Chapter 10: Through the Looking Glass
Tenth Entry
When we fled the Canyons when the migrating demonic wasps came, we had to leave most of what we have gathered over the years: clothes (from the hides of those I've killed), digging tools, bowls and some containers, weapons and some primitive utensils I've managed to scrape together. Unfortunately, a set of my journal was also among those left behind. All that remains of it now is the first entry which I, for reasons of comfort and sentiment, have kept inside my clothes as a source of nostalgia, perhaps a memento of what I had done to be here, and this, the latest installment.
Steven is now around four to six years old. The boy is greatness itself. His mind is incredibly sharp: his memory precise and photographic. The skills and training that I am giving him is bearing fruit wonderfully. He has killed many demons in these canyons, taking their flesh as clothing, their meat as food and their claws and jaws as trophies. If Angelus were here he would probably be as proud as I am of the boy, though I hate myself for thinking such thoughts. All these happened in the canyon. We are now walking at a relentless pace through a jungle. There are no fruit trees but there are plenty of demons to eat here.
It's been almost two months since we have entered this jungle. It is the vilest place I've known, worse than the canyon; poisonous insects everywhere, plants and trees that secrete noxious gas, demons that are shaped like monkeys; and the perpetual droplets of poisonous water from the canopy of leaves that secrete them. We adapted to our new home. It is here that I continued Steven's training. Expanding his combat skills and weapons training, tracking (by tying him to trees and forcing him to hunt me down), traps and medical aid. These sessions were enjoyable - Good times.
Beyond fighting, regardless of the impracticality of it, I also endeavored to teach him the European classics, which I can recall up to a point. I taught him how to read by tracing words on the ground as well as mathematics and other sciences. He learns but I'm afraid he does so to please me, and given that there is no use for Locke or an Aquinas in killing demons, I cannot say I can blame him. He is more interested in fighting and hunting, and given the circumstances in this damned place, I cannot blame him. But nevertheless I continue to teach him about the civilizations of man. He will need it someday… when we return.
Innocence and brutality is a cosmic mixture within the boy. Despite our happi… contentment (is a better word) in this place, everything is dangerous. It was not a place to live. It was place of death and killing! And yet heaven shines even in hell, for bad as all these may seem, our timing in being here was also fortuitous, because for the first time we have encountered a demon that seemed capable of talking.
It was incredible and provident.
The boy wanted to eat it but I, of course, restrained him. (Ah, Youth!) I captured the demon, small and hardly bigger than Steven, and brought it back to camp. I wanted to know what it knows. Time spent in a canyon full of primitive demons has caused me to think that Quartoth had no intelligent demons at all. Apparently, I was wrong.
It took only, probably, a few days to learn the demon's language. Yes, my mind is very sharp just like Steven's - I say this now without vanity, simply a fact. The demon was very open to us because of my cunning – that and torture.
The creature spoke a language that it claimed was spoken by the most powerful demons in this world – Kluthu'kar, it said. It seems that beyond this forest there are several mountains that hide a number of cities beyond it, cities that are built by the demons of this damned world. In addition to the geography, it also told us many things – customs, legends, ideas and who and what had the power - all of which was evil and foul.
I did not know what all the information garnered meant for me and Steven, but I was fairly certain that we had to know about these places and their inhabitants. The knowledge gained from such a place may be crucial to our very survival. And so, on the next day, we packed camp and started out of the jungle, much to Steven's chagrin. He wanted to hunt down more monkey-like demons inhabiting thick-trunk trees around here.
The demon we captured? I'm wearing it now.
Stanford
The memories of Quartoth were becoming more vivid with each passing day. Earthquakes. Brimstone and fire raining ceaselessly from the sky. Plague filled poison swamps. Demonic Beasts that devoured each other, maiming and destroying in an orgasmic frenzy of lustful joy. Dark, demon cities, where torture was art and warlock sorcery, a religion.
Blood sacrifices. Demonic plagues. Beautiful, twisted corruptions that consumed the mind until there was only husks of madness. Archaic Demon proto-languages spoken to summon a sky of destruction. Plagues flowed like rivers into the lungs knocking out every sensation of life. Curses, markings, potions, enchantments. The stuff of life in a world that twisted it into macabre abominations. That was Connor's legacy. The legacy of the Destroyer.
