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Easter Six and the Deadly Dowsing

Part 4

For bbbuuu

By Draconicon

Woken from an all-too-naughty dream that continued the themes of being Easter's owner rather than his partner, Chase Dowsley groaned as someone - Easter, hopefully - shook him from side to side. He slowly turned his head from the pillow, looking up, and saw the silhouette of the rabbit.

"What?"

"Someone's down at the church."

"How many?"

"At least four. Two of them obviously armed."

"...Shit."

Awake in the space of time it took to blink himself there, Dowsley rolled his legs out of bed, pulling his jacket and tie back on. The belt with his gun and stick were back in place, and he only brushed his jacket out enough to make sure that the enchanted strands in it weren't going to get in each other's way. That done, he glanced at Easter, saw that the rabbit was already armed, and nodded at him.

"Let's see what's going on."

"Probably the same gang from earlier," the rabbit said as they walked out of the hotel room. "You think that there's any chance that they're coming after Shane because of us?"

"Possible, but unlikely; they'll have their own reasons for going after him. But that's not what I'm worried about."

"Thinking that whatever did the first killing is ready to go again?"

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Dowsley could smell something in the air, feel something prickling at his skin through his fur. It was much, much worse than it had been when he'd gone to sleep, and he knew that whether it was Samuel or Shane responsible for this, they were making their move. Someone else was going to die tonight, and more than one if they didn't move fast.

They were down the stairs in short order, jogging across the street when the first scream split the air. As the scream cut off, so did the street lights in the block around the cathedral, throwing everything into darkness.

The two agents glanced at each other, sharing the same knowing look. Things had just gotten serious, and orders to not engage were to be thrown out. Now.

Border collie and rabbit were just about to reach the gate in the wrought metal fence that surrounded the church when a second scream split the air, followed by the harsh sound of cracking glass. Neither hesitated, and Easter leaped for Dowsley's back. The border collie froze, giving the younger agent a boost, and then taking Easter's hand as the rabbit perched on top of the fence. They threw each other over the side, landing and rolling as they did, running across the grassy grounds.

As they rounded the back of the church, near the once-broken window and the former graffiti place, they spotted one of the gang members running away. One of four, Dowsley remembered, but there were no other bodies in the back of the church. The great steeple rose over the church and loomed over them, casting its shadow across the rooftops and hiding anything that might be there.

Dowsley grabbed the gang member - a Doberman - before he could run away. He squeezed his shoulder, pulling him around.

"What happened?"

"M-monster..." the Doberman managed to stutter. "B-b-big...monster..."

"What kind? Tell me."

"I...I..."

The dog's eyes rolled back as he fainted, and Dowsley cursed under his breath, though he couldn't entirely blame the young man. Whatever he had seen, up to and including the deaths of the other members that came around the back of the church, had probably robbed him of what little thought he had. He probably felt as if he had been in a nightmare, rather than in reality.

However, there was no chance to do anything to help him. Dowsley looked at the side of the building, at the broken window. It was a big one, too big to have been broken easily. Even a bullet would have scraped it or barely left a hole in it, unless it was from a much higher-caliber gun, but whatever had done it had blown the window out. Not the outside, either, but from inside.

That's worrying...

More worrying, however, was the pressure against the stone around the window. While there had been graffiti damage there before, this was something different. This was...this was something a lot more...organic.

Yet, what was there that could leave a paw print against a stone wall? Not just the print, but indented into the stone?

Easter looked down at him with concern, and he nodded back.

"Inside," Dowsley muttered.

"Shane or Samuel?"

"Not sure yet. Whoever we find, we interrogate."

He got to his feet, and the pair of them walked around the cathedral, going back to the door that was built into the side. They knocked loudly, knowing that whoever was responsible had to be expecting them, and soon it opened, the St. Bernard standing on the other side, blinking and looking at them with more than a slight bit of confusion.

"Hmm? What's going on?" he asked. "Did something happen?"

"You didn't hear the screams?" Easter asked.

"Screams?"

"That's a no," Dowsley muttered. "Inside."

They pushed forward before Shane could wake up enough to stop them, and shut the door behind them. As Dowsley laid his hand against it, pulling a silver strand from one sleeve and an iron weave from the other, tying them together in a small hex-lock, Easter grabbed one of his cuff-links from his jacket.

"I'm sorry about this, Shane, but we don't have time for games."

"Games? What are you talking - Nnngh!"

By the time that the knot was locked down, Easter had used the cuff-link's enchantment to render the St. Bernard into a trance. The holy place hadn't done anything to weaken that, as they had both known it wouldn't. There was no way for 'holiness' to really stop the magics that the runic department had put together. There were other ways, but the church was really a shadow of its former self.

