Chapter 2: The Ways of the World

The following week, John, Lydia, Hunter, and Axel had been standing in the Grand Hall on the stage, waiting for all children of demonic descent from the sanctuary to attend their first day of their education at the Azazel Academy. The academy was not a physical place, but an embodiment of everyone present, and lessons were to be held from 9:30AM-13:00PM from Tuesdays to Fridays. Luckily, all four instructors had a diverse set of powers to teach about. Lydia, a prolific clairvoyant with the ability to conjure things into existence or from another place entirely, had grown to develop illusion manipulation and pyrokinesis. The twins, identical in every way, had now developed powers unique to them which helped others tell them apart; Hunter developed hydrokinesis like John had, as well as divination. Axel only developed pyrokinesis in addition to their shared transmutation, concilium, and telekinesis. They all were dressed in mostly black with red accents on their clothes, and they all donned the red eyeshadow in their inner eye sockets, as did the students as they walked in with their parents, mostly mothers.

Most of them were only half-human, so only a few stayed that truly took interest in what their children were being educated on. John took the liberty of smirking at a few of the women he recognized, and he knew right away that the students with them were his own kids – he had a total of four daughters and three sons in Sanctum One. They all physically looked to be between twelve and twenty-four years old (in actuality, between four and eight), not a far shot from how old the other students were. Five fathered by the twins, three mothered by Ashley, who could not attend but their human fathers were there. In addition to this were Anathem and Desdemona, the royal children, wearing mostly red to distinguish themselves. In total, there were seventeen students. When they all arrived, John stood tall and spoke charismatically to the small crowd of younger demon spawn, all staring up at him with their red-shadowed eyes.

"Welcome everyone," he said, holding his arms out with a cordial expression plastered on his visage. "I am John Vanderbilt, one of the Archdukes of the House of Langdon. This title is also shared by," he gestured over to each twin as he knew them, "Hunter and Axel Baxter," and he turned to Lydia, whose blue eyes stared at him indignantly, "and the lovely Lydia Blackwell." She fixed her red tresses and moved forward to give her say, putting her hands together.

"Hm… I am not good at public speaking but… welcome! I'm glad to see you all, some of you for the first time while others are familiar faces," she said. "I look forward to assisting some of you with your powers."

The twins stepped forward next and spoke in unison: "welcome, students. We are the Baxter twins, and we can use telekinesis, transmutation, and concilium. We look forward to helping our kind grow stronger and more self-aware of their powers."

The students were dumbfounded – the twins were practically one person with how perfectly in sync they spoke. They looked at each other, and then back up to John, who raised his hands, using concilium to get their attention effortlessly.

"To begin, who can tell me where our kind comes from? Who are we?" John asked.

No one raised their hands – it was like crickets were in the Grand Hall. He sighed and chuckled, shaking his head until someone spoke; his eyes were diverted to a blonde-haired girl with short, tousled tresses who uncannily resembled Lydia. In fact, he knew exactly who she was. It was Lydia's daughter by him, and he only remembered her being born two years before he had to leave. She now was six, but physically around eighteen to nineteen.

"Isn't that why we are here to learn?" she asked, her voice cynical but firm.

He chuckled: "yes, Cecilia. You are correct. Let's start from the beginning. We are all progeny of the Antichrist, His Infernal Majesty, King Michael, first regnant of Regnum Infernale, who ruled from 2021 to 2027, when his daughter, now Queen Melanie, took the throne with her consort, who is now King Elijah. In fact, learning along side you as your classmates are Their Infernal Highnesses Anathem and Desdemona." He paused, making a come-here gesture with a focus on his targets. "Come forward, please."

Desdemona and Anathem were already standing off to the side, and as they came closer to the stage upon which stood the Archdukes and Archduchess, all of the students bowed reverently, as did the parents present who had taken their children to their first day. Desdemona and Anathem were tempted to roll their eyes at the fact that they were being shown off, but they embraced the attention they got anyways. After all, the entire world knew who they were.

"Rise." Anathem's orders with the use of concilium made everyone come back up to their feet, and he looked back at John, who smiled proudly and moved forward. He's using that like a King would, he thought.

"Parents," he said, "you may be dismissed. Your children will be home to you at 13:00 today."

The first day at the Azazel Academy was not so much for lessons, but interviewing each student to find out their strengths, weaknesses, and what they wished to improve on or try to develop. John was in the most demand to take on students, whereas Lydia tended to take those with the more unusual powers, like conjuration, illusion manipulation, or types of clairvoyance. Desdemona was placed with her, while Anathem was placed under the guidance of John. Cecilia, the daughter of John and Lydia, was also placed under her mother's teaching.

