He woke to the sound of her screaming, her voice splintering into a thousand shards before reaching his ringing ears. “Graeme, run!” Already, his feet were touching the floor, his hand reaching to yank open the door, his legs pushing him across the distance from the bed to her. In an instant, the door was open – a crack resounded in the hallway, so loud it nearly overshadowed the ringing, but he gave it no attention – his eyes seeking her, finding her in the middle of the living room, one side of her mouth already split and bleeding, her body fluidly in motion, circling around a demon to land her heel against his temple, propelling herself into another arch.
She caught sight of him and her features contorted with worry. “RUN! I’ll find you!”
They both knew she wouldn’t, if he left. There were far too many of them, and now that he was awake and his eyes were absorbing the sight, he could hear their boisterous noise over the ringing in his ears. Hooting, hollering, roaring with adrenaline, they were circling her, swinging their baseball bats and crow bars and knives in threatening motions. Leaving had never been an option; he was all-too-happy to oblige the fight, to come in swinging, because it was bound to be easier than words.
His fingers sank into the flesh and tendons of a throat, yanking the body toward him only to launch it into the back of another demon – one who was creeping in too close to an already-occupied Gabriel. Crouching, he lunged himself over the coffee table, his palm catching the face of a new opponent, gripping him firmly, and slamming his head into the floor as Graeme landed. His fingertips punctured skull with the impact and he felt the shockwave as it shattered the remaining bone. Rising, he moved smoothly to belt a fourth demon in the jaw with the same hand. The follow-up left hook landed on the temple and Graeme’s opponent went right down, hitting the carpet with a dulled, apathetic thud.
Then, he leapt into the real fray.