The priest stared straight ahead, his eyes glowing blue from the magic he was under, and Dowsley shook his head.

"It's not going to be him."

"Didn't think it was, but..."

"We have to be sure. Could be a trick."

"Pretty good trick, if it is."

"Protocol."

"Fine. Cover me," Easter muttered.

Dowsley did just that, looking up and down the main chapel. The pews were empty, the broken window at the back under the steeple looking all the more disturbing now that they were inside. The only light came from the occasional candle that was lit along the floor, but even with that scant bit of lighting, he could make out the marks on the stone, the crushing imprints that hadn't been there before.

Whatever the hell was responsible for that was a lot stronger, and a lot more dangerous, than just a shifter.

As Easter interrogated the priest, Dowsley opened his mind again, feeling for that burning pain and other sensations that he had felt before. It was still in the air, thick and hot and heavy compared to what it had been earlier. The church positively glowed with the strange smell-sight-sound, and it was burning in his head with a great deal of anger...no, with a great deal of hate.

Fuck...

He shook his head as he looked towards the steps. The feeling was coming from on high, which meant that whatever this was had probably gone to hide as soon as it had claimed the majority of its victims. One still lived, which meant that they would be pulling a lot of mind-wiping later, but if they could find it tonight, then those would be its last victims.

For all that the feeling was stronger tonight, however, the mixed blob that was the horrible deaths centuries ago combined with the more recent attempts to cleanse them through goodness - something that seldom worked - still kept him from pinning it down properly. If he had been almost anywhere else, he would have been able to track this thing, but right now...

He shook his head as Easter walked up behind him.

"Anything?"

"He's got nothing," the rabbit said. "No magic, no memory or understanding of what in the hell happened."

"That means he's either wiped his own mind, or it's Samuel."

"...I hate it when the victim is the real criminal."

"Me too."

"He's upstairs."

The pair of them were off like a shot, with Easter flicking the strap off his holster and Dowsley pulling at a new stitch on the inside of his sleeve. The rune there triggered on being taken apart, something to allow an agent a bit of offensive weaponry. Whether it would work on someone like Samuel, or whatever the thing that Samuel had brought to this world, he didn't know, but at least he'd have an option beside his gun.

They walked up the steps, following the stone-print tracks as they went, until they found the one room above the main chapel. The door was closed, but unlocked. The agents glanced at each other, and then pushed the door open.

The squirrel was seated at the foot of his bed, a great black-bound book spread out over his lap. He looked up from it, staring at them with a grimace, and then with a slow, level stare. Slowly, his mouth turned up in a smile, and he shook his head.

"So...the real witch-hunters...finally here..."

"We're not witch-hunters," Easter said. "Not unless you start trying to kill people."

"Hmmph. They tried to kill me first. And besides...they tried to ruin my home..."

Dowsley flicked his eyes down to the book again. This time, he saw the wrinkles in the leather, the pock-marks on the cover, the way that the pages were aged far beyond the simple damages that one would have inflicted on it in a few years. He looked up again.

"The witches. They were your ancestors."

"Yes. They lived here. Died here. Were KILLED here."

Easter opened his mouth, but Dowsley hushed him, shaking his head. The squirrel got to his feet, almost throwing himself upright.

"This is my home, and they had no right, no right! No RIGHT to try and paint it, damage it, hurt it."

"They made it a different color. They didn't hurt it. You didn't have to kill them."

"They didn't have to kill my ancestors!"

The squirrel was half-mad, he realized, possibly more than half. Magic had a cost, and whatever it managed to give the caster, it always demanded that cost. Sometimes it was life, sometimes someone else's. Sometimes it was blood, sometimes it was something easy. Sometimes, it was something that nobody could pay, something that the caster thought that they could weasel out of.

They never could, and it always took them down in the end.

The squirrel hissed as he turned back to the book, picking it up and hugging it to his chest. He obviously cared about it, obviously hated the idea of anyone else even having a chance to see it. Dowsley shook his head, realizing what had happened.

"You summoned something."

"...Yeah..."

"What? What did you summon?"

"A demon. Our demon."

He barely heard Easter's cut-off groan of frustration, and he couldn't blame the rabbit. This was something big, much bigger than dealing with a shifter or a vampire. They were dealing with something that had the power to rip through everything that they could put in front of it, anything that they could throw at it. They might just be able to kill it, but hole up and wait it out? Not a chance in hell.

This is where back-up would be very handy, he thought.