There were a variety of practice exercises for the demon spawn who possessed the classical Seven Wonders, all save for vitalum vitalis or descensum. The most commonly-displayed abilities of the students happened to be telekinesis, pyrokinesis, and divination. A distinct few possessed transmutation, Like Prince Anathem and Cecilia. Other possessed types of clairvoyance, domain of Lydia's teaching capabilities. Yet of all the students present, Princess Desdemona was the most unusual. She did not possess any of these powers from the old world, but she had others; she could conjure, she could cast illusions, and possessed the very rare and coveted power of resurgence. Yet John kept a watch on her in particular – he questioned how two parents who possessed some of the Seven Wonders, her father possessing all of them, didn't pass it onto Desdemona. On the last day of the first week of classes in session, once 13:00 came around, he approached her as she was leaving with her brother.

"Your Infernal Highness Desdemona," he called. Her pretty face turned back to look at him, and Anathem was the first to respond with a strange look and a snark verbal reaction.

"Uncle, why are you calling my sister?" he questioned. "Is this some 'see me after class to pass' crap from the old world?"

John sighed, trying to maintain calm at his superior: "no, Anathem. In case you are curious, you may stay for what has to be demonstrated."

"Demonstrated?" Desdemona asked, looking up into her uncle's rather handsome face, in particular his hazel eyes that shone gold at her. He took her hand and led her away from her brother, smiling at her.

"My dear niece," he said with a smirk, "both of your parents, being King and Queen, are immensely powerful, your father more so than your mother if I do say so myself. They possess some of the same powers, and they passed some of them to your brother." Anathem just watched him interact with his sister with a watchful eye, listening to what was said.

"Okay… so?" Desdemona asked skeptically.

"You, my dear, don't possess any of the classical Seven Wonders. Given who we are descended from," John continued, "you should possess at least one or two."

"And… what are they?"

"Uncle John, you're wasting your time," Anathem snapped, approaching his sister and grabbing her hand. "She doesn't know, she's inept."

John had just about had enough of the bratty Prince and his interference: "you can leave, and I suggest you do before I tell your father how badly you are behaving."

Anathem was baffled and nearly guffawed from what he just said. He was the Prince, in line to be King one day, held above all reproach in the world along with his sister. John was a mere Archduke only given the title due to blood relation. His eyes narrowed at his uncle, and he let out a rather pathetic tantrum for someone who looked like a grown young man.

"Are YOU giving ME orders?!" he shouted in a roar, his hair getting messy as he stomped his foot against the floor. "Wait until my father, His Infernal Majesty hears about the disrespect you are giving me! You should be kissing MY shoes! I'm in line to be King, not YOU!"

Desdemona, offended by what he said, was about to say something to her brother, but John beat her to the chase. Using concilium, their uncle raised his finger in the air directed toward the Prince, who froze in place, unable to escape as he listened to every word spat at him.

"You listen to me, you little brat. You will show me respect. I am your elder. Didn't your father teach you any manners?!" John's voice was eerily calm for someone so irritated. "Prince or not, you are still equal to everyone else, and if I hear that you've made up some stupid lie or made-up story about what happened here, may Satan at your right-hand stand. Do you under-fucking-stand me?!"

Anathem didn't answer, looking indignantly down at his uncle, who repeated himself.

"Do you understand me?!"

"Yes, Uncle John." He was completely subdued, wowing Desdemona, who approached her uncle's side and narrowed her eyes and focus on her brother, who was released from his magic and turned to walk away. She shouted with intent, her fists at her sides.

"And I AM NOT INEPT!"

It looked as though Anathem was sent a few feet forward before landing face-first into the floor, creating a loud thud as a groan came from his body. The lights above them in the Grand Hall flickered on and off for a few seconds, catching John's attention as he watched his niece and nephew's facial reactions to what just happened. Anathem looked to be shaking in his boots as he turned back painfully to look at his sister, whose jaw dropped immensely. He rose to his feet and left by way of transmutation, but Desdemona was frozen in place by what just happened.

"I…I didn't do that," she said with denial.

"Yes, you did," John smiled. "Don't lie to yourself."

"I'm not lying to myself. I just can't do that stuff," Desdemona snided.

"You can. You have telekinesis. This is exactly what I was talking to you about. It is one of the classical powers in the Seven Wonders," he said, looking down at her and smiling. "You were provoked to anger, which triggered your reflexes. That happened to me when I found out I had pyrokinesis." He paused. "Except… I misused it when I was young and dumb."

"How so?"

