwining in unity and strength, their hands clasped together like a lifeline during the storm.
Together, they begin to chant in a haunting melody that seems to resonate with the very fabric of reality. As their words grow in power, the flames start to flicker and retreat as if cowering before their combined might, the once-threatening ring of fire now little more than a sputtering candle.
Seizing the moment, Azrael lunges for Bubblegum Girl. His hands outstretched like claws, his face a mask of pure, rage. I react on instinct, launching myself at him and wrapping my arms around his neck in a vise-like grip, my muscles straining with the effort. I may not know who these girls are, but they're here to help me, and I'll be damned if I let this bastard lay a finger on them.
"Sorry, pal," I grunt, my breath hot against his ear. "But I'm afraid I can't let you touch the merchandise. These ladies are under my protection now, and you know what they say: never touch a man's bubblicious babes."
Azrael thrashes against my hold, his elbows slamming into my ribs with bruising force, each blow sending shockwaves of pain through my body. I grit my teeth,refusing to relinquish my grasp, my determination fueled by a desperate need to protect these strangers who risked everything to save me.
"Is that all you got?" I taunt, my voice strained with the effort of keeping him restrained. "I've had grandmas' hit harder than you. And they were dead at the time."
Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse Paige. Her face contorted into a grotesque mask of hatred. Her eyes blaze with a manic, hellish light as she unleashes a torrent of flames toward Emily and Bubblegum Girl, the searing heat of the inferno palpable even from across the room.
But Emily, in a stunning display of selfless bravery, leaps in front of her friend, her hands raised before her as if to shield them both from the onslaught. Her vibrant, rainbow-hued hair whips around her face in a dazzling kaleidoscope of color, starkly contrasting the sinister, angry red of the flames bearing down upon her. And then, to the shock and disbelief of everyone present, the fire bounces off an invisible barrier surrounding Emily, dissipating into nothingness as they meet her unwavering resolve. It's as if she's encased in a bubble of pure, indomitable willpower, forming an impenetrable shield against Paige's malicious onslaught.
Bubblegum Girl stares at Emily, her jaw hanging open in a perfect "O" of astonishment, her eyes wide with disbelief. It's clear that even she, with all her magical knowledge and experience, has never witnessed anything quite like this before.
"What the hell are you? What have you done?!" Paige screeches, her voice shrill and laced with fear and unease.
And then, in a moment that will be forever seared into my memory (and not just because of the third-degree burns), Emily goes full-on Human Torch, her hands thrusting outward as she unleashes a blistering torrent of flames directly at Paige. It's like watching a scene from a Michael Bay movie on steroids, except instead of Megan Fox, we've got a pissed-off Rainbow Brite with the power to shoot fire from her fingertips.
Paige is engulfed in flames in a matter of seconds, her agonized screams reverberating through the room. The stench of burning flesh and hair fills the air, making me wonder if this is what KFC smells like in the ninth circle of Hell.
As the flames die down, leaving behind only a smoldering, unrecognizable husk that was once Paige, Emily stares at her hands in shock and disbelief. "I... I didn't know I could do that," she whispers, her voice trembling with awe and fear.
Meanwhile, Azrael continues to struggle against my unrelenting grip. His movements grow weaker by the second, and his breath comes in ragged gasps.
"Nooo, goddammit." he gurgles through my choke hold.
I bear down, my muscles straining with the effort, and drive him to the ground, the impact jarring my bones. In a last-ditch attempt to break free, he tries to flip me off him, his body writhing beneath me like a snake caught in a trap. But I tighten my hold, my molars cracking from the sheer force, my arms locked around his neck like a noose.
"Shh, shh, it's okay," I whisper, with mock sympathy. "Just go to sleep, big guy. I promise, when you wake up, you'll be in a better place—like hell, for example."
Then, with a sickening snap, Azrael goes limp in my arms, his body as lifeless as a rag doll.
