The demons voice barely registered as Harold pressed forward. Considering how old these demons were they weren't very good fighters, at least not when confronted by he and Gillian, who was, if you thought about it, the perfect front line trooper. He was sure it was only the presence of Lucy that stopped her ripping the throats out of the possessed mortals and bathing in their blood. Finding soulless mortals must be a vampire's dream. All the enjoyment of fresh blood without the moral debasement of ejecting a soul. She must have been gutted not to be able to eat because their daughter was there.
“Five.” She dropped the body of the possessed she'd been grappling. His head now faced the opposite way but the demon had slithered out into the floor. He glanced back at Lucy, wondering what the child thought of all this carnage and how many hours of counselling sessions she'd have to go through in later life. What happens to the ones Lucy doesn't catch?”
“How should I know?”
Harold blocked a clawed punch from one of the remaining two workers. Since he blocked it with his sword, it severed the thumb and forefinger of his attacker's right hand. It didn't seem to notice, but the blood ran down his sword, forcing him to make a rapid chiburi to clear the worst of it before the grip became slippery.
“Well, With Manoach gone do they just return to Hell? Or Legion?”