"I was a bully, and a brutal one at that," John said. "I bullied your father before he even came into his power and claimed the throne." He started to circle around his niece as he spoke. "I paid dearly for my misdeeds."

"H-How?"

"He killed me," John said, stopping in front of her and staring down into her feline blue eyes. "He brought me back a week later. I had seen horrible things… Lucifer punished me down in Hell, too. From then on, I knew I had to change my ways."

Desdemona looked away, down at the floor and averting her gaze from meeting that of her uncle's. It was only then that she felt his fingers tilt her chin up to meet his gaze again. She felt strangely at ease as he spoke.

"I want you to pick something in this room, anything," he instructed, "and I want you to bring it into your hand. Do you remember what I showed you upon my return?"

Desdemona's eyes were full of wonder: "I… I do."

"Good. Do what I did, but with the object you select," he said, backing away from her.

Desdemona looked around the Grand Hall for something easy to telekinetically take into her hand. She could have taken one of the small paintings depicting satanic art off the wall, but she decided not to. John waited patiently for her to pick something to practice with, and then he saw that her eyes diverted to the closed, glass-door wall cabinet that contained two very important relics to Regnum Infernale – the King's Blade, used for executions and sacrifices, and the Queen's Sickle, once owned by Misty to harvest the bounty that once existed in its full effect in the sanctuary. She concentrated and the door to the side with the mounted knife and it slowly opened, making John stare in awe.

"Yes…" he said to himself with approval. "But…" He took a step forward, "are you sure you want to take that into your hand, Dessi?"

She looked at him: "I sent my brother a few feet ahead in the air and made him fall, I just opened the cabinet door. I think I can handle a knife, thank you."

"Be careful," he said. "Focus on the handle. Raise your hand, have it open, and be ready to collect it."

She did as told, looking at the knife as she outstretched her hand, ready to collect her item of focus. She furrowed her brow a little to concentrate, using all of her will to take the knife off its mounting in the cabinet and into her grip. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, but the moment she opened them, she was gasping in severe pain and wheezing. She looked down and saw that the nine-inch blade was embedded in her upper left chest, running her through. As she felt her consciousness start to leave her body, John hurried to her side and held her, trying to keep her stable and conscious.

"Stay with me!" she heard him say with fuzzy hearing, "stay with me!"

He nearly panicked as she began to spit blood in her final breaths, and her feline blue eyes looked dead and cold, staring off into space. John bit his lower lip, nearly starting to sob at what just happened. Desdemona was merely a girl, only four and a half years old but near the full blossoming that came with womanhood. He knew he had to do something, so in a panic he laid her down flat on the floor and put a hand on her chest with the other hand holding the knife's handle. He made a mental count from one to three as he ripped the knife out of her chest, putting it aside and putting both hands over the wound that was spilling blood. He felt a presence in the room and looked around, seeing Lydia standing at one of the doorways near the stage of the Grand Hall.

"John…" she said with distress. "What happened here?" That was when she rushed over to his aid, and he looked up at her, holding one of his bloodied palms toward her.

"You need to get help, right now, Lydia! Don't fuck around, the King could have my head for this!" he shrieked.

"What did you do?!" she shouted. "That's the Princess!"

"NO SHIT!" he shouted. "GET HELP NOW!"

Elijah had a horrible feeling, and he instinctively put a hand to his chest, feeling a strange pain near his heart. He took a deep breath and looked around, having stared into the fire in the fireplace as he felt Anathem's presence walk into the suite. His steel blue eyes looked at his son with a mixture of intense worry and fear, but all Anathem could sense was the notion that his father could kill someone out of rage.

"Anathem," he began sternly, "where is your sister?"

He looked around, dumbfounded and he shrugged gingerly as to not provoke his father in what he sensed to be an extremely volatile state. He also was still under John's concilium: "I… don't know, actually. She isn't here, at home?"

"Don't play dumb!" his father exclaimed, raising his hand and telekinetically launching him against the now-closed front door and holding him there. "You LEFT with her! Where is she? Why do I have a feeling she's dead somewhere?!"

"I don't know, Father! Please, let me go! I swear, I don't know," he said with fear in his voice.

Elijah released his son and approached him, his glacial glare looking into his light blue eyes as he spoke again: "don't play games. You know where she is…"

"What is the meaning of all this?" a feminine voice boomed. Elijah looked to see it was Melanie, her brow furrowed with frustration. Anathem looked at his mother and shook his head, nearly tearing up from how afraid his father made him.

"He just pinned me to the wall because somehow, someway, Dessi isn't home, and he's blaming me," he whined.

Melanie's eyes widened, and she looked at her consort with shock: "where is she?"