"Bargioth, Bargioth," Samuel muttered. "Our demon, our guardian. If we had him back then, we would have lived. Family would have lived. They would have lived. I'd learn proper. This place...this place..."

The squirrel growled again, shaking his head.

"No, no. Nobody is going to take it. Bargioth killed the gang. When he comes back, he'll take you, too, if you don't leave me alone."

"You killed people, Samuel, but that doesn't mean that you have to die," Dowsley said.

"Gonna kill me. You're witch-hunters. Kill me? No. Not gonna."

"Only if you make us do it."

"No. NO! You won't take me!"

Samuel flipped the book open, chanting something while drawing a symbol on the page. From floor and ceiling great gouts of blue flame suddenly appeared, rushing out of wood and stone and surging for them. Dowsley looked at them, and then swiped his sleeve through it.

Hiss went the runes through the jacket, and just like that, the fires died as if they had been doused in waters from the arctic itself. The room's slight warmth plunged into the freezer, as if the chill had filled the air itself.

The squirrel stared, his eyes wide.

"How...what..."

"Your spells were made back in the 1600s. Magic has come a long way since then."

As Easter stepped forward, cuffs at the ready, Dowsley looked around the room. There was a summoning circle in the middle of the floor, and that meant that the demon-summoning boast had probably been true. There were sufficient bindings on it to keep the demon obedient, but not enough to bind it by using the same circle, or the sort to get rid of the demon by getting rid of the circle. Samuel must have been paranoid about someone else finding it and using Bargioth against him.

Or maybe he just didn't trust Bargioth in the first place to keep to the deal, needing him to release the big demon...

Still, he was able to get a little information from it. Bargioth had been bound into something physical, a gargoyle, in order to give him the sort of shape that he needed to fulfill the commands of his summoner. Considering that gargoyles were meant to be demons leashed to the service of the church, there was a certain sort of irony there.

He shook his head, standing up. The temptation to burn the grimoire now was very strong, but he knew better than to think that just throwing it in the fire would end the spell. That, and the fact that the research division back at SBI would want the magic book for their own kept him from just getting rid of it. He tucked it under his arm, and he nodded at Easter.

"Let's get out of here."

Easter nodded, pushing the squirrel to follow them back to the stairway. Samuel was fighting it every step of the way, his hands glinting with the attempt to use his magic again and again, but with the combination of the cuffs and the grimoire being in someone else's hands, there was no chance that any spell would fire.

They were halfway down the stairs, just passing the broken window, when everything went to shit.

The only warning that Dowsley had was the crunch of stone beside his head, and he threw himself to the stairs. No sooner had he done so than a great paw-fist of rock came swinging for his head, slamming through the air where he had been standing and taking some of the wall out with it. He grunted as he rolled to the side, staring out at the huge, stone face of the living gargoyle.

As he fumbled for his gun, Easter pulled his free. The demon-infused carving twisted, punching for the rabbit -

BANG!

The echo of the gunshot filled the cathedral with ear-ringing force, but it forced the demon to pull back, holding its hand, screaming as one of the fingers on its paw-hand had been blown off with that bullet.

However, there was a serious problem. Samuel had turned, running up the stairs again despite having his hands tied behind his back, and he rounded the corner with ease. Dowsley groaned, getting back to his feet as he pulled his gun free.

"Well, that complicates things."

"Yeah, no fucking kidding."

"Let's get the summoner. There's a chance Samuel could banish him, if we give him decent terms."

"You really think that's going to happen?"

"Not really, but it's possible. And protocol."

"Protocol is going to get us killed."

"Maybe. But let's try."

They hurried up the steps, rounding the corner to see the squirrel's bushy tail at the end of the staircase at the far end of the hall, moonlight shining through a trap door as he ran up to the roof. They followed him, hot on his trail, knowing that he was going to be looking for the demon up top.

Easter took point, and Dowsley followed him up the stairs, one hand gripping his gun, the other still gripping the spell-rune in his sleeve. It'd only be one shot, but maybe it would do something. Maybe. Demons were...powerful.

They stepped onto the roof as the squirrel whipped his head back and forth, obviously looking for the gargoyle and the demon within. He called out its name - Bargioth, Bargioth - as the rabbit and the border collie advanced, standing almost back to back to keep from being surprised by anything.

"Nowhere to go, Samuel," Easter said. "Make it easier for all of us and just banish him now. You can come work for the SBI, work off this debt of yours, and nobody else has to die."

"No, no...NO! Bargioth! Bargioth! I called you here! Where are you?"

"He's not going to do it."

