The steps led to a dimly lit hallway. Sarain put her lighter away. Wall sconces holding small candles lined the hallway, giving off just enough light to see where she was going. Sarain wondered if this was more for decoration; she had thought vil sangs could see well in the dark. But since they were only half demons, perhaps their night vision was only a little keener than humans. At the end of the hallway was a door, it looked heavy and was closed. There was no lock on it, just a handle. She pulled the door open, and it groaned. She quickly stopped the door from going any further and hoped that its noise had not been heard. The passageway was quiet. Sarain squeezed through the little opening that she had made, and slowly let the heavy door close.
On the other side of the door was a spiraling stone staircase. It had no railing, but one side was always against the wall. Sconces still lit the way, and as Sarain leaned over the edge of the spiraling stairs, she could see candles lighting a long way down.
Sarain wondered how many candles were in this passage, and how often they needed to be changed out. Lighting and replacing them couldn’t be a fun job. Did the vil sangs go to a store regularly for that kind of thing? Electricity would be more practical, but how would you explain such a corridor to an electrician? Either way, the place still seemed to be a tad bit overdramatic to Sarain, she couldn’t understand why these creatures always went with the stereotypes.
The deeper she went down the staircase, the thinner and muskier the air got; perhaps it was the depth or perhaps it was all the little flames burning away at the oxygen, but Sarain felt herself getting lightheaded. Maybe that was why there were so many candles and why this place was going so deep; to keep air-breathing humans out. She steadied herself against the wall, and waited a moment to catch her breath. She had come too far to turn back.
Sarain regained her balance and continued on. She finally arrived at the bottom, and noticed that the passage broke off into two different directions. One led to a door, and the other led to another long hallway. She was a little sick of long stretches so she opted for the door. She opened this door more softly and slowly than the previous; it didn’t even so much as creak.
Sarain glanced inside; it was another hallway, this one with many doors lined up on one side. Perhaps they were bedrooms, or more passageways, but she felt as though she shouldn’t investigate this area quite yet. Instead, she turned back, and headed in the opposite direction to the other hallway near the stairs. It stretched out far and had one door at the end of it. Sarain wondered how greatly these passageways wound; it felt like a labyrinth.
She reached the new door, and listened for any sounds. Silence. She opened it and saw another long hallway with a door at the end, but about halfway down the hallway there was a turn; where it led she couldn’t see, but it was still having less options and possibilities than the last hallway, which she liked, since it gave less of a chance of her getting lost.
Sarain started to walk through the door when a thought popped into her head: How much time had gone by since she had first arrived at the club; Two hours, three, or even more? Was it night already? She cursed herself for not having a watch; they beeped, glowed, and light could shine off them, all making them a risk for her, but now underground it would come in handy.
Sarain’s nerves began to get the better of her and she started to back out the new door when she suddenly heard a thud behind her. It was night time. She quickly spun around and saw a thin man standing in the doorway to the hall with many doors that she had just been at only a few minutes earlier. He looked human enough, but was rather pale; Sarain knew better. He looked at her confused for a moment, as though he were trying to recollect who she was.
Sarain wasn’t going to wait for him to make a move, so she dashed towards the stairs, and the man ran after her. She moved quickly, but the stairs were regrettably closer to the vil sang. The glow in his eyes flared up and Sarain could see his fangs. It’s okay, the voice in her head said, it’s only one, you can handle one. She whipped out her machete, but soon more vil sangs piled out from the same door like some silent alarm had gone off; two more, four more, ten.
The first vil sang yelled out, “Intruder!” then shortly added, “She was heading towards the master’s chambers!”
Sarain lunged for the steps, feeling her feet fly off the ground. With amazement she jumped over the heads of the vil sangs and crash landed on the stairs. The stone steps did not make for a soft landing, pain shot threw her body, but she held on tight to her blade.
