Page 200 of Remnants: Disruption
Omen staggers when the first hits them. They whip around, as if looking for another attacker. They see Cass, but she’s just gotten to her feet.
“What are you—” Omen’s voice cuts out as another spirit tackles them. Then another.
The wolf-bat turns to face me, a confused head tilt asking, “what the fuck?”
Apparently they're only visible if I want them to be.
The spirits grip Omen by their arms, forcing them to their knees. A loud, painful crack sounds around the square and Omen howls in a pitched scream.
“My fucking knee!” they shriek, and I see the way their leg is bent. Like the spirit responsible got tired of their leg being in the way.
Finally, Omen is brought to their knees, arms splayed, neck bared.
Cass transforms beside me as we close on the captive Remnant.
“He’s going to kill you for this,” they hiss, and I shoot a look at Cass.
“You think Darkrend cares about you?” I scoff, bending at the waist to stay eye-level with the shorter fiend. “He doesn’t give two shits about you or anyone else.”
Omen responds with an inhuman snarl.
“Now,” I say, reaching forward. “Let’s see if you’re as ugly as I think.”
Except when I pull of the mirrored helmet, I stare stupidly into the face of a person I don’t even recognize.
A woman.
“Oh my god,” Cass whispers beside me. “The receptionist?”
And then I do recognize her.
“Francesca…” I try to recall her name, but all I remember was it being hyphenated.
The woman’s face is paled from pain and she looks downright insane. Unhinged and feral. Like she might bite if I get too close.
“Where’s Percy’s arm?” I ask, and she stares at me with blown pupils.
“Looking for a trophy?” she asks, tone far too gleeful for the situation. “Maybe you can go dig her up and get the fleshy one. I’m sure that’ll be better to fuck yourself with—”
Her head rocks back as my hand makes contact. She lets out another grunt of frustrated pain, breathes coming out in panted huffs.
“Wrong.” I say, venom creeping into my tone. “Answer wrong again and I will kill you and force your ghost to answer.”
The veins in her neck bulge like she’s trying to remove the spirits clinging to her.
“I hope Darkrend face-fucks your pretty little skull—” this time it’s Cass’ fist that buries itself in her face.
Cass’ jaw ticks with an anger that seems violently cold. Like one more wrong word and she might tear Francesca’s arms off. “Wrong again.”
I reach down and grab Francesca’s jaw. She tries to struggle, but it’s fruitless.
“I took the name Hiraeth because I long for a day that feels right. That feels normal. For a day where I can feel at peace again. Maybe I never had it, but you took a person that had once given me that. You took a good person who could have lived a long, happy life. Not with me, but with someone else.”
Francesca’s grin turns sinister.
“It looks like you did alright,” she hisses. “Got yourself a little number.”
I reach forward and grip her right arm.
