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Ch 12: The cost of the battle.

They spent awhile wondering around the castle before Izazu exclaimed what they all knew, but none of them wanted to admit “We’re lost.” he said with surprise. It was met with a look that was both polite and condescending in the ‘bless your heart’ way from Vincent.
“Shouldn’t you have brought a map?” Diamond asked Vincent, not bothering to look at him.
“Aren’t you our guide?” Vincent asked, silencing Diamond.
Michael and Izazu conversed while the other two quarreled like an old couple, which resulted in Vincent getting punched in the face again. Through their discussion, Izazu and Michael found they had a mutual love of cookies, which is always good.
They walked into a bright white gallery, which confirmed they had gone in a circle. It had dozens of sculpted statues which, unlike everything else in this damned castle, had serene expressions on their faces. There were three doors other than the one they entered through, one out of reach on a balcony, one Michael remembered going through, and one that was bolted shut and didn’t buckle under their assaults. “Great.” Michael slumped against the wall.
The shadows in the room distorted and within moments, Michael had been pelted with water balloons while diamond was shot in the breasts with nerf darts that had suction cups, high pitched giggles emanated from throughout the room. Diamond gritted her teeth and pinned one of the shadows with a throwing knife, a small pitch black demon revealed itself as it lay writhing on the ground and then died, the giggling abruptly stopped.
The demon Diamond had killed was known as a Trickster, they were more troublesome than anything as the mainly played tricks on the unwary such as turning them around or using a child’s toy to annoy them. Though they could still maim or kill as like any demon when angered. As far as features, they were somewhat lacking though they had child like bodies that were covered in an inky blackness at all times with eyes that resembled bright red warning lights. Tricksters impersonated shadows and seemed to spawn toys to mess with people.
Soon as the trickster had died, Diamond’s knife sunk into the shadows and was hurled back at her from the ceiling, and hit her in the head. Fortunately for her, the trickster threw it incorrectly so she got hit by the handle “What the hell?” she exclaimed indignantly as she rubbed her head.
Another one popped out of the shadows with a lawn dart in hand, aiming for Diamond but Michael shot its hand and it dropped the projectile. It ran as the demon hunter tried to shoot it and ran behind a statue of a nude man which received the majority of bullets and was rendered unable to carry on its bloodline. Izazu went on the offensive after a perfectly good cookie was wasted as a projectile, while Vincent was somehow dragged into combat as well.
When the battle was over, the Tricksters were all dead; Diamond’s shirt was completely soaked through. Vincent’s leg was saran wrapped in an attempt to stop him. Michael had a fork in his coat and was soaked also. While Izazu was mourning over the makeshift memorial he had made to the lost cookies “We have won.” He said in a somber tone “But, at what cost?” he asked and slumped his head as he mourned.

The room, though, was devastated by the battle. Statues were smashed, cut, or riddled with bullet holes (sometimes all three). Paintings were much of the same condition or on the floor; Though Izazu had drawn a mustache on one after the battle. The only thing that stood intact was a single vase on a pedestal, the luck of that vase was running thinner and thinner.

“That was a delightfully pointless interlude.” Vincent mumbled and looked at Diamond, saying it was her fault the fight started.

Diamond looked at him “They hit my boobs with darts.” She defended herself stoically, she punched Vincent when he rolled his eyes and he collided with the pedestal knocking it to the ground, vase and all upon which the vase shattered.

“Son of a b***h.” Michael muttered in surprise and an eerie surprise filled the room, like the calm before a storm.

The door on the balcony burst open and a male demon with long, purple hair and fit the bill to be a pretty boy burst out “Stop all that rack—” he was shell shocked when he saw what level of destruction was bequeathed upon he prized gallery “My, my lovelies….” He said close to tears, he spoke with a bad French accent “My portrait!” he shrieked (much to the dismay of the group’s ears) when he saw the portrait of him that Izazu had drawn on and a bullet hole in the fore head that was made during the battle. “You monsters!” he cried in hysteria “what did they ever do to you?” he clenched his fists.

“Told you not to do that.” Michael whispered to Izazu, restraining laughter.

“You thought it was funny too.” Izazu whispered back in the same manner.

“It’s not funny!” the demon shrieked again in a high pitched voice, slamming his fists on the balcony’s railing “I, Lestat Chaudi,” he fought to hold back the tears, and was now being filled with rage “will make you pay!” he leaped over “En garde, le fiends.” He said with a shaky voice, while trying to sound French.
No one thought he was actually capable of being a threat, which left them off guard when he roundhouse kicked Michael into a pillar, the coat absorbed some of the impact. “That’s it.” Michael reloaded his guns as he stood up. “Let’s go.”