Nightmare: Copia
He’d finally gotten to bed, and to sleep after an exhausting day of work, and hours of tossing and turning in his too-small bed.
He had been run ragged by imperator, then Nihil and even the former two papas as well.
He’d barely managed a shower before dragging himself into pajamas then to bed.
The sky was barely turning brighter as the sun rose, when he began to stir, disturbing one of the many cats that slept on the bed with him at night.
There were so many strays around the ministry, he just gave them free reign to wander his room or office.
Despite their numbers, Cardi could always tell them apart.
He felt the cat vacate the bed, and moved to rub sleep from his eyes…
…only to realize he couldn’t move his hands.
His eyes were focused on first one, then his other wrist, in disbelief.
They had been bound firmly against his headboard with black silk ropes.
He’d also been gagged tightly with a equally black silk scarf, cutting his grumbled protests to muffled squeaks and groans.
He hadn’t taken anyone to bed, not in ages, and so this wasn’t some sort of kinky aftermath.
he thrashed in a panic against his bindings. He didn’t understand what had happened to wake up like this, but he didn’t like it.
In the shadows of his small room he saw Primo, scowling down at him, Secondo glaring with open hatred, and Terzo, Terzo who had always been so kind, looking at him with just as much animosity as his brothers.
Cardi didn’t understand what was happening, even as the trio moved closer, watching the cardinal struggle to escape his bindings.
He remembered he had showered and changed for bed, but he was now fully redressed in his Cardinal blacks, his usual cassock, laying on top of his fully made bed.
His eyes went wide as he realized each of them held a serrated dagger, causing Cardi to shriek into the gag, arching and squirming in further panic to escape.
He didn’t understand what was happening, but he didn’t like this. Not at all.
The trio stood, silent, waiting.
Cardi quickly wore himself out, leaving him sweaty and panting, only able to watch in horror as…Terzo grabbed his head by the hair, and removed it fully from his body.
The cardinal’s eyes rolled back up into his head with a soft groan as he fell into a dead faint at the sight.
He must not have been out very long, because it was still dawn, and the trio of Emeritus were still there, whispering to each other, too low for the bound Cardinal to hear.
Well, Terzo wasn’t whispering. His severed head was watching him from the bedside table in silence.
Cardi whimpered, renewing his futile attempts to free himself. Terzo’s head growled at him, and that got primo and Secondo to turn, along with Terzo’s headless body.
Primo pointed the tip of his blade at the cardinal.
“You aren’t worthy, you filthy little half-blooded mongrel.” He left a cut along Copia’s cheek as if to punctuate the hurtful words.
Secondo moved closer too, blade held tightly.
“You’re a plague upon the ministry, you useless, pandering little rat. You’ll only bring ruin and disorder.” His blade went right through Cardi’s left thigh, pinning his leg to the bed.
Copia’s scream was little more than a pained, muffled squeal, struggling against the ropes hard enough his wrists were bruised, and skin tore, blood dribbling into his sleeves uncomfortably.
Terzo’s head glared at him, as his eyes pleaded, looking to his friend and confidante for any signs of mercy from his torture, but there was nothing.
Just anger.
Terzo’s headless body stood, carefully adjusting his hold on the blade.
The claw-tipped hand not holding the dagger gently smothed itself along his abused cheek, the thumb wiping away blood, and the tears Cardi hadn’t noticed he’d been crying. The hand moved to stroke his hair, as if soothing a child.
“Everything is your fault. You will be our murderer. Now, it’s your turn. We will cleanse the bloodline of your disease.”
Cardi’s leg throbbed from the blade still shoved through it, and all he could manage was a strangled whimper as Terzo’s hand fisted in his hair, and the knife sawed into his throat.
He awoke, screaming and clutching his neck, to sun streaming in his windows, and at least four cats running for cover at the noise.
He blinked, dragging his hands over his face, wiping at tears as he slowly reassured himself he was fine.
Just a nightmare.
Nightmares couldn’t hurt you.. right?
He gave a small whimper as he looked at his hands, noticing his bruised wrists.
Ohhh, fuck.
3 notes
·
View notes
With another solid crack and a steady dripping of blood that was somehow both radiant and blacker than the darkest sin onto the concrete, Izzi grabbed the angel's blade and tore it from the vile creature's now-limp arm. He wasn't stupid enough to think the thing was done yet, though. Nor that it was somehow less dangerous for having been disarmed. And dis-armed, the demon chuckled to himself as he slid one foot into the shadow cast by a nearby lamppost. Then he was gone. It seemed inexplicable if one didn't know about him. And he had made sure Heaven knew as little about him as possible.
Emerging again as a fast-solidifying wraith from the heavenly monster's own shadow, he wasted no time in driving the spear into its neck. This was the tricky part. He yanked and swung on the length of the handle, using his smaller height to his advantage for his ability to put his entire weight into the work. Angel's were, after all, quite strong. And this one was having no trouble supporting Izzi's slight frame as it struggled against the spear lodged to deeply into too many important bit to be removed. At this point, it was game over for the Exterminator. Either Izzi would finish decapitating it, or it would damage itself badly enough in its efforts to remove the spear that it would finish the job for him. However this went, the creature was dead. It just hadn't realized it yet.
When finally it fell, its head still attached but only barely, Izzi leapt clear as it crashed to the pavement. Only once it had stopped its doomed twitching did he retrieve the spear and finish beheading the foul beast. One down, he told himself with a nasty grin that would make even a crocodile think twice. And the spear meant that many more would go, and with much less struggle.
4 notes
·
View notes