How to fight a demon

Audrey Makepiece hated waking up late. The touch of the night across her bedsheets made her skin crawl. There was a temptation to roll over and forget about her work until dawn - it was a sweet song she wanted so badly to obey.

But, as she (usually) managed to, she dragged herself out of her comfortable sleepiness and her feet onto the hard floor. From there, it was a process of changing into attire more suitable for her nightly duties. For that, it was practical shoes, an impractical amount of layers, and tying her hair back in a fashion not befitting her class of life. She made a face as she did it, adjusting it over her shoulder and pulling the unruly strands into a more manageable order. It was too easy to think about both her mother and father's lessons on the matter. 'Don't let your hair hang in that fashion, least it be grabbed and pulled.'

After those adjustments, she continued through the pitch dark house next, not minding the noise her shoes created on the floor. The residents were used to it by now, and she couldn't be bothered to treat this situation with the respect it likely deserved. She navigated well, mostly from memory, as well as from the subtle differences between the greys and blacks around her. Entering a better lit room, her small stature cast long shadows on the opposite wall, but she paid them no mind. Anyone else her age, hardly past when her mother had married her father, would likely still jump at those shadows. She took pride in knowing exactly what they were, however, and kept her eyes straight ahead.

That was the training, the repetitive and mind-numbing training. Being told over and over how to not fall for the tricks or the dancing lights. To not expect an attack directly, but to always be prepared for traps. Her father could hardly come up with a reason to mimic such a test on her nightly walk to and from her room and the Waiting Room, but Audrey still tried to keep it in mind. It was the sort of thought she needed to have prepared when she got there. Thoughts that had her frowning already.

Always be ready, never underestimate evasion, always be direct.

Ahead was the white door, the light from the moon hardly illuminating it.

Her hand reached out toward it but hesitated. Everything started at the door.

At the handle.

At the wood.

She turned, grabbing the nearest chair against the wall. She didn't even hesitate as she slammed it against the door. Once, twice. The hollow sound of it was like the knocking of four impatient guests. One leg scraped along the wood, etching a line over it like some claw of a beast.

Audrey smirked but hurriedly pushed the expression away. It wouldn't do to show it around her father, but at least she knew the door itself was probably safe.

Next, she opened the door but didn't let go of the chair. Instead, she tossed it in ahead of herself, letting it slide across the stone floor, across the patches of moonlight. Almost at once, something fell from the ceiling, missing the chair by a couple of inches.

Traps. How predictable.

Audrey stalked after the chair, picking up the sword that had clattered to the stone. There was no flesh for it to imbed itself. Fitting. It was a risk picking it up with her bare hands, but she was placing bets on a lack of a double trap. It wasn't that person's style. That person didn't usually think that far. Not unless that person was directly on the run. And the Makepiece family weren't interested in hunting them while they were on the run. It was too much work to truly -

"Audrey," said her father from behind her. Audrey turned, but slowly. She raised her sword. Practically speaking, while these practical exercises were usually more about testing her awareness of her surroundings, Audrey was well prepared for the sword that came down next. Sleepy still, her reflex reaction was a bit slow, the block choppy, but she still managed. From there, she backed up, wary of each step and also how she attacked the grey-haired, thin-faced man in front of her. His movements were practiced, even though Audrey could see signs of his aging everywhere. She was starting to be able to detect the weaknesses in his actions. It wasn't a good thing to be. It was their one strength, their one means of defense. If she started to slack, both in fighting and detecting the traps, she wouldn't be suitable for continuing. Some other family in the hunt would take over the Makepiece position.

Whack.

The sound of falling masonry had her moving, diving to the side and rolling away, making a slash at her father's legs as she did. Her sword connected, but she didn't flinch, even as the blade seemed to cut into something. She scrambled up again, moving her sword away. Whatever trick her father had played, it was very usual for him to garner some prepared spell. She wouldn't fall for it. She attacked this time, not letting up. This time he went on the defensive, having to leap over the beam that had fallen not too long before. Audrey followed right after, her movements getting more alert as she woke up.

"If you get to this point," her father said, his foot movements unhindered from the apparent slash to his calf. "Then you have already won. But you won't. They are a tricky bastard. They will have a spell to slip from your grip. You must have your own traps and trap them."

Audrey took the cue. It was a prompt, what her father always said to get her to show him what she had planned. By this point, they had made it close enough to the windows that Audrey could see the bushes outside and the semi-overcast sky. The moonlight turned her father's hair white.

And then he was no longer there. He'd jumped through the window, which seemed to dissolve around him, letting him pass through it unscathed.

Audrey grimaced. She hated this part the most. The chase. The thing which happened if bargaining failed. What happened if she could not talk the demon down or make them see her side?

The Waiting Room.

This was what she did: she waited. She waited for what her father would do, and then she waited to see if her plan would work. On of her, by this point, dozens of ideas.

There was a sharp crash.

There.

She ran from the room, dodging the patch of floor that attempted to grab at her foot, and the door handle that almost burned her hand was slashed away with the sword. She rushed through the room, through the 'safe' part of the house, until she could rush out into the garden.

She almost whooped when she saw it. Her spindly construction, commissioned for the use of the Makepiece family, and her little silver necklace, wrapped so tightly around her own father's neck that it looked like a fox caught in a noose. Even he, undamaged by silver as any mortal would be, still trembled with noticeable pain. The necklace itself was attached to the tree. This time, he'd fallen to her first trap - no spell to protect against it.

She laughed, a high peal of excitement. Yes! Yes!

Her steps were erratic as she hurried forward, pressing the blade of her sword to her father's neck. But, instantly at its touch to his flesh, the sword melted away, like it was ice stuck in a fire. Audrey blinked, her excited expression melting right along with it.

"Stalemate," her father choked, his voice ragged. "You underestimated the defenses again."

Slowly, he reached up, tugging at the necklace until there was enough give to get his neck and head out. There was a red line of blood all around his neck. Audrey scowled again, her fingers tightly gripping what was left of the sword hilt. She knew that, damn it all!

Toss everything at the target. The best bet was to toss literally anything nearby. She did just that now, more out of petty anger at losing than a denial for her defeat. The half-melted hilt ricocheted off her father's chest as if it had hit a solid block of rock. It sounded like it had too.

"Try not to use up spells that can be used for the next round," her father said dryly, disapproval thick in his voice.

Audrey hissed under her breath and let her hand stiffen. Fine. Fine. She was calm. She'd get it the next time.

Damn the bloody demon magician. The hunt would be on when she was able!