Chapter 86: 86
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(Soren's perspective)
If I had a heart, I am sure it would be pounding. But not with fear.
With rage.
Serena's voice fades into the buttery golden light of noon, her words and her form whisked away into some oblivion that I am neither aware, nor privy to, her hand outstretched as if disdaining to hold me in place, to remain with me for a little longer, yet I barely see it. Her fingers grasp empty air.
By the time the utterance of my name rings out like the shallow ripples of a pond around my gardens, she is already gone.
But for once in my life my mind is not on her.
Without a second thought, I shadowshift back into the palace. My mind is reeling: a chaotic symphony of noises and sounds and realisations all screaming at me at once, each individual voice rising up in my head, growing louder and louder into a dizzying mixture of discord until at last, when my feet at last plant on the sturdy ground of my throne room, that voice tumbles right out of me.
"Enough,"
The sharp roar of my voice sends a shockwave of darkness cascading through the throne room, pulsing through the air so that upon the second of my arrival, every lusty eyed vampire, every slender elf, and even the smallest of fairies flitting high above the eaves where the chandeliers shake with the impact of such a monumental presence, stop still. The voices in my head quell to a hushed murmur, hiding away in the blackened depths of my mind. Each head turns in unison, some fearfully, other's- those of my court who know me better than they know their own taste for blood, simply stare on as marble statues, wondering with a silent trepidation to themselves who exactly has presented themselves with the misfortune of dying today. I raise my eyes, a crimson lava seething in the bottomless pits of livid understanding.
A numb despair washes over the hearts of the room.
"Where," I growl, my voice ringing out against the cold walls of the throne room like sheets of icy rain against a window, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides to steady the shadows that brew within the blackened depths of my heart, quelling them into a temporary submission. My voice rises angrily, swelling against the crowd. "Where the fuck is my brother?"
Nobody moves.
Furiously, I begin to make my way down the steps of the dais, my footsteps like leaden weights against the marble floor, the usual airy flamboyancy gone, replaced only with a cold, hard anger.
"Anybody?" I growl, cracking my knuckles as I reach the bottom of the steps, any scrap of sympathy soon washed away as I reach out a hand to close around the neck of the nearest vampire, who chokes and splutters against the icy claws of my grip.
"Edgar," I say coldly, lowering my voice to an icy hum. The blonde haired male wreathes a little, and then stops dead in the realisation of the futility of his actions. The rest of the crowd daren't move, scarcely breathing, as though their breath alone may send me spiralling into a fit of never-ending wrath and pure, insolent rage. Such an assumption at this point in time would be entirely correct.
"My Lord," he chokes, and for the sake of such an action, I press my black claws further into his neck, indenting into his pale skin until fine welts of blood spring to the surface, trickling down his skin and coating the tips of my fingers with a sticky red. But I do not care.
"You were drinking with Azrael last night, were you not?" I croon mockingly, my fingers tightening impossibly more.
"Yes My Lord, I-"
"And did I not specifically ask you, Edgar, to keep an eye on my dear brother when I am busy with my affairs?"
Edgar's eyes bulge, strands of long blond hair falling between his eyes as I lift him higher above me, his feet dangling uselessly in mid air, kicking out with the useless futility of a victim in a hanging. Of course, as a vampire, strangling him would not kill him, but it certainly would inconvenience him enough to make any considerations of messing me around seem like an awfully bad idea.
"I did, My Lord, I did. But he was there one minute, and the next moment there was a lady instead and-"
"A lady?"
A small murmuring from the crowd, yet still I ignore them, my eyes narrowing at the dangling figure before me. In spite of my harsh grip on his throat, he nods vigorously.
"A lady, yes a lady. She came out of no where. One minute Azrael was there, and next there was this lady-"
I cut him short, letting my fingers loosen a smidgen round his throat- just enough to let him breathe.
"And what did this lady look like?"
I purr coldly, bringing his face a little closer to mine so that he might feel the icy chill of my breath settle over his face, might see the bottomless disdain in the depths of my fiery eyes and at once pronounce himself dead. Something sours in his face, a look that might be disbelief- or bitter dread, flitting across his features. After a moment's hesitation, he admits slowly:
"Why, it was your lady, My Lord."
