Thomas Sniegoski - Walking In the Midst of Fire

Marlowe reacted as Remy did, spinning toward the closing door as the Master took aim. Linda was still oblivious, opening the mailbox as death loomed behind her.

She was Remy’s first concern. She needed to be out of harm’s way.

But that would mean . . .

There wasn’t any time for thought. If he was going to be successful, it had to happen. It was the only way.

Remy’s wings exploded from his back as he leapt, carrying him over Linda and Marlowe to land directly in front of the assassin. He grabbed hold of the assassin’s wrist and twisted it violently to one side, causing the weapon to fire into the wall.

“Get into the house!” Remy roared, allowing his voice to take on the characteristics of the divine. Some had described it as sounding like getting a message from God Himself.

He could see the look in her eyes, first of awe, and then of fear. He could imagine the little explosions cascading across the surface of her brain as her perceptions of the world were brought to ruin.

Remy didn’t want to be rough, but couldn’t risk her being hurt. He spun away from the attacker, grabbing her firmly by the shoulders and throwing her backward toward the still-open door to the brownstone. Her mouth was open in a scream, but no sound came out as he watched her fly through the air. The grocery bags tore in the scuffle, the contents spilling over the tile floor of the entryway.

Marlowe’s bark boomed in the small confines, warning Remy that there was an intruder and that he would protect him.

“Go be with Linda,” he managed to get out as he turned back toward the assassin, ready to rend the killer limb from limb for daring to put those he loved at risk.

Divine fire formed in the palm of his hand, and he thrust it toward the Bone Master, who ducked, slipping beneath his arm, and worming his way around Remy. Remy lashed out with his wings, slashing the feathered appendages across the front of the Bone Master as he attempted to aim his weapon.

Phutt! Phutt! Phutt! went the weapon of bone, projectiles of poisoned teeth hurtling their way toward their intended target. But Remy did not slow down, thrusting off with his wings and colliding with the Master’s midsection as the two of them hurtled back toward the open door into his home.

The Bone Master was smashed with incredible force against the wall inside, the sound of broken plaster crumbling to the floor accompanying a grunt of pain.

Lashing out, the assassin smashed the bony weapon across the bridge of Remy’s nose. His eyes filled with tears as he reared back and away.

The Bone Master used the opportunity to dart to the side, flowing into the living room as he again took aim.

Wiping the running fluids from his eyes to clear his vision, Remy attempted to take flight, but the low ceilings in the entryway limited his distance, and he found himself dropping back down as the assassin prepared to fire.

There was a flash of black across the Bone Master’s path, and an ear-piercing cry sounded, the shot going astray.

Remy saw in horror that Marlowe had attacked the assassin, taking hold of the would-be killer’s wrist in his powerful jaws, causing the assassin to lose his hold upon the weapon.

Driven nearly insane by the attack upon his master, Marlowe held on to the demon’s limb, growling and shaking it savagely in all his animalistic fury. The Bone Master continued to cry out, withdrawing a nasty-looking blade from the folds of his cloak with his free hand.

Remy was there, taking the demon’s wrist in a fiery grip.

“I’ve got this, boy,” Remy told the dog, and Marlowe listened, releasing the assassin with a bark and stepping back to make sure that Linda, who cowered in the corner of the room, was all right.

Remy didn’t want her to see this, but it wasn’t a time to be gentle.

The demon fought against his hold even as his pale flesh caught fire, and the serrated dagger dropped from his grasp.

But the Bone Master was not finished, driving his knee up into Remy’s stomach as he wriggled from the Seraphim’s clutches. Remy was surprised at the Master’s strength as the wind wheezed from his lungs.

Dropping to the floor, the demon crawled upon all fours like some hideous insect toward where his bone gun had dropped.

With a hand charred black from divine fire the Bone Master reached for the weapon, only to pull it back with a quick snap as a foot came down upon the gun, crushing it against the hardwood floor.

Remy saw that Linda had left the safety of her hiding place to assist him, her eyes briefly touching his as she ground the weapon beneath the heel of her shoe.

The Bone Master screamed as if in great physical pain. And still screaming, the demon grabbed Linda’s ankle, yanking her foot out from beneath her and sending her to the floor, her head bouncing off the hardwood, stunning her.

The killer crawled atop her with a snarl, going for the knife that he’d dropped when his hand was set aflame. The weapon still burned, but that did not stop the assassin, as he retrieved the smoldering blade and prepared to cut the woman’s throat.

Remy pounced, reaching out to haul the Bone Master from atop her.

The assassin was wild, thrashing in his clutches, and Remy grabbed hold of the demon’s pale, gaunt face, forcing the assassin to look into his eyes.

“You’ll never hurt anyone ever again,” Remy stated flatly, dispassionately, willing his hands afire.

The assassin continued to fight him, even as the divine flames began to hungrily consume the flesh of his face, his eyes bubbling and popping from their sockets before the flames spread onto his skull.

The Bone Master screamed for far longer than Remy would have imagined he could.

When he finally fell silent, Remy let the body slip from his grasp. The fire continued to burn, jumping to the assassin’s robes and the flesh beneath. If allowed to spread, there would be nothing left to show that the assassin had even been there.

All except for the physical and mental damage the demon had inflicted in his wake.

Marlowe came to Remy, leaping up on his chest, stretching his neck to eagerly kiss his face. Remy found it suddenly difficult to remain standing, and dropped down to his knees, giving the dog ample opportunity to display his rampant affections.

As Marlowe frantically licked his face, Remy looked to see Linda staring at him from where she sat perfectly motionless upon the floor. He wanted to tell her to remain calm, that he would explain everything to her, but he found that the words would not come.

The look of fear in her eyes freezing them in his throat as he tried to speak.

“I believe,” he started, the words for some reason so difficult to pry from his mouth. “I believe I owe you an explanation.”

Remy heard himself, the words sounding strangely slurred, and wondered what could be the cause when he came to realize that his entire body was growing increasingly cold. He could not feel his limbs, and found himself suddenly toppling over onto the floor.

Marlowe yelped in panic as he fell, and Linda was at his side, leaning over him, tears in her eyes, her face racked with the beginnings of panic.

“You’re bleeding,” he heard her say, though strangely muffled, and he was able to lift his body and tilt his head in such a way to see that yes, he was indeed bleeding; a cold realization came to him.

The assassin’s bullets had found their target, the venom-infused teeth sending a powerful poison coursing through his veins.

Remy attempted to react, to alter his internal chemistry in such a way as to burn the poison away before . . .

Nothing happened, and the cold continued to permeate his every fiber; he was finding it harder and harder to remain there—to remain with Linda and Marlowe.