He remembered them all. And now he remembered the darkness of the calamities of destructions. Los Angeles. This world, not Quartoth, was having disasters that he saw only in Quartoth or at the very least, other hell worlds. The earthquakes, hurricanes and storms - they were spells. Dark, demonic spells! He knew it somehow. They were small, but he knew in his gut what they were. It was calling out to an innate knowledge within him, leading all the way back to when he first embraced his dark heritage to survive.
Demons were causing these calamities and they were spreading exponentially. They could be dismissed as small for now, but in a few more weeks, days…
Connor snapped his eyes wide open. "Oh my God!"
He looked at the TV. An earthquake had recently hit Yokohama, Japan. On other channels there were hurricanes and storms. They reported one thing: massive and indiscriminate infrastructure damage.
"There's nothing indiscriminate about these attacks," He muttered.
Connor grabbed his coat and made for the door. He needed to take a walk. Lose himself and stop thinking. He knew that it was only a matter of days until these calamities will grow to biblical proportions and once it did, the invasion would begin. He had seen a dozen of these cases in Quartoth. Demon factions used to do them against one another all the time. But here?
What did that guy call the army again? he asked himself. The Horde, I think.
I have to do something. Hiding my head in the ground is not going to solve anything. The next attack is coming and it's close here in California. I have to do something. I have to warn my family. That's the best I can do for now. That, and hope that the Slayers and Angel, if he's still alive, and guys like him will be able to stop it.
Warn my family! What about the other? What about Tracey? And my roommates? And my neighbors? And my friends? And all the people I've known all my life? What about them?
But what am I going to say? "Hey, everybody! See those disasters on the news? They're actually a demonic conspiracy that's planned for an upcoming apocalyptic invasion." Smart solution Reilly, you idiot!
I have to do something, though. I could follow wherever this is coming from and…
And what? You'll go all Destroyer? Maybe if I find this then…then maybe I'll know what to do next.
I promised myself I would just walk away. Finding Angel was a bust. So why am I sticking my neck out again, like a moron! Yet here I am again, walking straight into that same life I promised myself I would walk away from. Terminal insanity? Maybe. After all, I'm supposed to be half Irish.
"See Connor, you can't walk away."
Connor looked back at the familiar voice. Angel smiled warmly at him and just like that the image blurred into Darla and back to Angel. Connor slowly closed the door, forgetting that he wanted to go out.
"The First?"
The image nodded.
"What happened to Darla?"
"Oh, I figured you were too much of a momma's boy, so I decided on a more masculine theme this time."
I'm delirious. "So First huh? You a Demon? An Angel? Or just another one of the voices in my head."
The image laughed. "Oh, More than that."
"Higher being?"
"If you want to look at it that way."
"Great. More of those! Look, I have Comparative Literature in about half an hour and I haven't really slept well last night. So if you don't mind… Go away."
"Hmmm… I don't think sleep is what you need right now or you wouldn't be going out to have another one of your 'walk and argue with yourself.' Certainly not with all those things circling around your head these days. Plagues, demons, Quar'toth and all. You know what's coming, son."
"Not your son."
"I know but I like to get into character. You know it's coming, because you happen to be the best at it in that wonderful place called Qu... Hmm. The Destroyer."
"Don't remind me!"
"Oh but you need to hear this. After all, you're not exactly human."
"No, but I'm not a demon either!"
"Course, not slick! Well, not the variety we have here or any other place. But make no mistake you are one. You're a new model… and I'm just getting hives all over my hiney thinking of what you can do."
Connor was suddenly alarmed. He didn't know what he is. Holtz didn't know either; neither did anybody or anything in Quar'toth. "I'm listening. But if this goes back to that abomination crap… you'd better hope you're non-corporeal enough to continue to exist."
The Angel image laughed. "You know what, Holtz taught you to hate demons, evil and all of that lily white Puritan Protestant horse shit but what he was really doing was teaching you to hate yourself."
"Point?"
"You're a demon, Connor. Holtz knew this. But as I've said before that's not why you're special. And the answer lies not with you being a demon but with the nature of your birth.
