Up and Down

“Who sent you, witch?” Marshal asks in a staticky voice, her cross-shaped fireman’s ax resting at Kasumi’s neck. Despite Kasumi’s best effort, Marshal woke the instant the pearl was exposed. Now Kasumi is left kneeling, pearl in her right hand, indignation in her heart at being called a witch.

“I’m not a witch,” Kasumi says, words filled with bitter spite. “I’ve made no pact with a demon, so how dare you—”

“You’re either a witch or a thief in Miaden’s clothing, come in the night to steal my trophy.” Marshal’s words hold bite even through the static. She lays a free hand on Kasumi’s right shoulder. Kasumi reads the signal and places the pearl in Marshal’s hand. “And no Maiden would be half as drenched in sin as you are,” Marshal says, putting the pearl in her pocket. She then picks up the bottle, holding it up to the moonlight and swirling it. “You even drink blood to power your profane magic. How dare you try to deny what’s so obviously true?” Marshal grabs Kasumi’s arm, pulling her to her feet, but never releasing the ax from her throat. “I’ll give you until we get outside to repent of your sins and make peace with your creator, before you meet him. Scream or try anything funny, and it’ll be sooner.” She pushes Kasumi forward, twisting Kasumi’s arm to control her movements. The pair silently weaves their way through the halls, their footfalls the only sound.

“Come on, think,” Kasumi tells herself, mind racing on afterburners. “I have control over the fog, so I could use it to cover my retreat… Then again, I’d still need the pearl, and there’s no way she’ll let her guard down now… Maybe I could try using lightning again, third time’s the charm, right? No, the potion only lets me use powers I already have, there’s no way to know if it’ll let me do something new…” The cold midnight air is brisk as Kasumi steps out the front door and onto the porch. Her toes curl as the sharp gravel edges stab into her feet, but Marshal presses her forward regardless. The new sensation sends Kasumi’s mind spiraling as the reality of death draws ever closer as they walk into the woods.

“Maybe I can plead for my life. Momo would always say we battle spirits, not people. This girl talked about helping people from troubled homes, she has to have a heart under that mask somewhere, so—”

“Don’t even try asking me to spare your life,” Marshal spits, derailing Kasumi’s train of thought. “I can see it in your eyes and the way your hands tremble. Witches always think we Maidens have a no-killing rule, as if Acts 5 doesn’t exist. At Peter’s words, Ananias and Sapphira were struck dead for lying. Why should you be spared for the same crime?”

“B—but I’m not lying,” Kasumi says, her voice shaking like the trees that surround them. “I really am a Maiden. I was baptized earlier this year and—”

“Traitor!” Marshal screams, throwing Kasumi down. She lands hard on a rock, scraping her hands and arms. “Then you are a traitor, on equal footing with Judas and the master of all our enemies.” She stomps a foot on Kasumi’s back, pressing her down onto a rocky outcropping in the forest floor. “Like them, you saw the wonder and majesty of our God. You confessed him as your savior with your own lips.” Marshal reaches down, grabbing a fistful of Kasumi’s hair and pulling it taut away from her shoulders. Despite the yanking pain in her scalp and the crushing pain in her chest and back, Kasumi’s eyes refuse to close. She stares down at the exposed stone before her and sees something. Despite the dim moonlight, she sees a distinct color in the stone before her, a deep rusty red that smells faintly metallic. All thoughts of escape wither in her mind as a realization chills her to her core.

“She’s done this before.” All thought ceases as Kasumi’s body acts on its own. What little air is left in her lungs explodes out in a scream of panic. Her arms and legs flail in a desperate attempt to fight or flee, but Marshal’s grip makes either impossible.

