Gods And Monsters

Chapter Six:

(Trigger Warning: Attempted Sexual Assault)

Hel awoke to creaking and shuffling sounds from upstairs.

Sprawled out on her stomach, her legs tangled in sheets and extended across the full width of the bed, she reluctantly pried her eyes open. Although disorientated by her surroundings at first, she soon realized where she was.

Her stomach gurgled and growled. She was in need of sustenance, yet again.

Cursing her pathetic weakness, Hel rolled over onto her back and sat upright. She swung her slender legs out from beneath the sheets and over the edge of the bed. After pausing to arch her back in a sleepy stretch that was almost feline in nature, she crossed the room with long strides, albeit a little wobbly.

As she scaled the ladder, the scattered noise of muffled voices reached her. Their volume increased as she arrived at the opening. Hel meandered through and into the front space serving as a living room, curious.

Basking the fluorescent glow of the small, outdated television, Spike lounged in his armchair. He was obviously fast asleep, his head lolling on one shoulder and posture slouched.

She stood there a moment, cocking her head to one side. The soft waves of his white-blond hair, previously neat and slicked back, were now a bit ruffled and messy. Her gaze lingered on his athletic build, on the black fabric of his t-shirt that stretched over sinews of muscle in his shoulders and triceps. His biceps were equally impressive.

As a warrior herself, Hel valued raw strength greatly. However, physical prowess alone was worthless. Strategic intellect was equally critical in order for one to gain advantage over an opponent.

Turning around and retracing her steps, she wandered to the small, white refrigerator. It was just as outdated as the television, if not more so. She opened the door, unfazed by the viscous, crimson fluid kept in stainless steel flasks and corked glass bottles. The blood was so thick and dark it appeared black.

A solitary two-litre carton of one percent milk sat on the middle shelf, the remaining mac n' cheese leftover's in a plastic container to its left.

Quietly shutting the fridge door so as not to wake him, she pivoted. Padding across the room, around the matching pair of armchairs, and up to the entrance, Hel threw a backward glance over her shoulder at the sleeping, harmless vampire.

She twisted the door handle and pulled it towards her. She crept out into the boneyard, a cool breeze brushing her skin.

Pale moonlight casted long, inky shadows throughout the cemetery. The familiar dark welcomed her with open arms, embraced her as an old friend, and she felt truly safe. Hel was one with the night, privy to its most forbidden secrets and fervid whisperings.

She found herself wandering an absentminded path about the gravestones, which eventually led her into town.

The paved main street was lined by all sorts of shops and cafés, their mismatching brick and stone and cement fitting together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. It was quaint, so touchingly human. Every building was empty and locked up, their windows dark.

As she strode along the sidewalk, she began to feel watched. A prickle on the nape of her neck caused the hairs to rise, and a chill of foreboding slithered up her spine. She was not alone. Smirking slyly to herself at her follower's ignorance, Hel paused and made an attempt at igniting a flame in her hand.

To her frustration, she was unable to conjure anything more than a fleeting spark. Her confidence faded, and fear took its place. She sped up her pace, swallowing the lump of panic in her throat. Without her abilities, she was helpless. She was prey.

The footsteps behind her grew clearer and louder with each passing second.

Hel kicked into a sprint, unconcerned with who or what she was running from. Ducking down the next alleyway on her left, she pushed herself harder and ignored the stinging of her bare soles as her feet slapped repetitively against harsh pavement.

The narrow side alley turned sharply to the right, and she with it. Only then did she realise it was a dead end, but it was far too late. Hel was cornered.

She cursed under her breath, barely pausing upon her arrival at the metal fishnet fence before she began to scale it. A large hand dug into her leg, grabbing a handful of her navy blue robe and yanking her down.

Landing a lucky kick to his gut, she pressed her back against the fence. Her panicked heart slammed against her chest, and her ears pounded as the blood rushed to her head.

Judging by the bumpy forehead, pale skin, and deeply creased features, her attacker was a vampire. His shoulder-length hair was unruly and a muddy brown, his eyes glowing bright yellow. He sneered at her, moonlight glinting off the pearly white of his bared incisors.

She made an attempt at sidestepping to gain more of an opening for escape, but he was faster.

Hel cried out when his knuckles landed a sucker punch to her stomach, winded, and staggered backward into the brick wall a few feet behind her. He delivered two more blows with blunt force, one to her cheek and the other to her temple. Her knees buckled, her sight blurring.

Driving his fist into her abdomen a second time, he fisted a hand in her black tresses and gave a cruel, hard jerk. Sharp pain shot through her scalp. Carelessly, he released her.

She gasped for breath and crumpled to the gravelly ground, hot tears streaming down her face and darkness ebbing at her peripheral vision. An object glinted in the corner of her eye, capturing her attention. Swallowing a gulp of air, her outstretched hand grappled for the gleaming object, in the desperate hope that it may be of some use as a weapon.

Her fingertips grazed a smooth, metallic surface, at the precise moment the distinct grating sound of a zipper being undone reached her ears.

"You'd best cooperate, whore." His gruff, crude voice, much too near for comfort, twisted her stomach into nauseating knots. His clammy hands forced her knees apart, pinning them down in spite of her best efforts to kick and fight him off.

"Don't touch me!" Hel spat viciously, her fingers closing around the razor-sharp blade. The swift arc of her aim sliced cleanly across his gaunt cheekbone.

With a feral snarl, he grabbed her jaw roughly in one hand. The bruising strength of his grip made her bite down on on her lower lip to stifle her anguish. The gash in his cheek was two inches in length at least, crimson teardrops beading along the angry ridge.

"Bitch!" He barked, furious.

His clammy hand pushed the folds of her housecoat higher up her leg, while his other hand twisted her head to one side. She struggled, tried kicking and squirming, but he had the upper hand. He sat atop her shins, his knees pinning her forearms down. Her eyes sting, watering, and her jaw clenched.

His teeth grazed her throat, his rancid breath hot and heavy against her skin. His rough fingertips scraped up her thigh, their grip bruising.

"Get your hands off her!" Came an enraged snarl.

The vampire's head snapped up, caught off guard.

Wrapping two hands about her attacker's throat, Spike dragged him off of her and threw him at the fence. He glared murderously down at the crippled lump of lowlife scum with visible disgust, and swung the solid toe of his black leather boot at the vampire's head when he tried to get up.

"Stay down." He growled, balled fists at his sides itching to make the demon pay to his last breath. Bringing the butchers knife clasped in his hand to his neck, Spike prepared to slash his throat.

"No." Intervened the solemn, demanding voice of Hel.