"No, he's too far gone," Dowsley muttered. "Too much magic too fast, and without any time to recover. Just take him, and we'll figure out the demon in a bit."

Just as Easter reached out, the squirrel shouted again.

"Kill them, and you'll be free! Kill them, and I'll let you go!"

SLAM! The sudden crunch of tile and stone announced the insanely-fast demon. If Dowsley hadn't been facing backwards, they would have been taken completely by surprise. As it was, Bargioth was still faster than the border collie had expected, and it took everything he had to get his hand up fast enough. He pulled the rune-cord.

A blast of white light shot out of his sleeve, a spell of force and light. It slammed into the stone head of the demon, but it did jack-shit to the gargoyle. The stone shrugged it off, and the only thing it seemed to do was blind him for a second.

That, of course, meant that it was all but impossible for Dowsley to see the claws coming from below.

"Uck!"

The border collie gasped as he was caught in the side. Merely a few inches further in, he would have been stabbed in the liver and kidney at the same time. Further, his guts cut open and his stomach oozing acid onto the church roof. It wasn't a kill, but...but it hurt. It really hurt.

Dowsley slumped down, his coat shimmering as the demon claws cut through the defenses like a hot knife through butter. They weren't ready for that, weren't ready in the slightest. Their defenses had been woven against shifters, against more physical power, not the deep magic of demons.

As he slumped to the rooftop, he tried to roll his hand out from under him, but the demon stepped on his fist before he could. Great stone, tons of it, cracked his hand and flattened it at the same time, every finger breaking in seconds. Dowsley screamed at the top of his lungs, his gun broken in the same moment.

" Pathetic...heh..."

Shivering, the border collie looked up as he heard the struggle between Easter and Samuel. The cuffed mage was probably trying to pull the rabbit's gun away, trying to get out of his cuffs, something, anything to change the course of the battle. Dowsley ignored it, staring at the demon.

The great gargoyle stood three times his height, winged and furious. Fire burned in its eyes and mouth, and its horned head cracked every time it moved, healing up again as it went still once more. The stone was armor, living, healing armor.

" A weak little morsel, after I am freed...I look forward to consuming your -"

BANG!

The gunshot echoed over the top of the church, and Bargioth leaned back. Another bang followed, and another. Three shots in total, each one shattering pieces of stone off of the great gargoyle and driving him back. Three shots here, one in the stairs, two left.

Looking over his shoulder, Dowsley saw Easter standing with one foot on the back of Samuel's neck, the other on the rooftop. His gun smoked, and he held it pointed right at the gargoyle.

"That hurt, you son of a bitch?" Easter asked. "Do I have your attention?"

" ...You are making a great mistake mortal."

"Seems like you're making a bigger one. Feel that? That's what happens when you start messing with my partner. You want to fight? Fight me."

" Heh...hehehe...you have no magic...You cannot kill me."

Easter cocked his gun, the click having a finality to it that Dowsley had never heard before.

"Wanna bet?"

" ..."

With an ear-splitting screech, Bargioth thrust himself across the top of the church. His wings flared, stone arms spreading wide, his mouth opening as the fires of hell began to gather between his jaws...

And Dowsley smiled.

Idiot.

BANG! The fifth bullet went right down the gargoyle's throat, delivering its cocktail of magic-disrupting ingredients right into the demon's core. It shattered the demon within the gargoyle, but momentum...well, that was still a thing.

While Easter was able to jump out of the way of the sliding gargoyle, Samuel wasn't. The squirrel was first crushed, then carried over the edge by it, falling all the way down to the grounds below. The soft 'squelch' that preceded the sound of cracking stone was all too audible, even in Dowsley's injured state.

Groaning, the border collie reached down to his side. Bleeding, and not a small amount. He managed to sit up slowly, pulling his jacket over so that the worst of the injury was in touch with the first aid spells that were woven into it. It slowed it enough for him not to be at risk of bleeding out, and the dog sat up against the rooftop.

Yet...despite everything, the burning feeling of the demon was still present. The summoner was dead; he should be gone. Yet -

"Nnngh..."

Dowsley whipped his head around, his eyes widening as he saw Easter lower his head. The rabbit shook his head, gritting his teeth to the point where he looked almost feral. He flinched and shook his head again, and again, each time a little more violently than the last as his hand gripped his gun that much tighter.

What - oh, shit...

"Easter...Easter!"

The rabbit looked up, one eye a bit red, the other empty.

"I know," the rabbit said, grunting. "One...second..."

"How bad?"

"One. Fucking. Second."

