Note from the author:
I will try to update as much as possible. This chapter actually took a while longer to write than the others; I hope that future chapters will not be detained, though let it be known I return to school in mere days timing.
Be aware; I update irregularly, and rarely. My muse comes as goes as it pleases, and if I’m busy, I’ll not be focusing on the story. However, I have every intention of completing it…one day. Hopefully before March 2006.

Disclaimer:

A few characters are based upon my friends, while others are from my own twisted imagination. Some of the creatrues are from actual mythology, while others come from me. Allcharacters and fictional places are mine, so don’t take them without asking me, or at least let me know what you’ve done. I’m a generous person when it comes to artistic liberty…

Summary:
The Elemental Guardians, great demons older than time itself, are anxious to exert their authority upon an unknowing realm; Earth. However, their particular target is not the only world in immediate danger; the very structure of all is in peril, and representatives from all over are determined to secure their safety, even if it means the destruction of the Earthen races.

Chapter Three

Kin and Creacher

Across the continent and then some, in the green country, a red-haired girl just shy of her twenty-seventh year of life was growling curses under her breath as she extended her leg with a snap of her knee, leaning backwards while standing in a position that exposed her side to the man brandishing the knife at her. Her right arm, curled to her ribs and protecting her flesh, had recently been sliced down its length by a very filthy blade, and the crimson that flowed forth from the wound melded with dirt. The blade in question clattered to the ground a few feet away from her and her tormentor, who let loose a yelp as his hand stung from the kick.

“Blimey, Liska, yeh did nay haff to be so cruel,” hissed the man, who swept his lavender cloak around and threw it off in hopes that it would not hold his attacking back. He gritted his teeth as he received another kick, this time to the side of his face, and felt the distinctive dislodging of a back molar. He spat the tooth out as he rounded upon the fiery girl, who blocked his attack by a smooth pawing motion of her hand, sweeping the fist to one side and countering with a slap to the other side of his face.

”Now, now, Creacher, ya don’t haff to be so cruel yourself,” she purred, smirking and narrowing her sharp blue eyes. She hastily gathered her skirts up in one hand, and tossed her hair behind her shoulder as Creacher let loose a roar that could have easily been heard throughout the province. Liska reached her dress, the twine holding the folds of the traditional garment across her torso loosened by the fight. When her hand withdrew holding a pistol, Creacher was ripping his clothes off, his elongating nails tearing the flesh from his own body as a darker being emerged from the previous form.

No longer fully disguised as a human, Creacher’s true anatomy burst forth from the borrowed body, which littered the ground behind the new creature standing before Liska. It was a Púca of course, and the girl almost thought about taking a step back to avoid the musky scent emanating from the beast. Creacher was a greasy, black-furred being that would have resembled a bat, had his arms not looked as if they had been ripped from his torn wings, which resided high upon his back and attached also to his tailbone to make gliding easier. A bushy but patchy wolf tail sprouted from the creature’s waist, while a long snout dribbling with spittle gave birth to sharpened teeth that broke through both upper and lower lips and jaws, and a long, red tongue lolled from between its green, rotting gums. His thin skin was stretched over his bones so that not even the fur sprouting from him could hide the image of his organs and blood flowing beneath.

Creacher shuddered, a large smile forcing his mouth to completely over take his face so that the only visible features to his mug were his opal eyes and enormous, yellow fangs. Liska gritted her teeth as Creacher let forth another high-pitched roar, the windows of a nearby tavern shattering.

Nobody was around to hear the battle. Gunshots rang out with no one to start, the gnashing and clacks of carnivorous teeth slamming shut into each other were not investigated, and nobody heard the animalistic screams. Creacher had cleaned out the small village a week prior to the encounter, finishing off the last mortal being with a satisfied belch. Their leftovers rotted in the forest that surrounded the west, east and northern boarders of the town, alongside their digested flesh.

Two men, however, soon came over the horizon with a loud whirling sound. Both were dressed in black uniforms with green camouflage jackets, though there were orange symbols stitched into the fabric of their coats, depicting a very old symbol composed of curves and what looked like a reversed holy cross bleeding from its center point. The aircraft they were utilizing, a Black Hawk helicopter stolen from an allied country and smuggled along with them, raced towards the village’s skies, where dark clouds of smoke were rising in small streaks only to form into mushrooms within the air. Unbeknownst to the two soldierly men, they were being carefully watched by a creature similar to the one Liska was dealing with.

The woman hissed, a seething sound reminiscent of a feline rasp, recoiling just slightly before lashing out with the butt of her pistol, striking Creacher between his overly large bat ears. The Púca stumbled back, but spotted the gash that he had inflicted upon her side but a moment ago. With renewed confidence, he plowed forward, only to get a kick in the face and have his quarry dash off in a flash of green. Creacher licked his lips and screeched before taking flight after her.

Liska grunted as she ran, reloading a new clip into her gun and firing over her shoulder, before turning her torso and firing yet again at the monster coming after her. The beast seemed to cry out, though with Liska’s knowledge of Púcas she was unsure whether or not the noise was from pain or amusement. When she turned back around to look where she was running, she tripped due to her imbalanced body and skidded to a halt in the dirt, tumbling forward and ripping her dress in numerous places. Sitting back up, she rolled quickly to the side just as Creacher slammed down upon the ground where Liska had just been, his pounce causing the very ground to shake and foundations rumble.