"Impossible," I growl, "She was with me all night."
Impossible, echoes the voices in my head, impossible unless...
I throw the blond haired vampire down to the floor with a sickening crack, piercing the air with a reverberating crunch and the long and mournful groans of the vampire, who sits up to cradle his arm tenderly in one hand, a red welt forming on his cheek with the sheer impact of being thrown down against the floor. This time, the crowd does recoil, parting around me and the blond vampire to leave a circular ring around us, far enough away from me that I could not grasp them at arms reach, but not nearly far enough out of the reach of my shadows, which begin to coil and curl around me in the smoky half existence of their being.
"You have failed me," I spit to Edgar, who hangs his head shamefully as my shadows lick the tips of his black boots, gnawing at his pale skin with blackened fangs and rigid claws. A shudder convulses through the crowd at my words- the words that they hope to never hear. I turn my back on Edgar- I would deal with him later.
At once two black hounds separate themselves from the shadowy mass that spills around my form, red eyes glowing like lanterns against the blackness that has since consumed the vast cavernous expanse of the throne room around us- a blackness that is my own. The two hounds curl themselves around my legs, wolfish features fading in and out against the shadows, muzzles agape, growling hungrily, their sleek bodies restless, waiting for my command. Their eyes meet mine.
"Find him," I hiss, and at once they are off.
Their howls penetrate the palace with a sickening dread as they bound off on their hunt, slipping through walls and racing through the long corridors until their cries die down into a little more than a howling of the wind. But their shadows continue to tug at my existence, extensions of my power, branching out to consume the palace in its watchful gaze as it searches deeper and deeper for exactly what it is looking for. Then, there is a pulse, one singular sharp tug at my core, and the hounds appear once more, spitting a familiar white haired figure at my feet.
He scrambles to look around, dishevelled, short white hair a devilish mess that I suppose some might find handsome. His red eyes narrow as he quickly strives to maintain composure on the floor, slipping into the casual nonchalance of a vampire who cares little more about anything aside from sex and blood. It's a practised look, and one I loath more than life itself- the look he first shot my fiancée when he glamoured her to take off her clothes, and the same sultry gaze he passed me when he whispered that she was little more than an 'elven whore'. An elven whore, yet he desires to bed her all the same.
With a single, swift gesture, I wrench him up from the ground.
"Been up to something, brother?"
I don't even bother to keep the wicked coldness out of my voice. Azrael lowers his eyes, attempting a half shrug as my ringed fingers close ever tighter around his velvety red coat.
"I don't have a clue what you are talking about,"
"Don't lie to me,"
I hiss, pulling my lips up against his ear to send the cold wavers of my voice shuddering through him. The crowd murmurs fearfully, some whispering words of sympathy to Azrael, others urging him to give up his secrets and spare himself the pain- all of which I dutifully ignore. Azrael gives me an empty stare, revealing nothing.
"I heard," I whisper, pushing him away from me now, though maintaining a latched grip on his coat to prevent him from going anywhere- not that I would let him get two paces anyway. "That people are disappearing. Elves, angels, vampires even. You wouldn't happened to know why that is, would you now?"
Azrael offers up a half smirk and one of my hounds growls in response, quickly wiping the smug look off his face to replace it with a bland indignance.
"I would have thought you would have been quicker to figure that one out, Soren," he says dully in a half answer, wrenching himself under my grip, but my hand remains impossibly sturdy, frozen like a block of icy marble, latching him in place. The hounds growl once again. From inside the shifting crowd, somebody begs for me to let Azrael go, and with a fleeting shot of shadows from my fingers, those protests are quickly silenced. A deathly stillness settles over the room once more.
"Somebody tells me you have something you shouldn't, brother," I growl lowly, my voice simmering down into a breathless whisper, so low that the rest of the crowd try in vain to listen, leaning subtly in towards me so that they might catch a glimpse of what's being said. "Tell me, when exactly did you acquire a soul of power? I could have sworn yours was entirely ordinary last time I checked. How did you get it?"
Azrael only laughs.
