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RAUM WAS HAVING A MEETING with some of his allies in his private chambers when he sensed someone approaching his doors. They stopped outside to wait for him to finish. The Demon Guild Master nodded at something one of his allies said, but most of his attention was turned inward. He almost wished he hadn’t taken on the burden of creating a guild for his kind. He thought it would give him more power, but it had become a drain of his time and attention.
“We need to cull our numbers,” the Master Slaver said. Milky fluid oozed from his pores to stain his chair. Ten demons sat at the long table. Raum sat at the head where he belonged. He struggled not to frown when one of his allies picked his nose and wiped the booger on the tabletop. “There’s not enough magic to sustain us all and we’re starving,” the Master Slaver added. There were numerous slave masters, but the Master Slaver was in charge of them all. His skin was slime green in color and matched his glowing eyes. Sadly, he was the least ugly minion present.
Raum was in his human form. His demon form wouldn’t easily fit into the room. He’d grown used to his handsome, dashing human form by now. “I could order a mass cull,” he said in a mild tone. Grins of anticipation lit up his sycophants’ faces at the notion that they could get to slaughter their own kind. “But I’m afraid it won’t alter our plight,” he added.
“Why not? Fewer mouths to feed means there’ll be more food to go around for the rest of us!” the Master Butcher snarled. No one asked where he got the meat that he sold at the markets from. It was best not to know. There were many butchers in the Demon District, but only one master of the trade. His red skin was flaky and had diseased looking gray patches here and there. His face was doglike and he lacked horns, wings or a tail.
Mutters of agreement sounded. They fell silent when their Guild Master held his hand up. “Although we would indeed have more food to go around in the short term, we would have less magic to sustain our District next year if we culled our numbers,” he pointed out. They blinked at him stupidly and he held in his sigh that he had to deal with imbeciles. “Nox runs on magic and energy that we supply,” he reminded them. “Our District won’t shrink if we halve our number. It would just reduce the amount of magic we need to keep the entire catacombs operational.”
Seeing his logic, the chosen leaders of their community swore bitterly. “So, there’s nothing we can do to change things?” the only female present demanded. Everyone called her the Mistress of the Markets. Her skin was the color of rust. It sagged in her lap from losing too much weight. Her jowls hung down to her wrinkled chest. Two small horns jutted from her bulging forehead. One of the tips had been broken off long ago. She ran the food markets and was in charge of the stall owners.
“I’m working on a solution,” Raum said smoothly, which was actually the truth. While he felt no love or affection of any kind for his people, he didn’t want their suffering to continue. Frankly, listening to them whine incessantly about being hungry was driving him insane.
“When will you tell us what this solution is?” another slave master asked sourly.
“In good time,” the Guild Master replied, then stood up to indicate their meeting was over. “If you’ll excuse me, I have pressing business to attend to.”
They stood up and filed outside. Raum glanced at the table and chairs to see they were pristine again. Ever since he’d formed a triumvirate with Sebastian and Kade Sinclair, the magic of Nox had increased in his private quarters. No one else had noticed it yet. They were too focused on their own problems to pay attention to the state his furniture was in.
When the last demon was gone, a scout stuck his head through the doorway. “I have news, my lord,” he said.
Raum gestured at him to enter. One of his twelve foot tall gray guards pulled the door shut behind the minion. The scout was a sickly off-white color and his magenta eyes glowed with excitement. “What is your news?” the demon lord asked without inviting the creature to sit down.
“I saw Azazel in the City Square, my lord,” he said, wringing his hands together. His stubby wings twitched with suppressed glee.
“What was he doing there, pray tell?” Raum asked. He kept his tone light even as a spark of suspicion blossomed.
“He was chasing a woman who was wearing a hooded coat, my lord.”
“Did anyone else witness this event?”
The scout shook his head. “They saw the woman, but they didn’t see Azazel.”
“What did Azazel do to the fleeing woman?”
“He chased her to a bridge towards the Shifter District and she jumped into the water. The elementals got her and tore her to pieces.”
Raum hadn’t sent his second in command to the City Square and he had no reason to be there. “Did you see where Azazel went after he left the river?”
“He flew back to the square, but I lost sight of him, my lord,” the scout admitted. He cringed as he waited for his ruler’s reaction.
“Speak of this to no one,” Raum ordered.
“Yes, my lord,” the scout said. He knew he would be tortured horribly if he disobeyed his order.
“You may go,” the demon lord said and strode over to open the door for his minion. The scout no longer possessed the strength to open it himself. Closing the door again, Raum took a seat at his desk to brood. No demon could ever be classed as trustworthy, but it was hard to imagine Azazel would have the courage to rebel against him. His second in command knew what would happen to him if he defied his ruler. Hellfire flared in Raum’s eyes at the mere thought of his lackey being disobedient.
A glass of cognac appeared in front of him. He sipped it as he reviewed his options. Many rivals were plotting against him, but they were powerless to overthrow him. He was simply too powerful to be easily dispatched. Especially now that he was a member of a triumvirate. That was a well-kept secret that only a handful of people knew about. It wasn’t something he intended his subjects to find out about.
“I want to send a letter to Azazel to summon him to my quarters immediately,” Raum said. A note appeared and a quill jotted down his order, then it was encased in an envelope and zoomed away.
Raum had finished his cognac by the time his second in command reached his chambers a few minutes later. “Enter,” he said when Azazel knocked.
The scarlet eyed demon pushed the door open without help and slunk over to the desk. “You summoned me, my lord?” he said.
Raum studied his second and tried to pick up on any hints of rebellion. Azazel was always hard to read, but he didn’t cringe or look away guiltily. “One of my scouts said he saw you flying over the City Square,” he said, keeping his tone curious rather than accusatory. “What were you doing there?”
“I saw a woman trying to sneak into the catacombs, my lord,” Azazel said. “I figured she was the assassin who killed Beleth. I gave chase after her when she ran.”
It was a plausible excuse, but Raum didn’t buy it. “The scout said the assassin was slain by water elementals?” His tone was questioning and he lifted an eyebrow.
Azazel chuckled gleefully. “They slaughtered her, my lord,” he confirmed. “Her body parts will be scattered far and wide by now.”
“You’ve done well,” Raum said in praise, but a niggling feeling that his second in command was lying wouldn’t leave him. “You may return to your duties,” he added.
Azazel stood, bowed, then let himself out. He cast a sly look over his shoulder as he was closing the door.
Tapping his bottom lip thoughtfully, Raum waited until he sensed his lackey was gone, then rose to his feet. “I believe some investigation is in order,” he murmured to himself, then crossed to the door.