Most demons on this earth cannot be here in their pure form. Vampires? Scary with fangs and their faces." Angel/First put on his game face and then reverted back again. "Oh, believe me they look a lot scarier in their purer form and greener too. So there are the impure manifested demons that kill and maim on a daily basis. And then there are pure demons. Demons like…"
"You."
"More than that. Don't you even want me to finish?"
"Two kinds of demons on this world. I'm special. Got it. Sorry, but my mommy told me not to listen to Satan." Connor started to walk away from the First.
The First laughed. "Then you won't know how you break the rules!"
Connor stopped. "Break what rules?"
"The rules that govern pure demons and the impure manifested ones."
Connor raised an eyebrow.
"The demons that are here must play by our rules. Corporeal manifestation. Limits. Weaknesses. Even death. Vampires can be destroyed. So can werewolves. Et cetera, et cetera. While higher demons must content themselves to playing from a higher plane they also can't be destroyed, like Wolfram and Hart. But sometimes, things overlap. A pure being, let's say Jasmine…" Connor winced at the mention of the name. "Cannot manifest themselves into this world without corrupting their essence. In order to play in this world, demons have to submit themselves to its limits, to its laws, thus becoming impure, like vampires. And when I say impure I mean weaknesses. Reduced powers. Sensations. Et cetera. In short, a demon cannot be pure while in this world. But you…"
"Are a paradox."
"Bingo! You have all the powers of a hell god. It's still at its infancy mind you, but it is growing. It's not weakening or affected by laws. It destroys them. When you killed Jasmine… When you punched that hole into her head… I knew that old warlock training was still there! That particular pure entity could only have been killed by another pure entity, by you. And, you also brought her here! You sired her! A first in our history! Sure, she was weakened, but oh! You gave her a nice big visa so that she could visit this place!" The image fluctuated a bit, as if in joy.
"You, kiddo, were the only weakness that Jasmine ever really had. She needed you to father her but at the same time you were the one true danger to her as well. People like her… Well not really people but you get where I'm going, right? People like her don't worry about death. Hell, death is their bitch. They can snap their fingers like that and it's done. You know why? Because it's their game. It's their rules. And they can change it and screw it and twist it however they want, whenever they want.
"Oh ho, but you? You're beyond their rules. You're beyond their reach. And they can't really control you or alter your destiny. That's why Sahjahn feared you. That's why Jasmine wanted you on her side because you were the only thing on this green earth that could destroy her. Even when Angel bargained for your memories, he and those idiots, the senior partners, couldn't really control you. And why? Because you are unstable and unpredictable! And you surprised us all up there quite handily."
"Then I went psycho!" Connor said deadpan.
"Yeah, that was kinda stupid."
"Since you seem to know a lot. Care to explain what I am? How I'm supposed to be an anomaly."
"Love to." The first walked around and tried to take an academic look. "Remember those old writings you found in your father's stuff? Well, my stuff." The image gestured at its current form. "There was a passage there regarding how you would not be born. And it came true but that wasn't the punch line. Those weren't really prophecies. As I've said before, you really are unprecedented and so the prophecies about you… are not really prophecies so much as they are really more of descriptions of your nature. Like 'abominations can't exist so they can't be born.' So you got a prophecy dash descriptive crap written about that aspect of your nature. 'The child will not be born.' But you overcame that little obstacle didn't you? Darla staked herself and well… That much I can tell you and as for the rest, like Sahjahn's crap, they're just lies fabricated by craven creatures afraid of you. To try and manipulate what you believe and the belief of people around you. Oh and speaking of Sahjahn, whatever happened to that guy's head anyway?"
Connor winced and tried to look away.
"Oh, right you buried it in your backyard. Just couldn't resist the temptation, huh?"
"It wasn't like that."
"Hey… not judging. But you gotta admire that old Quartoth training. Keeps popping up when you least expect it. Anyhoo, those predictions you've taken are not really predictions, strictly speaking, but more like qualifications, that guys like you," the First pointed a finger at Connor, "need to meet in order to be a full pledged freak show. And so those little books and writings in their fancy shmancy archaic demon crap, won't really tell you about your future, they are really designed to identify an abomination slash anomaly and give it a full encyclopedia report. And you kiddo fit the profile cut and paste."
