At time Persephone fell onto the hard ground in a fountain of tomato coloured, grotesque liquid, just before Bathazar slapped her brother, Emmanuelle reached her destination. She had found it hard to sprint, stay alert and traverse the inside perimeter of the castle attempting to avoid detection with an armful of bedsheets pillow slips and a table cloth. But sprint, stay alert and traverse she did until she pulled open, with a surprisingly articulate ferocity may it be noted, a large wooden door revealing a small circular room.
The room was stone and situated twenty five feet high in a tower on the east side of the castles heavy door. She slammed the door shut behind her and sat with her back against it keeping as low as she could.
There were four three foot high windows on each side of the ten foot diameter in diameter stone spinney. One of these windows overlooked the battlements which were being patrolled by the castles archers. The idea was that the Centaurs far below her would concentrate their arrows on these archers keeping them occupied in the three minutes she had given herself to work.
Some plans though vibrant with simplicity, always seem dampened by their eccentricity. In her sharp mind images of Rapunzel flashed in her mind, bringing a distant smile to her lips. Emmanuelle would love to lose herself within this fantasy but it waited on the outskirts of a mind filled with the clamour of battle and adrenaline.
Working quickly under duress was the first skill pummelled into the minds of the fledglings in Gabriels order, and this she did, tying each cloth to the next in the strongest knots the various textured fabrics would allow her. In less than her allowed three minutes she had made the rope, now she had to make the call.
What had she followed her saviour into. She was so fargone to the side of her 'natural enemy' that if she decided Gabriel and Jehovah were right all along her soul would be lost regardless.
What was she thinking? After all she had witnessed and read about in the past few days. It would be foolish to assume Belial was lying to her. Anyway the Demon argument seemed more convincing, especially considering Belial was an angel working for her exact same order.
Maybe this Saracen guy couldn't hear his phone. But surely Belial would have instructed him to keep it in his hand where he could hear it. At any time an archer could spot her she would be a sitting duck.
'Twenty seconds from the base.'
The phone hung up from the other end. Emmanuelle tied Rapunzels hair to the door and threw it to the princes below her. To her horror the door began to open from the outside. As it began to open someone had obviously pulled on the rope at the base of the tower beginning a tug of war.
Emmanuelle readied her sword but quite obviously hoped that the ascending Demon would reach the tower before whoever it was outside realised it would be easier just to hammer the door in.
Ten seconds past and the door stayed shut, the weight of two ethereal warriors on the other end was too much for the hidden anomaly to contend with. A fleeting comic thought flashed through her mind, envisaging the door being pulled open and the two faceless cimbers catapulted through the window into the room bowling everyone over.
Ten more seconds and Saracens thick kunckles gripped the window ledge and hauled his muscular body through the window. Turning he reached his arm down to pull Hermione up into the room. His red stained armour glinted in the starlight outside and bounced moon rays into Emmanuelles eyes. The beautiful girl followed with the unmistakeable frown of Belial upon her face.
In the milliseconds Emmanuelle had spare to her for such musings, she was stricken by how much like Persephone she was, her eye colour, the shape of her chin, the redness of her cheeks, and the deep hint of a shadow in the depths of her gaze. She grabbed the rope and pulled ensuring whilst the duo gathered their ground, the door remained shut.
Seeing the door tugging against her Saracen grabbed the rope and motioned Hermione to nock an arrow.
'On the count of three we both let go of the rope.' His voice was gruff with more than just a sledgehammers hint of command about it. 'One. Two. Three.'
Emmanuelle and Saracen let go of the cloths in synch with eac other. The wooden door flung open and in poured the pale yellow light of the corridor. A stumbling silhouette hit an outward jutting corner with it's shoulder and spun around leaving the figure flat on their face.
Hermione recognised Hades at once and loosed an arrow into his left hand pinning his arm to the wall. The fear in Hades eyes was stark and profound, a luxury that Saracen usually would have taken the time to savour. Time was against them so Saracen delivered a foot to his face instead.