"So the little girl finally let it slip. I am surprised she figured it out before you did, she is quite clever- for a whore that is,"
Rage pounds through my veins, swallowing up any scraps of rational thought to replace it with the boiling talons of hatred. He is trying to get to me, I know he is, but in that moment, I don't care.
I throw him down at my feet.
"You dare speak about my mate like that?" I roar, my boot pressing down against his chest to pin him against the ground with merciless intent, not caring as to whether or not I would leave a mark on him, at this point hardly bothered whether I might kill him- the temptation is surely great. Despite everything, Azrael flashes me a grin.
"Well at least I am not the one going out to kill her," then he brings a hand up to his lips, eyes widening in mock surprise as he says: "Oops, I wasn't supposed to tell you that," in a manner that makes me think entirely otherwise. Anger bubbles in my blood.
"Kill her? Who?"
My boot presses down more firmly, and Azrael stifles a cough.
"Oh you didn't know? A pity."
I press down more.
"Who?!" I roar, the walls of the palace shaking under the sheer force of my will, rocking the chandeliers back and forth with a mechanical clinking, fragments of dust pattering down from high up in the eaves. Azrael's eyes lower, as if he finally has me where he wants me.
"Andrais,"
All at once, a horrible calmness washes over me.
"Find them. Find them, or so help me, I will kill you and throw your pathetic little heart will go straight to the crows. We will talk after about whatever other business you have been toiling in- and believe me, you will talk. Have I made myself clear?"
Azrael grins devilishly.
"Crystal,"
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(Soren's perspective)
If I had a heart, I am sure it would be pounding. But not with fear.
With rage.
Serena's voice fades into the buttery golden light of noon, her words and her form whisked away into some oblivion that I am neither aware, nor privy to, her hand outstretched as if disdaining to hold me in place, to remain with me for a little longer, yet I barely see it. Her fingers grasp empty air.
By the time the utterance of my name rings out like the shallow ripples of a pond around my gardens, she is already gone.
But for once in my life my mind is not on her.
Without a second thought, I shadowshift back into the palace. My mind is reeling: a chaotic symphony of noises and sounds and realisations all screaming at me at once, each individual voice rising up in my head, growing louder and louder into a dizzying mixture of discord until at last, when my feet at last plant on the sturdy ground of my throne room, that voice tumbles right out of me.
"Enough,"
The sharp roar of my voice sends a shockwave of darkness cascading through the throne room, pulsing through the air so that upon the second of my arrival, every lusty eyed vampire, every slender elf, and even the smallest of fairies flitting high above the eaves where the chandeliers shake with the impact of such a monumental presence, stop still. The voices in my head quell to a hushed murmur, hiding away in the blackened depths of my mind. Each head turns in unison, some fearfully, other's- those of my court who know me better than they know their own taste for blood, simply stare on as marble statues, wondering with a silent trepidation to themselves who exactly has presented themselves with the misfortune of dying today. I raise my eyes, a crimson lava seething in the bottomless pits of livid understanding.
A numb despair washes over the hearts of the room.
"Where," I growl, my voice ringing out against the cold walls of the throne room like sheets of icy rain against a window, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides to steady the shadows that brew within the blackened depths of my heart, quelling them into a temporary submission. My voice rises angrily, swelling against the crowd. "Where the fuck is my brother?"
Nobody moves.
Furiously, I begin to make my way down the steps of the dais, my footsteps like leaden weights against the marble floor, the usual airy flamboyancy gone, replaced only with a cold, hard anger.
"Anybody?" I growl, cracking my knuckles as I reach the bottom of the steps, any scrap of sympathy soon washed away as I reach out a hand to close around the neck of the nearest vampire, who chokes and splutters against the icy claws of my grip.
"Edgar," I say coldly, lowering my voice to an icy hum. The blonde haired male wreathes a little, and then stops dead in the realisation of the futility of his actions. The rest of the crowd daren't move, scarcely breathing, as though their breath alone may send me spiralling into a fit of never-ending wrath and pure, insolent rage. Such an assumption at this point in time would be entirely correct.
"My Lord," he chokes, and for the sake of such an action, I press my black claws further into his neck, indenting into his pale skin until fine welts of blood spring to the surface, trickling down his skin and coating the tips of my fingers with a sticky red. But I do not care.
