Salem felt a slight boost of confidence at the idea of having both another demon and a marked human who definitely knew more than them at their side. However, that confidence went out the goddamn window when the doors opened and a huge, writhing horde of demonic undead acted as the welcoming committee. Quite a few thoughts went through his head, mostly 'How did they get through the gates' and 'Why did the others not notice this' and even 'Jesus Christ that one is ugly,' but his only vocalization was a creaky whimper.<br/><br/>From his shoulder, Solomon pinched the bridge of his not-nose and let out a deep breath. "Oh for god's sake. Alright, looks like we aren't gonna have to do any hunting. Get on in there." The last line was delivered with an elbow to Salem's cheek. Solomon slithered down his arm, and once he had a hand in Salem's own, he shifted forms into that of the blade he threatened the newcomers as. Salem gave him a moment to petrify, and once the transformation was complete, he took the weapon in both of his own hands and inhaled sharply.<br/><br/>"Okay, we got this," He mumbled to himself. He was still hesitant, but after he saw Joe get tossed out of the building, he immediately went into fighty mode and ran out alongside the others, holding the weapon above his head in a very amateur stance. It still proved somewhat effective, as a single downward slash bisected a hollow from its shoulder to its hip, and the blade's tip cut into the leg of another one next to it, making the thing fall over. Salem wasted no time in lifting the weapon again and crudely bringing it down on it, letting out a cringe and a sound of disgust when the hollow's oily blood sprayed directly into his face.<br/><br/>However, he quickly noticed his fear had all but dissipated. It was replaced with a sort of excitement and exhilaration. He wasn't sure what the source of it was. Knowing that he now actually stood a chance against these things? The novelty of swinging around a demonic sword? Or, god forbid, just flat-out enjoying the violence? Whatever the cause, every hollow he felled sent a warm feeling through his arm, the source of which was the mark on his hand.