Death is a Girl

Chapter 68 - Black Hand

Emma’s eyes widened in horror as she saw the monstrous arm forming from Morrigan’s back. She hesitated, but the sight of her friend in distress pushed her forward. “Morrigan! Hang on, I'm coming!” she shouted, her voice shaking but determined. She had no idea what she would do, but she just knew she had to do something.

The demon flesh continued to thrash and grow, tendrils detaching to lash at the remains of the other demon. Hilda tightened her grip on Morrigan, trying to shield her as they were both completely covered in gore and blood. The arm seemed too big to have come just from the patch of demon flesh on Morrigan’s back. Had it already absorbed the other demon, or was it simply drawing from Morrigan’s deep wells of magic to grow itself?

Emma was just yards away from reaching them when a black tendril slipped in from behind her and grabbed her ankle, tripping her. She hit the ground hard, then was dragged along the forest floor as she was pulled away from Morrigan and Hilda. “Emma!” Hilda screamed, but then she saw the hell-cat jump forward, his tendril retracting from Emma who had been tossed behind him.

“Stay back!” Noir yelled at her. Then he turned his sight on Hilda as more tendrils shot at her. “You too! Let go of Morrigan, now!”

“What are you doing, cat!?” Hilda yelled as a tendril wrapped around her forearm, another around her leg, and one around her stomach.

“Saving your lives, you fools!”

A globby, amorphous shape began to reform from the scattered remains of the other demon. Its grotesque body started to pull together, reconstituting itself with an eerie, gelatinous sound as a guttural growl escaped from its innards. Its form hastily globbed together, it had no coherent shape to it and was just a mass of gore—disjointed bones, fur, flesh, eyes, and entrails, all mushed together into a senseless mound of meat.

Noir pulled Hilda away, tossing her back toward Emma, then darting forward to position himself between Morrigan and the newly forming monster. It seemed to construct a somewhat coherent skeletal structure, enough for a limb, as a mass of its mangled body struck forward.

But the demon arm now behaved with near sentience and seemed to protect Morrigan’s unconscious body. It swatted at the other grotesque limb, causing it to fall apart, with its many pieces scattering across the forest and smacking into the trees in wet clumps.

Hilda watched, gripping her staff, wondering what spell could help right now. Morrigan’s demon flesh seemed to be acting on its own and… protecting its host? Is that what was happening? Hilda stood, preparing to come forward again, when she noticed all the grass around Morrigan was dying, and the scattered globs of flesh that were writhing with some semblance of life began falling still. She realized that’s why the hell-cat pulled her away. Morrigan’s reaper power was completely uncontained, flowing out of her and killing anything it touched.

Well, anything other than Noir himself, as he positioned himself below the battle, the small cat looking back and forth as he observed the two conflicting demons, each amalgamations in their own right, battling it out. The hell-cat’s eyes narrowed with focus, trying to make sense of the situation. In all his years, he had never seen anything quite like this. The reconstituted demon lunged again, its grotesque mass forming another messy limb in an attempt to overwhelm Morrigan’s protective demon arm.

Noir hissed toward the two witches as he began moving. “Just stay back for now! I will handle this!” His form blurred with his speed and tendrils shot from his body, wrapping around the attacking limbs and pulling them away, confining them. Globs leaked off, slipping past his tendrils and falling messily on the ground, where some died at contact with the pool of death surrounding Morrigan's unconscious body.

The black demon arm recoiled and seemed to calm, rising straight from Morrigan’s back, its sway almost snake-like as it slowly adjusted its positioning, as if it were sizing up the situation and waiting to strike. The atmosphere was tense, filled with the sounds of the reformed demon’s guttural growls and the whipping of Noir’s tendrils as he held it at bay.

Emma stayed close to Hilda, her hands trembling with a mix of fear and awe. “What do we do, Hilda?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hilda, eyes fixed on the battle unfolding before them, tightened her grip on her staff. “Nothing we can do. Wait until this is over… we let Noir handle the demon for now.” Her eyes focused on the seal on Morrigan’s back, shimmering like a portal for the demon arm to escape from. At least her seal was working as intended, but she never imagined that patch of demon flesh would be able to take control like this. It was just a mindless parasite… or… that’s all that it should be. Then again, it came from a changeling, and if Morrigan was still its host, it quite possibly aligned itself with Morrigan’s consciousness and, while acting independently, saw itself as a part of her.

Damn, would Arietta be excited to hear about this, Hilda thought, but leveraging information for favors is a series of calculations she’d have to ponder over another time.

As Noir contained the demon, the black arm suddenly made its strike. It dove into the center of the horrific mass and formed a fist, seeming to squeeze tightly. The coiled threads of muscle tensed along its forearm, and then it ripped upward.

In its grasp was something that looked like a loose approximation of a ribcage but more rounded, and between the bones, a dark miasma spilled out. Floating in the very center of the open space, there was a glowing red orb. As the fog-like miasma shifted, glimpses of a yellow, reptilian pupil could be seen floating in the center of the red orb.

