SHE was at the mall, ostensibly shopping for a birthday present for her sister, though Maryjane couldn’t resist picking up a few things for herself while she was there. Well, she had the money, and she needed new shoes anyway. The attack came with no warning a normal human could have perceived; one minute Maryjane was trying on a pair of Nikes, the next she was completely paralyzed and something horrid was swooping with her and a dozen other helpless people through an oozing landscape – or were they corridors? – of mottled, sickly, pulsing viscera that howled and gibbered and reached for them. Maryjane fainted.

When she came to, she still couldn’t move, could barely feel her body at all. She looked around wildly; at least her eyeballs could move now. Softly and silently she panicked; her breathing still slow and steady, but her heart drumming like moth wings against a window.

She was up high in a vast, columned hall; up against a wall, she thought, though she couldn’t turn her head to see. Out of the corners of her eyes she could see her arms outstretched, a twisted torch burning coldly in each hand.

Oh no! she thought, I’m a sconce!

Across the hall she could see the flickering of more torches; more people stuck to the wall, holding them. About a dozen from one end to the other, Maryjane thought; Maryjane was good at math. She wasn’t an Accounting major for nothing.

From one end of the hall came a deep bellow of laughter, like a water buffalo in the mating season, that made the very stones shake. Maryjane wanted to whimper, but her body wasn’t cooperating. The laugher then spoke, but echoes or something made the words incomprehensible. A sibilant voice replied in an obsequious manner; also gibberish, as far as Maryjane was concerned. Perhaps the voices spoke in another language. How rude!

The conversation between bellowing and sibilant continued for some time. Maryjane wasn’t sure how long; she couldn’t see her watch. Well, I guess by the time I get back, the mall will be closed… There were no windows, and the torches didn’t seem to get any shorter, or burn out or anything. After what seemed a very long while, Maryjane fell asleep.

She woke to screaming. Far below, on the floor, a horde of things milled and slithered and galumphed around. Maryjane’s mind labeled the things as demons, for want of any better term, and was more accurate than she knew. She wasn’t sure what the demons were doing at first. The problem was some of them were flying, and came awfully close to her, and she was too busy being terrified and unable to properly react by screaming and carrying on. Eventually it came to her that they were fighting.

Three, no, four people – yes, people! I’m saved! – were battling the demon horde. Two boys; one tall, craggy-faced, with a goofy retro ‘do, one shorter with slicked back hair; both wearing baggy uniform-ish clothes. The craggy-faced one seeming to be flailing around with a light-saber sort of thing, while his companion shot balls of light from his finger. Maryjane mentally shook her head. Like the rest of this has made any sense? A tall, slender, red-haired girl danced and dodged gracefully among the demons, wielding some kind of whip – except it was green and maybe had thorns on it!? Okay, no more double-pepperoni for me… There was one more, but he was hard to see; a freaky little guy all in black with anti-grav hair and a samurai sword, flying – literally! – about, cutting everything in his path to ribbons. Bloody, goopy, moaning, ichor-filled ribbons. Maryjane didn’t want to watch, but the sounds made closing her eyes worse.

Little by little the demon horde was cut down. The floor of the hall disappeared under oozing bodies and parts of bodies. At last the four stood alone, in what was miraculously the only clear space left.

The water buffalo laugh boomed again. Sibilant voice slithered forward. Maryjane couldn’t see the next part very well; it happened too fast. Sibilant threw part of itself at the four. The four scattered, then circled back, deploying their various weapons. Sibilant dodged some, but was caught by others; wounded, it cursed – or so Maryjane guessed from the tone – and fought back, throwing more things, some glowing, some not. The freaky, black-clad guy zipped in and shredded it. Sibilant’s body didn’t just fall; it exploded.

Maryjane tried again to scream; again with no success. When the smoke cleared, the four had been flattened. But to Maryjane’s relief, they soon began to stir and pick themselves up. Now bellowing voice was cursing and shouting from his dais at the end of the hall. The guy with the ray-gun finger shouted back; Maryjane wasn’t sure, but thought it sounded like Japanese or some Asian language. At least he’s human, I think…

Bellow stood; a dark, shadowy, vaguely winged figure, looming over the four. Terrible blasts of energy the color of Maryjane’s sister’s nauseatingly purple Gremlin geysered out from Bellow’s hands, pounding toward the four. But the four weren’t there. Maryjane’s eyes were getting tired from looking off to the side so much, trying to follow action that was too bright and too fast. She couldn’t find the four again until they merged somehow in a blaze of blue-white light; still four but fighting as one.

