Through the confusion the shouting began again. One of the loudest voices was Miriana who shoved her way to the front, sword raised.  At first she attempted to negotiate but quickly devolved into a stream of curses directed at the woman who threatened Ressa. There wasn’t a hint of nobility in her words as she promised to cleave the woman “from crown to cunt” if anything happened to her love.

Ressa however, seemed apathetic to the chaos around her. Something strange had been happening since Drummond touched her. An urge both familiar and unlike anything she had ever felt had begun to grow. It was a need for something, something so essential to herself she felt as though she were fading away without it. It was that need that had driven her forward as a distant voice called her into the embrace of danger. 

 The blade at her neck meant nothing, the chaos of the room, the threats, the shadow of death all meant nothing compared to the hole she felt growing within her. 

“Don’t worry love, I won't let anything happen to you,” the voice that had compelled her began to cut through the noise. It was clearer now more defined and seemed to resonate deep inside her mind.

“You’ll feel complete again soon,” the voice said, “But I need you to help me and when we get out of here I can take care of you I promise.” Her head lulled to the side dragging her neck across the edge of the glass opening a small cut below her jaw. Her eyes fell onto Drummond, his eyes meeting hers. Even though his lips didn’t move she knew the voice was his and though she could not articulate why,  she believed his promise.

“You fuck,” Adrian growled recognizing in a moment the look in Ressa’s eyes. Drummond realized then that the gunman was going to kill him. He felt the man move back to hold the pistol at arms length and avoid the worst of the splatter.  

It was only by luck of timing he was spared. A second before the gunman stepped back the woman who had grabbed Fawny kicked the petite maid toward Drummond before making a move toward the strange weapon on the table. 

Seeing this Striker attempted to shove the man out of reach of the girl. He was unfortunately a moment too late  and  Drummond latched onto the girl's exposed wrist. The viscous substance on his palm helped him to stick to the exposed skin and he pulled her toward him as he ducked to use her small frame as a shield. 

The moment his hand touched her Fawny’s breath caught her throat with a short high pitched squeal. Her eyes rolled back momentarily as her body went rigid, small high pitched gasps leaving her lips  like a humorless laugh. Adrian kept one eye firmly glued on the pair while the other and his gun the woman as she ducked between the tables. 

“Kill him for me love,” Drummond whispered to the maid before releasing her wrist the substance trailing long strands as he pulled away. Whatever it was seemed to have burned her skin and left a raw outline of his fingers around her wrist. 

Fawny’s eyes looked at Striker though they were empty and unfocused. Dropping her head she charged with surprising speed smashing into him with her horns hard enough to push the breath from his chest. 

Despite her size those short legs were incredibly powerful and drove the man back till he slammed into the wall. Rearing back a few steps she charged again before he could react, smashing into him once more and continuing to push him into the wall. Her hooves slipped and dug into the wood as she drove forward pinning the man as he tried to gather his breath.

Meanwhile the other accomplice had reached the disguised weapon and had begun to pull away the paper mache to reveal the metal underneath. Within a few moments she had uncovered a hammer l which she cocked back hurriedly before realizing she had not yet freed the trigger. 

All the while Striker struggled against the satyr.He seemed reluctant to harm anyone except Drummond but as the last bit of paper was pulled away from the trigger he was forced to react. 

The woman had knelt using the table as both cover and a rest to aim the weapon. But before she could fire, the table exploded a few inches in front of her. In an instant her left eye went dark as splinters sprang forward like tiny javelins piercing her face. The lead ball meanwhile passed through the wood and buried itself in her leg just above the knee. 

The woman shrieked and fell back, her hands clutching her face. Striker then turned his attention to fawny who reared back to charge him again. With more force than he meant he brought the still smoking gun down onto the back of the maids neck. With a thunk she stiffened and began to fall. Despite the pain in his ribs he did his best to catch her and ease her collapse. He hoped he hadn’t struck too hard but had no time to check her condition. 

During the commotion he had tried to keep track of Drummond and failed to notice the massive doorman flanking him in a wide arc. As he stood attempting to reach for his second hidden weapon Boran unloaded a punch unlike any he had thrown in a long time. 

