Demons (Damirae)

Chapter Forty-Seven

Damian clicked his tongue, "Just as expected."

Raven hummed in agreement, taking in the images and footage on the screen in front of her. Sitting cross legged on Damian's beg, with a laptop between them, the part-demons observed as evidence flew on to the screen, proving their theory on the Council's less-than-honest dealings.

Brow furrowing, the demoness's finger hovered above the digital display, indicating towards a particular video taking space in the left hand corner. Eyes trained on the proceedings of the video, the dent between Raven's eyebrows deepened.

"Auctioning?", she narrowed her eyes, "The audacity of some...it's almost insulting how blatant they are- why, if this was leaked to the Light rulers in their home realms they'd be dangling from ropes."

Smirking at her ferocious (and righteous) indignation, Damian watched as a man shrouded in the white robes of the Council tapped his gavel, sentencing a Light Magic-infused rifle to a life with humans. A moment later, it was a portal creation device, much like the one Raven and Damian were currently in possession of. Followed by a Light protection amulet, auctioned off for well over a hundred-thousand.

The same spark of fury that lit Raven flared within Damian: these were items of magic, regardless of Light or Dark, and it was an insult to the great practitioners of old, and even the gods (Hecate, for example) to place such items in the hands of humans. How dare they!

"Tt. Despicable."

Thoroughly disgusted by the Councilman's actions, Raven reached forwards, shutting the tab. Before the two, sitting innocently on the screen, records of all the sales of Light magic items to non-preternaturals lay, list upon list of the Council' sin.

Of the regulations hanging over the heads of all preternaturals (Light and Dark) who lived amongst humans, a firm rule was that no human should ever become in possession of any magically tainted object. A sin punished with the highest level of severity: a sin, not a crime, but a sin, since the rulers of Light and Dark alike so loved dramatics.

Damian wondered at the reach Lahra, Tyrone, Jackson and the others. They kept a tight rein in the preternatural blackmarket, so it made perfect sense to hold such knowledge on the ins and outs of all providers and customers. Still, with records and footage of that level, Damian could appreciate the advantage of his connections.

The two soaked up as much information as possible, committing names, dates, figures to memory. As their minds absorbed like sponges, Damian and Raven's anger resided, giving place to calculating coldness.

After ingesting the last morsels of information, Damian cast his eyes upon the ocean of navy visible through his window. The sky had shed all traces of light more than two hours prior, and now, at seven pm, night had asserted its dominance over this part of Earth.

Despite the grave matter occupying a great deal of space within his mind, Damian couldn't help the thoughts tainting his mind- rather, he could, but he didn't want to as they were thoughts flooding warmth through him. With every shifting of fabric on his bed, with every accidental brushing of the knees, the distinct memory of what one transpired on that bed (the rush of heat, the erratic heart beats, the laboured breaths) caressed his mind.

Removing the USB -that Tyrone had given him- from the laptop, Damian closed all tabs, shutting the device with a sound click.

The first to end the quiet, Raven offered, "We ought to investigate further."

"I agree."

Raven, crossing her legs, sitting besides her... kind-of-but-also-not friend, tugged the sleeves of her woollen jumper (grateful that they'd thought to change clothes before viewing the USB's files). Seemingly at a loss for words, in spite of the fact that they'd been discussing the matter of the Council's dealings a moment earlier, Raven subconsciously rolled her lips, eyes darting up to meet Damian's.