Dinah Pope winces as she crumbles onto her knees, pinching her plucked brows together and keeping her head hanging low to hide her face from the men standing above her.
Even with the breeze picking up a slow rolling mist of dust from the gravel, she can smell Cillian Black’s fragrant aftershave.
Her shoulders tremble as she pushes off the floor, listening to his heavy boots crunch closer.
The men that ambushed her on her way home shuffle backwards which makes her blood boil. ‘Cowards.’ she thinks, spitting out the solution of blood and saliva in her mouth.
“Dinah, you finally showed up. For a second I thought you were trying to get away from me.”
Dinah raises her head, realising that he stopped quite a distance away from her but she isn’t dumb enough to think she can get away from him, not now anyways.
“I can’t say I didn’t think about it,” she confesses, leaning back on her legs so that she can sit up. “But then I figured what’s the point? There’s not a place on earth you wouldn’t hunt me down.”
Cillian mirrors her smile but doesn’t ignore the edge in her tone, making a gesture for her to come closer, flexing his ability to control her body at will by forcing her on her feet.
She struggles against his influence but she wouldn’t be the woman he fell for if she didn’t.
She clumsily stumbles towards him, her legs shaking like a reanimated zombie until they are only inches apart.
“Of course there isn’t.” he whispers, cupping the side of her face with one hand as he sweeps her hair out of her face, seemingly ignoring how she grimaces at his touch or how she closes her eyes. “I care about you too much.”
“Yeah well, you care about a lot of things.” she replies, defiantly staring into his deceptively loving eyes.
“Mmh.”
Dinah’s shoulders drop when the sound of a secondary car approaches and Cillian takes his eyes off of her.
She rubs her chest, her eyes landing upon what appears to be a cage poorly covered by a white sheet smeared with substances that don’t look too friendly.
From just a glance it looks pretty heavy and she wonders why they went through all the effort of moving it to this abandoned construction site.
Dinah stands just behind Cillian, desperately wishing she had a coat instead of her red shirt with a low v-cut.
The first person to step out of the car with the tinted windows and bulletproof doors is the chauffeur who then jogs around the car to open the door for none other than the last true dragon himself, Mortelix.
He’s dressed even better than Cillian which is not something she sees everyday but the rumours surrounding the shifter are enough for Dinah to keep her guard up high, having had a few associates that unfortunately found themselves in his path.
The key word is had.
“Imagine my surprise when the man who exterminates everything that isn’t human gives me a call.” Mortelix chuckles, offering his hand out to Delainey who steps out the car after him. “You must be extremely desperate to handle whatever it is you’re hunting for.”
“A Hellhound and two demons.” Cillian replies, not feeling much in the mood to speak around his intentions.
“You know if you succeed your name will go down in history as one of the greatest to walk the Earth. I envision it now. Cillian Black, the man that took out the wandering tyrant!” Mortelix exclaims, biting down on a cigar that lights itself. “And if you fail…well then you’ll be joining the long list of others who have tried before you.”
“Any advice?”
Mortelix chuckles, leaning towards Cillian as if to share a hidden secret with him. “Don’t fail, that’s my advice.”
“Well why do you think I called you? I need weapons, powerful ones, and who else would be sitting on such items other than a Dragon?”
“Generally I’d say avoid stereotypes but in this case you’d be correct.” Mortelix replies. “Did you bring what was promised?”
In response Cillian reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out a book bound in red leather. “I have it right here.”
Mortelix snaps his fingers twice, opening his palm to receive the briefcase in Delainey’s possession.
After making the trade Cillian nods his head towards the book. “That's everything the Church of Babylon has on your people, spanning back a few centuries at least. I hope it'll help in your efforts to reunite with them again.”
“So do I.”
Delainey frowns once she sees the look of hope on Mortelix’s face, an all too familiar sight that happens whenever he finds another clue that could lead him back to his people.
There have been many over the years, each spouting contradicting facts that promise to bring him one step closer to them, the only problem is…they rarely ever do.
“The blade is made of Adamantine,” she explains, observing Cillian Black as he lights up from opening the briefcase. “Celestium and Demons don't die in the traditional sense but once they’re defeated their essence takes on a less autonomous form.”
“So what was written is true. Adamantine is made from the essence of a Celestium?”
“Exactly.” Mortelix replies. “Some would say poetic even.”
Mortelix and Delainey turn to leave but Cillian Black calls them back after handing the case over to Dinah. “Wait. Don't you want to see what else I have up my sleeve?”
Mortelix and Delainey meet each other's eyes before turning on their heels and following Cillian Black to the cage hidden underneath the stained blanket, remaining alert in case this happens to be a trap.
Mortelix sniffs the air, catching a whiff of something foul and bitter that makes his nose wrinkle. “You captured a demon?”
”We did more than that.”
Cillian Black uncovers the cage, revealing a singular man sitting inside the prison with his legs crossed one over the other.
From a distance he looks calm, peaceful even if one ignores the black stain covering his chest or his torn outfit, but once Dinah takes a closer look she realises that the same black liquid is pouring out of his eyes, ears and nose.
An acidic purple hue emanates from his veins, crawling up his arms and carrying over to any part of his body that has been left exposed.
The mysterious man looks like he could be in his early fifties but Dinah can tell he's at least five to ten years younger than he seems.
The tattoo on the back of his arm catches her eye before he coughs out a huge clump of the black ooze that continuously sleeps from his body.
“We captured an entire horde.” Cillian utters, looking at his companions' expressions once they get a better look. “This poor soul is Geoffrey and right now his body is being possessed by a group of spirits known as-”
“Jinn.” Mortelix interjects, taking a step back once a spec of the ooze almost lands on his leather shoes. “Realistically he should be dead. I've never seen this many inside one person before.”
“Neither have I…but Geoffrey appears to be the perfect host.”
“Perfect for what?” Dinah asks, wondering what the quivering man could possibly be used.
“For an invasion!”
YOU ARE READING
The Initials | Nanowrimo 2023
Fantasy[Book 1 in the Displaced Angels Series] "You took the life of my best friend, made her life a living hell...so I took your building and everything inside, and turned it into ash." °°° Being abducted the first time was already crazy enough, but twice...
