Third Host: Mefathiel and Ezra

“How is it that the police never show up during these things,” said Ezra. “I’ve had to dodge the police any number of times with my work.”

Mefathiel shrugged a little and glanced around the corner. He then ducked out low and flicked out his hand, arcing a blade through the air and into the shoulder of a gunman. The man screamed and dropped back.

“I think a lot of it is money changing hands, but in this particular instance I wouldn’t be suprised if they had either created a distraction elsewhere in town while they set their trap or if they were containing the noise,” said Mefathiel as he starting creeping forward again.

Ezra followed after him, continuing the conversation in a quiet voice,”Don’t you find it a little disturbing that they have put this much effort into making sure nobody could follow Amitiel?”

“The fact that I’m not back in my office working on cases was the first sign that things were going to be bad,” said Mefathiel. “My own fight is big enough without all of this, most of the time.”

Ezra snapped off two shots, catching another shadow creature, “They’re either running out of things to throw at us or they are getting ready for a big push,” he said, pausing to check his clip. It was running low. He snapped it back it the gun with a practiced motion and glance to Mefathiel.

“So what do you suggest,” said Mefathiel.

“Well, if you’re willing to fall back to the car we could get more weapons,” said Ezra.

“And if I think falling back is a bad idea,” asked Mefathiel.

“Then we need to hit hard and fast, hopefully break through and grab him. Watch for any potential get-away vehicles,” said Ezra.

“Maybe I should have brought a gun,” said Mefathiel.

“Bit late now. Lets move,” said Ezra and lead the way, running and keeping low and in the shadows.

Mefathiel shook his head slightly, then followed after, “This just gets better and better.”

Third Host: Mefathiel and Ezra

Ezra hit the ground, catching the beasts mouth with the his knife. The beast snapped down, shattering the blade and shook its head, throwing aside the pieces. Ezra dropped the gun and managed to get his hands up, catching the beasts jaw open as it snaps down at his head.

“Bad puppy,” Ezra growled, eyes swirling with a sudden deep darkness. He grinned faintly at the sudden rush and pulled. The beast made a startled noise, which was down out with a sickening pop as its jaw disjointed. Ezra shifted his grip, holding just the top jaw. He slid to his feat and shifted, swinging the creature into the air and smashing the nearby shadow creatures into the wall.

The mound of creatures weighing down Mefathiel erupted in a ball of light as pushed himself up, white wings folded across the shredded back of his suit-coat and shirt.

“So much for being quiet,” said Mefathiel as he slid upright, lashing out and planting three more blades into escaping shadows.

Ezra methodically drove back the few shadow creatures that were still standing and not running. Within seconds the only things still standing in the alley were Ezra and Mefathiel. Mefathiel’s wings shimmered back out of existence and he staggered slightly, catching himself on a wall. He watched Ezra carefully.

“You still with me,” asked Mefathiel.

Ezra shut his eyes and nodded, “Fine. I have to expend myself a lot more then that.” He opened his eyes again and found his gun, slamming in a fresh clip before holstering it. “We need to keep moving before they send in something that is going to push me a lot more.”

“Any thoughts on where to go?” said Mefathiel.

“Inside to ask questions, unless you have a better idea where he might be,” said Ezra.

Mefathiel hesitated a moment, then pointed toward the dock and said, “There, underwater.”

Ezra started that direction, “Do I want to know how you did that?”

“It’s the biggest pool of energy I noticed when I went angelic. I think it’s the best bet we have,” said Mefathiel.

“Lets make it quick then,” said Ezra as he started to run toward the water, “Three against who-knows-how-many sounds like better odds then two.”

Third Host: Mefathiel and Ezra

Ezra didn’t slow down as they drove past the dock-side warehouse. From the road, things looked quiet enough. Ezra kept driving up the road and turned up a side street leading away from the building and pulled into an empty parking lot.

“You sure you don’t want a gun,” said Ezra, checking his weapons. “I know I’m the muscle on this, but I’d like to know you have my back.”

Mefathiel laughed dryly as he stepped out of the car, “You don’t have to worry about that. Trust me.”

Ezra chambered a round into one of his glocks before sliding it back into the holster. “I think those two words have gotten me into more trouble then any others in the English language,” he climbed out of the car and ghosted toward the edge of the building.

Mefathiel followed after, “If you can’t trust an angel, who can you trust?”

“That’s most of my point,” shot back Ezra and started up the street, sticking close to the shadows, but walking casually.