Striker saw the fist at the last possible moment. Raising his shoulder he figured it 50/50 if his jaw would remain in one piece. Gritting his teeth he tried to relax everything else hoping to minimize the damage though he doubted what good it would do. The large fist struck struck mostly on his shoulder but he still took two thick knuckles to the side of his head. Despite being a full grown man the force sent the gunman off his feet and into the nearby wall with a boom. The gunman went limp and then collapsed to the floor.  

Drummond watched Striker collapse with an amused grin. He wasn’t sure if he was dead or not and cast a quick glance at the rifle before thinking better of it. While Striker was no longer a problem their escape was far from assured. Crawling between the legs of the tables he gave the injured woman a brief look of indifference before continuing on.

His remaining accomplice meanwhile had begun backing toward the front door, the glass shiv still at Ressa’s throat.

“I swear if you hurt her I’ll rip you pieces with my bare fucking hands.” Miriana said. Her threats had fallen in volume but had far from lost their bite. Tears streaked the woman's face yet she remained focused and unyielding. The muscles of her thick frame were tense ready to strike the moment she saw an opportunity.  

The kidnapper quickened her retreat trying to keep out of reach of Miriana's sword and prevent the others from surrounding her. She had begun to sweat which made her grip on the shard slippery. As she struggled to maintain her grasp she felt something grab her leg. Looking down she gave a terrified shout to see a large snake wrapped around her.

The creature moved fast, winding its way up the woman's body until it had encircled her neck and arm. Flexing its powerful muscles it pulled her hand away from Ressa sending the shiv shattering to the floor. The woman struggled and shrieked in horror as the snake brought its head toward hers. 

“Give up,” it hissed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

This only seemed to make the woman panic more but despite her flailing the snake held tight eventually forcing the woman to her knees under its might. 

Once the assailant was subdued Miriana rushed forward letting her sword clatter against the ground as her arms enveloped Ressa.  

“Thank you Cas,” she said gratefully before turning her attention fully to Ressa.

“Oh my love,” was all she could say as she began to weep. “I thought I might lose you,” she said through trembling lips. 

So overcome with emotion Miriana hadn’t thought about the words she spoke. One in particular pierced through the haze in Ressa's mind momentarily silencing Drummond's voice. Love. It was the one sweet word that had  yet to be spoken, at least from Miriana. It had been something Ressa ached for and though she had been patient the pain of never having it returned bored a hole through the girl.  

For a moment the chaos around them faded away and all Ressa could see was the woman who held her so tightly. 

“Did you mean to say that?” She asked, shaking.

“Yes,” Miriana said. “I should have said it before and I will never miss an opportunity to say it again.”

Tears flowed freely then and Ressa opened her mouth to speak again but as she did her voice caught her throat.That strange haze from when Drummond first touched her filled her mind once more as the man's hand clamped onto the back of her neck.

“She won’t make you feel whole,” he whispered. “But I can.”

The words slid into Ressa’s mind like a snake, coiling around her thoughts and squeezing out everything else till only they remained.

“Let go of her you bastard,” Miriana cried attempting to swing on Drummond over Ressa’s shoulder. As she did, Ressa grabbed her and with surprising strength began to grapple the larger woman forcing her back. 

“Ressa, what are you doing?” Miriana asked in a confused pleading tone. She resisted only slightly, not wishing to harm her love and dropping her guard for a moment. As she did, she was met with a sharp strike to the jaw which dazed her slightly allowing Ressa to take hold of the dagger on the warriors belt. Sliding it from its sheath she began to wave the blade about wildly driving away the encroaching crowd and allowing Drummond to move toward the door and seize one of the lamps that hung above the frame. 

With an impressive throw for such an unathletic man he launched the lamp toward the stage. It sailed in a large arc and landed at the base of the large curtains. The glass bulb that held the oil shattered, spilling the flames across the floor where they quickly took hold of the fabric and began to climb.

With their stage and the hearth now at risk of burning to the ground Cas released the woman and shifted back to their normal form. Jumping to their feet they ran to take hold of the curtain and attempt to pull it down from the heavy hooks that held the rod. They were quickly joined by other maids who attempted to stop the spread with pitchers of water and stomping feet. 

