“Run, Ivy!” Quinn screamed as he launched himself, chair strapped to his body, at the closest demon to the stairwell, affording her a small window of escape.
She took it. As fast as she could, she sprinted toward the stairs. She was on the bottom step when the demoness came up behind her and grabbed at her hair again.
“I’m going to scalp you alive,” the demoness growled.
“Hell, no, you won’t.”
There was a distinctive popping noise, and something round and silver split the demoness’s face. Shrieking, she clawed at her bubbling forehead and scrambled backwards.
Ivy looked up the stairwell to see Ronan on the top, holding her modified paintball gun. It shot quicksilver- filled pellets instead of paint-filled ones.
She nearly fainted with relief to see him.
“Duck,” he ordered.
She dropped to the stairs as he lobbed two homemade holy-water grenades into the basement. She heard them bounce once, then not only heard the percussion but also felt it as they exploded into a thousand plastic pieces. Holy water exploded everywhere. It even soaked the back of her jeans.
There was a lot of screaming and moaning in the basement when she turned to look at the damage. Demons fumbled around, shrieking and clawing at their melting and bubbling faces, hands, arms, any place that there had been exposed skin.
She pushed off the stairs and went back into the room. She picked up a gun that had fallen from one of the demon’s mangled hands and pumped a round into him. He fell silent to the floor. She turned and shot another one in the face.
By this time, Ronan was down at her side, dispatching the rest. The other humans had jumped into the action, and there were demon parts flying all over the place.
Ivy ran to where Quinn still sat bound in the chair. She untied his hands from behind his back. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “I think I got speared by shrapnel, though.”
She glanced down and saw a growing blood spot on the denim on his thigh. He pulled open the rip in his jeans to show a small piece of plastic sticking into his flesh. As carefully as he could, he pulled it out and tossed it to the floor.
“It’s just a flesh wound,” Ivy pronounced, which made Quinn laugh. It was an old joke from their childhood and the many Monty Python film festivals they partook in over the years.
She helped him stand and he hugged her tight. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “My head hurts, but I probably just have a bump or two.”
They broke apart, then both turned to look at Ronan. He was busy helping the other captives up the stairs. He paused in what he was doing and looked at them. “There are a bunch of possessed out there that need exorcising. The other two demons ran for it.”
Quinn limped over to the table along the wall; he picked up his bible, a holy water ampul and his cross. He crossed the room, and then brushed past Ronan as he climbed the stairs.
When he was gone, when they were all gone, Ivy moved toward Ronan. He stood waiting for her at the bottom of the steps.
“You saved me. Again.”
He smiled. “Yeah, you owe me big-time.”
“They said you were dead.”
“Lies. As you can tell, I’m quite alive.”
Tears brewing in her eyes, she moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his shoulder. She breathed in the now-familiar scent of him and sighed.
He dropped the paintball gun and wrapped his arms around her, as well. His hands pressed against her back, holding her, possessing her. And she felt right and secure and safe for one of the first times in her whole life.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed into his shoulder.
He brought his other hand up to her neck and cradled her head. “Don’t be. It wasn’t you that drove me out.”
“I know, but I didn’t stop him.”
He sighed. “I didn’t expect you to. He’s your brother. He’s your kin. Blood will always be thicker than water. I know that all too well.”
She pulled back then and looked at him. She brought a hand up to his face and touched his cheek. “You’re wrong, Ronan. You have more humanity than anyone I’ve ever known. You are the good guy. You’re the hero of this story.”
“And what does that make you?”
She stretched up to his face and pressed her lips to his, whispering against them, “The sexy love interest.”
He tilted her head ever so slightly with his hand at her neck and deepened the kiss. The kiss was slow, and hot, and wet and the most perfect thing Ivy had ever experienced.
Until a voice from above ruined the moment.
“If you two can break apart for a minute, I need your help reviving the townspeople.”
Ivy looked up the staircase at Quinn, who was standing up top, a deep frown on his face and impatience in his voice.
“Give us a few minutes, okay, Quinn? We have some unfinished business to take care of.”
Quinn made a disgusted noise, then said, “Jesus, Ivy, can’t you save it for later?”
That made her laugh, and taking Ronan’s hand in hers, she mounted the stairs with the cambion right beside her all the way.
It took the three of them over four hours to exorcise everyone that needed it and to carry out and burn the dead demons. They dug a ditch, filled it with the bodies, salted it, did the last rites and then burned the lot. Fixing the town was going to take weeks, months even. Time Ronan didn’t have or was willing to give.
When it was done, the three of them sat in the kitchen and drank whatever alcohol was available. Quinn had a beer, Ivy some scotch and Ronan had vodka on ice. After the fourth one he was starting to feel calm and controlled.
They hadn’t talked much, but after an hour of straight drinking, Quinn broke the awkward silence.
He held out his beer bottle toward Ronan. “I misjudged you. I’m sorry for that.”
Ronan clinked his glass to the bottle. “I’ll take it.”
They both drank, then Quinn said, “If Ivy thinks you’re good people, then I’m inclined to listen to her.”
“For once,” Ivy interjected.
Quinn smiled. “Yes, for once.”
“Which means, I guess I have to listen to her when she says that you’re not such a bad guy.”
“Yup, I guess you will.”
They all clinked their respective containers, and then downed whatever was left in them. Ivy grabbed the scotch bottle and poured more into her glass.
“I have to say, I’m happy they didn’t get a chance to torture me to get info from you, Quinn.”
He nodded. “Me, too.”
“Do you think you would’ve told them where the key was?”
He shrugged. “Probably.” He looked at her, and Ronan could see the love there for her. Quinn would’ve gone to hell and back for her.
Quinn started to chuckle. “It’s ironic, really. The whole time they’re asking for the key and it was right there in front of their faces.”
