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Her gaze became like glass and he resisted the strange urge to comfort her. The fact that he felt the need to was just as strange.
"It was only later that I learned it was all a charade. A joke. That was what it was in the end. I was nothing more than a plaything to him, a toy to be discarded when the initial novelty wore off. And I was not the only one. How many more others like me Fell because of monsters like him?" her gaze bore into him, as though searching for a hidden answer, "I do not regret loving. Never that. What I regret it that it is him who I love. That at least, is what I tell myself. Even now, I can't distinguish the difference."
She heaved a shuddering breath before watching him with hooded eyes.
"I told him. When his minions visited me I told them what I knew. I tried to stop myself. I really did. But so much leaked out. That's why he chose to strike while you were away. So that you would not interfere with his plans. Kokabiel is afraid of you. He is afraid you will stop him. So he ordered me to delay you. To kill you. But I can't. I just can't."
He sighed.
"Get off of me."
Raynare smiled resignedly at him.
"There's the anger. Now we wait for the rage. Then the hatred."
"No," he replied, "Not that. You are starting to become heavy."
She blinked at him, surprised enough that she did not resist when he placed his hands on her stomach and pushed her lightly off. She stared at him from the couch as he stood up.
"I don't understand you. You should be angry! You should be enraged! You should hate me! How can you be this damn stoic!?"
Those last words were almost yelled out. He turned to look at her.
"When has anger solved anything? When has rage? Or hatred?"
"I could have killed you," she whispered.
He made a show of examining himself before shrugging.
"You did a rather bad job of it."
A half-smile was better than the bitter ones he had seen her make so far. She rose when he skirted around the table and made for the door.
"Where are you going?"
"They will need my help," he responded.
"No!" the alarm in her voice was what made him turn back, "Don't go! You can't go!"
He looked at her in bemusement.
"Are you afraid for me?"
Raynare glared at him.
"So what if I am?" that stunned him, and he was searching for a reply when she spoke again, "It is pointless for you to go."
He shook his head.
"It is never pointless to help someone."
"You don't understand," her sigh was accompanied by another bitter smile, "It is pointless because they're most likely all dead."
The figure descended from the sky, floating leisurely down to the shattered husk of what had once been Kuoh Academy's gymnasium. Debris piled around his feet, pulverized pieces of cement, broken shards of glass. A slight tilt from his head and they became nothing more than drifting motes of ash; clearing the wreckage, setting the stage.
"There is no use in hiding," Kokabiel smiled, "I know you are in here. Reveal yourselves to me."
And just like that, the trap was sprung.
First came the demon sword. It flew from Kiba's hand, straight and true. Kokabiel caught it bare-handed, the tip halting scant centimeters from his face. The Fallen Angel glanced at the blade before smirking at the one who had thrown it.
"Is that the best you can do?"
The sword detonated in his face. Exploded in a flash of purple light. The smiling features was erased, vanished among a cloud of thick smoke and kicked dust.
Like ghosts they emerged from their ambush places and used the distraction to attack.
A dark blur of speed. Irina, cloak long since cast aside, surged into the Fallen Angel's flank. She had wielded one Excalibur in the battle at the cathedral. Now she had two and she thrust both into the shadow wreathed in smoke.
Tsubaki launched herself from the rafters. The height gave her a vantage point and the distance provided momentum for the blow. The naginata spun in her hands before coming down fast and hard against the figure's shoulder.
Kiba did not produce another demon sword. Instead, the weapon that had drank well in Fallen blood that night materialized in his fists. The Nihil Sword, as plain as any other blade, but so much the deadlier. He charged in from the side and cleaved it deep into the flesh of the other shoulder.
Last was Xenovia. She came from the front, counting on her allies to have already immobilized the foe. Durandal gleamed in her hands, levelled like a spear. This was to be the killing blow. The most worthy strike saved for the most worthy blade. With a fierce shout the exorcist drove the weapon into the figure's vulnerable stomach and out his back.
For a split second there was absolute stillness. Then the smoke was blown away, the cloud of dust whipped back, and the one they had sought to kill revealed himself in all his glory.
"More please," ivory fangs bared in a mocking grin, "May I have another?"
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