"What does this have to do with anything?"
"It has to do with everything! Weren't you listening to me? God! You kids these days! For example, you were not born. Darla killed herself and turned to ash and dust and 'poof!' you! Not born. Want another example? How about you not being human and at the same time not being demon. Higher beings and pure primal demons like Jasmine can't manifest themselves into this world as matter of cosmic law. Yet you managed to break through that law and fathered her! Pure demons cannot be killed, yet Jasmine got a hole in her head because of you! Are you listening? I don't want to have to repeat myself again!
"Sahjahn, a demon that can cheat death, travel through time and alter destiny can't even escape death from your hands, can't predict how you were going to kill him and thus, you know… killed him. You're the first pure demon born into a world where only impure, weakened demons can exist. You are unprecedented, a neo demon! You cannot be corrupted or controlled by this world's laws. You couldn't be diminished. You are pure and eternal. Unbound by destiny or fate, free to create your own destiny and empire! If that's what you want. You cannot be controlled by prophecies and the oracle can't see what you will do next.
You are a pure born demon, by nature of fulfilling all the qualifications of a paradox, and yet you are here, in this corrupt, diminished world that saps the powers of any pure demon that enters it, pure as any higher evil. Whether you like it or not you are bound into this world! If you are willing to accept it."
"I'm not a hell god," Connor said flatly.
"Not yet," The First answered.
"But I'm also free to walk away."
The First looked angry. "No one can control your destiny. No one can manipulate your road or lock you to certain choices. But you don't live in a vacuum boy! Think of your darling family."
"Stay away from them!"
The First laughed and suddenly looked afraid. "Your mood seems to be a little hostile. I think I'd better leave. After all, you're about to get real busy."
"Wait! Why are you telling me this? Do you think you can control me by giving me information? Think again!"
"Kiddo. I know you're going to try and fight off those demons creating those little quakes and diseases. And because you've chosen to do that… means you are serving my will." The image of Angel laughed then disappeared. It was right.
Connor didn't know whether to believe it or not; to listen or not. But his worst fears had been confirmed, and for the First or whatever it was, planting the seed was enough.
Eleventh Entry
I have had little chance to write. I beg forgiveness.
It's been almost two years now. At least, it feels that way. Steven certainly looks two years older (and his eyes seem to say that he is older than that). The jungle was bigger than expected by the way, which I later learned was called the land of perpetual sorrow. The climbing of the mountains was difficult in comparison, especially since it was full of ice at the top. The long trek was time consuming and, usually, Steven and I would pitch camp somewhere on the mountains to rest.
It was during these quiet times that I taught him about his father, Angelus and his mother, the whore known as Darla. He was pained just as I was pained by the stories I told him: He, by the realization that he was as foul as the darkness that he had fought and killed since his earliest memories and I, for hurting him through my words.
But truth is truth and I will not embellish it. Which is why I told him that I was using him to kill his real father, a painful and cynical enterprise with no foreseeable outcome. To my great relief, Steven said: "I know. It is part of the darkness that I must face."
I was encouraged by these words. I continued on with stories about my family, stories of his parent's atrocities and all the murky ambiguity that has come to rule my life since. It was painful to us both. When it became intolerable for me to recall the people I had lost, I would steer Steven's lessons to more familiar things – literature, history, philosophy and all the knowledge I had - just to take away the pain (I was also somewhat of an intellectual and I was glad that my memory was still dependable that I may impart these to the boy). I think Steven knew the reason when I digress and I am most grateful to him for not mentioning anything.
The weeks spent climbing the mountain were the happiest days I had with my surrogate son. True, it was dangerous and life threatening but I think that it was in these quiet moments that I and Steven truly began to bond as father and son.
I taught him as we climbed, as we slept, as we fought for our very lives. He learned many things during the climb, things that would enrich his mind and toughen his soul… a soul I hope is not of the darkness.
When Connor was only a child, his adopted father, Holtz sent him to powerful warlocks to study dark magic. The puritan fanatic didn't like it and neither did his son, Steven, but as with all things in Quartoth, it was necessary.
