Angel Tongue

quattuor

The one in black let out a low laugh.

He adjusted his cloak, making sure that the hood covered his facial features entirely. Inside it though, his smile was wrought with satisfaction. He had been given the chance to experience new scenery, and he liked to believe that he had taken full advantage of it.

It was too easy.

He stood at the edge of the wood where the light was scarce, the whole of it only coming from the moon's sleeping crescent form and the smattering of stars in the night sky. In this environment, he melted into the shadows-no, he was one with the shadows. He traipsed through the grass, humming to himself an old nursery rhyme.

Close your eyes and count to three

Dig a hole, climb up a tree

Or else they will find you and me

Demon wrath, demon fury

Demon kill and then go free

They will look for you and me

Dig a hole, climb up a tree

So close your eyes and count to three

He could not help the laugh that bubbled up once more out of his gut as he thought back to what he had done. They would have discovered it by now, hidden amongst the shrubbery not too far from the center of their so-called 'commune'. They were just a band of cowards, he told himself. He wondered how they would react to finding a disposed dead body. He imagined screaming, confusion. Then they would see the brand and cower in their pathetic fear.

The master would be proud.

As he heard the sound of old leaves crunching on the ground, he tensed, a movement so small that whoever was behind him would not have noticed it. He did not bother turning; he was confident that in the case of an attack, he would win with both eyes closed.

"And what would you need from me?" he spoke to whoever was behind him. His tone was laced with dismissiveness, disregard plain in his tone.

He was not ready though, for the voice that greeted him.

"I found him," the man in black turned around in barely veiled surprise, finding in front of him a figure cloaked in coarse wool. "That boy your master is looking for. I found him."

"My master?" he asked as he chuckled darkly, regaining his composure. "The last time I checked, you were laid out at his feet."

The newcomer stepped closer to him until they were mere inches from each other. A gnarled hand snuck out, and he almost flinched. Almost. He did not move a muscle when it took a fistful of his coat and ran a thumb over the fabric. "Yes, you are the one with the much finer cloak. But the last time I checked," he let go of the fabric as he threw the statement back, "you were not above him in rank. And I did not come to throw petty taunts around. I could not sense it at first, but then his scent was there. I have found the boy." The Behemoth spoke the last sentence slowly, as if he was explaining to a small child.

He stayed silent, waiting for the Behemoth to continue.

"I had him in my clutches. If those Manus Dei had not come-"

"And you find it convenient to alert me now that he has been taken from you?" he cut the demon off, folding his arms on his chest. "Now that you have failed?"

The demon in front off him bristled. The darkness seemed to swirl around him as he did so, taking on shape before falling apart once more. But he did not speak. The sound of crickets instead overtook them.