Mefathiel stayed close to Ezra, mirroring his casual movements. They made their way back up the street and over to the warehouse without incident. Ezra led them around one side of the building, but paused two steps in. His gaze flicked over the alley.

“Most of the blood isn’t his,” said Mefathiel.

Ezra nodded slightly and crossed to the door. It wasn’t quite shut and he pulled it open just enough to sneak a glance into the building. He slowly let it partially close. “They are cleaning up inside. Which makes me think he isn’t here,” said Ezra.

Mefathiel tensed slightly, “Why don’t they have anyone watching the building if they are busy covering up evidence of the fight inside?”

Ezra spun aside from the door, drawing a gun as he moved. “Ambush!”

Mefathiel spun to face the direction they had come from as a pack of shadow creatures crowded into the alley. Machine gun fire roared, shredding the metal door Ezra had just moved away from. Mefathiel’s hands moved almost to fast to follow and two of the shadow creatues went down, clawing at the knives sticking out of their throats.

Ezra snapped off three shots down the alley in the opposite direction. A cry echoed back from that direction. Ezra fired two more shots at the noise before another group of shadow creatures flooded into view from that direction.

“Really wish I hadn’t left my bag in the car now,” said Ezra, voice and body language expressing no real concern. He smoothly drew the second gun and opened fire on the flood of creatures.

Mefathiel took down another creature as they flooded toward him with a thrown knife, then drew a wicked looking, slightly curved small blade. He moved into the crowd, slashing with the blade and fending off blows with his free hand.

Meanwhile, Ezra emptied both guns, holstered the gun in his left hand and ejected the clip from the right gun. He snapped out a hard kick, knocking the leading shadow creature back into the others as he grabbed a spare clip and slammed it into the gun. A creature leapt at him from the left and he snagged it and shifted his weight, redirecting it into the wall past him. He fired off two more shots and stepped back slightly, drawing a blade with his free hand.

Mefathiel struggled, already starting to get torn up. He lashed out hard with the blade, nearly decapitating the creature in front of him, but went down as one leapt onto his back, digging talong into his shoulder. Mefathiel let out a small pained noise, catching himself from completely hitting the ground with one hand. He twisted and stabbed up into the creature, but the others began swarming over him.

Ezra heard Mefathiel go down and tried to start falling back to help him, but was blocked off as the remains of the door exploded outwards. The creature landed snarling, huge jaws bristling with teath and fur bristling. It was the size of a tiger, but with deffinet canine features.

“Oh hell…” said Ezra, twisting to open fire at the beast. It seemed to shrug off the gunfire as little more then annoyances, gathering itself and leaping at Ezra with a snarl.

Third Host: Mefathiel and Ezra

Mefathiel helped Ezra into the elevator despite Ezra’s protests. It required a key-code to rise up to the correct floor. Another code and a key opened the door into the apartment itself, which seemed to occupy the top floor.
“I take it business is good?” said Mefathiel, tone disaproving.
“It keeps me further from other people if something goes wrong,” answered Ezra, pulling away from the other man. He walked to a set of sliding doors and pushed them open, walking into a dojo that mirrored his main home, but without his aged armor. All of the weapons here were relatively new. He moved to the center of it, a circle inscribed into the floor, sigils in the cardinal directions. “There is a case by the door with candles, if you don’t mind,” Ezra said as he settled into lotus position on the floor.
“How long do you need?” said Mefathiel, gathering candles and matches. He settled the candles into place, lighting each in turn around the circle.
“Make yourself at home in the other rooms, once I’ve properly centered myself again we can gather weapons and continue,” said Ezra.
Mefathiel smiled wryly and turned to leave Ezra to his meditations, “I’ll manage my own weapons.”
Mefathiel wandered out into the elegantly furnished apartment and settled onto a white couch. He considered a moment, then reached under the couch and produced a brief-case from his office back at home. He opened it and settled a stack of case files onto the coffee table and started back at them, making detailed notes as he worked.

