Demons (Damirae)

Chapter Sixty-One

Darkness hugged the creatures, enveloping them in its sinful embrace the way they wore each other over their scraps of clothing. Draped over one another, yet still swaying and sinking to the hypnotic beat as they swam in the ocean of lust. No love to be witnessed, felt or heard, but raw sin.

As salty as the blood pumping through their veins, sweat poured out of their pores, mingling with exotic colognes and flamboyant fragrances telling of the sweetest blooms this side of Yggdrasil. And tangier still was the scent of sex, lingering amongst the gyrating bodies, tempting them further against the way of the gods.

What heed ought these creatures, of the blackest nature, to pay to warning of the gods? The darkness was enough- and drink provided plenary of persuasion, though most in company could hold Dark liquors well enough.

Packing the Blue Dragon to the brim, the Dark Preternaturals writhed to an unholy symphony of celestial instruments and the beautiful cries of Dark Elvish voices.

'The elves corrupt, so listen well, not to their voices, but to mine as I tell: know what the dark sing, but hear not what they say; hear what the light say, but know not of their song.' An ancient teaching embedded in the minds of the magical- save the elves themselves, both Light and Dark.

Only a fool would ignore such a message.

And the seven individuals lined up along the illuminated bar were certainly not fools. Those individuals in question spoke in low, scheming voices, concocting a plan to achieve a common goal. In any other situation, hatching plans of the highest illegality in the middle of a crowded nightclub would be entirely suicidal- but this was a somewhat special situation. These where no mere crooks, but some of the finest killers and deadliest sovereigns outside Elysium- or Tartarus for that matter.

...

And Jason.

"We follow the path that the largest load takes and intercept at the junction between-"

"That won't work.", Lahra intercepted Tyrone, reaching past Damian to grab a swig of Adyn's Sidhe's-mead, nodding her head in acknowledgment at the started demon, "Look, I know their tactics. These buggers always keep the most precious items in the smaller lorries with less protection cause they don't think it'll be hit when there's a bigger one. The bigger ones have got the basics- your average guns, shields, teleported. It's a little trick they've got going on."

Nursing his 7up (the only drink he was permitted to have, though he could've sworn the waiter Edmonde slipped a cheeky something in) Jason sniffed, "Yeah, I overheard some white-triangles talking about arrangements for lorries to be taken out, so of course I went to investigate, saw them loading some vans with shittons of weapons- everything from magical javelin things to magical bazookas.". He frowned, drawing in the others' attentions. "The smaller of the two trucks was loaded, nothing was in the other, then I saw some of the workers getting in before the big one drove off. It's fishy as fuck."

Tapping the rim of his glass, Damian reviewed what Jason and Lahra had said, noting the simple adjustments that would need to be made to their plan. Rather than straight on attacking the larger carrier, they would analyse the defences surrounding the smaller one and find a way to intercept that.

Finalising this segment of their grand scheme, Jackson proposed, "I'll see to it that some of our men are sent to scope out the area,", he flashed his pearly whites at Jason, "I'll send them in with you."

Raven drummed her slender fingers on the bar table, shooting a glance at Damian and her brother, "We'll revisit our other...contacts and look further in to the weapons."

Giving a similar response, Tyrone promised to reach out to his tracker friends (predominantly shifters from the other end of Gotham's backstreets), guaranteeing that they'd be of use when the time came.