The Bleeding Tower

Chapter Twelve Part Two: The Sick

As they made their way to the parking lot of the Lodge on the River hotel, the gunslinger suddenly found himself falling to the ground and puking. It wasn't a silent thing either, the yarking sounds he made were painful just to hear. "Tee!" the nephilim cried out.

He continued to vomit, while Vall gestured to the Altima. "You two, take my car and ferry Toby out of here. We'll catch up."

David and Chapli didn't so much as question, but Toby was protesting in no small amount. "Vall, wait, I can help!"

"You heard her, kid, we've got to get a move on," David of Great Bend reminded him, ushering the kid into the backseat as the ground shook even more.

The lilim wasn't so much affected by the tremors, but something else was happening, she could feel that much. "Tee! Are you alright?" Her hand was on his back as another gripped his bicep to pick him up.

"No... no, no, no, please..." Tee heaved again, this time nothing but a long string of spittle came.

His nose was running and tears came from his eyes, probably from whatever was happening to his body. Vall could see what was happening to his body, and knew beyond all doubt that: no, he wasn't okay. His skin was pale, his body temperature was dropping and he was getting lighter by the second; not exponentially, but at a sort of crawl that could only mean one thing. "Magic," she snarled and put him down.

Their car sped off, and after a quick scan with her sixth and seventh senses, Vall of the Darkwaters confirmed that Toby was in the car as it departed. "It's such a cruel power, isn't it?"

The lilim immediately snapped to action, drawing her straightsword. The man standing before her was taller than most, and thin as a whip. His red armor was only offset by the azure simulacrum of Carrie standing behind him and a step to her right. His sallow grin hid nothing from the world as he continued. "The Grandfathers' Purple," his voice was like cigarette ashes. "A perfect ability for the greatest of the Black Hat Assassins."

She lunged upon him immediately, almost at the speed of sound, and swung down upon him. But at an equally appalling speed the shadow of her father's killer blocked her steel with his bare arms. So it's metaphysical. "Who are you?"

"You may call me Barton, of the Redeemers," he answered amiably enough, taking out a morning star. "Now go excuse me while I smash Mr. Lewis's brains in."

Vall grit her teeth and proceeded to tear the false Carrie in half before swinging upon him once more, this time being blocked by the redeemer himself. "You will not touch him!"

Shoving her off of the brace lock they were in, Barton asked, "How did you cut something that was on another plane of existence?"

"Don't you know who I am?" Her wings spread out in their full black glory and sparks began to crackle around her person. "I am Vall, eldest daughter of Chandler."

"I was told Ariadna was the eldest."

She grinned savagely. "Was. Past tense."

"I see," he smiled in similar satisfaction, bracing a left arm that wasn't his at all. "Forgive my ignorance. You are the one who cut off this arm after all."

In a fraction of a second he was met with yet another strike, this time blocking her sword with the neck of his mace. "I can forgive ignorance," she pushed into his brace with inhuman tenacity, her eyes practically boring into his own. "But what I can't forgive is scavenging off of other people's battles like a turkey vulture. It betrays a lack of strength."

Barton frowned at this remark and Vall could see very well that he was expecting something to happen. He was on the wire, and that was exactly how she liked it. "You didn't answer my question," he protested.