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Alfie fidgeted under the raven's stare.

"Corbierre doesn't like vermin." Victor told him.

Alfie cast an offended look at Eddie, who, in return, smiled in amusement.

"Victor, my parents told me about a man that slaughtered hundreds of people—"

"Rufus."

Jerome blinked. "Rufus?"

Victor turned to him, stroking the back of his raven's neck gently with the tips of his fingers. "The man's name is Rufus."

"Do you know anything about him?" Eddie asked.

"I know that he's alive. I also know that he must be stopped before he can get what he wants."

"You know what he wants? How?" Jerome pressed.

"He and I had the same goal once: to live forever."

"How is something like that possible? Magic?"

Victor grumbled under his breath and lifted a thick book off his desk in the middle of the room. He held it out to Jerome. "Everything you need to know is in this book."

Jerome looked down at the brown cover as he took it from the old man, reading the title to himself: The Book of Isis.

"Now leave me."

Jerome passed the book over to Alfie. "Why can't you just tell us everything yourself?"

"There's too much to say and not enough time."

"How do we stop him?"

"The book will tell you everything." Victor repeated. "Get out."

Jerome remained where he was as Eddie and Alfie left the hut with the book.

"Can you read Egyptian?" Alfie asked Eddie, looking over the pages of the book.

"No. Can you?" Eddie wondered in response.

"I'm afraid not."

"Then we are at an impasse."

"Indeed."

Jerome licked his thin lips, blocking out Eddie and Alfie's conversation, and taking a cautious step closer to Victor as the man prepared tea for himself. "Victor, what do you know about Azazel of Krodel?"

Victor's movements froze for a moment before he continued, tensely. "What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into that you've heard that dreadful name?"

"How I heard it is irrelevant. I want to know where I can find him."

Victor sat at his desk with his tea and clasped his hands together. "I advise against seeking him out. I dare say that he is far more dangerous than Rufus."

"Rufus has murdered hundreds of people." Jerome argued.

"Azazel has slain thousands more."

Jerome dragged a hand through his blonde hair in aggravation.

Victor pinched the bridge of his nose as if it pained him to think of Jerome confronting Azazel. "Tonight, he'll be at the pub in town. He won't be there any earlier than seven o'clock."

Jerome nodded once. "Thank you."

When the door to Poppy's bedchamber swung open, Dante whipped around and rushed forward to help Poppy off the floor after a soldier at pushed her into the room. He glared at the guard, but before he could yell at him, Poppy had slapped his hands away from her.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, picking herself up. She quickly lengthened the distance between them, gripping the silky curtain that covered her bed for comfort.

"Poppy, my uncle is a very powerful man. I had to do as he said."

"You're the king," Poppy said, bravely meeting his eyes. "You have more power than he does."

"You do not know him, love. He always finds a way to get what he wants. He cuts down anyone that gets in his way. I did this to protect you."

"Protect me?" Poppy repeated incredulously. "This is your idea of protection?"

"I—" He froze, his brown eyes widening as he looked down at her.

Poppy dropped her hand to her side, her palm stinging after it connected with Dante's cheek. "You're a coward. You lied to me. Send me back to the dungeon, I don't ever want to see you again. I hate you."

Dante walked away from her, stopping in front of the window that overlooked the ocean beneath the cliff the palace sat upon. He called for the guard that had brought Poppy up from the dungeon and ordered her to be returned to her cell.

Against his better judgement, he cast one more look at her as she was led out of the room.

The betrayal in the blue-green eyes he adored sucked the breath out of his lungs.

Victor glanced at the clock on his wall. A quarter past six. A knock on his door caught his attention.

"You don't have to knock, Azazel." Victor called out in annoyance.

The door opened, revealing a smirking Azazel with his sword drawn. "Victor, how nice to see you again."

"You need a sword to kill me?"

"Of course not. That is rather impersonal after all." Azazel thrust his sword into air, successfully spearing Corbierre when the bird had attempted to attack him.

Victor couldn't stop himself from flinching when he watched his beloved raven die.

Azazel unceremoniously flicked his sword to the side, causing the bird to fly off the blade and smack into the wall before falling to the floor. "I always hated that blasted bird."

Victor didn't take his eyes off Azazel's glowing ones as the man made his way up to him. He clutched his necklace in one hand and placed the other on the back of Victor's chair, leaning closer to him. "Any last words, old man?"

Victor opened his mouth to say something, but he hacked violently instead. His hands shot up to his neck as blood rushed up his throat.

"Well, nothing important ever did come out of your mouth anyway." Azazel said, watching as Victor coughed out some of the blood that gurgled in his throat. His head fell back on his shoulders, his blood staining his face and beard, dripping onto the floor as he stared lifelessly at the wall.

"Poppy, it's okay to cry." Amber assured the young girl while they all stood in a damp, dirty cell in the palace's dungeon.

"I don't want to cry over him." Poppy sniffed stubbornly. "Besides, we have to figure out how we're going to get out of this."

