| |
––––––––
CROWMON SAT ON HIS throne, waiting for his worshippers to return with their latest batch of sacrifices. Ever since he’d altered his bond to Vella and Brycen, he’d slowly been growing stronger. The souls were now feeding him energy like they were supposed to. His High Priestess was no longer futilely funneling the power from the spirits into herself.
The god-king’s eyes were shut. He pretended to rest while waiting for the slaughter, which would be followed by the inevitable orgy. Vella and Brycen sat on either side of him. They were conversing quietly, but Crowmon ignored them both. He was too focused on what his spies were showing him to listen to their trivial small talk.
His six undead pets soared over Nox, spying on the Vampire, Fae and Shifter Districts. Whenever the crows saw something that interested him, he gave them a mental nudge to get them to move closer. He’d witnessed all sorts of things going on in the city that kept him highly entertained.
Darkness couldn’t hide the evil deeds that were committed against innocents, if there was such a thing in the City of Night. It was no wonder so many souls made their way to him on a nightly basis. Murder was a common occurrence. Ravenous fledgling vampires ventured to the Fae District and drained hapless victims to death. Their meals were usually witches and wizards that they caught either alone, or in pairs. The magic users were too weak to fight them off with spells, thanks to their reserves of magic being depleted by the Energy Tax.
Over in the Shifter District, rogues ventured out from the woods into the city to hunt and feed. They avoided their own kind and headed for the City Square, or to the Fae District to search for their food. The poor fae beings were slowly being whittled down, but there were still plenty of them left. It would take decades before the population would begin to decline to an alarming rate.
One of his spies saw a demon emerge from an alley. Crowmon sent the bird down for a closer look. The hell spawn had large, leathery wings that were wrapped around him like a cloak. A long, thin tail with an arrow shaped tip was curled around one of his thighs. A pair of horns curved up from his forehead. Scarlet eyes blazed from within his hideous face. His body was black, humanoid and muscular. “Azazel,” Crowmon murmured in recognition. Raum’s second in command was strikingly distinctive.
“Did you say something, my king?” Vella asked.
“I’m just talking to myself, my love,” he replied without opening his eyes. He’d forgotten how acute the shifter-witch’s hearing was.
“The sacrifices should be here soon,” Brycen said, talking over Crowmon’s head to Vella. “We should retrieve the rest of the worshippers so we can prepare.”
“We will be back soon, my king,” Vella said, then patted the god-king’s hand like he was a decrepit old man she was forced to take care of.
He nodded, still pretending to be resting. The pair stood and he cracked one eye open to see them step down from the platform and walk away hand in hand. “I bet they’ll stop to have a shag first,” he whispered when they were out of earshot.
Feathers formed on his hands and his fingers turned into talons. Vella was a powerful werecrow, but he’d outstripped her ability to shapeshift. He could now transform any part of his body whenever he wanted to. He had to be careful to hide how strong he was becoming, so he forced his hands back to their normal shape.
Closing his eyes again, Crowmon focused on the spy that was watching Azazel. Raum’s second in command had emerged from the catacombs in a wealthy area in the Fae District. He furtively looked behind him every few seconds as he made his way to the mansion that belonged to Guild Master Onvier. The former inhabitants had been forced to move out after Onvier had taken Guild Master Hahn’s place. They’d moved to a smaller, shabbier house somewhere to the south.
“What have we here?” Crowmon murmured when the demon knocked on the back door. His spy landed on a nearby tree to keep watch.
The door opened and Onvier emerged. “Were you followed?” he asked, eyes darting around to make sure they were alone. His gaze lingered on the crow for a moment before dismissing it. He couldn’t sense the death magic that animated the dead bird.
“No one knows I’m here,” Azazel replied in a deep, guttural voice.
“What news do you have?” the Magic Guild Master asked.
“Raum has been acting strange lately,” the hell spawn reported and Crowmon’s eyebrows rose in surprise. It seemed Azazel had turned traitor against his master.
“How has he been acting differently from usual?” the fairy asked.
“He’s been secretive and he’s hardly spent much time in the catacombs for the past few months.”
“That’s hardly worth bothering me with,” Onvier said in annoyance.
“He seems...different,” Azazel said, struggling to explain. “He’s stronger than he was, but I don’t know why. He even smells different.”
“I could have done without that information,” the fairy said in distaste. “Keep spying on him and report back to me when you’ve seen something of note.”
“You’ll uphold your end of our bargain once we execute our plan?” Azazel asked suspiciously.
“I’m a full blood fairy,” the Guild Master reminded him icily. “I’m incapable of breaking my word. Raum will fall and you will take his place.”
“Good,” the demon said uneasily. “I have a bad feeling that something has changed in Nox. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like it.”
“Oh, things are definitely changing,” Onvier agreed with a smirk. “Together, we will form a new triumvirate. We will become the new rulers of Nox, once we’ve found a suitable third candidate.” Their meeting came to an end and Azazel slunk back towards the entrance to the Demon District.
“Well, now,” Crowmon murmured as his spy took to the air again. “I didn’t see that coming.” He drummed his fingers on his armrest while resting his chin on his other hand. Azazel had bigger balls than he’d realized if he was willing to cross Raum. Crowmon knew why Onvier hadn’t approached the Demon Guild Master to form an alliance. Raum was smart, ruthless and ambitious. The two men would clash constantly as they vied for dominance. Onvier would want to be in charge and Raum would never bow to him.
It excited the god-king that he knew the secrets the citizens were desperately trying to hide. This was valuable knowledge and he had to decide what to do with it. Even as he pondered about his choices, another of his pets saw something interesting as it flew closer to the Night Cursed District.
“Speak of the Devil,” Crowmon said when he spied Raum standing on the rooftop of the decrepit old asylum in the Night Cursed District. Two men and a woman were with the Demon Guild Master. He didn’t dare get the crow to move close enough to listen in to their conversation. Raum had the strongest of black and demonic magic. He might sense the link between him and the crow.
Crowmon had no idea who the other people were. He watched in fascination as he heard Vella, Brycen and his congregation returning to the shrine. He ignored them as they prepared the sacrifices that would soon be brought forth. The meeting his pet was spying on was far more interesting than seeing yet another slaughter and subsequent orgy.
