A Dawn Blade, a weapon forged in the heart of a dying star when the universe was still young, was anathema to vampires. Science would have one believe that they had a severe allergic reaction to UV Radiation. Superstition, that they were so wicked that they could not walk in the presence of the sun without suffering divine wrath.

Whichever was true was irrelevant. A Dawn Blade was coated with UV rays by the process of its creation, and while it had no particular effect on the souls of wicked mortals (only having true supernatural power against Demons) it was really, really fucking sharp. So as Parry cut, dodged and slashed through the crowds of bodies trying to get past his wings and after Tony he had that scene from Kill Bill stuck in his head- the one where The Bride fought the Crazy 88s. Except there were thirty people here and most of them were already in rough shape from the fight to begin with.

A head here, an arm and leg there, and Parry found himself with a straight corridor to Billy Rikker, licking blood out of the carpet while his thralls and vampires started to think twice about losing an arm or two to the guy with wings and glowing eyes.

'Oh shit,' they were probably thinking. 'That's not a wizard...'

So Parry didn't press his luck with the group. He started to lower his sword into a defensive posture and started to take one step toward the prone Vampire lord when he heard the slam of a car door behind him. Tony. Rikive. Flint. 

The van.

The whole group was on its last legs because of his fuckup. Yeah, he'd gotten some information from Billy about who Nemsemet wanted but it wasn't worth this mess. He had some work to do in order to make this up to everyone. Decapitating Billy Rikker would take seconds, would render this whole part of the city leaderless, and might open up the opportunity for rebellion. But the sword in his hands wasn't Parry's. It was Cym's. And Cym would be held responsible for how Parry used it. Execution wasn't one thing he wanted to see Cym answer for and would leave the van vulnerable to attack from the vampire brood. 

So he might as well start his recompense now.

"Right. You all know what I am," Parry said, backing away, wings still spread to block the doors. "You probably don't know that I can make a small sun in one hand. But I [i]really[/i] don't feel like killing everyone in this room right now. So. We'll call it a draw."

Without wasting a breath to see if the vampires pursued or stayed put with their master, Parry ducked and ran out the front doors, his wings retracting into so many ribbons of light, then shrinking into his back. He spared half a second to swipe the dawn blade at the overhanging awning outside the doors, bringing the fabric down to provide a temporary barricade to block line of sight on the van between the restaurant and his getaway vehicle.

Parry ducked into the van's side door, slammed it shut, and said in an innocent and awkward voice, like a kid hiding a new puppy (or in his case, wings, a sword, and a pair of smoldering white eyes) behind his back "So, uhm, what'd I miss? 'cause I got to smoke some primo-weed with the White Rabbit and Michael Jackson!"