Bellow and the four fought; thunder and lightning; raging through the hall, vaporizing the demon bodies, shattering columns, blasting holes in the ceiling and gouging great furrows in the floor. Some of the human torch-bearers were struck, and couldn’t even scream before they died. Tears streamed from Maryjane’s eyes.

Through her tears, Maryjane couldn’t tell what turned the battle, but suddenly Bellow’s bellowing reached a crescendo – and ceased. All was still, except for the sounds of crumbling masonry and creaking support beams. A breeze wafted through what was left of the hall; sunlight shone in long rays through the gaping holes. The four stood gleaming with the last of their energy in the center of it all. A brief, quiet conversation ensued, which Maryjane missed because she now had the hiccups. Moans and cries and sniffles to either side and along the opposite wall indicated the other torch-bearers had also regained control of their breathing and voices at least.

Down on the floor, the four looked up, then seemed to be discussing how to get the humans down – or at least Maryjane hoped that’s what they were talking about. She thought she could maybe wiggle her fingers, now, too. The four sprang into action before another idea slowly bloomed in Maryjane’s mind. The idea that maybe they were all held up on the walls by some kind of spell, and with Bellow gone, that spell was letting go. And they were all very high up…

The freaky little guy seemed to be able to fly. He bounced up, slashed at something invisible to Maryjane, caught the freed human and lowered her or him down more or less gently. The two other boys seemed to mostly be of use in that they managed to catch any falling humans without breaking anything. The red-haired girl rummaged in her luxuriant hair – Maryjane knew lots of girls who’d kill for hair like that; even in so bold a color of red – and scattered something, seeds maybe, over the floor along the walls. Thick, sinuous vines sprang up almost immediately, twining and reaching up to support and grasp the humans, bringing them down as the spell that held them loosened. Maryjane found herself wrapped rather intimately in something like a giant passionflower. Once set on her feet, she looked up into the luminous emerald eyes of the girl…No! Boy! Now that she could see him clearly…Oh, yes, he’s definitely a guy…! How could I have mistaken… There were endless labyrinths of green in his eyes. He was fine-featured, almost delicate at first glance, but there was a firmness to his expression; a subtle strength. He had the scent of roses about him. Not the sweet, or fruity, or light tea rose; but the deeper, duskier aroma of the damask. Touched with a hint of something earthy, musky, animal almost. Not unpleasant, though; just the opposite. Warm and male, undoubtedly male. He took her hands and spoke to her gently, helping her out of the vine’s embrace, making sure she didn’t stumble after her ordeal. It took Maryjane a few moments to realize she could understand what he was saying.

"You’re safe now, miss. Are you hurt at all?"

"Hmmm? Oh, uh, yes. I mean, no. I mean, I’m okay, I think."

"Hurry up, Kurama," said the freaky guy, appearing suddenly by the red-head’s side. "This isn’t the last one."

"Hiei…" The emerald-eyed one made a quelling motion at him, then turned back to Maryjane. "Forgive my companion, his manners match his stature, I’m afraid." The little guy’s red eyes bugged out and Maryjane could almost swear steam wafted out of his ears.

Then the red-haired boy smiled warmly at her. Maryjane felt that warmth melt through all the coldness left over from the spell that had held her immobile for so long. Filling her, spreading out through her limbs… He took her arm and led her over to where the others were gathering the freed humans, and left her with a single perfect red rose.

Once all the humans were down – even the fatally injured were carefully retrieved – the four boys conferred briefly, but Maryjane was too busy absorbing the scent of her rose to notice. A blue-haired girl riding a long, narrow oar like a broomstick appeared, but Maryjane didn’t notice. Some strange things happened, otherworldly lights glimmered, planes shifted, and those not scheduled to die were unceremoniously revived, but Maryjane didn’t notice. She didn’t even notice when her memory was tampered with by a little boy with a pacifier in his mouth.

A few months later.

Maryjane met her boyfriend, Pete, for their usual cappuccino date after classes, and he surprised her with a dozen pink roses. Pink, he knew, had always been her absolute favorite. Maryjane oohed and ahhed in all the appropriate ways, and much later that evening thanked him for the spontaneous gift in more interesting ways.

But, buried deep in her most secret heart, some part of her was puzzled; why was she disappointed the roses weren’t red? And why did she wish Pete had shimmering emerald eyes…?