"The fucking furry screeching whore! I'll rip her fucking vocal cords out!!" Ember cursed with furious vengeance in mind while still carried in Liam's arms through the panicked streets of Klapsus. "No! She'd die too fast from that! I'll fry her slowly. Over a low fire, with a fresh coat of oil to get a nice, golden skin. Ah, but the fire would burn her hair. Will need to shave her bald first!"
Neither Beatrice nor any of her small group of companions paid much attention to Ember's vengeful mumblings. Ember still had not recovered from taking Felicia's potent screech at near point blank range. The fact that she did not instantly pass out was impressive, though it might have been a curse as it left the redhead squirming and screaming in mind-tearing agonizing pain that she could do nothing about. Only by the time they emerged out of the tunnels into the city, did Ember's condition improve. She still could not hear a single word or thing, so Beatrice just let her be. She had more important things on her mind.
The company of seven barely clothed individuals (three girls and four burly men) blended perfectly in the chaotic crowds of drunken, drugged, or half-asleep men, women, and beastkin, all in different stages of undress. The city was in an uproar, to say the least.
"DEMONS!! Demons in the city!" people screamed, spreading panic further through the city that emerged from darkness in the early morning light.
"Hundreds of them underground!"
"Thousands!"
"They'll probably reach the surface in a matter of minutes!"
"They already killed one of the princesses!"
"The Purple Capes were slaughtered!"
Considering how thousands of witnesses ran just as the worst of the fighting broke out, Beatrice did not find their claims unjustified, though she had no reason to try to quell the panic. It provided her group with cover and kept the soldiers busy. By the time Beatrice left the arena, the victory of the fresh Purple Cape forces was all but guaranteed, and if Felicia had her way, Beatrice and her group were probably most wanted people in the entire city.
But that wasn't what worried Beatrice. What terrified Beatrice was the condition of the girl she carried on her back this entire time, covered up by a couple of torn purple capes. For all Ember's threats of vengeful fires, Olivia was the one who was burning up. Beatrice's back was drenched in puddles of sweat from the radiating heat from Olivia. Beatrice also realized that Olivia stopped sweating, because her hot face was drier than sandpaper, only getting moisture from resting against Beatrice's neck and shoulder.
And even in such a death's door condition, what few weak movements Olivia managed were all hip-based movements. The girl wanted more. More and more of that one thing that the demon gave her. She grinded against Beatrice's wrapped tail until Beatrice lifted up Olivia higher on her back so that the sex-sick girl could not reach it. So, Olivia resorted to short spurts of grinding against Olivia's back. And they were only short because Olivia simply had no strength left in her body. All the subconscious, feverish lust burning hot within her body was not enough to get Olivia's body moving for more than a couple seconds at a time for a few pathetically weak movements.
"Where are we going?" Carl asked while he and Jeremy helped wounded Chris through the streets that turned narrower and fell back into darkness as Beatrice diverged into secluded alleys.
"Quiet!" Beatrice demanded while she tried to remember where indeed.
Four eunuchs, that was all that was left of Beatrice's short-lived cult. Yet another failure that she wrestled with while she tried and failed to remember the exact path to a secluded hideout. 'The Wholesome Inn' that was ran by those two cat girls was absolutely out of the question. Even if the hardcore innkeeper let her and her eunuchs inside, it would be a matter of time before they were found.
But after taking another turn and ending up at the same cracked door that Beatrice saw two minutes ago, she relented that it was hopeless for her to find someone who did not want to be found after just a journey through a maze of alleys, which Beatrice did not even attempt to memorize at the time.
Beatrice stopped, turned sharpy and walked fast straight to Ember. Usually so calm and seemingly a step above others, Beatrice never saw her freckled bodyguard in such a vulnerable condition. With barely any motor function and dried blood stains running from her ears, raging fury was all Ember had left.
Beatrice did not shout. Even if by some miracle Ember's hearing had already returned enough to barely hear anything, Beatrice did not want to announce to the world who they were and where they were going. Instead, Beatrice pulled off her tiny eye mask and shoved it right in Ember's face.
A faint smirk emerged on Ember's face—the closest she'd been to her old self. Ember pointed to the darkest, dirtiest, smelliest turn they could take.
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