"You were drinking with Azrael last night, were you not?" I croon mockingly, my fingers tightening impossibly more.
"Yes My Lord, I-"
"And did I not specifically ask you, Edgar, to keep an eye on my dear brother when I am busy with my affairs?"
Edgar's eyes bulge, strands of long blond hair falling between his eyes as I lift him higher above me, his feet dangling uselessly in mid air, kicking out with the useless futility of a victim in a hanging. Of course, as a vampire, strangling him would not kill him, but it certainly would inconvenience him enough to make any considerations of messing me around seem like an awfully bad idea.
"I did, My Lord, I did. But he was there one minute, and the next moment there was a lady instead and-"
"A lady?"
A small murmuring from the crowd, yet still I ignore them, my eyes narrowing at the dangling figure before me. In spite of my harsh grip on his throat, he nods vigorously.
"A lady, yes a lady. She came out of no where. One minute Azrael was there, and next there was this lady-"
I cut him short, letting my fingers loosen a smidgen round his throat- just enough to let him breathe.
"And what did this lady look like?"
I purr coldly, bringing his face a little closer to mine so that he might feel the icy chill of my breath settle over his face, might see the bottomless disdain in the depths of my fiery eyes and at once pronounce himself dead. Something sours in his face, a look that might be disbelief- or bitter dread, flitting across his features. After a moment's hesitation, he admits slowly:
"Why, it was your lady, My Lord."
"Impossible," I growl, "She was with me all night."
Impossible, echoes the voices in my head, impossible unless...
I throw the blond haired vampire down to the floor with a sickening crack, piercing the air with a reverberating crunch and the long and mournful groans of the vampire, who sits up to cradle his arm tenderly in one hand, a red welt forming on his cheek with the sheer impact of being thrown down against the floor. This time, the crowd does recoil, parting around me and the blond vampire to leave a circular ring around us, far enough away from me that I could not grasp them at arms reach, but not nearly far enough out of the reach of my shadows, which begin to coil and curl around me in the smoky half existence of their being.
"You have failed me," I spit to Edgar, who hangs his head shamefully as my shadows lick the tips of his black boots, gnawing at his pale skin with blackened fangs and rigid claws. A shudder convulses through the crowd at my words- the words that they hope to never hear. I turn my back on Edgar- I would deal with him later.
At once two black hounds separate themselves from the shadowy mass that spills around my form, red eyes glowing like lanterns against the blackness that has since consumed the vast cavernous expanse of the throne room around us- a blackness that is my own. The two hounds curl themselves around my legs, wolfish features fading in and out against the shadows, muzzles agape, growling hungrily, their sleek bodies restless, waiting for my command. Their eyes meet mine.
"Find him," I hiss, and at once they are off.
Their howls penetrate the palace with a sickening dread as they bound off on their hunt, slipping through walls and racing through the long corridors until their cries die down into a little more than a howling of the wind. But their shadows continue to tug at my existence, extensions of my power, branching out to consume the palace in its watchful gaze as it searches deeper and deeper for exactly what it is looking for. Then, there is a pulse, one singular sharp tug at my core, and the hounds appear once more, spitting a familiar white haired figure at my feet.
He scrambles to look around, dishevelled, short white hair a devilish mess that I suppose some might find handsome. His red eyes narrow as he quickly strives to maintain composure on the floor, slipping into the casual nonchalance of a vampire who cares little more about anything aside from sex and blood. It's a practised look, and one I loath more than life itself- the look he first shot my fiancée when he glamoured her to take off her clothes, and the same sultry gaze he passed me when he whispered that she was little more than an 'elven whore'. An elven whore, yet he desires to bed her all the same.
With a single, swift gesture, I wrench him up from the ground.
"Been up to something, brother?"
I don't even bother to keep the wicked coldness out of my voice. Azrael lowers his eyes, attempting a half shrug as my ringed fingers close ever tighter around his velvety red coat.