While they worked to save their home the woman who had been held by Cas’s had gotten to her feet and stood by Drummond at the door. They were joined by Ressa who continued to brandish the blade at anyone who approached. 

“Go get the horses and bring them around,” Drummond barked. 

“But what about Scarlet?” She asked hesitantly looking at her injured comrade.

“Did I fucking stutter!” Drummond shouted as he raised a hand to strike her before seeming to think better of it. “Do as I said or I’ll hold off your hit for another three days.” 

Whatever the threat meant it seemed to scare the woman and she quickly nodded and darted out of the door without another word. 

Drummond then turned back to the crowd and found he was running out of space. Despite Ressa’s efforts they had continued to encroach. At the front of the pack was Miriana, her hands empty and outstretched as tried to reason the weapon away. 

“It’s ok little flower, I won’t let anyone hurt you,” she said using the nickname she had given her the first night they had spent together. “I don’t know what’s wrong but we can figure it out. You might feel gone but I’m here. We always come back to each other, that’s what we promised, we wait and we always come back.”

The words again cut through the fog that filled Ressa’s mind and for a moment her hand stilled as she looked into the eyes of the woman she loved. She did love her right? It had never been a question to her before but now it was as if she had to remind herself how she felt. 

“Always wait,” she said but as she attempted to repeat the rest she found herself caught up on the first part.

“Always wait,” she repeated the words beginning to twist and rot into something far less sweet. 

“I always wait, always wait for you,” she said, her grip tightening again on the hilt of the dagger. “I always have to wait!” 

Miriana recoiled slightly, wearing an expression of hurt and guilt. Then in a move of desperation she lunged forward trying to take hold and wrench the dagger from Ressa’s grasp. 

The sudden movement startled the girl and in a moment of instinct from her previous life she angled the weapon toward Miriana’s open palm and ran the triangular blade clean through her hand. 

She then watched in horror as the woman she loved dropped to her knees with a cry clutching her pierced hand as rivers of crimson seeped through her fingers. There was no question as she watched Miriana fall, she did love this woman and for a reason she didn’t understand she had hurt her. Her lip began to quiver and her hands shook as she spoke. 

“Miri….” She whimpered, the sound drawing Miriana's gaze. Despite the pain there was relief in her eyes. The fallen woman reached out with her uninjured hand silently pleading with Ressa to take it.

“I’ll take this,” Drummond said,  retrieving the dagger with one hand as the other slid to take hold of Ressa's throat. Whatever poison he possessed chased away the recognition in girls eyes and made her relax in his grasp. 

Miriana felt her hope collapse as Ressa’s eyes went empty. “You bastard,” she said but  there was no more bite to her words. She could no longer bring herself from her knees and watched helplessly as the knife was brought once more to Ressa’s throat. 

“If anyone tries to follow, I promise I’ll lay her pretty throat open and leave her to drain in the ditch,” Drummond said as he walked back toward the door. “And if any of you try to find us I promise I’ll do even worse than that.” He then ran his tongue up the girl's slender neck to punctuate the implication of the threat. The gesture brought Miriana to her feet but she found herself restrained when she began to rush toward the pair. 

Her pain seemed to amuse Drummond and he smiled as she struggled, blood splattering across the floor. 

“Easy there love, I’ll be in touch,” Drummond said in an almost sing-songy tone. “I’m sure we’ll be able to make a deal,” he added, his eyes meeting Megra who stood silent and unmoving watching as he disappeared out the door and into the night. 

After waiting a few moments Boran and a few others rushed out the door but the sound of galloping was already growing distant and they returned shortly. They then lent their hands to subduing the blaze that was just now beginning to fall under control. 

Miriana seemed bent on following despite the river of red that streamed from her hand. She had collected whatever wind she had left and was expending it frantically against the hands that held her back. 

It wasn’t long before the crowd turned to their leader begging for guidance but their words didn’t seem to reach her. Instead the madam of the inn, the captain, the rock upon which the place was built stood useless shoulders heaving as she scanned the room. Her gaze moved over fallen comrades and broken furniture; she could feel the eyes of everyone in the room upon her. They looked to her for strength, reassurance and guidance but for the first time since the hearth's foundation was laid, Megra had none to give.