The rabbit worked without seeing, clicking his gun and popping the spent bullets out. He grabbed one, tapped it to his tongue. Aside from the sudden hiss of pain from the heat, a bit of steam came free. The remnants of the ammo that he'd been using; of course.

Dowsley sighed...only to sudden stiffen as he felt the heat upon him.

Oh, no...

Oh, yes.

As Easter recovered, the border collie slumped forward, groaning as his body surged with heat and pain in equal measure. He felt the anger of the demon, the hate that it carried, the raw eagerness to kill that had made it so eager to obey Samuel in the first place. He felt the power that it had running through his arms, making his fingers curl into claws, making his broken hand -

"AAAAAAAAAGH!"

Dowsley screamed as flattened, shattered fingers were forced to clench into a fist, punching into the rooftop. He arched his back as the demon forced him to a squat, and them up to his feet, rocking back and forth. He gritted his teeth, trying, forcing himself to speak.

"E-Easter..."

The black rabbit looked at him, and he saw the horror in the rabbit's eyes. His lips twisted up, the border collie forced to smirk, a different voice coming from his throat.

" Surely, you didn't think that was all..."

"...I called it right the first time. You son of a bitch."

" Heh. So you killed the other body. That's fine. I can kill you with this one," Dowsley was made to say, his wound cutting, splitting as he was made to step forward, blood running down his side. " So what if it's already almost dead? I'm a demon...I can fix this after I kill you."

Every step was agony, his body threatening to tear itself apart from the combination of his wounds and being possessed by something immensely more powerful than himself. Dowsley grimaced, trying to find some way to slow himself down, but the demon had taken so much control from him. Anything that was in direct defiance to the creature inside was stopped before it could even start.

" Heh. I'm seeing who you are, now," Bargioth said through his mouth. " Chase Dowsley, and Easter Six. It looks like your luck's finally running out, rabbit. Tonight, you're both coming home with me. Heh. And maybe I'll allow this body to do what it's wanted to do all along."

Easter's gun was up, but it wasn't enough. The rabbit didn't want to take the shot. Didn't want to lose someone else. Didn't want to continue his record.

But Dowsley...Dowsley didn't want Easter dead.

With the last of his willpower, with the last bit of free strength he had, the border collie grabbed the stick from his belt. The dowsing rod that he had used hundreds of times in his career to track monsters slid free, fit his hand perfectly...and his wound nearly as well.

He screamed as he fell to his knees, the forked tip of the stick stirring up his kidney and worse inside, and the demon screamed too through his jaws. He slumped forward, huffing, puffing, the demon stuck with him as Easter walked up. The fires burned at the edge of Dowsley's vision, and he looked up at Easter as he struggled to keep breathing.

"Looks like...I won't be able to help...after all," he grunted.

"Fuck you. You didn't -"

"Fuck it, Easter. He's not giving up. He's...Nnngh...he's coming...back...This is the only chance you're going to get."

"..."

"I did what I could. Now...time for you to do what you can. Kill. Him."

"You mean you."

"At this point...same difference. Just...do it."

Easter slowly lifted his gun as the fires surged again, the heat of the demon rising inside of him. The church looked as if it were on fire, and he stared out through eyes that were turning into someone else's. Bargioth wanted to end this, now, and was using his power to change the border collie into something else.

But it was too late. The click, then the roar, and then...death.

Easter Six let go of the skull, his breath wanting to come much faster than it was. It took everything that he had not to completely lose it in front of the necromancer as he handed the skull back, his eyes bleary with little tears that wanted to come running free. He refused to let them.

"Done?" the raven asked.

"Yeah...yeah, I'm done. We're good."

"Careful. Memories; they bleed. Cross-over. Feelings spread."

"I know. I read the fucking - I know."

"...Why do this?"

"Because..."

Easter shook his head, rubbing his forehead. Because he'd been thinking about how much he wished someone would help him? Because he missed having a partner that seemed to understand him at all? Because he wanted someone that would be willing to look at the impossible as much as the possible?

Because he needed to know why Dowsley had done what he'd done?

The rabbit had too many reasons for coming here, too many to sort through and understand anymore. He just knew that he'd needed this. What he'd do with the memories, he didn't know.

"Thanks," he muttered awkwardly as he left the Mausoleum.

There were many things in those memories to untangle. Not just the sexual part, either, though that had been...weird, seeing himself from outside like that. It was also the way that Dowsley had honestly started believing in him, seeing him as competent rather than just this bad luck charm to be carried around. It was...it was something that he hadn't had since.

Easter cleared his throat, shaking his head. No point in getting mopey about it. He needed to sort it out, and that meant thinking clearly. No crying. No regrets. Just moving forward.

The End