"I don't have a clue what you are talking about,"
"Don't lie to me,"
I hiss, pulling my lips up against his ear to send the cold wavers of my voice shuddering through him. The crowd murmurs fearfully, some whispering words of sympathy to Azrael, others urging him to give up his secrets and spare himself the pain- all of which I dutifully ignore. Azrael gives me an empty stare, revealing nothing.
"I heard," I whisper, pushing him away from me now, though maintaining a latched grip on his coat to prevent him from going anywhere- not that I would let him get two paces anyway. "That people are disappearing. Elves, angels, vampires even. You wouldn't happened to know why that is, would you now?"
Azrael offers up a half smirk and one of my hounds growls in response, quickly wiping the smug look off his face to replace it with a bland indignance.
"I would have thought you would have been quicker to figure that one out, Soren," he says dully in a half answer, wrenching himself under my grip, but my hand remains impossibly sturdy, frozen like a block of icy marble, latching him in place. The hounds growl once again. From inside the shifting crowd, somebody begs for me to let Azrael go, and with a fleeting shot of shadows from my fingers, those protests are quickly silenced. A deathly stillness settles over the room once more.
"Somebody tells me you have something you shouldn't, brother," I growl lowly, my voice simmering down into a breathless whisper, so low that the rest of the crowd try in vain to listen, leaning subtly in towards me so that they might catch a glimpse of what's being said. "Tell me, when exactly did you acquire a soul of power? I could have sworn yours was entirely ordinary last time I checked. How did you get it?"
Azrael only laughs.
"So the little girl finally let it slip. I am surprised she figured it out before you did, she is quite clever- for a whore that is,"
Rage pounds through my veins, swallowing up any scraps of rational thought to replace it with the boiling talons of hatred. He is trying to get to me, I know he is, but in that moment, I don't care.
I throw him down at my feet.
"You dare speak about my mate like that?" I roar, my boot pressing down against his chest to pin him against the ground with merciless intent, not caring as to whether or not I would leave a mark on him, at this point hardly bothered whether I might kill him- the temptation is surely great. Despite everything, Azrael flashes me a grin.
"Well at least I am not the one going out to kill her," then he brings a hand up to his lips, eyes widening in mock surprise as he says: "Oops, I wasn't supposed to tell you that," in a manner that makes me think entirely otherwise. Anger bubbles in my blood.
"Kill her? Who?"
My boot presses down more firmly, and Azrael stifles a cough.
"Oh you didn't know? A pity."
I press down more.
"Who?!" I roar, the walls of the palace shaking under the sheer force of my will, rocking the chandeliers back and forth with a mechanical clinking, fragments of dust pattering down from high up in the eaves. Azrael's eyes lower, as if he finally has me where he wants me.
"Andrais,"
All at once, a horrible calmness washes over me.
"Find them. Find them, or so help me, I will kill you and throw your pathetic little heart will go straight to the crows. We will talk after about whatever other business you have been toiling in- and believe me, you will talk. Have I made myself clear?"
Azrael grins devilishly.
"Crystal,"
Soren's perspectiveIf I had a heart, I am sure it would be pounding. But not with fear.With rage.Serena's voice fades into the buttery golden light of noon, her words and her form whisked away into some oblivion that I am neither aware, nor privy to, her hand outstretched as if disdaining to hold me in place, to remain with me for a little longer, yet I barely see it. Her fingers grasp empty air.By the time the utterance of my name rings out like the shallow ripples of a pond around my gardens, she is already gone. But for once in my life my mind is not on her. Without a second thought, I shadowshift back into the palace. My mind is reeling: a chaotic symphony of noises and sounds and realisations all screaming at me at once, each individual voice rising up in my head, growing louder and louder into a dizzying mixture of discord until at last, when my feet at last plant on the sturdy ground of my throne room, that voice tumbles right out of me."Enough,"The sharp roar of my voice sends a shockwave of darkness cascading through the throne room, pulsing through the air so that upon the second of my arrival, every lusty eyed vampire, every slender elf, and even the smallest of fairies flitting high above the eaves where the chandeliers shake with the impact of such a monumental presence, stop still. The voices in my head quell to a hushed murmur, hiding away in the blackened depths of my mind. Each head turns in unison, some fearfully, other's- those of my court