Stray had never seen Ororo fight.

Oh, she had seen the woman hunt, seen her argue. Even seen her break up the odd disagreement between members of the Company while on the road. But she had never seen the huntress draw her bow in battle, had never seen her friend wage war before-

Though judging by the way she was glowering about her, bow set and ready for battle, the woman was clearly born for it.

Not that this seemed to worry Ororo any. She and her rescue party were already surging forward, Katherine Shadowskin and Mistress Red at one side, Gainsborough and Master Summerisle at the other. Other members of the Company- a red-eyed swain, a green-haired maid, a furry blue beast of a man who capered like a magician’s ape to name but a few- streaming in behind them through a jagged, platinum-white portal which stood a short span off the ground. Logan had struggled to his feet and was making his way towards Stray and Mephisto now, his hazel eyes worried. The huntress was shooting her silver arrows far and wide, trying to cover his path. She hadn’t spotted the trapped Illyenka yet, though personally Stray thought that was probably a good thing-

They didn’t need to find out however. The huntress’ attention was clearly focussed on rescuing her friends and nothing more; Stray would place coin that she cared little for matching wills with Gold or the hollow Empress if she could just get her friends safely home. And as if to prove her point…

“Scott” the huntress hissed, “Go, help Logan get Stray out of here.” The blind-folded man took off after Logan, moving at a furious clip while she turned back to the two women. Gesturing to the blue, capering man and a tall, green-heard girl to cover their backs. “Kitty, Red,” she said, “Go to Gold, you know what to do with your charm-craft-”

And the two women darted forward, their eyes grim and set on the kneeling Gold. Their hands moving in disconcerting, jaggedly jarring duet as they muttered hex-speech under their breath. As they worked the fiery, bird-shaped aura of the Phoenix, which had been vacillating between Illyenka and Gold like some monstrous spill of light began to weaken. It was almost as if the thing were losing energy the more the Company’s two sorceresses worked. But before they could finish Azazel bamfed right beside Katherine Shadowskin, making as if to grab her. His eyes blazing sickly and golden, those tar-dark sigils glowing on his skin. As soon as he laid hand on her flesh he hissed and pulled away, snarling as if burned-

The little sorceress shot him a smile which was fierceness defined.

“Takes more than an upstart scraegoblin to disarm me,” she hissed, her eyes narrowed. “Besides, I’m not the one you need to worry about.”

And as if Kitty’s thoughts had summoned him Gainsborough bamfed into place beside Azazel, his normally friendly yellow eyes glowing wickedly. A knife in one hand, a burning whip in the other. He looked like darkest Hex-craft made flesh. He grabbed Azazel and the two men disappeared in a blast of brimstone, darted around one another and trading blows even as they continuously disappeared and rematerialized all over the hall. The red-skinned Erlkind’s displeasure at having to fight one so evenly matched with him obvious for all to see. Perhaps worried by the realisation of Gainsborough’s powers Mephisto grabbed Stray again, his nails digging harshly into her. The girl hissed in pain, slashing at him, but her claws missed and the whoreson just smiled more widely than before.

“Can’t have you going anywhere, can I, little chatelaine?” he hissed. For a moment he made himself look like Logan again and her stomach twisted at the sight. “Especially not now I’ve discovered what clever little tricks you can turn-”

“How’s this fer a trick?” And before Mephisto could even look up to register the question Stray saw Logan’s fist smash solidly into the Erlkind’s stomach. Knocking the wind from him even as Stray took the opportunity to dart out of his grasp. Mephisto went to clutch her again but she avoided him, her wolf’s jaws digging into his skin once again and parting flesh from bone. Fetidness exploding on her tongue and making her want to wretch from its foulness, her newly unfamiliar body shuddering at the wrongness of the taste. But before she could take more Logan snatched her from the creature. Swearing under his breath as he picked her up, hands ducking down to sooth her shaking form and twisting his back to shield her should the creature try to attack. “Scott,” he growled, “Need some help here-”

“But of course.” And suddenly the younger man was by Logan’s side, his blindfold removed. Raining shaft after precise shaft of scarlet light down upon Mephisto, the whoreson writhing under the onslaught from Summerisle’s Curse. The Erlkind hissed in pain and a wholly unfamiliar, ferally pleased smile split Scott’s face, making him look like another being entirely. It occurred to Stray to wonder whether this was the man Mistress Red had loved to distraction all these years. “Take care of your spring maid,” he was saying, “I can handle this one-”

Mephisto tried scrambling his feet and Scott adroitly cut one of the chamber’s pillars in two, forcing the creature to his knees again.

Stray was forced to concede that he might have had a point.

“You’re sure?” But Logan was already moving away from him.

“Yes, I’m sure! Now go.” Mephisto tried to rise to his knees again and Summerisle rounded on him again. The stench of fetid, burnt flesh wracked the air. “Save your trouble-begot and keep the portal open until I can save mine-”

And with that he and another of the Company- the red-eyes swain who’d been second through the portal- began rounding on Mephisto, covering Logan and Stray’s escape. The red-eyed newcomer’s exploding oracle-cards raining down on the creature, making Mephisto whimper and wail. Logan gave only a curt nod as he darted away, his tone soft and soothing: It was obvious that all his attention was focused on the near-lupine girl in his arms. “All will be well, cariad,” he was murmuring as he carried her towards the portal, “This I promise you. You’ve been so brave fer me, cariad, I’m so proud of you-”

But the taste of Mephisto’s flesh was burning on her tongue, fiery and bitter as poison. It felt as if someone had poured molten metal inside her mouth. “Hurts,” she managed to gasp out, “Hurts so much Logan…”

He soothed her, shifting her so that he held her more closely against his chest. His nose brushing her cheek, his scent enveloping her and soothing her even in agony as she was. “It won’t fer long,” he murmured, “I promise you. Now- Now that you’ve manifested you’ll heal quick as daybreak, you’ll see-”

His only answer was a low, harsh gasp of pain which bubbled up from deep within her. She closed her eyes as the liquid-fire sensation began to arc jaggedly through her veins.

