The Unholy Ones

8:: SELENA DEVEREAUX

Damian Salazar strides up to the table, hands clasped behind his back. His face is emotionless, as if he could care less about his prediction of death. Selena's eyes widen as she takes in his appearance: a clean, pressed suit of deep navy, topped off with perfectly slicked back hair. She raises an eyebrow as he takes a seat, completing the table.

    "So nice of you to show up," James mutters. Damian doesn't say anything. Neither does Selena. She sits demurely, ankles crossed, wrists politely in her lap. Cocking her head, she tries to figure out this man.

    Ever since she was taken into the interrogation room, she's been trying to figure everyone out. Because, clearly, no one is as they seem.

    Damian beckons a waitress over, and she asks for beverage orders.

    "Vodka," Felix grunts, looking at the waitress sideways. "Lord knows I'm going to need it tonight."

    "Champagne for me," Selena says politely, looking at the hostess with a smile.

    "I might need some help deciding," James mutters, squinting at the menu before him. Looking up, he flashes a dazzling smile at the girl, who giggles. "What do you have on tap?"

    "There are some amber ales, and some--"

    "No, sweetheart," James purrs, reaching up and running a hand along her neck. Felix puts his face in his hand. Lightly tapping her skin, James looks into the girl's eyes and pleads, "Could you get me some of that? I promise it won't hurt." As he flashes that smile once more, the girl nods and hurries away, ignoring Damian altogether. Settling back into his seat, James puts his hands on the table. "Five star service, Damian. I love it here already."

    Damian sits stock still, looking as though he's carved from marble. Selena still sits, studying him. Felix lifts his head from his hand and sighs.

    "If we're eating the staff, we probably deserve to die," Felix mumbles. "We wouldn't know, though, because all we got was the watered down summary of some suicide mission. Would anyone care to elaborate?"

    "It wasn't watered down," Damian says defensively, face still passive. "I gave you all the generalization of the situation."

    "Well, it sucked," James cuts in, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms once more. "You managed to get us all here, probably against our better judgement. We did our end of the bargain. Now, it's time for you to do yours."

    His voice turns almost threatening, daring Damian to step out of line and go against his wishes. Selena and Felix turn their eyes on Damian. Waiting.

    "Her name is Mariella," Damian says, eyes fading as though he is recalling a story from long ago. "Her ancestors were amazing witches, one of the best covens. The Rivera coven was held in high regard, until they began marrying into non-magical families. Then, they were shamed, and the magical bloodline burned out. Until recently.

    "Mariella was the first magic-born Rivera in decades," Damian says. "The entire family believed that magic was an abomination-- they knew of their ancestors, and they were ashamed. And this shame was also brought up in Mariella, a witch herself."

    Felix looks on with a frown, clearly disheartened by the depressing tale. James' fingers are inching towards the butter knife, as if he would rather stab himself than listen to this lore. Selena hasn't moved, listening raptly as she tries to distinguish any abnormalities in this man. Of course, several stood out already. His still, dead heart took the top of the list. It hasn't beat once since she has been in his presence.

    "This sadness took hold of Mariella as nothing else could," Damian continues, oblivious. "She came to hate herself. To hate her very existence. She tried to drown, to die, but... it is very tricky business, killing a witch. Traditional methods do not suffice."