Under her mask, Marshal’s eyes dart from side to side, every hair standing on edge. “Something isn’t right,” she thinks, noticing the dead stillness in the air and feeling eyes watching her every move. Over her years as a Maiden, she’s grown used to feeling watched, but this is different. This isn’t a disapproving side-eye from her guardian as she indulges in one too many sweets. These eyes aren’t just watching but hunting. Marshal grits her teeth, shoving down her fear harder than she holds Kasumi. Unable to form words, she prays in her mind, a final, desperate plea. “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”

Marshal raises her ax, replacing fear with hesitation as her arm stiffens. “May our Lord and Father have mercy upon you,” she chants, her shaky voice drowned out by Kasumi’s desperate hollers. “As surely as I live, know he has died for even you. Call upon his mercy and know you may live though you die. And keep me humble, knowing I may just as easily find myself in your position.” Her prayer continues, stalling while she musters up the will to bring her ax down. She fights hesitation more than Kasumi’s flails.

*CHING*

The ring of metal striking something rings out, and Kasumi feels the tug on her hair go slack. She reaches for her neck, desperate to keep her head from rolling. Her hands clasp at the gaping wound, but there isn’t one. Her hands wrap around her throat, finding the skin smooth and attached. Kasumi is overcome with confusion until she finally looks to her would-be executioner.

*CHING*

*CRUNCH*

*THUD*

Kasumi looks to see Marshal surrounded by three hulking demons, and the ash remains of a fourth, still glowing orange, descending into Hell. Her movements are swift and precise, maneuvering the ax as if it were a rapier. More demons come crashing down the mountainside through the trees. Despite their ferocious roars and growls, they look less like a warband charging into battle and more like a herd stampeding over a cliff.

“Where did they come from?” Kasumi wonders, overcome by the spectacle. Even outside the shrine where the Diviner would summon them, she’s never seen more than a dozen at a time. One notices the awestruck Kasumi and prepares its pounce. It rolls down the mountainside using its three limbs and starfish-like body, pouncing on her from behind and sinking its raptor-like claws into her back.

“Where’s the pearl!” it demands, placing its hooked mouth next to Kasumi’s ear and spraying burning saliva on her cheek.

“Ah!” Kasumi moans, mind still scrambled from coming so close to death.

“Better speak while you’re still useful or else I’ll— Ah,” the demon grunts as another, larger demon hoists it up into the air. The grappler has a muscular, humanoid torso with four wiggling tentacles in place of arms.

“Fool!” it shouts despite having no head, its voice booming from the mouth on its abdomen. “Did you forget the purpose of our mission? The mistress still needs this one. Now go make yourself useful.” With a mighty throw, the headless demon chucks its companion directly at Marshal. The starfish-like demon flails helplessly without any way to maneuver in the air. Worse yet, its screams alert Marshal to its approach, giving her just enough time to maneuver her ax, impaling the starfish on arrival. Despite the instant exorcism, the starfish distracts Marshal just long enough for a critical mass of demons to surround her. Despite her skills, even she loses ground to the rapidly condensing horde.

“Gotta retreat,” she thinks, using the natural slope of the mountain to extend her lead. “Don’t let them surround you.” She shifts her focus to defense, using her ax for parries and defense, only counterattacking when she sees an opening.

“You’ll want to adjust your path,” her guardian advises, noting her route. “At this rate, you’ll lead them straight to your family’s inn.” He glares at the demons, wishing to help directly but knowing his duties as a guardian forbid involvement while his charge is transfigured.

“Isn’t that the best landmark for the backup to meet me at?” Marshal asks, delivering a somersault kick to a crab-like demon’s eye stalk.

“I searched, but the closest Maiden is more than 10 km away. It’ll take her some time to arrive.”

“Guess I’ll just have to manage,” she says, hooking into a demon’s snake-like neck to swing herself up for a further jump. She uses the air time to swap from her ax to her fire extinguisher before landing in the clearing behind her family’s inn. “And I know just the way,” she says, turning a knob on her extinguisher, setting the foam to stick to physical surfaces.

“Is that a good idea?” her guardian questions. “If the fire is physical, it’ll leave scorch marks. Your family could see, or, worse, it could spread and—”

“I’ve no choice,” Marshal retorts, spraying the foam in a wide arc at the forest’s edge.

“If I did, then I wouldn’t have tried executing her.” Once the preparations are complete, Marshal throws the extinguisher on her back, holding the nozzle in her left hand and her ax in her right as she awaits the demons’ approach.