who know me better than they know their own taste for blood, simply stare on as marble statues, wondering with a silent trepidation to themselves who exactly has presented themselves with the misfortune of dying today. I raise my eyes, a crimson lava seething in the bottomless pits of livid understanding.A numb despair washes over the hearts of the room."Where," I growl, my voice ringing out against the cold walls of the throne room like sheets of icy rain against a window, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides to steady the shadows that brew within the blackened depths of my heart, quelling them into a temporary submission. My voice rises angrily, swelling against the crowd. "Where the fuck is my brother?"Nobody moves. Furiously, I begin to make my way down the steps of the dais, my footsteps like leaden weights against the marble floor, the usual airy flamboyancy gone, replaced only with a cold, hard anger."Anybody?" I growl, cracking my knuckles as I reach the bottom of the steps, any scrap of sympathy soon washed away as I reach out a hand to close around the neck of the nearest vampire, who chokes and splutters against the icy claws of my grip."Edgar," I say coldly, lowering my voice to an icy hum. The blonde haired male wreathes a little, and then stops dead in the realisation of the futility of his actions. The rest of the crowd daren't move, scarcely breathing, as though their breath alone may send me spiralling into a fit of never-ending wrath and pure, insolent rage. Such an assumption at this point in time would be entirely correct. "My Lord," he chokes, and for the sake of such an action, I press my black claws further into his neck, indenting into his pale skin until fine welts of blood spring to the surface, trickling down his skin and coating the tips of my fingers with a sticky red. But I do not care."You were drinking with Azrael last night, were you not?" I croon mockingly, my fingers tightening impossibly more."Yes My Lord, I-""And did I not specifically ask you, Edgar, to keep an eye on my dear brother when I am busy with my affairs?"Edgar's eyes bulge, strands of long blond hair falling between his eyes as I lift him higher above me, his feet dangling uselessly in mid air, kicking out with the useless futility of a victim in a hanging. Of course, as a vampire, strangling him would not kill him, but it certainly would inconvenience him enough to make any considerations of messing me around seem like an awfully bad idea."I did, My Lord, I did. But he was there one minute, and the next moment there was a lady instead and-""A lady?"A small murmuring from the crowd, yet still I ignore them, my eyes narrowing at the dangling figure before me. In spite of my harsh grip on his throat, he nods vigorously."A lady, yes a lady. She came out of no where. One minute Azrael was there, and next there was this lady-"I cut him short, letting my fingers loosen a smidgen round his throat- just enough to let him breathe."And what did this lady look like?"I purr coldly, bringing his face a little closer to mine so that he might feel the icy chill of my breath settle over his face, might see the bottomless disdain in the depths of my fiery eyes and at once pronounce himself dead. Something sours in his face, a look that might be disbelief- or bitter dread, flitting across his features. After a moment's hesitation, he admits slowly:"Why, it was your lady, My Lord.""Impossible," I growl, "She was with me all night."Impossible, echoes the voices in my head, impossible unless...I throw the blond haired vampire down to the floor with a sickening crack, piercing the air with a reverberating crunch and the long and mournful groans of the vampire, who sits up to cradle his arm tenderly in one hand, a red welt forming on his cheek with the sheer impact of being thrown down against the floor. This time, the crowd does recoil, parting around me and the blond vampire to leave a circular ring around us, far enough away from me that I could not grasp them at arms reach, but not nearly far enough out of the reach of my shadows, which begin to coil and curl around me in the smoky half existence of their being."You have failed me," I spit to Edgar, who hangs his head shamefully as my shadows lick the tips of his black boots, gnawing at his pale skin with blackened fangs and rigid claws. A shudder convulses through the crowd at my words- the words that they hope to never hear. I turn my back on Edgar- I would deal with him later.At once two black hounds separate themselves from the shadowy mass that spills around my form, red eyes glowing like lanterns against the blackness that has since consumed the vast cavernous expanse of the throne room around us- a blackness that is my own. The two hounds curl themselves around my legs, wolfish features fading in and out against the shadows, muzzles agape, growling hungrily, their sleek bodies restless, waiting for my command. Their eyes meet