Three sets of eyes gaped at Harry, as she stood pressed against the front loading washing machine and clothes dryer. Why couldn't she have had enough time to climb on top of or underneath the bench on the other side of the sliding door, or at least had time to fully shut it?

Taking a moment to formulate an escape route, Harry blurted the first frustrated thought that popped into her head. "Honestly, Ingrid, you're a badass demon, why would you let her in when you could've just asked her to leave?"

Liz looked from Harry to Ingrid, appearing more insulted by Harry's wish for her not to be present than shocked that Harry had called the woman standing in front of her a demon.

Ingrid rushed towards Harry leaving Liz unguarded. Even though the demon's predatory expression looked vulturine while she focussed on her target, the woman was still stunning.

"Liz, run!" Harry screamed as Ingrid's hands clasped around her neck.

Liz still stood in shock.

Harry brought her hands up to Ingrid's face. By using both hands to strangle her, Ingrid had left herself exposed to Harry's only weapon. She dug all ten fingernails into the blonde woman's beautiful face. Distracted by the crushing of her windpipe, Harry's thumb landed higher than intended, nicking the outer centre of Ingrid's right eye. The woman shreiked.

Liz's eyes widened in comprehension. She no longer looked tipsy as she had a moment earlier.

"Go!" Harry yelled once again, still trapped between the deadlocked door and the combusting Ingrid. The woman's face had turned a shade of dark red, with a series of four glowing yellow dots spread across her right cheek and another five cream crescent moons decorating her left. The sound she emitted was such a screech that Harry had to fight the urge to cover her ears.

Liz looked at Harry, clearly not wanting to leave her in danger, but, seeing Lewis move towards her, quickly changed her mind and turned to flee the room.

Lewis was too quick. He was upon her before she was even able to shut the kitchen door. With a scowl on his face, he clamped his hand on Liz's wrist yanking her back towards him.

Harry needed to get to her. She pushed past the still shrieking Ingrid, the pink dust of the outer layers of her epidermis flaking and disintegrating into a light powder landing on Harry's front.

Lewis reached for the nearby butcher's knife, sitting in the block on the breakfast bar. He held it to Liz's throat.

"Take another step and I run this across her neck." he threatened.

Harry stopped. Liz's eyes were filled with fear, and Harry felt helpless, not knowing how to help her. Lewis edged Liz backwards, putting more distance between the two women by easing himself and Liz to the opposite side of the bar.

Harry looked around the room, trying to find something that could give them assistance. Lewis licked his lips excitedly from the corner of the bench.

In an instant, two things happened. The door from the sitting room into the kitchen swung open drawing Lewis' attention, and Liz crashed one of the plates of meat pies into the side of Lewis' head. He staggered sideways, caught off guard by the action.

Rushing forward, Harry grabbed Liz's arm, and swung her away from the dazed demon in one smooth movement. The force of Liz jolting out of his arms put Lewis even more off balance.

Harry clawed at him, like a cat protecting it's food. The lack of skin under her fingernails, and the absence of screams told her she had not applied enough pressure to cause Lewis' death. As her eyes locked with Sam Dupret, who was already striding around the breakfast bar, she knew she did not have time to try again.

"Let's go," she beathed at Liz, pushing her towards the door.

Liz was already pushing it shut as Harry fell through after her.

Fingers slid between into the gap right before she could finish slamming it. They fliched as they jammed between the door and its frame, but did not retract. Harry swiped all four of her right hand nails across the fingers with force. As the skin parted, she smiled, actually taking pleasure in finishing off the demon she had been imagining dead for hours.

Liz pulled her forward. Dupret was still free and would be coming for them at any moment.

They stumbled around a dining table and chairs, and through into the main living room. Harry let out a whimper as Dupret's heavy thumps grew closer behind them. She felt exhausted but refused to slow.

"Harry, wait! You need to stop! Listen to me!" Dupret called.

She refused to let him lure her in when he'd been part of the group who detained her, and while he was still persuing her.

It no longer mattered what he said. She desperately wanted out of that house, and the exit wad in her sight.

She ran her hands along the back of the sofa chairs as she passed them, using their mass as support for her weak frame.

That sense of familiarity grew stronger once more, as Harry staggered towards the front door. She had been on its other side before looking in. She knew that pair of recliners and the matching red leather sofa.

She knew whose house this was.

Liz flung open the door and Harry's heart fell into the chasm in her stomach.

'He' stood before them. 'He' had arrived for her.

Once again, she was trapped.

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Hi all, just a quick shout out to JRR Tolkien for the inspiration for the chapter title!