The an ear-piercing shriek urupted from... somewhere. It was hard to tell if it was the strange ribcage that protected some kind of eye or if it was the convulsing mass of gore that tried desperately to maintain its shape. Another limb formed and reached for the core, but the black hand held it out of reach, and as the messily formed limbs reached up to grab it, they disintegrated and fell apart again.

The black arm began to tighten its grip on the ribcage-like structure, the glowing red orb pulsating more rapidly. The demon’s convulsions grew more violent, its form struggling to hold together under the pressure. It formed limbs that never quite took shape, falling into a mess on the forest floor before pulling together again. Each wave was weaker and weaker.

A scream seemed to erupt more clearly from the core itself as the black hand squeezed hard, its muscles tensing and shaking with the effort. Noir, meanwhile, retracted his tendrils and darted back over to Emma and Hilda.

“W-what’s happening?” Emma asked. Hilda’s hand was on her shoulder to prevent her from making any rash decisions that may involve running blindly toward a well of uncontrolled death magic.

“It seems this is almost over,” Noir spoke darkly. “But I have never seen anything like this.”

“Is Morrigan going to be okay!?” Emma screamed.

“I believe so,” the cat said, looking over his shoulder at her. “But there is a death aura surrounding her right now. When it is controlled, it is an offensive technique many reapers incorporate in battle. In Morrigan’s case right now, it is completely uncontrolled, so I would suggest going nowhere near her until this is finished.”

With a final, crushing squeeze, the black arm shattered the ribcage. Splinters of bone erupted away from the closed fist, and a final pulse of red light flashed through its fingers with a harrowing scream. As the fist opened, the shattered remains of bone and black ichor slipped from its palm, descending on the corpses that had made up the demon’s body, now all lying in a lifeless heap.

Finally, with no more complaint, the arm retracted, slithering back toward Morrigan’s hoodie and disappearing beneath the seal as the forest fell silent.

All was suddenly even more silent than a freezing winter night when there were few creatures and bugs to create any stirring. It was as if the entire world collectively decided to hold its breath.

Noir sat back on his haunches, tail swishing. “Go, tend to Morrigan. And close the seal,” he stated calmly. “It’s over.”

Hilda and Emma exchanged a look before rushing to Morrigan’s side. Emma practically did a powerslide as she came to her knees and gently picked up Morrigan’s head. Her eyes were closed, her breathing heavy, but she was alive. “Hey, Morrigan,” Emma whispered, gently tapping her cheek, but there was no reaction.

Hilda knelt by her side, her fingers tracing the edge of the seal. The fabric of the hoodie was stained with blood and ichor, but the seal itself was intact. She hovered an open palm above it, channeling some of her magic, and watched as the embroidered design shifted and the seal closed.

All around them, the gore and remnants of the battle lay in a grim stillness. The black ichor and shattered bones from the demon’s form lay scattered. The air, once thick with the sounds of battle, now hung heavy with an eerie quiet.

Emma cradled Morrigan’s head in her lap, her hands trembling as she gently stroked her friend’s hair. “She’s breathing, but she’s not waking up,” Emma said, her voice edged with panic.

“She’s exhausted,” Hilda reassured, though her own worry was evident. She grabbed the hem of her hoodie and began rolling it up to get a better look at her back. She was worried about the bleeding from before the seal opened. She did see some traces of blood, but no clear open wounds. The patch of demon flesh, slightly grayer than the rest of her white skin, bubbled softly in agitation but seemed no true threat at the moment.

Hilda rolled the hoodie back down and said, “She has no wounds, she’s not currently bleeding. Whatever damage the demon flesh caused when it was trying to break free, it seems to have already healed on its own.”

Noir approached them, his feline form now appearing much more composed. “We should move her to a safer place. We don’t know if that demon is the only foe that’s out here tonight.”

“Should we go back to the jeep?” Emma asked.

Hilda exhaled and shook her head. “No, that’s way too far. If she was conscious and in condition to walk herself, then maybe. But it’ll be hard to get back there in the dark. Camp is just a few minutes away.”

Hilda carefully took Morrigan by the shoulders and lifted her as she pivoted her own body under the unconscious girl. “Help me get her on my back.”

Emma nodded and moved to assist, helping Hilda lift Morrigan onto her back. Once she was secure with her arms dangling over Hilda’s shoulders and legs secure in the crook of Hilda’s elbows, they began moving uphill, back toward the campsite.

Noir led the way, his eyes scanning the dark forest for any signs of further danger. The path to their campsite was narrow and uneven, but soon it came into view. The fire Hilda had started but had yet to make use of had already burned down to embers, casting a faint glow that barely pierced the surrounding darkness. Above the clearing, the full moon, the whole reason they had come out here in the first place, hung warily in the sky with a single grey cloud disturbing its surface.

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