Connor would never forget his first lesson in the demonic city. It was about how dark energies flowed, how they went from one place to another - raw materials that could be focused and fashioned to create doom and destruction. In order to understand the powers of a warlock, one had to understand the darkness that flowed through them, negative energy created and unleashed into the world. A river, an ocean of demonic energy to tap, to mold into unimaginable power. Connor was special as a warlock in the sense that he didn't need to channel these dark energies. He had more than enough inside him.
So when news of disasters and calamities hit the TV. They may normally seem random. And they are, considering them rationally. Unfortunately, they were following a pattern that Connor had been feeling lately, a pattern of dark energy that he was connected to, yet not a part of. Demonic energy had been flowing with more intensity than usual and there were these events taking place. No coincidence there. That was what the calamities had in common; similar affinities to dark energy.
Connor made diagrams while still in his dorm room. The following morning he went back to LA. The energy had been forming nexuses and one of it was concentrated near the outskirts of Los Angeles. This meant that whatever was using this much concentrated mystical evil was making a lot of noise. They were also spread out all over the world but always near where a disaster will take place. All this wasn't so pressing, but for Connor finding a nexus near LA, the term 'choice' ran right out the window. His home was there, his friends and his family. They were there and it was about to be threatened. Hell was coming to town. It wanted the Destroyer back.
Connor followed the energy trail to a small abandoned warehouse near the waterfront in Santa Monica. Nothing conspicuous, but he was trained to see what others couldn't. And dark energy was really fertile. It was flowing freely but diverted onto this place to create the nexus. As he approached the place, he smelled about five or six demons and three people, female by their scent. Sacrifice! I have to do something. Connor followed the trail while laying low among the stacks of boxes and crates of the warehouse, dodging imaginary eyes that could be anywhere.
Connor slowly crawled to a big office on the second floor. He could hear chanting and a lot of it from different voices. He peeked into a large room and immediately saw a small passage leading underground. As he followed the path deeper and deeper to where the voices were, the sounds became clearer. The chanting was very familiar; they were concentrating dark energies for something big.
"The Dark Ones were. The Dark Ones are. The Dark Ones will be. Send forth your power and reclaim this world for thy needs."
What Connor saw at the end of the cavern was not meant for human eyes. Five short and seemingly fragile demons, dressed in cloaks were creating a dark cloud that seemed to be made of flesh over a cauldron of blood. Next to them were three girls, teenagers. One was bound, gagged and unconscious while the two appeared to be covered in a grayish brown demonic carapace.
At a signal from one of the demons one of the girls covered in scales raised a knife over their victim.
"Stop!" Connor jumped from his hiding spot. Oh real smart Reilly!
The demons and the two girls just looked at him for a moment and then the demons pounced on him while the two girls slit the victim's throat. Her blood spilled all over the floor and then markings brightened in the air then dissipated.
Like all the bad things that keep happening in my life, it starts out with a girl. I couldn't save her. I couldn't save Darla. The girl in the warehouse. Cordelia. Put down your guard for moment and you end up picking what's left of your body on the sidewalk, thinking how the hell you got there.
Connor easily fought off the demon cultists, hurting three of them quite handily before they escaped. The girls were covering their retreat. He was about to attack the two possessed girls when one of them punched him clear across the room. Connor blinked in incomprehension. These were human girls. He could tell by their smell and heartbeat. But the strength!
In about a second Connor was up and ready to fight back but soon found the two girls running away in fright. He wanted to follow but soon heard the footsteps of maybe two or three girls, judging from their smell, running into the empty room. Connor figured that two demonic girls kicking his ass was enough for one day. He found a place and hid. What he saw next was perplexing. Two girls entered first. They were carrying melee weapons of a sword and an axe.
Slayers, Connor thought.
"We're late," one of the girls said. "They already escaped."
"Room's cleared. They jumped before they could finish. Must have heard us coming here. Whoah. What happened here? Looks like there was fight." As the other Slayer said this, another girl went inside the room. This one was a brown haired girl, she was carrying a crossbow.
The girl with the crossbow leaned down and tried to examine the ritual that was just done. "Looks like we interrupted their little party. Whatever spell they were trying, it's gone now."
No, they've finished. But Connor didn't trust these girls, Slayer or not.
"Vi, what about Jessie? They slit her throat."