The Púca howled in frustration, twisting himself and beating his wings to kick up dust and blind his victim, though when he bothered to look where he was aiming, he saw that the Irish girl was not there. He blinked slowly, drool dribbling from between the glands in his lipless mouth as he searched with his eyes for the girl, his ears twitching and nostrils flared to catch any sign.

He heard the whirling sound. Creacher cocked his head to the side just in time to receive a dagger in the left eye. The blade slid easily through the gelatin optic and cut into the creature’s brain. Creacher swayed and let forth a loud moaning sound as he collapse, hitting the dirt of the old road and twitching before coming to rest, dead.

Liska retrieved her blade and cleaned the sticky, tar-like blood on the fabric of her skirts, barely blinking as she heard the helicopter’s engine wind down. She hadn’t noticed when it came into the town’s airspace, but had merely adjusted to its noise as if it had been the breath of Creacher himself. She crouched down next to the Púca, and with an almost tender caress ran her hand over his skull as if petting a beloved pet. A soft green light seemed to float off of Creacher where the human’s fingers brushed his fur. Then, with a snort, Liska straightened out and began to walk towards the helicopter, naught seven yards away and sitting close to the old library of the equally old town.

”Took ya boys long enough to get here. Everything alright…?” she called out, drawing nearer to the soldiers.

”Don’t be cruel, captain Deenihan," one of the men chuckled, a large, pale soldier with brown hair and a large scar going down his neck from his jaw line. The other man shifted and adjusted his sunglasses.

“Jeffrey Allistair, care to explain why me company helicopter seems to have been caught by our Púca friend?”

Allistair, the soldier wearing sunglasses, merely stared forward, though seemed to realize Liska could tell he was glaring at her.
”The bastard scathed us is all, Liska. Naught but a minor slip-up on the bugger’s part.” The thick Scottish accent was twisted into a chuckle by the last remnants of the sentence, for Allistair had begun to grin broadly.

“Why then, Jeffrey Allistair, are you in my ranks?”
Allistair was taken aback by the blunt comment, in such a way that he paused to think before answering, going so far as to fiddle with his jacket sleeves. Suddenly, his unsure disposition dissipated into a smirk.
”Because I’m a very good demon hunter, captain Deenihan. So good, in fact, that you couldn’t resist enlisting me inter yer noble ranks. So good, that, in fact,” Allistair began pacing back and forth as if lecturing a school pupil on proper discipline, gesturing with his hand as he went, “That you trusted me to track down the Púca Creacher because no one else could find the beast…but I did! By the way, if you weren’t my cousin, I’d say Creacher had a good idea by going after women in old-fashioned dresses, because you are very-“
”Incest…” Liska seethed.

As his companion chuckled, Allistair continued to smirk, although his attempt at charming his commander was less than successful. She was clearly not impressed by the Púca’s strike upon their bird. Indeed, Allistair and the third soldier were slayers of unholy, monstrous creatures, while Liska Deenihan led their ranks in an unknown army that dispatched its own force upon the supernatural beings of their time.

”Nay, I’m afraid not. You’re here because you’re my cousin,” Liska retorted, giving her kin her own smirk and a wink before making to get into the air craft. She paused though as she felt something highly foreign rush by behind her. Normal circumstances would have simply told her that her cousin or subordinate was rushing to get inside ahead of her, but she heard footsteps crunching into the ground much too loudly for either her cousin or third accomplice.

Swallowing, she quickly turned and raised her pistol towards where she estimated the stranger to be, only to gasp and stumble back at what image met her eyes. Perched upon her cousin, who was lying prone beside her other soldier, was a large, velvety black bat, its wings folded neatly by its side. The animal titled its head as it became aware of being observed, and if it was at all possible, Liska swore it grinned at her. The bat lifted a leg, and clutched in its strong toes what was a rolled up piece of crinkled parchment, no doubt creased from the animal’s flight. The bat dropped the paper, and with a long pause to stare at the human, it took to the air with but a few beats of its powerful wings, and disappeared into the storm grey sky.

Liska did not pause to watch it fly off, instead rushing to kneel beside her cousin. She tilted his head back, and gently tapped his cheek. For minutes she did this, opting to slap him harshly when he did not respond. She croaked his name out, and was rewarded with only the breath of the wind creeping through the town. Slowly, terrified, she pushed two fingers into the crook of Allistair’s neck where his jaw met, and waited for a pulse.

Author's Notes:

And thus, Liska Deenihan enters the picture. She kills a 'creacher', and recieves her invitation. I sure hope nobody has a qualm with her accent...

Lady Arabella the Wise: Merci! Merci beaucoup. I always appreciate it when updates are craved.

Keda Sun: Well of course I knew who you are! Your Fictionpress page has your e-mail on it, and who else would be Alithena? beams

Mara Skye: Thanks for the encouragement! Glad you've enjoyed the story so far.

-foxpen