Bereft: Demise

13 | Of Bloody Demons

The downtown streets of Verweald were a miserable place to be on a rainy night. The clouds overhead mingled with the fuliginous plumes of smog to create a glum, starless sky. Water sluiced over the angular structures, striking the pavement with a rhythmic, violent beat. The puddles became rivers, and those rivers flowed into the deep gutters and covered causeways, stirring smells of decay, grease, and rot. 

It was cold for an early September eve in southern California, where the weather was typically mild and temperate. Balthier's breath left his mouth in white exhalations, his face and suit marred by the rain's constant onslaught. He could have stood beneath the awning of the bar's back door, but Balthier preferred the rain. 

It made him feel clean.

The door opened, issuing strains of unfiltered cigarette smoke and the drunken rumble of laughter. It was disreputable establishment brimming with filthy clientele. Loud music filled the alley for a moment, then the door shut, and Danyel swayed into the cool rain.

Balthier's contemplative mood disintegrated. "Danyel," he uttered, his voice striking the younger, inebriated Sin like a bucket of ice water. Danyel gasped and stumbled, falling against an overflowing dumpster, too drunk to rise. Balthier spat on the ground, disgusted by Greed's undignified display.

"I am amazed by how you grow every day, Danyel," Balthier said, lacing his words with cold, unfeeling charisma. Greed heard the sarcasm and straightened, extracting his arm from a sodden trash bag. "How you grow stupider and stupider."

"M-my lord Balthazar," Danyel stuttered, inhaling all the essence he could to sober his mind. The elder Sin waited outside the ring of light thrown by the bar's flickering fixture. The clear diamonds on his cufflinks sparked in the night. 

"It's Balthier," Envy sneered. "You do not have the right to speak my name." 

Danyel supplicated himself, planting his knees on the gritty concrete. "Yes, my lord. I apologize."

"I'm not sure what disgusts me more; your blind obedience or your vulgar habits." Balthier glanced at the bar's exit, then Greed's glassy eyes. It was nigh impossible for a monster of Balthier's status to become inebriated—but a youngling like Danyel could manage it if he all but drowned himself in spirits. "You slum with the mortals, emulate their practices and vices, then wonder why I find you so contemptible, Greed. You are a fool."

Balthier didn't know why he expected better of his brethren. Danyel was a fifth-born. The line separating him from the humans he hunted and despised was microscopic.

The Sin belittled the younger man and Greed did nothing to stop him.

"Well?" Envy demanded after a moment, putting aside his mounting dislike. "You summoned me here. Prove your audacity worthy of my attention or I will make short work of you, Danyel."

Greed swallowed, bowing his head to the pavement. His brown hair caught the rain and slumped over his narrow eyes. "My lord, you wished to know where Darius went with the m-mortal. I can tell you."

Balthier's brow rose. "Then speak. Quickly."

"Crow's End," Danyel said, flinching when Balthier took one step forward into the weak lamplight. "He heard about Sethan and went to Crow's End." 

Balthier grimaced. "I shouldn't be surprised," he remarked as he rolled his shoulders. The bones cracked and shifted as the lean muscles there drew taut with aggravation. "In fact, I should have assumed Darius would run to Cuxiel's house like a whipped dog. I do wonder how he managed to learn of Sethan's release so quickly, however."