"I had this pain in my chest just now, I can't explain it," Elijah replied, "but I think something is very wrong. I know he is hiding something."

Melanie looked at her son and tried to pry into his thoughts. Curiously, she read him thinking: I don't even remember what I had for lunch. Was it… geez, what was it? All I know is, my knees and back kill from that.

"Why do your knees and back hurt, Anathem?" she asked. Elijah was confused at this, but she was using her defining power, lectio animo, to extract the truth.

"I… I don't know what Dessi did, but she lifted me up and sent me a few feet ahead face-first into the floor. It hurts," he groaned with a grimace. "She was asked to stay with Uncle John-"

"WHAT?!" Elijah shouted. "I do not want that dirty mutt to-"

"Elijah! Shut up!" Melanie shouted back at him. "He is smart enough to know that you'd kill him if he ever laid a hand on her." She paused, looking at Anathem. "Go to her room and get me one of her belongings, something she uses all the time."

He went without hesitation and used transmutation to go back to where they were once he found something. He handed it to his mother; it was one of her bras, hanging over the seat of her desk, and once she held it, Elijah put his arm around her. He could see tears deluging his Queen's eyes, but she was having dreadful visions. One was of her daughter, dead and lifeless on a hospital gurney with a gaping, bloody hole in her chest. Then she got a flash-like vision of John Vanderbilt with tears in his eyes, shaking his head rapidly as a doctor seemed to be speaking to him.

"She is dead, sir."

That was all John could hear from the doctor, who was still speaking to him. He was never a man to cry, but this was enough to rip his heart in two. Desdemona was so young and full of life; plus, she was the Princess of all people. Partially, he cried due to fear. He knew that if Elijah got the wrong idea about this whole thing, his heart would be on a platter or much worse. Of course, he hadn't feared death, having died twice in his day. He was more afraid of how this would pan out.

"I do not know if… you have the authority to be here and classify her for Disposal or-"

"Yes," he stood up, speaking with intention. "I do have authority to determine that. I say she remain put until Their Infernal Majesties arrive."

"Yes sir," the doctor said, subdued under his will before walking off.

At that moment John could sense a strong presence, and he stood up, ready to face the music knowing full well it was Elijah, Melanie, and Anathem behind them in a single file line to where Desdemona lay dead on the gurney. He took a deep breath as Elijah completely ignored his presence, while Anathem approached his uncle with a confused look. Melanie was sobbing, joining Elijah in the hospital room where Desdemona was laying.

"…how did she die, Uncle John?" he asked.

"I can explain," he began. "H-Her telekinesis… killed her."

"So, she does have some useful powers…" Anathem pondered sarcastically, nodding.

"This is serious," John snapped.

"Not nearly as serious as the shit you'll be in with my father when he revives her," the Prince retorted.

aHHH…he…AHHH

Anathem and John peeked into the room to see that Desdemona took her first ounce of air into her lungs since being dead. A loud wheeze took up the room and radiated out into the hallway where they stood. After a few coughing sounds, Desdemona started to whine. John watched Elijah take his daughter into his arms, head against his chest and sigh softly with relief.

"My sweet Princess, you're here now. You're alive again…" Tears nearly fell on her light blonde locks. "I've got you."

"W-Where am I?" she whined, letting her father go and looking up at him. "Where is Uncle John?"

"Never you mind about him," he said harshly. "What your mother and I need to know, is what exactly happened to you. What did that filthy dog do to you?"

"Father!" she exclaimed. "Uncle John didn't do anything! Stop overreacting!"

"How did you die just now, Desdemona?" Melanie asked in a softer tone, running her finger through her daughter's hair.

She sighed, taking a few more deep breaths: "he was trying to teach me about telekinesis… he told me to pick anything in the Grand Hall to send into my hand, and I… I sent Anathem a few feet forward… made the lights flicker I think… I made the cabinet of relics open. I chose the knife, see."

"The King's Knife?" Elijah asked with disbelief.

"Yes… before I knew it, it stabbed me." Desdemona put her hand over the blood-stained part of her chest, where she realized that below the fabric, the wound healed over entirely with her father using vitalum vitalis. "It's… gone. Healed over."

Elijah sighed: "so… it was John who taught you this?"

"Yes. H-He didn't mean any harm!" Desdemona exclaimed in his defense. "I know he's out there, outside the door… I see him! Uncle John!" Her call led him to enter the room, but Elijah held his hand up, stopping him dead in his tracks with concilium even stronger than what he possessed himself. John just froze like a statue, his eyes fixed on Elijah.

"You stay away from her if you know what's good for you," he hissed.

"Father! Please!" his daughter begged. "Stop it!"