"Paula, shut up. And let me think. They got away. This means, they know about us being onto them. And this place looks like it was hit by a bus. Probably means someone is fighting them also. I don't know if that's good or bad but I'd better call Giles in London and see what he can do about Jessie and our situation."
One of the girls began to cry.
"Shell…" Vi tried to comfort the other Slayer.
"I'm sorry. It's just that…"
"Never saw a dead body before?"
The other girl shook her head. "I had dreams. I mean Slayer dreams but when you see it for real …"
"Shelley. I don't know, but you'll get used to it eventually. You're a Slayer. Start acting like one."
They talked some more while Connor slipped out. He now knew that Slayers were involved but something in his gut told him that even they were having trouble with what this thing is.
Demon warlock cults are trying to create concentrated disasters. Everybody's telling me to walk away. I still don't know what the hell happened to Angel. I get jumped in the oracular well. Bastards, from who knows where are running around telling me that a war is coming. Imaginary creatures calling themselves, the first, telling me things I had no idea about myself. People are trying to kill me. And now human sacrifices! Hell, and exams just finished.
Connor jumped from the warehouse's top floor and into the alley below. He was following the scent of the possessed girls to wherever it was they were going. The Slayers in the warehouse weren't following; probably because they were trying to deal with the corpse. Connor kept running until he reached a dead end with the scent.
"Dammit!"
Suddenly a memory of Quartoth imposed itself. The dark energy here. Magic! They used a portal to hide their tracks. Connor dug into his memory and suddenly remembered the incantation. It required dark energy but Connor refused to let his bigotry go beyond necessity.
Connor opened the portal that was only recently closed, it was hard but with the flick of his wrist it was done. It was dark and swirling with a dark reddish glow – black magic, alright. Connor suddenly felt sick at what he had done. He still couldn't believe that he was a warlock. But here was a portal that said he was.
As he stepped through the portal Connor saw a place that was stinking of demonic sorcery. He could feel it by just walking.
The cavern was having the same chanting that he had heard when he was still in the warehouse. The voices became louder. The whole escapade felt like being in a movie theater when you first enter it: Dark, Foreboding and oppressive on the senses.
As he kept walking, he tried to formulate a plan. The incantations were being directed from a specific geometrical positioning. That meant that who or whatever was doing this was keeping a map for making the targets. If he could get that map and hand it over to the watcher's council then maybe they could do something about it. Well, he was hoping they could do something about it.
He sneaked his way through the dark, cavernous portal, exploring what had happened to his quarry. To his surprise, he had found that the cavern at the end of the tunnel was full of demons cultists. He found none of the creatures he was looking for, but the spells that the ones present were unmistakable: They were creating a ground zero for some major disaster.
This was good, he thought, because then the map he was looking for would be nearby and with it, the geographical coordinates for the incantations. But where would they be kept?
Connor suddenly caught sight of what he was looking for: A large room with a bolt type door that clearly belonged to the head warlock. From his memories of Quortoth, Connor knew that all important texts by warlock cults were sequestered within the vaults of the highest leaders, a way of maintaining personal power. Connor was sure of what he knew and how to get what he wanted.
Connor began to draw a mystical sign on the ground, it glowed with demonic energy. Minutes later, there was a cloud of poisonous smoke all over the cavern.
The Ancients haven't contacted him. Urkonn hadn't contacted him. And Anash, the only Ancient that he knew and could freely approach, was gone. The evidence pointed to a certain conclusion but Lawin didn't want to jump into it until he had followed through with every detail. This meant, of course, exploring an option of following the symbol that Hyall drew with her last ounce of life.
The symbol was a dimensional incantation to open a portal into a demonic camp that was operating in a small magically created cavern. Warlocks and dark sorcerers used the cavern where they communed with demons from other dimensions.
Finding the portal and opening it had been difficult.
Lawin sneaked his way into the cavern in the form of a scorpion. When he found an opening and several armed guards he knew he had found what he was looking for. The cavern was small but was full of demonic markings and symbols, the kind that Lawin was warned about.
None of the demons seemed to notice Lawin as he skittered in his scorpion form into their lair. He wasn't really interested in what they were doing at the moment. He wanted answers and finding the quarters of the head warlock wasn't really that hard: It was the biggest.
