Naomi's swing was interrupted before it reached it's apex, as a man in black BDUs appeared as if from a wisp of smoke.  He blocked the swing of the molten-hot iron with one hand on Naomi's wrist, and lightning quick, as she was still blinking in surprise at his sudden appearance, raised his other hand to gently touch her face.  He spoke only three syllables, but it was three syllables not meant to be spoken by human throats; as blood spattered into the inside of his ski mask from his now-injured vocal chords, a charge of mystic energy jolted from his fingertips to her face, which had the same effect as thousands of volts of electricity, tossing both Naomi and Allan backwards away from each other.<br/><br/>Alan hit the edge of a table, rattling the chains mounted at the corners of it.  His ribs ached, and at least one could possibly be broken; a momentary distraction with the healing speed of a vampire, yet possibly a crucial one.  Still, the pain was worth it; Naomi was now locked in human form.  This did not make her harmless, but it did prevent her from transforming into any of a demon's more overtly powerful and dangerous forms.  It was worth it, because with her in human form, he was a physical match.  And his preparation then made the difference.<br/><br/>"Hello, Naomi," he groaned in a rough voice as he straightened, drawing his Bowie knife.  "Welcome to your death."