Instincts kicked in and he dropped, the makeshift bat swinging over his head with a whoosh as he tackled the aggressor, his shoulder pushing into a hard stomach before he rolled over the top, landing on his feet.
Three more men appeared in his peripheral while the fourth straightened to his full height. Two of the four were reasonably large, with the wide shoulders and thick arms of people who frequented the gym. The other two were small and scrawny, body emaciated. But it wasn’t their size that made Sam hesitate. It was their faces, which were so meticulously painted it took a second for Sam to realise their heads weren’t actually stripped of skin. Unlike on Samhain, where it was common to see someone painted as a skeleton, the bone wasn’t as white as paper, nor was the black poorly applied and grey. Instead, they were painted a dirty cream, the shadows smudged in just the right places to emphasise hard edges and empty holes. The black around their eyes was so dark it created a void, drawing focusing to their irises, which were all various shades of red.
Fuck.
Sam growled, his fingertips stinging as his claws pierced through flesh, controlling the parts of his body he wanted to shift. He was more powerful as the leopard compared to the man, but the time it took for him to change shape left him vulnerable.
Sam’s eyes dipped to their weapons, each brandishing a blunt object designed to hurt. Their hands remained unpainted, as were their arms, where thick, black veins pulsed beneath ashen skin.
He knew he would never have been able to win against four men at once, but he would sure as hell try and make them hurt.
“You’re late,” a familiar voice said from behind, and Sam froze. “It seems I do need to remind you what happens if you disappoint me, Son. You’ve brought this on yourself, maybe next time you’ll remember this before you disobey your Alpha.”
Before Sam could react, all four skulls stepped forward as one, their movements far faster than he had expected. He sensed a familiar scent of animal, but it was wrong, rotten, as he took a hit to his stomach, doubling him over before another blow his across the back of his shoulders.
The next swing missed as he twisted, brick dust crumbling around him as the lead pipe hit the wall where his head was just moments before. Struggling to regain his breath, Sam planted his feet harder into the cobbled stones as his fist caught one of the skulls, knuckles connecting hard enough he felt it reverberate down his arm.
Barely a grunt, the skull’s lips peeling back to reveal sharpened teeth that he snapped in threat. His tongue was black and twisted, the end raw as if it had been hacked off with a blunt knife.
A knock to Sam’s head, hard enough it threw him against the wall, the pain sharp before another blow brought him to his knees.
“That’s enough you eejits,” his father said. “We need him alive, for the good of the pack.”
Sam hunched his back, arms shaking as he spat blood on the floor. A shadow moved closer, and he growled as his father came into view.
“I’m just trying to help you,” his father said, crouching down. “You’re meant to be with me, and your pack. You’ll understand when I get you home, where you’re supposed to be.” Snapping his head to the side he clicked at the closest skull. “Bring him.”
Sam tensed, ready to fight once more despite his body protesting. He glared through the strands of his hair, teeth bared.
“Sam, what are you…” Lucifer’s eyes flicked from Sam, to his father, to the skulls all within a single second as he stepped into the alley. With a roar he exploded, horns piercing through his hair to curl down towards his jaw while his wings burst from his back, far larger than the space provided. He bounced on the closest man, and without any hesitation tore his head clean from his shoulders.
Sam rocked back onto the heels of his feet, controlling his breathing as the other skulls ran, dropping their weapons as Lucy called after them.
“You scared little cunts!” he screeched, dropping the head at the same time his foot came up in a kick. The head shot down the darkened alley, and only then did Lucy twist to face him.
Sam tried to smile, his father long gone. “You’re the best fucking wing man.”
Lucifer rolled his shoulders, his wings disappearing into his back. “You never stated fighting in this role of wing man. I love it.” He dropped down to Sam’s height. “You look like shit.”
Sam chuckled. “I feel it.” With a groan he climbed to his feet, using the wall as leverage. “What are you going to do about that?” He gestured to the headless body.
Lucy clicked his tongue, opening the bright pink bum bag strapped across his chest. Inside he pulled out a ball, which he threw carelessly towards the corpse. It exploded with a burst of white, and Sam coughed as the cloud settled to reveal nothing but glitter, and a slightly scorched hole in the centre of the dead man’s chest.
A bomb. Lucy had had a bomb in his bag. One with glitter.
“Looks like I’ll have deal with it,” he grumbled. His eyes flashed further down the alley. “Probably shouldn’t have kicked the head, though.” Lucifer shrugged, retuning his attention to Sam.
“Get me home, Luce,” Sam said on a pained exhale. “And you better not tell anyone about this.”
Chapter17
Axel
Axel looked at the empty needle sticking out of his arm, the rush of the brimstone already over. Thirty seconds, that was how long the euphoria lasted. Thirty seconds, and it hadn’t done anything but make him feel weak.
He had woken up with no pain, his body relaxed, and even the whispers had quietened to almost nothing. He felt… revitalised. But still, he found himself in a dirty bathroom in a strip club at the edge of The Bricks at eight in the morning.
“Fuck!” he cursed, yanking out the needle and throwing it across the small room. It shattered against the black painted wall, the same dire shade as the toilet and sink. It hadn’t even taken him twelve hours before he sought it out, the pills that rested in his pocket not enough.