The vil sangs rushed after her. Sarain scrambled to get on her feet, but one of the larger men grabbed her by her leg and dragged her down. Her head thumped against a step and cut open. Blood trickled down the side of her face. Another vil sang flipped her over, and she caught a glimpse of a familiar face. Winston stood watching from behind a few men, his eyes were wide as he recognized the intruder. He didn’t make an attempt to attack her, he just watched as the other men proceeded to grab and kick at her.
Sarain let out a yell, kicking at the beasts. One held down her arm trying to take her machete away, but she broke free from its grasp, and sliced off its hand. The vil sang roared in pain and backed off, but the others proceeded to swarm. Another grabbed her other arm and bit down. She screamed in pain, but this bold move proved fatal for the brave beast as it left him in the perfect position for Sarain to chop off his head.
The headless demon’s body collapsed buying Sarain some time to get on her feet. She started up the steps, but stumbled when a sudden sharp pain hit her side. Time seemed to slow down as she heard the thumping of her own heartbeat. Sarain looked down at her side and saw the handle of a blade sticking out just beneath her rib cage. Apparently one of the vil sangs had been armed; she hadn’t noticed. Her free hand went to the knife and she felt herself pulling it out. A spray of blood left with the blade, but instead of dropping the weapon, she quickly turned around, sending more pain shooting to the wound.
Sarain could see Winston still standing aback, just watching everything unfold. He was the source of her problems, he may not be doing the fighting, but she was here because of him. Her hate for him raged inside of her, her arm went back and she flung the knife at him. It hit the wall a few inches away from Winston’s head; the shock of it sent a stunned look on his face. The blade was stuck half way in, it had hit with much force. Next time Sarain swore she wouldn’t miss.
She hurried up the stairs, the vil sangs not far behind her. She limped, clutching her side, but the adrenaline kept her moving swiftly. It was surprising to even her how she managed to out run these creatures; these non-men specialized in heightened abilities; faster speeds, more strength, and yet while being out numbered, Sarain was able to escape still breathing.
The trip up the spiral staircase seemed shorter than the trip down it. Sarain burst through the hallway door and up the steps leading to the office. She hastily grabbed the raised desk and sent it slamming down; smearing her bloody hand print along the top. She came bursting out the office and saw the large guard standing at the club entrance, having just opened the door. The look on his face was of pure astonishment. He reached for Sarain as she approached, but she lifted her hands up in the air, and one look at the machete that she clung to sent the guard diving out of the way.
Sarain was out the door and down the street in a matter of seconds. A gust of cool night air hit her like a wave of relief. Her hand went back to her side which was now soaked in blood. She couldn’t go to the hospital; they would ask too many questions and it just plain wasn’t safe enough. A vil sang could easily walk into a hospital, and that would be where they would expect her to go anyway. She had to go home; she was losing too much blood, and couldn’t wait till dawn.
Sarain gave a quick glimpse behind her, she wasn’t being followed. She went a few miles, still running in a hurry, before she finally began to slow down to a stagger.
By the time she reached her docile, she was dragging. The view of it at that instant was the first time it felt like a home. She burst through her door giving Kit a fright, with blood dripping down her leg. She screamed for him to get her the first aid kit, which was located in the bathroom. He hesitated from panic for a moment, and Sarain screamed at him again. Finally he rushed off to retrieve it, and came back quickly clinging it to his chest.
Sarain had him set the first aid kit on the table, then opened it up and rifled through it. She pulled out gauze, tape, antiseptic, and a needle and thread. She pulled off her bloody shirt and poured the antiseptic on her side. She let out a scream that caused Kit to jump back. Her attention then turned to him and she said, “Kit, I need you to do me a favor.”
His eyes looked scared as he stared at her while she said, “I need you to hold my side closed while I sew it shut.”
Kit didn’t have much choice, he did as told, and Sarain’s screams could be heard from down the street. The same street where a lone figure stood watching upon the small home; a figure whose eyes glowed a vibrant blue from the recognition of the scent of Sarain’s blood.