Mara took a deep breath and let it slowly. "Jerome won't be back for several days, I'm sure."

"Then it's up to us." Patricia shrugged, gripping the bars on the cell door. She looked down both ends of the hallway. "We're the only ones down here. There are no soldiers around. We could easily make it to the door."

"We need to get out first." Amber pointed out.

"The one single day you decide not to pin your hair back, Amber." Patricia said with a roll of her eyes.

"Well, please excuse me, Patricia, but being thrown into a dungeon cell was not on my schedule." She replied snippily.

"Let's not fight." Mara cut in quickly.

"Let's focus on what we do have, rather than what he don't." Poppy added.

"KT," Patricia realized, "She's still upstairs. She must have an idea to get us out."

"If she's still alive." Amber stated softly before she could stop herself.

Patricia glared at her harshly. "She's not dead. It seemed like those men were killing anyone that got in there way. KT's smart. She wouldn't have tried to stop them on her own."

"So we just wait for KT to break us out?" Poppy guessed.

"Exactly. I have complete faith in her."

Azazel looked up slowly when someone sat across from him at the tavern table and a pleased smile crept onto his face. "Prince, what a pleasant surprise."

Jerome's expression was hard and cold as he stared at him, leaning back in the chair, and blocking out the sound of laughter and cheerful chatter from the other patrons behind him.

"What can I do for you?" Azazel asked when he realized Jerome wasn't going to say anything.

"I want to know why you killed my parents."

Azazel's black eyebrows rose and he let out a chuckle. "I would tell you. For a price."

Jerome rolled his eyes at the older man's suggestive wink and unsheathed his sword, lifting the tip to hover centimeters from Azazel's long neck. "How about your life?"

Azazel's blood red eyes narrowed. "Oh, darling, you are so for out of your depth," he spoke menacingly.

"You don't care if you die?" Jerome asked, ignoring the threat. The end of his sword made contact with Azazel's neck.

"I don't mind it," he shrugged a shoulder. "It hurts a little and if you don't bathe straight after you begin to smell like, well, death, which despite the thrill of both experiencing it and inflicting it upon another person, it has a rather unpleasant aroma."

"You're testing my patience, Azazel. Tell me. Why did you kill my parents?"

Azazel winced a little when Jerome pushed the sword harder against his neck, breaking the skin, and blood leaked from the wound, racing down his deathly pale neck, staining the collar of the dark blue shirt he wore. "Since you asked so nicely, I'll tell you that I didn't kill them just to feel their blood against my skin—"

"Why?" Jerome growled.

Azazel sighed when he was interrupted and then continued, "I'm an assassin for hire, Prince. I was hired to assassinate the King and Queen of Legayn."

"Who hired you?"

"Now that is information I can never disclose—ow—" he grunted, glaring at Jerome harshly. Before the other could even blink, Azazel wrapped his hand around the blade of the sword. Blood spilled from his cut palm and fingers and dripped onto the table as he stood, ripping the weapon out of Jerome's grip. He swiftly swung the sword around to touch the tip to Jerome's neck. "I told you: you're out of your depth. You have no idea who you are dealing with. Didn't your parents tell you about me?"

Jerome shrugged indifferently, regardless of the sword at his neck. "I guess you're not as famous as you thought."

Azazel smirked, feeling the buzz of energy that filled his head when his eyes began to glow. He saw Jerome's jaw tighten at the sight. Azazel lowered the blade and set it down in the middle of the table. He breathed out slowly as he sat himself back down in the chair and locked eyes with Jerome as they faded back to their abnormal red. "My client and I performed a blood oath to keep their identity a secret, as I do with all of my clients. It keeps them, and more importantly, me, safe."

"Tell me and I won't kill you." Jerome said, leaning forward on his elbows.

Azazel smiled bitterly. "If I do tell you, you won't have to kill me."

"Blood oaths are just over exaggerated promises. You can tell me."

"No, I can't. If you had done your research before you came in here and threatened me, you would know that when one partakes in a blood oath with Azazel of Krodel, it's real. The consequences of breaking that oath will happen."

"What will happen if you tell me?"

"My client will have the ability to kill me."

"I have the ability to kill you." Jerome said tiredly, his right hand twitching atop his knee.

"I don't think you have it in you," Azazel said, and gasped in shock when Jerome's sword speared his chest.

Jerome didn't even flinch when he twisted the blade and met Azazel's eyes. "I think you're wrong."

I wrote the last scene weeks ago. I'm obsessed with Azazel. I don't remember how I got the idea for his character...

Thanks for reading, loves! :*

"Rooms full of trophies of all the victims before me. Nothing left but the bones stacked up like a collection. You got me smothered in bliss, you suffocate with a kiss. You take away all the fight, then bring me down to submission." -House of Chains, Apocalyptica (from My Love Will Not Let You Down - Inspiration Playlist on Spotify - check it out!)

-Rachel