Demons (Damirae)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Dick, who was in the process of buttoning up his dress-shirt, was the first to break the silence, "Yes dear sister Cassandra? Anything us guys can assist you with?"

Lying slumped on the bed, dressed in an oddly uniform waistcoat and slacks, Jason waved the bottle of *cough* apple juice in the air above him like a white flag, "Is this some kinda sexual realignment thing- 'cause the girls are waaay over there, but you're waaay over here, with us guys. So that's what's happening then."

He pulled himself up, apparently with some strain, spilling some of the bottle's contents on Jamie's jacket sleeve, grinning quite stupidly at her, "Live your truth Cassie.", raising the bottle in a toast and taking an ocean deep swig.

Shooting him the most scathing, truly awe striking glare the ex-Batgirl could give, intensified by her eye makeup worthy of the most legendary femme fatales- which she no doubt was- Cass answered, "No. I came for Bella."

After wrangling with her adopted father about how Bella needed to get ready at the hands of Stephanie, otherwise the Batgirl would come for them with a waffle-making machine, Bruce relented: which was not a usual occurrence for Cassandra, she was more of a 'formidable silence' type of person, but Bruce was just that relentless.

Glaring Dick in to submission (he too wanted to keep the child, who seemed all too confused at the situation- having woken up only half-an hour-) Cass led Belladonna away.

As the door slammed shut behind her, Adyn, who'd found his place tying his laces on a chair besides Tim, breathed, "Terrifying."

*****

At precisely five minutes past eight, the Manor's female occupants were ready to enter the main corridor, which led down to the ballroom's entrance. The men (and boys) had already entered, giving the hall a once-over to be sure that everything was in order.

With the others, walking towards the door, Raven couldn't help the clamminess of her palms under the wrist-length, black lace finger gloves she wore. Clenching and unclenching her hands, Raven's body vibrated as she exhaled, nerves overcoming her in the strangest of sensations: on a regular basis, Raven wasn't fond of public settings; this was entirely different, like a sickening anticipation building at the bottom of her stomach and blocking her throat like a wad of parchment was shoved down her throat.

Working towards steadying her heart rate, Raven counted backwards from ten, toying with the decorative tendrils of metal and gemstone weighing down her ear. Letting the earring fall, Raven pulled an impassive expression over her face- it would not do to show her emotions so blatantly, Azar knew Damian would tease her about it relentlessly out of the earshot of the others.

As if an unspoken command had been issued, the ladies straightened their spines, forming a unit of formidability. Even Bella, Gods bless her innocence, stopped messing with the straps of her shoes (baby blue, matching her simple but cute cupcake dress: not nearly as voluminous as those hideous pageant dresses, but considerably smoothed down and elegant for so small a child) and stood still, allowing Kori to secure another bobby pin in her hair, to hold back the raging army of black ringlets.

Adrenaline jumping between the group like static electricity, anticipating looks we're exchanged, before Stephanie initiated the walk through the door. Blonde hair in brushed out curls, reaching half-way down her back and framing her dangerously low-neckline, Stephanie pushed the expansive, expensive oak doors open, stepping forwards with the others in her wake.

***

Out of sheer boredom, Damian lifted one of the many non-alcoholic beverages off of the table, raising the golden liquid to eye level and watching the bubble rise to the surface of the liquid, like a creatures thrown in to an ocean, grappling from oxygen, fighting for life.

Only Damian would find such meaning in a fizzing drink, only Damian.

Setting the glass down, the ex-assassin ran a calloused hand through his disheveled hair, having long since taken to growing his hair beyond the old nearly-buzzed cut (which, though he was loath to admit it, was a form of rebellion against the ways Damian was taught to live by the League of Assassins).

Hearing the tell-tale clicking and swishing of the ballroom's double doors opening, Damian tilted his head and turned his gaze the doorway, glad for the distraction.

The ticking machine in his chest skipping a count, Damian froze, as though Killer Frost had unleashed her fury on him. What stood before him turned all prior notions of tedium to dust- or rather who, rendering the others in her group plain, stood before him.

By the Gods... his eyes widened.

A.N:

Hello there my darlings!
I bring to you another chapter (out a day early because I'm sick at home so have time, despite my slight deliriousness) which I hope you've enjoyed!

Yes, it is another cliff-hanger, sorry. I just can't help it!

It's odd, really. When you're a reader, you just hate it when authors leave you hanging, but when your an author of a story, it's fine, because you already know what's happening. Though, I sometimes feel quite bad when I've left you on a really bad cliffhanger when there are so many unanswered questions.

😐

But still,

Thank you!

-Bats :3