Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

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."

Peitho's glinting screen vanished above his bed, and Rafel turned left amidst the silver sheets. He raised his voice across the divide in the shared suite and called for his roommate. "Percy?" No answer. They had returned together after the dinner at the restaurant. Rafel didn't see why the blonde wouldn't be in the room. "Percival?

Sorry to disturb you, man, but you should know we've got a peeper. Percival? Are you there?"

When there was still no forthcoming reply, Israfel tore off the blanket and pushed up from the bed.

His chamber was dark. He loved it so.

He glanced at the glowing timepiece as he moved for Percival's corner.

It was about midnight.

'So I did manage to catch some sleep after all!' he inflected.

Percival's bed was empty. Rafel looked around; the area was a contrast to his side of the luxury lodging. Percival had gold wallpapers and murals of sunset and paradisical beaches. A supersonic model in luminous blonde hair was posed just above his headrest in a bikini. A siren. Her long legs were crossed and her cleavage swarmed the eyes.

If Percival were around, Rafel would compliment his choice of room decor.

'I suppose I'd have no trouble falling asleep if I had a face like that above me.'

But when exactly in the night did Percival leave? He wondered.

He stopped wondering when he found a pure white card a black crow inked in it.

Beside the unmade bed and magazine model, it was the only other thing in sight. Rafel grabbed the card and turned it over. No message. Just a card with the picture of a crow. Mysterious. And exactly something a member of the society of the Children of the Crow would pull.

Silently, Rafel walked back to his chambers. He waved a passing hand and lights came on. He disappeared for seconds into his ornate dresser, and came out in a windbreaker and hard boots.

The card with the crow went into the front pocket of his shirt.

Rafel picked up his keycard and then, breezed out the door.

He thought of using his [Shadow MERGE] ability to teleport right into the location where the Children of the Crow held its—not entirely legal—meetings, but it was cold out. He figured a walk in the night would clear his head. And for the bitch watching him, the blocks of brick buildings was a nice place to lose her.

Rafel reached the citadel's tower and hopped the stone steps to the abandoned library. The entire corridor leading up to the bibliotheca was eerie silent, as it should be; it was the fucking dead of night. But Rafel forged on. He was intrigued to see what the Children of the Crow had for him this time. The clandestine society appealed to his dark parts on a molecular level.

Rarely was a Prince of Hel intrigued by mortal shenanigans.

But he was.

There was a reason this part of the building was sealed off. This particular library held the ancient texts the school board deemed accursed, or to fucking explicit for their curriculum, but were too chicken to burn. So they locked them all up in the hallowed chamber like a vault.

Rafel ducked under the yellow tape, using only his [nocturnal sight] to meander a way around the trip alarms installed. A whole lot of more security had been installed since last he'd been here; possibly to dissuade the adolescent mages from using old Elwyrm tables as their coupling nooks.

And not because they knew of the clandestine society of royals using the secret loft of the library as the war room for a coming, assured revolution.

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?"