Movement No. 2
Yasmeena
One Haeresis Plaza, reads the sign out front as we make our way inside the looming skyscraper.
It’s been two years since I became a spy for The Devil himself, but it still feels wrong waltzing in here like I own the place.
Draven, Gemma, and Absinthe don’t seem to mind in the slightest, but Reina is acting distant, like the thoughts I have are plaguing her as well.
“Wel… come, Devil’s Masquerade. Luc… is… waiting for you… second floor, conference room,” the little demon at the front desk says, still as old as a pre-Convergence fossil. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s ready to kick the bucket.
“Thank you, Baph.” Draven takes her wrinkled, crimson hand and brings it to his mouth, planting a kiss.
We continue down to the shiny silver elevator doors and corral inside.
There’s orchestral music playing through the speakers, string instruments singing softly, and Draven and Gemma hum along as if there are lyrics.
They know every hit of a cymbal, every tremolo of the cello.
The rest of us are silent until we’re out of the elevator and in front of the conference room.
“Do you think he’s mad at us?” Reina asks, a little more fear than I’d like lacing her tone.
Gemma shrugs her thin, very-human shoulders, which is not in the least bit reassuring.
Absinthe, still donning a clown suit, pats me on the back. “Nah.”
“Frankly, I don’t give a damn. Luc has had us all working double time to keep up with The Legion’s movements as of late,” Draven says, and he’s not wrong, but I hope the King of Hel didn’t hear it.
The door swings open to reveal our king, clad in a black fitted suit, sitting with his patent leather shoes on the large round table. Even seated, you can tell just how tall and lean he is.
“Are you complaining about having to do your job?” Luc asks Draven, who squints in return.
The five of us walk into the room and take a knee.
“Our Infernal King,” we say in unison, though Draven’s is hardly a mumble.
Grabbing our chairs, Draven and Gemma—the leaders of The Devil’s Masquerade—sit closest to Luc. Absinthe and Reina file in after them, and I follow suit.
“And what if I am? Complaining, that is?” Draven asks, and it’s all I can do to not roll my eyes.
“I could have you executed.”
Draven scoffs. “You’re going to have me execute myse—”
“No, I’d have Reina and Absinthe do it. You’re no longer The Executioner, remember?”
“No, I’m just The Hand, which is somehow, much much worse, given what you probably use your hands for,” Draven says, one eyebrow ticking up.
Gemma smirks, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She looks both amused and annoyed. “Alright boys, are we going to repeat the same seven empty threats and unoriginal jokes we always do, or can we get down to business?”
“Well, you’re no fun today.” Draven pokes his wife’s arm.
“Lilian, Yasmeena, and I had plans, and they got cancelled for this emergency meeting, of course I’m no fun,” Gemma replies, and Luc stiffens at the mention of Lilian.
I don’t have much dirt on The Devil, but if you asked me his weakness, I’d say it’s my best friend.
Lilian. He loves his brother Raph, and it’s clear he cares deeply for Draven and Gemma, but there’s something about the way every hair on his body shoots up at the mere mention of her that gives it away.
I don’t intend to betray my king, and I would never do anything to put Lilian at risk, but if I were someone else… she’s who I’d use as bait against him.
Luc sits up, placing his clasped fists onto the wooden table. “I’ve called you five in today because this turf war is in dire need of an intervention. It has gone on long enough.”
I bristle, trying to keep my head level about a conflict that hits so close to home for me. After Khalid and I escaped the harsh conditions on Ira, many of our people followed suit. We have made a home here on Haeresis, but that home is threatened every day by the three existing lupion packs.
“When you and Raph said the felion could seek refuge here, I warned you that there would be Hel to pay with the lupion,” Draven says, his voice a quiet threat.
“You wanted me to deny them sanctuary?” Luc asks, blue eyes so frigid they could freeze you with just one look.
It’s interesting to watch how he and Draven address each other; they fight more like siblings than a king and his hand.
Draven’s nostrils flare, his golden septum ring gleaming in the fluorescent light of the conference room. “No, but I expected you to think this through to come up with a plan and contingencies to said plan.”
“So why did you not come up with a plan?”
“I did, and you rejected it.” Draven’s fists clench at his sides. “You were so busy worrying about The Legion that you didn’t think about what their allies might do first when forced to fight for resources.”