Hours later Ezra emerged from the practice room and crossed over to another room, not interupting Mefathiel’s work just yet. The sound of running water snuck from the other room, washing over Mefathiel’s silence. He sighed a bit and shuffled them back into the briefcase, careful to keep them organized. Before long the shower stopped and not much more time after that before he stepped back out into the room wearing well fitted black silk shirt and slacks. He settled a nice, lightweight suit coat over the top and crossed over to the entertainment center and punched a quick series of buttons on the rediculously intricate stereo. Gears in the floor smoothly hummed to life as it slid aside to reveal a well stocked cabinet of weapons, ranging through melee and ranged.
Mefathiel joined Ezra at the cabinet. Ezra picked up a pair of glocks, slid in clips and then tucked them into shoulder holsters under each arm. A slender knife strapped to each forearm under his shirt. Another on his left ankle and a small hold-out pistol on the other. Extra clips tucked into pockets of the suit coat, carefully sittuated to not strangely weigh down the fabric with obvious bulges. He snagged a long duffle bag off of the shelf nearby and tucked a solid longsword and a sawed off shotgun into it, along with a box of shells and several more clips.
Ezra glanced to Mefathiel. “Sure you don’t want to take something extra?”
Mefathiel glanced over the cabinet and shook his head slightly. “I’ll leave the heavy weapontry to you. Humans have quite the capacity for building weapons, but I will stick with my own.”
Ezra shrugged once and slong the bag over his shoulder, sinching it in to ride comfortably against his back. “Suit yourself. Did you manage to find anything useful before we blew the top off the building?”
“Before you blew the top off the building,” correct Mefathiel, heading for the door. “And I have an address for us to go look into. He wrote on top of the folder on his desk and a little ink bled through. Should lead us toward him quick enough.”
“Somehow I can’t imagine it being that simple,” said Ezra, punching the elevator button.
“Have a little faith,” said Mefathiel.
Ezra just laughed.

Third Host: Mefathiel, Ezra

Mefathiel shoved the heavy filing cabinet off of him, coughing softly. He weekly brushed at the suit and looked around slowly. Ash was brushed across the nearby buildings and the building was neatly sheered off level with the floor. Ezra was crouched where the door had been, shadows crawling around his feat. Sirens started getting closer.

Mefathiel crossed over to Ezra, grabbed his shoulder and tugged him upright, ignoring the shadows scrabbling at his feat. “We have to go. Neither of you wants to deal with the police.”

Ezra chuckled darkly, “Police? I bet they would be quite tasty.”

Mefathiel pulled him toward the charred staircase. “That would be a stupid move. You’re not stupid. Nor are you in control, really.” Mefeathiel suddenly turned, still holding Ezra’s shoulder with one hand, his other lightly touching the intricate series of tattoos showing through Ezra’s tattered clothing. A faint glow and warmth flowed over Mefathiel’s skin, outline of wings appearing off his shoulders. The glow crept into the warding sigils tattooed into Ezra’s skin.

Ezra let out a snarl, back arching as the glow traced through the patterns, suffusing across chest and back. The shadows receded and Ezra collapsed, eyes fluttering closed.  Mefathiel  picked him up and carefully, settling him over his shoulder, then picked his way down the staircase, bits of it collapsing around him. Mefathiel jumped the last stretch to the ground, wincing a bit underneath the weight of the other man. He picked his way through the charred mess and kicked open the front door. He opened the back door to Ezra’s car and dumped him into the back seat and quickly pulled away, turning down the first available side street to avoid incoming sirens and questions.

Once the sounds of sirens had faded off into the distance Mefathiel finally stopped the car. He reached into the back-seat and gave Ezra a good shake. The other man groaned and stirred slowly. His eyelids fluttered partially open.

“Wha… how?” said Ezra, trying to sit up.

“I gave your wards a little extra juice,” said Mefathiel.

“Oh. Lets… lets try and avoid that in the future. Feels like they’re on fire…”

“Yeah. I didn’t think it would be nice. It’s why I never suggested it before. Couldn’t imagine it having a good effect, considering how entwined into you that thing is,” said Mefathiel.

“That continues to be a rather large problem,” said Ezra.

“Where is the safe house.”

“I’ll drive,” Ezra pushed himself upright and climbed out of the car.

Mefathiel smirked and stepped out of the drivers seat. “I’m impressed. You’re tough even with the demon.”

Ezra dropped into the seat. “There’s a reason I haven’t lost it yet.”

Mefathiel shook his head and circled the car, climbing in the other side. “True enough.”

Third Host: Ezra and Mefathiel

Mefathiel guided Ezra through a few bent rules and shortcuts not accessible to the general public. Even with the extra help, it was still dawn by the time they pulled into a questionable neighborhood in the Windy City. Ezra pulled the car up in front of an old office building.

“So was it a quiet trip because we took a strange route, or should I be worried?” said Ezra.

Mefathiel watched the building a moment, then opened the door and stepped out of the car. “Be worried.”

Ezra closed his eyes and took a deep breath before stepping out of the car. “I have a stop we need to make after this.”

Mefathiel led the way into the building, answer back over his shoulder, “Where is that?”

“Safe house in the city. I think it’s time to gather some weapons.”

