Chapter 125
My world was breaking in front of me. All the stoicism I had built up began to shatter as the ever-growing cracks from this never-ending pressure continued to press down.
It's a clean break, more like a cinematic explosion, but in slow motion—a cruel tearing, someone ripping a painting, a masterpiece thread by thread. The air tasted like bitter copper and smoke, engraving into my lungs.
The crowd's shouting fractured into inhuman screams that turned hollow. Echoes folding into each other as if the city itself had fallen off key.
Micah stood at the center of it all, her eyes glowing with that unnatural red, but there were still tears rolling down her face, like a piece of her was still in there. This wasn't like when she was possessed before. Her hair tossed in the wind. The chief beside her—no, the thing in his skin—grinned as it raised its hand. Around us, the officers moved like marionettes—strings pulled by an unseen force in malignant rhythm.
Silence fell for but a breath hold, then broke.
Someone screamed. A riot convulsed into violence; fists and fear broke out again, and others had random items they now used as weapons. Metal clashing like thunder. It almost drowned out the sound of a gunshot—the chief shot at one of the not-so-controlled rioters. Not everyone was 100% under his control, much like the rest of us, except Micah, who was not so fortunate.
That's when I saw Baby push through the smoke.
"I will handle crowd control." She spoke.
Her eyes were bright, burning with a strange, divine luminescence I could never reasonably describe. Baby's angelic presence calmed storms and shattered illusions, but this time they did not bow.
Baby released a fog, just like last time, to bring everyone to peace, but it had no effect. It wasn't working; she looked back at Duke.
Duke came from behind her, one arm shielding his face from flying debris. "They're too far gone in their minds—"
"I know, damn," Baby muttered, eyes darting over the writhing mass of possessed civilians and panicked officers. "Something's blocking my aura—like they're wrapped in tar."
"Then dig deeper," Duke grunted. "I think we are going to have to make this one a more hands-on approach to get them grounded."
Baby's jaw tightened. That meant if they could lay hands to cleanse them. Then they may be subjected to a less subtle sleep.
The air rippled—a wave of golden orange warmth crashed against the cold psychic rot infecting the crowd. The pushback was violent. Baby's knees buckled, and Duke caught her. "It's like fighting a hurricane with candlelight." The weather became darker and heavier by the minute.
My mind processed every detail, every motion, and the angles for our best options. But none of it mattered; my mind went blank the moment Micah moved.
And she looked directly at me; my heart raced and throbbed.
"Micah," I breathed. Don—Don't do this!"
But she was already gone. But I hoped that I could still reach her in there.
The first strike came with no regard, like a guillotine. The wind was screaming, a compressed crescent of air slicing through the pavement where I had been standing just a half second ago. The impact sent dust spiraling around me, stinging my eyes. Her attack was hell-bent on ending me.
"JAMES, MOVE!" Evan's voice cut through the crowd and smoke.
He barreled in from the left, his fist and sword wrapped in energy, blocking a baton strike aimed at my head from one of the officers. Josh followed behind, his soul fire blazing a faded cyan almost at full power but still needing some recovery. A ghostly flame flickering a dance, not heat—yet I could feel it in my bones.
The possessed cops moved in patterns—too synchronized, too efficient; it wasn't training, but sloppy work from an unprofessional puppeteer. The demon was forcing their bodies like chess pieces, using them as he saw fit, but with limited skills—no more than a chief would be trained, based on established protocols.
"Evan, Josh!" I called out, "Hold them off! The control lines run through to the chief—break him and we break the link; the others will fall!"
Evan nodded once and slammed the officer into the barricade. Josh exhaled, the cyan fire expanding from his palms, sweeping across the first line of possessed bodies. The flames tore through them like living spirits. Bouncing and bursting against the black corruption of malice that tethered to the humans and demons.
That line shifted from angry to confused, but many others still had to go.
Baby still tried her prayers, but mostly only when she put her hands on them to sleep. Not everyone went down easily. Her face was streaked with the blood of a wound already healed, and she didn't notice. An angel can still be hurt but not killed, and heals very fast. Duke anchored beside her with clenched teeth, knocking out the ones Baby could not settle down.
In the center, the demon laughed.
It wasn't a sound for human ears—it drew a punch to my stomach as a sound that mocked in a language all its own.
"Obedience." His words echoed once more through the crowd.