mine."Find him," I hiss, and at once they are off. Their howls penetrate the palace with a sickening dread as they bound off on their hunt, slipping through walls and racing through the long corridors until their cries die down into a little more than a howling of the wind. But their shadows continue to tug at my existence, extensions of my power, branching out to consume the palace in its watchful gaze as it searches deeper and deeper for exactly what it is looking for. Then, there is a pulse, one singular sharp tug at my core, and the hounds appear once more, spitting a familiar white haired figure at my feet.He scrambles to look around, dishevelled, short white hair a devilish mess that I suppose some might find handsome. His red eyes narrow as he quickly strives to maintain composure on the floor, slipping into the casual nonchalance of a vampire who cares little more about anything aside from sex and blood. It's a practised look, and one I loath more than life itself- the look he first shot my fiance when he glamoured her to take off her clothes, and the same sultry gaze he passed me when he whispered that she was little more than an 'elven whore'. An elven whore, yet he desires to bed her all the same. With a single, swift gesture, I wrench him up from the ground. "Been up to something, brother?" I don't even bother to keep the wicked coldness out of my voice. Azrael lowers his eyes, attempting a half shrug as my ringed fingers close ever tighter around his velvety red coat."I don't have a clue what you are talking about," "Don't lie to me,"I hiss, pulling my lips up against his ear to send the cold wavers of my voice shuddering through him. The crowd murmurs fearfully, some whispering words of sympathy to Azrael, others urging him to give up his secrets and spare himself the pain- all of which I dutifully ignore. Azrael gives me an empty stare, revealing nothing."I heard," I whisper, pushing him away from me now, though maintaining a latched grip on his coat to prevent him from going anywhere- not that I would let him get two paces anyway. "That people are disappearing. Elves, angels, vampires even. You wouldn't happened to know why that is, would you now?"Azrael offers up a half smirk and one of my hounds growls in response, quickly wiping the smug look off his face to replace it with a bland indignance. "I would have thought you would have been quicker to figure that one out, Soren," he says dully in a half answer, wrenching himself under my grip, but my hand remains impossibly sturdy, frozen like a block of icy marble, latching him in place. The hounds growl once again. From inside the shifting crowd, somebody begs for me to let Azrael go, and with a fleeting shot of shadows from my fingers, those protests are quickly silenced. A deathly stillness settles over the room once more."Somebody tells me you have something you shouldn't, brother," I growl lowly, my voice simmering down into a breathless whisper, so low that the rest of the crowd try in vain to listen, leaning subtly in towards me so that they might catch a glimpse of what's being said. "Tell me, when exactly did you acquire a soul of power? I could have sworn yours was entirely ordinary last time I checked. How did you get it?"Azrael only laughs."So the little girl finally let it slip. I am surprised she figured it out before you did, she is quite clever- for a whore that is,"Rage pounds through my veins, swallowing up any scraps of rational thought to replace it with the boiling talons of hatred. He is trying to get to me, I know he is, but in that moment, I don't care.I throw him down at my feet."You dare speak about my mate like that?" I roar, my boot pressing down against his chest to pin him against the ground with merciless intent, not caring as to whether or not I would leave a mark on him, at this point hardly bothered whether I might kill him- the temptation is surely great. Despite everything, Azrael flashes me a grin."Well at least I am not the one going out to kill her," then he brings a hand up to his lips, eyes widening in mock surprise as he says: "Oops, I wasn't supposed to tell you that," in a manner that makes me think entirely otherwise. Anger bubbles in my blood."Kill her? Who?"My boot presses down more firmly, and Azrael stifles a cough."Oh you didn't know? A pity."I press down more."Who?!" I roar, the walls of the palace shaking under the sheer force of my will, rocking the chandeliers back and forth with a mechanical clinking, fragments of dust pattering down from high up in the eaves. Azrael's eyes lower, as if he finally has me where he wants me."Andrais,"All at once, a horrible calmness washes over me."Find them. Find them, or so help me, I will kill you and throw your pathetic little heart will go straight to the crows. We will talk after about whatever other business you have been toiling in- and believe me, you will talk. Have I made myself clear?"Azrael grins devilishly."Crystal,"
