Immortal Sin |✓|

9.1 Chains and Anchors

I assumed because I understood Dorian and Opal's world that I was prepared for what it was I walk into...

I had never been so wrong.

Underneath the ballroom lights of the Fairway, dozens of the Village's supernaturals were gathered. Some of them could have passed for Human. Others had blazing eyes and swishing tails, feathery wings and scaled skin, fangs and fur. But no matter their differences, they all had one thing in common - they hated us. The crowd parted as we passed, booing and hissing in vehemence as we made our way towards the stage, where Danny and Elijah Begay looked on, presiding like kings over their audience.

"Well, this is unexpected." Elijah jumped down from the stage, landing solidly on his feet. "And I thought we'd need to gather up the torches and pitchforks. But here you are, surrendering right on time."

"No one said anything about surrender, Elijah." But my palms were sweating and my heart was working overtime at the mere thought of standing up to them. "Stirring up a crowd, pitting supernaturals against each other--is that really what your grandmother would've wanted? You're law enforcement--"

"I'm a shapeshifter," he spat. "And before that I am Haudenosaunee. And you didn't know my grandmother--so don't ever presume to speak for her or my community. Here, we handle problems our way."

The crowd cheered.

"This is not looking good," Opal whispered, eyeing the agitated crowd.

Vanida stepped forward, signing with earnest hands as she spoke aloud. "Is this really how you want to solve things, Danny? With blood and anger? I knew your grandmother--she spoke of peace and tolerance. She didn't raise you to be like this."

Danny turned his face aside, saying nothing in return.

"Don't listen to her, Danny-Boy," said Elijah, over his shoulder. "If she really cared she'd be standing beside you, not with them."

"I'm sorry about your grandmother, Danny," I said. "And I'm sorry I didn't put an end to all of this sooner. But I can still do that. We don't have to fight. We can change this, Danny, we can change everything-"

"Enough." Elijah's deep, angry voice boomed across the Fairway. "We are ending this. You and your friends walk, but he stays," he said, pointing at Dorian. "And when we've finished with him, the demon is next."

"I was worried you might say that," I replied, shaking my head in disappointment.

"You're the one who should be worried." Elijah smirked. "The four of you? Against all of us?" He spread his arms wide; his audience snickered along. "What chance have you got, Amelia?"

"All of them." I smiled, looking to Dorian as I removed the folded sketch from my back pocket. "This was Dark Dorian's plan, not yours. Are you sure you're up for this?"

"Anything he can do I shall always do better." Dorian winked. 

"Then do your worst," I said, and passed him the sketch.

"It was Shakespeare who said that hell is empty and all the devils are here." Dorian stared hard at Elijah, ripping the sketch into tiny little pieces he collected in his palms. "But to define is to limit the imagination. After all, a single picture paints a thousand words..."

Dorian blew the bits of paper, exhaling black smoke. The paper floated on the air, rising to the ceiling, swirling in the smoke like fairy dust. Every neck in the Fairway craned upwards, mouths agape, watching in disbelief as giant, winged beasts materialized from the blackness, circling the chandeliers. Red, black, green, and gold--with scaled skin and tails like clubs. Some blew fire, all had eyes like burning coals. Their sharp, wicked teeth gnashed, forked tongues flicking as they roared down at the crowd. Seven devils. An arsenal - and all of them under Dorian's command.