Elijah felt a resistance in his powers, almost as if they were negated the moment that his daughter told him to stop. He was King and, by default, Supreme of the Salem descendants, a powerful warlock on top of his demonic heritage. How could his daughter, only four and a half, be capable of negating such potent powers? John, realizing he was released by this magical maneuver, looked at his niece with shock. Did she seriously just do that, he thought.

"Satis! Enough!" Melanie said, raising her hand and bringing everyone in the room to attention. "Desdemona, we are going home. As for you, John, we will discuss this once she has fully recovered from this horrifying ordeal."

"Yeah, stay away from my daughter," Elijah lashed.

As Anathem walked away with a 'I'm-not-sorry-for-you' face, John shook his head and looked down. He's out of his mind, he thought.

"Elijah, come to bed."

He had been looking out the window down at the sanctuary below, seeing the imitation of a night sky in the wide, colossal window that provided a degree of light and temperature from the outside world in addition to the mechanisms that regulated all of those things inside. He watched the people down below, talking and walking about in order to get to their suites for the evening. He looked to his Queen, her bright blue eyes shining up at him as she leaned on his shoulder. She was wearing no makeup, and her skin positively glowed with radiance despite her physical age. He was wearing a black silk nightgown, which he turned around and felt the softness of when he put his hands on her hips.

"I will," he said. "I just have so much on my mind, about Dessi."

"She is alive. She's fine," Melanie said reassuringly as she put her hand on his cheek. He leaned against it and closed his eyes; "do you really think John would harm a hair on her head? He'd be crazy to, after what we put him through those years ago."

Elijah sighed before replying: "he is a dog and will fuck anything that moves. That part has not changed about him. He'll even do his own sister."

Melanie chuckled at the irony of his statement: "I can say the same for you."

As she winked, he shook his head and smiled, wanting to laugh: "that may be true in actuality but… in my mind, you are not my sister. You are my love."

He planted a kiss on her lips before he swiftly carried her bridal style. She gasped at the surprise gesture, and he held her effortlessly until he reached their shared bed in the master bedroom, laying her down first and looking deeply into her eyes. She sighed, caressing his face and then smoothing out the side of his hair with her fingers. He reached to pull the black bedsheets over his Queen; putting her in bed first was something he always did before going in to join her himself.

"Are you comfortable, my Queen?" he asked.

"Yes," she nodded. "Thank you."

"No need," he said, kissing her cheek affectionately. "I'm… sorry about earlier. I lost my temper. I was so worried about Dessi."

"I understand," Melanie said, holding his hand, "don't be sorry. I was very saddened by what happened."

"As was I but… Dessi, since the day she was born, I promised myself that I would look over her and protect her, as I read a good father should do. As for Anathem, I did not get the same feeling about him because when he was born, I knew he was strong. It's probably because… Dessi is still so young and innocent and has so much left to learn. I want her to preserve that for as long as she can."

"Well," Melanie began, attentively listening to her consort, "she is growing up, and like our kind does, she is growing up fast. We will need to give her the talk at some point."

"I'm not ready for this."

"It may be time. After all, I was younger than she when my father told me," she said to him. "One thing I could praise my father for? He didn't sugarcoat anything."

"I know one thing that's like sugar," he smirked, making lustful eye contact alternating between her eyes and her neck. "It's you…" He leaned down to kiss her neck, which made her moan softly with pleasure. She heard him whisper with ecstatic excitement: "please, let me taste you… let me drink from your fountain of life…"

"Hm… as much as I'd love that," Melanie said, meeting her eyes with his, "I am very tired. You need rest as well."

Elijah bit his lower lip and get beside her in the bed, under the sheets and cuddled up against her, whispering in her ear as he planted a kiss on her earlobe: "you torture me so sweetly… I would leave a kiss on your heart, and one much lower down… much lower…" His voice turned into a purr as he closed his eyes: "I would pepper you with a million kisses as burning as if under the equator."

He opened his eyes to see his very-comfortable Queen had practically drifted off to sleep. He caressed her upper arm with his fingertips, entranced by the softness of her skin as he rested his head back down on the pillow, feeling his soul practically leave his body as he delved into the deepest recesses of sleep.

A/N:

Note, what Elijah says toward the end ("I would leave a kiss on your heart, and one much lower down… much lower…" & "I would pepper you with a million kisses as burning as if under the equator") is actually a reference to the love letters Napoleon, French emperor, exchanged with his lover-turned-wife-turned-empress Joséphine.

From this point in the story, the real shit starts to happen. Without spoiling too much, next chapter will be exciting! Just wait and see, stay tuned!