“Can’t, Logan,” she muttered, “Can’t stop this-”

His voice sounded ragged. “Don’t you say that, my trouble-begot-”

And then suddenly such pain was the least of their problems. Because light, golden, fiery light flooded through the room, its brightness almost blinding. That same music, unearthly and haunting, which had swelled when the Phoenix first manifested echoing through the space. As Stray and Logan watched Illyenka rose to her feet within the cage in which Gold had bound her. Her eyes glowing molten and platinum, her bone-and-metal armour twisting and curling until it resembled nothing so much as a vicious, serrated skeleton which covered her every inch of skin. Through pain-narrowed eyes Stray followed her line of vision, craning her neck to watch Mistresses Kitty and Red as they chanted and circled around Gold, their attention so focused that they didn’t see the danger. Their magic clearly affecting the plague-bitch though regretful tears were running down Red’s pale cheeks. But with the russet-haired witch’s attention and power bound there was nothing keeping Illyenka in her cage. She was free to battle for control of the Phoenix now that the Company had seen fit to tie her rival to their will. And she knew it.

“Belasco, my pet,” she was muttering, her voice hoarse and inhuman. “Release my children. Now.”

And before Stray and Logan’s horrified gaze the platinum-white portal through which the Company of Miracles had travelled began to shudder. Its light turning rosy and then diabolic, fiery redness staining it like blood. Ororo let out a long and impressive-sounding string of curses, some in the Common Tongue, many in her own. Her eyes narrowing and then starting in fury as they focused on Belasco, who Stray only now realised had disappeared the moment the battle between Illyenka and Gold began. The huntress was staring at him, her face a mask of fury, her mouth spitting more curses in her own language. She unconsciously took a step towards him, her bow raised and arrow ready- “I remember you, efreet,” Stray heard her hiss, “I remember you…”

And then suddenly there was a shudder of light as the portal widened, twisted. Opened. And then every servant from Shaw Manor was pouring through it, the eyes blank, their arms at the ready.

Oh, they looked human, certainly. They walked and their bodies shuddered with the taking and giving of breath. But they tasted… wrong. Dead. Metallic. When they moved her wolf’s ears could detect the whirr and chime of clock-work pieces within them. When they pressed forward her wolf’s nose could tell that no blood pumped through their veins or hearts. And they smelled like the Erlkind, fetid and poisonous. Unnatural somehow. As if the hand of the Great Mother had had no part in their making… If Stray had had any need to prove her theory the look on Sebastian Shaw’s face would have sufficed: He was staring at his servants in dread- horror- as if he had no doubt of what would come next. And he did do. He must do. Nobody could survive this. The silver-skinned man- the one Emmalaine Frost had called her manservant, the one Kitty had called her husband- marched at their head, his face impossibly passive, his eyes dead and cold. He raised a massive fist, a long, wickedly curved standing-axe gripped tightly within it-

And with sudden, terrifyingly cold ferocity the ticker-tock servants surged forward, their numbers dwarfing the Company. Their nails slashing, needle-sharp metal against human skin, even as they tore through the Cursed as a hurricane would through a handful of dust. Stray watched as Gainsborough appeared suddenly beside Mistress Kitty, pulling her into a bear-hug and disappearing with her. Watched as Scott Summerisle threw himself desperately across the room in an attempt to reach Mistress Red and save her life though she was being attacked. One of the servants bore down on the red-eyed man who had been guarding Summerisle’s back, slicing him as neatly in two as if he were a reed; His blood spattered and Ororo snarled, her face lit with the pain of it. Her attempt to punish the man’s killer cut down by a swathe of clockwork servants who attacked her with the ferocity of starving dogs. Pummeling her with sheer force of numbers. Stray heard the hiss of a falling blade, felt more than saw Logan roll his body to take the impact of it. Smelt blood and pain on the air, sticky wetness stain her cheek even as he pulled her closer still. But then- Logan dropped to his knees, his hands tightening convulsively on her and then suddenly scarlet was blooming under his shirt, his flesh soaking through with it. The hazel eyes tightening in pain as his mouth worked to speak to her. The pain he was in silencing him more thoroughly than even Mephisto had dared. Stray forced herself to her feet, preparing to change again, the agony in her blood forgotten in the will to protect him-

And then suddenly the noise and heat and terror of the battle just… Stopped.

Went silent. Still.

Suddenly she felt a small hand in hers.

Stray looked down to find a tiny, golden-eyed little girl looking up at her. Her face innocent and curious and grave as only a child’s can be. A brightness, a stillness radiating from her as light comes from the sun. She was wearing a dress of shining, light-as-gossamer gold feathers; Her little feet were bare, one toe scratching absently along the calf of her other foot even as she wiped at her runny nose with a tiny hand that was streaked in mud. At seeing Stray notice her, the golden-eyed girl grinned, holding her free hand up and out as if offering a present: A miniature star flared into life at her motion, its light twinkling-soft as gentle as a newborn.

“I thought we might talk,” the child said, her voice gentle as a tide’s murmur. “And it’s not every day the Phoenix converses with mortals, so you really should listen to what I have to say.”

Stray closed her mouth with an audible snap.