Shocked as I am that Draven is being so brash, he has a point.
We knew at the very least that Pack Escalus was working with The Legion in some capacity, and we knew that the felion and lupion would be hunting in the same forests.
There should’ve been conversations regarding guidelines and territories, but we failed.
Raph and Luc failed us as leaders.
“My brother did not want to restrict Haeresis the way some of our siblings have restricted their continents. He is the governor of these lands and I respected that decision,” Luc says.
“Zada is a fantastic governor, and she has more restrictions than we do because she understands that sometimes when you care for someone, you have to cage them.” Draven’s arms cross against his chest, every muscle flexed.
Interesting sentiment from someone who had his wings clipped in quite the literal sense, but I keep my commentary to myself. Is that what Gemma is to him, a caged butterfly?
No, I know that’s not true. Draven is good—a good leader, and a good husband, even if I think some of his beliefs are misguided.
I might be loyal to Luc out of occupational necessity, but unlike Draven, I’m not loyal to Luc in my bones.
I don’t think Reina is either. Gemma might be, and Absinthe…
who the fuck knows what’s going on in that girl’s head.
“So what are we going to do, kick all the felion out?” Reina says, and if it were anyone else, I’d be filled with rage. Reina’s hands shake, and I can hear her heart jumping into her throat.
She’s worried about my brother.
“No, but we need to do something.” There are dark red circles under Luc’s eyes, even deeper than the red of his flesh.
Absinthe has a mischievous grin spread across her painted cheeks. “We could kill everyone who—”
“No.” Everyone interjects at the same time.
The room goes still, and I count the birds that fly past the window, one after another.
“Gemma, what would the humans have done?” Reina asks.
“On Earth?” Gemma cocks her head.
Reina nods. “Yes, how would they handle something like this—species fighting over resources?”
Gemma’s pale face is contemplative, her thick brows furrowing, creating a crease in the center. “Well, it’s all about perception, so I’d imagine humans would’ve had a campaign to change the optics of the situation. Sing a song and hold hands or whatever.”
“A campaign?” I ask, unsure of her meaning.
“Like a marketing campaign—repackage the felion coming over from being an attack on their resources, to being a good thing,” Gemma answers.
“Brilliant. What do you recommend?” Luc asks.
It’s asinine that anyone thinks we came over to steal resources.
Every felion I know that’s come over to Haeresis in the last few years escaped.
Khalid and I didn’t ask to be here, but we didn’t have much of a choice.
Our parents died. We were lucky enough to be able to work as street performers, and even luckier to have magic, but had things continued going south on Ira…
we might have been forced to go back into diving. Against our will.
I couldn’t do it, and I definitely won’t demand it of my people. We deserve freedom, we deserve choice. Governor Cavan is a no-good scumbag who will continue to use the half-demons and felion on his continent until there’s no one left. He’d work us all to death if we’d let him.
“This can’t just be about changing the lupion’s perception of us, we’ll have to change my people’s perception of the lupion as well. We’ve been treated like invaders, and now we’re defensive,” I say, and everyone nods.
“The focus should be on both groups. Other than smaller acts of defiance happening within The Legion, there haven’t been many reports of issues between the demons and half-demons as of late.
I think witnessing this turf war has helped the two groups settle their differences,” Draven begins to explain.
“But as we promote peace between the felion and lupion, we need to watch the demon species and ensure that this doesn’t widen our divide. ”
“Agreed. I will keep an ear out for this and report back with any suspicious activities,” Gemma says, looking over at Absinthe.
The Devil’s Masquerade works together seamlessly—like a well oiled machine—but there’s a certain kind of magic to watching Absinthe and Gemma team up.
Absinthe, in all her clownery, blends in with the citizens of Haeresis.
She is simply one of them. A little bit of a nut, but a half-demon all the same.
It’s how she manages to interact with members of The Legion without question.
It’s also how she’s able to kill and go unnoticed.
Gemma, in comparison, sticks out more than anyone I’ve ever seen. Reina is a hybrid, and I’m a felion, but we’re somewhat common on Hel. Humans? I’ve never seen another. Gemma is the only human most of us have ever met. When she enters a room, all eyes land on her.
They’re the perfect pair, really. Someone to distract while the other goes in for the kill.
“We’re going to need to draw up territory lines, and ultimately a treaty.” Reina says.