A vast, sinister shadow descended upon Paris, a sepulchral fog which covered the city in a stygian gloom. Shrieking, spitting, and hissing, Hell's finest dove into France's renowned capital, prepared to prey upon its unsuspecting inhabitants.

At the vanguard of this demon-invasion soared a giant monstrosity. Adorned in glimmering accoutrement, the beast fell upon his earthly principality like a humungous jeweled, black bat swooping down upon his prey. His muscular hide tensed and flexed as he caught sight of his designated palace.

Summoning another demon to his side, the two evil spirits alighted upon the Château d'Ermenonville, while the remaining demonic legion plummeted into Paris, bloodthirsty and eager to establish a Luciferian Empire.

-----()-----

'Thou must swear to reveal to thy new chief all thou shalt have heard, learned and discovered, and also to seek after and spy into things that might have otherwise escaped thy notice,' a feeble voice quivered, 'and finally, to avoid all temptation to betray what thou has now heard.'

The old man, holding a black book, gazed eerily upon the new inductee. 'Lightning does not strike so quickly as the dagger which will reach thee wherever thou mayest be,' he finally breathed. 'Dost thou swear it?'

'I do swear it.'

'Open thine eyes.'

The young gentleman could not have been more than thirty-five. He blinked his eyes open, revealing a hazel green which glinted of intelligence. He was a handsome gentleman despite his flat forehead, had sensuously curved lips and a fair countenance. His apparel was noticeably republican; only the cravat and the undershirt were white.

Another gentleman, crowned with a Cadogan wig, plump in appearance, took the younger by the hand. 'Maximilien François Marie Isidore de Robespierre,' he announced with a theatrical flourish, 'welcome to the Secret Committee of United Friends.' A polite smattering of applause ensued.

'Thank you, Count Mirabeau.'

'Do not thank me!' the rotund French count laughed, raising his thin eyebrows. 'Thank your Rex! What an honor it is that the founder of our doctrine should initiate you into our society!'

The aged supervisor of the initiation placed the book back in its iron box. 'Quite unnecessary,' he said, as Robespierre reached for his hand. 'I should thank you, Monsieur Robespierre.' The old man sat down at the head of the long, polished table. 'You are helping to establish something I began a little less than twenty years ago—a universal dominion of Reason.'

'I do what I can to aid the movement of progress, Frater Spartacus,' the lawyer returned.

'Indeed,' the Rex smiled, 'and that is why we have some very important business to attend to.'

He motioned the conspirators to the long table. The chamber, though not large, was actually quite pleasant, in spite of the heavy darkness. Even in the candlelight the observer could perceive ornate light fixtures, elegant furniture, and burgundy-curtained windows which allowed a fair prospect of the large pond surrounding the château.

Yet, with all of the beauty of the salon, gruesome shadows slithered along its walls, hissing and cackling, their bulging yellow eyes glowing, relishing the ignorance of these truth-seeking scholars. Their talons sunk deep into the minds of the intellectuals and the demons whispered words of sweet deception softly into their eager ears. How weak the human mind is!

All at once, the atmosphere grew deathly still. Fortunately for the Committee, only the demons noticed it.

'Be silent and remain by your host,' a deep, sibilant voice boomed out of the darkness.

The commanded dared not move in their terror. A tall silhouette emerged out of the gloom, its talons clicking on the polished floor.

'Gentlemen,' it spoke again, gesturing behind him, 'Ba-al Raghvar, Prince of Paris.'

And the prince came forth, imposing and stately, his ebony hair caressing his shoulders and back, and his massive leathery wings fell down behind him like a royal train. His face, now revealed, retained some of its previous humanistic qualities, but there was no question of its distortion; Raghvar was, after all, a grotesquely deformed angel.

The remaining spirits, still quivering in fear, attempted to make their obeisance, but the Prince of Paris held up his hand. 'No need—I see you are all working very diligently.' His black eyes bore into each of their yellow ones as his large talon tapped his decorative hilt. Raghvar smiled hideously as he watched his underlings eyeball the prince's scabbard, inching away as best they could, while tightly clinging to their hosts.

'Asmodeus,' the demon prince said finally, turning to his accompaniment. 'See to Paris for the moment, while I supervise this discussion.'

'Yes, my Ba-al.'

'The meeting could occur at any moment. I expect a full account of the necessary details upon its conclusion.'

'It as you command, my Ba-al.'

With a powerful beat of his expansive black wings, Asmodeus shot through the roof and into the menacing pall of night.

-----()-----

With horror flickering in his sea-gray eyes, Rafael watched the demon of wrath rush towards Paris. He had seen the two spirits depart from the unearthly shadow to Ermenonville, and the archangel followed them there, disguised. Rafael had hardly reached the woods skirting the pond when the giant spirit took off.

'What in Heaven's name..!' he murmured, lifting his felt hat. 'A demon that size could possibly take on Kael in his unglorified state—!'

The archangel never fully finished his thought, but hastily took up his iron cane and ran back to Paris as quickly as his non-ethereal constitution would allow him.

Kael, what will they do to you?

-----()-----

'Now, where were we…the American Project, I think,' the Rex continued. He turned to a dimly lit figure at the opposite end of the long table. 'Well, I see that our expert has graced us here with his rare presence,' he said. 'Monsieur Robespierre, allow me to introduce you to Count Alessandro de Cagliostro. He is blessed with great power.'

The Italian count rose from his chair and bowed, his fleshy face affable and pleasant, but his sapphire eyes were narrow and gleamed with malevolence. Robespierre stood and bowed in return.

'How far are we coming along on that independent continent?' the Rex queried somewhat mockingly, folding his hands together.

'As of yet, our doctrine has made its way into 200,000 lodges throughout Europe and America,' Cagliostro replied in his distinct Italian accent. 'I have been informed that the American Masonic lodges have been so effectively infiltrated that some are beginning to call themselves "the French Revolutionary Club."' He allowed a quiet chuckle to escape his lips. 'But that progress is also largely due to our American friend, who has just recently returned to his home in Virginia.'

'Excellent,' the Rex nodded, quite pleased. The elderly gentleman then turned to the newest member, and placed his hand paternally on his arm. 'I think now, Robespierre,' he said, 'I can commend you to lead this monumental revolution.'

'It would be an honor, my Rex.'