But it was also sealed tight and guarded. Not a problem.
As Lawin crawled his way nearer to the door he kept hearing voices on the other side. Voices which he listened to, when he managed to get near a crack on the wall.
The voices were male.
"She's gone."
"Have you seen the body?"
"We destroyed the entire place, scoured her path with flames. Believe me, she is dead."
"You don't know her like I do. Her powers could easily overcome something as inconsequential as being digested."
Lawin didn't like what they were talking about. It felt as if they knew something he didn't. He knew he shouldn't but Lawin took a chance and sneaked his way through the crack. What he saw next drove him to rage and terror. Urkonn was seated nicely in front of the head warlock, looking very much like they were having afternoon tea.
"It's too bad Sebassis is no longer with us," Urkonn said. "He was so damned civilized that monster! An Enemy, yes but still so civilized. The Ancients didn't like dealing with the blackthorn but ah… necessities!"
"If Angel killed him, then Sebassis deserved to die." The warlock muttered. "Speaking of which, what happened to the damnable Vampire?"
"Dust, from what I heard. Good riddens, I say. The powers are too presumptuous with their pawns"
"Hmmm. Too bad we can't say the same with your young Scion."
"Don't worry about the boy. The little whelp will join Anash in hell soon enough, that is, if she was truly killed by your boorish friends."
"Don't imply things you'll regret Urkonn. Anash is dead, I said it once and I'll say it again."
It was official, Lawin thought, Rukash, his people and Urkonn had killed Anash.
"Besides," The head warlock continued. "It seems to me that you've failed to kill your quarry twice already. Rukash might not like the news of you being so inept. Remember, the boy is still the Scion. His powers of mystical manipulation might prove a liability in the long run."
Urkonn snarled. "The boy will die! Oh, he will die!"
"Well and good, Urkonn no one has questioned your commitment. But fortunately, that's no longer your problem now."
"What do you mean?" Urkonn flushed with rage but kept his temper in check.
"Vorathon, wants me to take charge of assassinating all the Ancients who would not side with Rukash, and when I say all, it includes your Scion."
"What!" Urkonn flared. "That's my job! This can't be happening!"
"Rukash already approves."
"I don't care what Rukash approves. You really think you could kill De la Vega? Do you have any idea what that boy is capable of? I should skin you alive for such stup…"
"Watch your mouth Urkonn. We may be allies now but you should not make the mistake of thinking we will stop trying to kill you or your masters. Just because we have this truce now doesn't mean we'll be friends forever. One day the fog will clear and you'd best think on where you'll be when that happens because wherever it is, it won't be pleasant…" The head warlock then smiled. "And besides, accidents tend to happen. Even Rukash cannot do anything about accidents, eh?" The head warlock was smiling slyly.
Urkonn laughed back. "You are amusing!" then he stood, indicating that he had enough. "But threaten me like that again and I'll…."
An explosion occurred from the outside of the head warlock's shelter.
"What was that?" The two shouted simultaneously.
When no one answered the head warlock summoned his orderly into his quarters.
"It's him!" the orderly answered breathlessly. "The Destroyer. It's here!"
"What!" The head warlock looked at Urkonn distressfully. "What's he doing here?"
"Ha Ha Ha! Oh ho. It seems our other boy just won't walk away. Good luck, Tuek. I'll see you later." Urkonn began to leave then added with a grin. "I'll see you again when you are less disposed. But in the event you might not make it, please appoint a successor soon. Perhaps he'll be more competent than you."
The head warlock snarled an insult at the departing Urkonn. But the demon didn't notice it; he sensed something suspicious in the surroundings and suddenly caught sight of the crack. Lawin skittered away and hoped that Urkonn hadn't seen him. The orange, horned demon squinted his eyes in unsuppressed suspicion.
The head warlock barked another curse at Urkonn and followed his men outside to fight the intruder.
Lawin scuttled away to get a view of what was happening. There was poisonous gas everywhere – demonic poisonous gas. He saw Connor on one side rampaging against a wall of demons. They were falling before him.
Lawin silently cursed Connor Reilly for disturbing his stake out and skittered away to the nearest exit, hoping that no one had seen him.