Chapter 158 - Come with me if you want to live

In that swift maneuver, some loose feathers swirled out of his wings but it did not bother him. What bothered him was that all the Imps were facing him.

"Shit!" The WereHawk cursed at the loss of the feathers. 

Even though, there were just feathers and we're pretty sheddable, they still mattered much. After all, without feathers, his wings would be of no use. 

And considering the fact that he needed his wings to be operational, which was the basis for the rooftop trainings he had bee doing since the night, then any feather loss would be of great detriment to the cause.

However, he had to think fast. Loosing a few feathers was much better than having to lose himself to the claws and barbed tails of the Imps. 

In fact, it was so much better than he failing to do a rescue mission. 

The WereHawk cast a hurried glance at the Irunmole, shielding his head before him and then turned around.

"No time!" He grunted.

He ran back, towards the entrance of the street, leading the Imps after him. 

The Imps squealed, some of them getting into the others path as they growled with anger. Their eyes took a deep hue of red, their fangs exposed and serpentine foked tongue lashing out in rage as their mounts hung open. 

With their limbs on the ground, like monkeys, they scrambled after the Were Hawk, tails dangling behind them. As a result, some of the table got into the faces of the ones behind them, neatly scything them through. 

Those ones who had been hit suddenly bolted uprightly as they reacted to the pain with a devilish cry, covering their faces with a hand and then reaching out to grab the midsection of the tails of the offenders before them to pull. 

All the while, the WereHawk grunted. He had turned heel the momentbthey began to chase after him, leaving the Irunmole behind.

With a scowl on his face, a momentary wave of guilt trip waved past him.

Just who the hell had sent him here? Perhaps, he would have been better off running away in the rooftops like he never heard nothing. Now, here was he, now the central piece of attraction for an Imp horde.

"What does it matter?" The WereHawk scowled more. 

"No point in that!" 

He grunted to himself, soaking in the sights of the street as he ran.

He was right towards the left side of the street, his feet gracing along the path of the depression of what once was a gutter. Now it was filled with debris and dust and dirt so much that even if refuse water were to flow through its dry course, it would become stagnant pretty much. 

He ran past the wall of the residence that's as where Bolu lived in, coming to race past a line of shops with dusty verandahs. 

The shops were pretty basic in sight, having a table or two on either side of the black metal door. The doors, made up of zigzagging surface of black had a thick coating of dust in the part that was turned upwards while the one down had less of the dust. Each one of them locked with a large, rusting and equally dusty padlock. The only division between them been the small wall of concrete that wanted as a divisor just as the walls stretched out to form an enclos.e.m.e.nt in which the table were, around the shops. 

"Tch!" The WereHawk leaned forward, tensing up his lean muscles as he doubled, his boots kicking up the loose particles of sand and gravel. 

"Follow me, all of you. Follow me and let the Irunmole live." 

The Imps were closing in already. His wings splayed out just then as he attempted to gain a boost of the wind forward.

Just then, the sharp squeals of the Imps rocked the air. Tempted to look, he cramped his shoulders up to his neck in other to resist the urge and doubled, his legs begining to buckle under the pressure 

When last had he been pushing this hard? Fatigue and tension spread into his body, his c.h.e.s.t tightening with the two sensations. Breathing became hurried, he was running short of whatever it was that he was breathing. 

Strangely enough, the feelings were exciting. His bloods pumped up pretty much, the feeling of danger waking up every nerve ending in him.

His muscles ached despite the pain, for more excitement, his heart doubling in the beat and providing more music to the steps of the WereHawk.

The WereHawk snarled out a mischievous smile, his whole heart ignite by fervousness as he went out on he double again, boosting out to the start of the street.

However just as he did, he paused, he was not exactly seeing any of them chasing after him. He turned around, his hands swirling out in fists in the expectancy to hit any springing Imps.

However, he did not hit any.

A pair of two Imps stared at him before looking at the other and slapping and chattering to themselves. The Eyes of the WerHawk bulged wide as the scorpion tail o the first swired an arc and came for the neck of the other Imp. The other one reacted, fast, pretty fast as its tail swung around from behind and slapped off the invading tail. Seeing this, they went at each other's throat, claws and fangs, clawing nd biting whatever they could find.

The situation was not very much different from the others who were loosely scattered about and fighting themselves.

The WerwHawk chuckled. 

It was such a strange sight but then again, it was to be expected. The groups of Imps were loosely united. At any given time, they could turn on each other and from the little he had been taught, this often happened pretty much when their groups were battling.

Usually, demons were greedy bastards. They always d.e.s.i.r.ed the first hit for themselves or the killing blow to be from them. And for this reason, they even fought themselves, slaughtering one another just to get up ahead.

It was common fact.

And for the Imps, it was not very much different. But rather, this situation was different.

They should not have had to themselves until they had him in their grasp and reach. The WereHawk reasoned as he relaxed the muscles of his wings, folding the wings down to his back. 

However, from what it was, it seemed as though something else was the offending factor here. And that something, from they at they lashed at each other's tails, particularly, had to be the tails.

Also, an Imp could also scythe another Imp behind them because as they were, the WerwHawk reasoned, they must have let their tails dangle and so had each other at the throat.

The Were Hawk lowered his head and tensed his muscles.

"Fine by me!" He smiled, looking over to the kneeling down form of the Irunmole.

He leaned his body forward and then sighed, expanding his wings.

"Totally fine by me...". He dashed.

*

Wind and dust whistled past Sunday as the WereHawk slid to a stop just beside him.

He gaped, his body twisted back so he could see what was going on behind him.

His mind went ablaze with several thoughts as he saw the WereHawk take on the Imps back then. 

And he was grateful for that.

'Heh! What are you thinking? That WereHawk would have been much of a better host for me.' Bane w.h.i.n.ed from within Sunday's soul space.

The Irunmole boiled at those words, his muscles becoming taut as his body trembled, overtaken by rage.

"That's right! All of you. Look down on me, continue!" 

"Huh?" The WereHawk gasped at the words of the Irunmole, his eyes widening now.

"Are you delirious now?" He asked.

Sunday did not reply. Instead, he exhaled, forcing his body to remain calm.

He gasped now just as the Were Hawk stretched a hand to him.

"Doesn't matter. But if you remain like that, these Imps are going to come to a compromise of dealing with us first before returning to themselves. So," the WereHawk's wings squeezed together just then as he leaned forward, his legs spaced out and right out still extended.

"Come with me, if you want to live." He said.

Sunday swallowed.

Was there really anything else to do?

He grabbed the hands immediately.