SEVEN DEVILS

CHAPTER I : LARUE.

TYRELL MANOR. 

Larue knew he was going to die. He glances at Latka. "Latka," he says softly, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his robes. "Latka, please, there's still time you could come with me," he says softly, pleading.

Latka doesn't meet his gaze. "Larue," she says. "They'll kill us,"

"They're killing innocent people Latka,"

"Larue!" she exclaims, tugging her hood back on. "We have to do this!" she shouted. "We'll be next if you don't do what he asks!"

"How do we know its even a He?" he demands grabbing her wrists. "Latka, please, come with me," he urges, his tone is pleading, bordering on begging.

Latka pries his fingers off her wrists. "Larue," she says. "If you leave, I won't keep your secret, I will tell them of your plans.

"Tell them then," he says.

Latka seems dumbfounded for a second, taking a second to recover. "Larue," she says, her voice taking on a softness. "Please don't do this," she pleads.

Larue doesn't meet her gaze, his hand reaching into his pocket. "I have to," he says. "I have to because this isn't what I want to do, I don't want to be responsible for the deaths of others Latka, this isn't what we signed up for,"

Latka glares at him; a shiver going down Larue's spine, his fingers closing around the wand in his pocket. Latka's lips press together and she speaks first, "Are you really going to draw your wand?" she asks.

Larue's form a frown and shakes his head, "Not until you draw yours,"

Latka shakes her head. "It didn't have to come to this." she says simply, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of the long robe. "The Council will know of the treason you've committed,"

Larue shrugs. "Let them know, I'd be better off dead anyway." Larue watches as Latka's lips quiver at the thought.

"Larue Badeaux," she says. "I hope the next time that we cross paths is when you're dead," she hissed.

Larue's lips form a crooked grin. "Such harsh words," he teases. "Without me, you would've died if I left you in the temple,"

With shaky hands, Latka grabs her black, jagged wand from her robe, flicking its tip to the center of his throat. Her lips quiver as she looks at him, her grip on her wand tightens. The faint brush of the tip sends a pulsating shiver through him - yet he cannot look away.

There's a flicker of fear in her eyes when he doesn't break their contact, her lips unable to form the words she needs to silence him, her fingers trembling as she drops the wand, her lips forming a thin line. "Go," she utters. "Go and don't turn back; don't say I didn't warn you Larue,"

Larue's lips curve into a slight smirk, his fingers closing around her hand. "Latka, I will find you again, I assure you," he promises squeezing her hand. She jerks her hand free, not daring to meet his gaze.

Larue lets her hand go and she flinches at the loss of contact and Latka's eyes water. "It didn't have to come to this Larue," she says softly.

"No, it didn't," he agrees as he tugged down the hood to his robe. "But you and I... we don't want the same things Latka, I refuse to have my hands scarred with murder,"

Its at this moment that Larue realizes Latka was never going to leave with him, this is the exact moment Larue realized this was the beginning of the end. "Larue," she pleads again. "Please,"

Nothing in this moment could have prepared him for the softness in her warm brown eyes, the way her eyes welled up with tears and the way they rolled down her face. "No," he says coldly. "You won't make me stay,"

Larue turns towards the door, his fingers closing around the doorknob, the cool metal against the warmth of his skin felt traitorous; as if he were leaving everything he had ever known.

Which was true; he was leaving Latka, he was leaving Cairo and Isolde, four had come in and one was coming out...

He lets out a breath, stepping out into the cool brisk air of the forest; the first step traitorous as the twigs crunch underfoot, turning back and taking one last glance at Latka; his lips forming a frown.

The need to console her was overwhelming but he couldn't just turn back for her, not when his mind was set on being set free from the murders that plagued his mind.

Lifeless bodies scattered amongst the streets and plazas of Diable Alley; blood flooding the streets and the cries of helpless magic users flood his ears, miles away from the wreckage.

Larue pauses and turns to Latka. "There's still time," he wants to say but the words die in his throat.

In their silence, Larue finds his answer and to say the least, he wish he could say he was surprised but he wasn't. Latka doesn't want to break free from the servitude of the High Mage, not that he could say he was surprised.

You didn't bite the hand from which you were fed...

But how quickly one becomes the prey when you're fueled by terror.

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RENAULT MANOR

Larue stares at Corvina, Varya, and Abraxas. "We've got to stick together," he reminds them. "The council is always watching and wondering who they can dig their claws into for even having an inkling of doing dark magic,"

Varya rests her hand on his shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. "We know you're worried about us, but..."

Abraxas shifts uncomfortably. "Varya, he has his reasoning," he chides, almost as if telling her to back off. "I'm sure that... whatever that reason may be, he has our best interests in mind,"
Much to Larue's distaste, Varya rolls her eyes, "don't you all find it a bit strange that he's so paranoid about the council? And how he knows so much about them?" she demands. "Open your eyes Abraxas, what if he's leading us to them!"

Abraxas flinches. "Varya," he shouts. "So what? He's been keeping us alive for months, the least you could do is be grateful!"

Varya is left stunned by the outburst and Corvina speaks to break the silence, "We should get going," she says drawing her silver wand from her pocket, her lips forming a thin line. "We still have to beat the others to whatever is left,"

Larue shoots a grateful glance at Corvina before speaking. "Diable Alley will be flooded with those of the council; if they get the suspicion that you practice dark magic, deny, deny, deny," he reminds them.

Deny, deny, deny. A phrase he was all too familiar with from his time with them.