“I wish I could argue against that,” said Mefathiel. He led the way inside and up the stairs. At the end of the hall was a door with smoked glass with the word ‘Detective’ on it. Mefathiel knocked on the door and waited.

“It’s pretty early, maybe he isn’t here yet?” said Ezra.

“He sleeps here,” Mefathiel knocked louder, “and technically doesn’t really need sleep.”

Ezra frowned and stepped up to try and look through the glass. “Doesn’t look like anyone is here.”

Mefathiel pulled a set of well worn lock picks from a pocket and leaned down to the lock. He frowned, tested the knob to make sure it was locked, then started picking it. “Someone else without a key has been in here.”

“Well that’s a good sign… Also, should you even be doing that kind of thing?”

Mefathiel shrugged and twisted the knob. “I don’t seem to be any worse off now, do I?” He pushed open the door to reveal a small office that looked like something straight off a movie set or out of a novel. Big desk. Two chairs in front of it. An extra chair off near the filing cabinet. An old battered coat rack. The two men looked over the room, then back to each other.

“Nothing obvious,” said Ezra.

Mefathiel nodded, then slowly stepped into the room. First he headed for the desk. Ezra stepped in after and moved for the filing cabinet. Both stopped dead as a soft red light pulsed through the room once.

“That was a warding spell of some kind, wasn’t it?” said Ezra.

Mefathiel frowned and moved to a window, trying to push it open. It wouldn’t budge. He turned and picked up the chair, then swung it hard into the window. The chair shattered on impact. “A really good one.”

Smoke began curling up through the floor boards. Ezra crossed to the door and knelt down, tracing fingers over the ground, following faint traces of glyphs with his fingers. “How flammable are you?”

Mefathiel frowned and started shuffling through folders on the desk. “Normally I wouldn’t be to worried about it. But if they’re using magic that can hold me this solidly, I don’t want to know what else they might have to make sure I burn properly.”

Ezra coughed and waved back smoke, continuing to run his other hand along the floor. “Find what you can, then be ready to do something about me.”

Mefathiel looked up in time to see shadows in the room being drug in toward Ezra. “Bad idea, we can come up with something else.”

Voice seeming as though Ezra is in intense pleasure and pain at the same time. “Not fast enough.”

Outside smoke billowed out from the lower floors. Suddenly the building seemed to sag inward slightly before the top floor exploded, flames lashing high into the sky, then quickly dieing back down to smolder inside the building again. The pieces never rained back down.

Third Host: Excerpt, Mefathiel and Ezra

They took Ezra’s rental car. He followed Mefathiel’s directions and got on the highway, heading toward the docks. Ezra let the sounds of the road fill the car for several minutes before throwing a quick glance to Mefathiel. “Explenation,” he said.

Mefathiel took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, taking a moment before finally answering, “It would seem that the angel of peace has set aside her powers.”

“You can do that?” asked Ezra.

“Yes. Though very few do it to the extent that she has. Of course, that’s just the first oddity of the situation,” said Mefathiel.

“Oh good. angelic powers being set aside is just the beginning. Usually it’s best to not try and scare off your help before you’ve convinced them the situation warrants risking life and limb,” said Ezra.

“That’s why I asked an immortal for help. Anyway, the thing is, this is the original angel of truth.”

“I apparently am unaware of the significance of that.”

“She was burned by God, along with the Angel of Truth for questioning His plan.”

“You mean like thrown into Hell burner, right?”

“No. Burned burned. Direct wrath of God burned,” said Mefathiel.

“Oh,” said Ezra, letting that roll around for a moment. “So… we are going after the power of an angel who was destroyed once already?”

“Yes. As, I can imagine, are many other interested parties. Peace is a rather powerful ace to have up your sleeve,” said Mefathiel.

“That’s almost always the case. So, convinced that this is worth putting your neck out for?”

“Just so long as you make sure what’s inside me doesn’t get very far if something does manage to take me down,” said Ezra.

Mefathiel frowned, but nodded. “Of course, friend.”

They drove in silence for a time after that, each deep in their own thoughts. Mefathiel worried over the implications of getting involved in something like this versus the possible benefits. Ezra focused on mentally preparing himself for what was likely to be ahead. It had been a long time since he went up against odds like this, but he had to admit some part of him relished the idea. If he was to get hurt badly enough to loose control to the demon sealed inside of him, he couldn’t ask for better company to make sure it didn’t do any real damage before being taken down. And as much as he tried to ignore the urge, the occasional excuse to flex the demonic power flowing through his veins was far more pleasant then he liked to admit.