Israfel's dinner with his friends ended shortly after he'd told them about the Countess, and his plan to find out, if, just as the Highfather had said, she was a practitioner of the banished spells of the dark arts. Prior to the incident at Vallon-de-Grâce, he had heard nothing of the County of Avila.
But one thing he carried home from the restaurant that night: the ordinary noble Lady didn't make a cross heat up and burn. Only vampires did that. And [monstros inferna]. Monsters of Hel.
In his bedchamber at Salem Hall, Rafel fell into the quiescence and closed his eyes. He did not get much sleep. Spots danced into his vision and he kept having the feeling that he was being watched. As a Hellion, he sure as fuck trusted his instinct. It had saved him many times in culling out the repeat assassins who always showed up to his dark castle in Hel; a con of being the worshipped Apollyon.
Rafel didn't know how many times someone had tried to kill him—and this was away from the arena.
As reigning champion of the underworld, he'd had to deal with vengeful souls of the ones he had slaughtered on the sands. It was this instinct, honed by years of dueling and war, that had kept his pretty red head on his shoulders. If mortals tried to behead the kings in their sleep, how much more demons.
'The shit minions do, sometimes just for fun,' he reflected.
His family of Underworld gods had taught him this valuable lesson of alertness, both to his environs and those in it, at a tender age. "Child, you should always look your closest friends in the eye each time you talk. But especially when they smile." It was Lilith who had said this. The goddess who was always sacrificing a third of her slaves to the red fires of the abyss each season.
Her reason: "when people fear you, they'll think twice about lifting a dagger in your presence."
Rafel guessed it worked. Lilith had been Queen of [Hel Realm] since the first mortal man.
He was tossing and turning on the bed. He felt an itch, pricks on his skin.
Someone was watching.
This was no longer some inkling in the back of his quick mind. Or some omen. He now knew for sure. His light dose was full of apparitions and ghoulish trees. It seemed like a minute when he'd swiped the keycard on his dorm room panel. Rafel finally rolled over and rubbed his eyes.
He instructed his system a series of commands to execute.
"Peitho?"
[Ding!]
[HOST voice confirmed!]
[I'm here, Lord Apollyon.]
"Find out who's watching me."
[Ding!]
[...searching immediate surrounding for peepers.]
A gilded screen flashed in front of his face.
[Result: A Hallowed equipment has been detected, honed on the bedroom. By calculations, a Crystal Ball. The witch behind it however is obscured in a shield of Oblivion. It is currently impossible to know who culprit is. I suggest a virtual scrub, Lord Apollyon. We cut out the feed, and wait for this witch to slack.]
Rafel replied to Peitho. "Do it. And while you're at it, try hacking into this person's mana core. Once we get a trace on their magick signature, we'll know their location."
Rafel moved in rows of books and pulled out the one that geared the secret hatch.
He heard a low rumble of stone, and the entire aisle in front of him gave way to a darkness.
He walked in. The stone way grated shut again.
As Rafel moved down the spiral stairwell, he heard whispering. Hushed voices. His demon [seventh sense] picked up his friends voices, and others he didn't recognize. The closer he got, the clearer their words became. The air smelled of cologne and damp rock, and a bit of faerie dust. In other words, flowers.
Rafel cleared into the large chamber with a gust of cold air. "Well, hello there."
All occupants of the cavernous loft turned as one.
Nine of them.
They had dropped their silver cowls, and gray masks in the faces of crows were hung over a rack; grim beaks shooting forward. Nine masks too.
The caped Children of the Crow all bended the knee. They hailed Rafel's rank as the Apollyon in unison. "Your Eminence."
Rafel inclined his hand for them to rise. "Salvete Corvum," he said. "All hail the Crow!" Nine solid voices churned. Aya Naamah's violet eyes were the first he met. Then it was Rosamunde. Brunhilda.
Erika, with her glimmery blue eyes. Five other committed souls to the cause. Rafel moved to Percival in the goth space and handed him his card, the one he'd found. He said to the listening room, "I have had time to contemplate your offer, good fellows. And I. .
.accept."
All members of the secret conclave shared smiles.
Rafel held up a hand. "But we work as a team. You may call me Apollyon if you wish. Albeit, no harm will come to you if you just address me by my name. I am honored to be part of your cause." He made a short salute. "Now, tell me.
What is this midnight meeting about? I heard your whispers on the way up here."
It was Erika who stepped out, her pristine cowl fallen and long pinkish waves on display. She answered Rafel's question for all of them, bowing first.
"Your Eminence. I know I speak for all of us when I say we are far more honored to have you here with us. It gladens our dark hearts. Our meeting here tonight was not planned. It happened out of the blue, when your [Bond] succubus, Aya felt the hex bubble she had placed over you weaken. .
."
Rafel sent a sharp look at Aya. He spoke through their mind link. 'You hexed me, slave?'
'It was only for your protection, Dominus. Do not be mad. Forgive me.' Aya's voice numbed his anger.
Erika went on. "We convened because we then knew someone had you in their line of sight. Under a mystic see. You are being watched by some dark Magess, Your Eminence. We figure it is for a reason. Our intent was to find out what before harm could be done."
"Thank you," Rafel said to all of them. "I know about the peeper. Have you traced this person's location. I came up short."
"Yes." Percival came forward with a growl. "Her name is Lady Constance, Countess of Avila. And she is currently hosted in Room 117 of the Grand Tourniquet hotel." Rafel watched as the nine members sworn to him pulled on their crow masks. They even now looked more like a cult. Percival's voice came out grave from behind the sharp beak.
"Your Eminence, shall we annihilate her?"