Demons (Damirae)

Chapter Sixty-Three

Fixing a bemused look on his sister, Damian asked, "Who is the owner? More so, what were the properties of that stolen object?"

"I have been left to figure that out- the owner is being...difficult.", a small smile gee on Cassandra's lips. "Would you like to help?"

***

Thin fingers grasping the edge of her hood, the demoness tree it over her head, sure to draw her cloak around her lean frame. Boots dipping in to the puddles of collected water between the cobbles, Raven slinked through the alleyway, dodging the odd junkie- they were relatively harmless but smelled like shit. There was a general scent of narcotics that hung around this part of town. More so, the pungent odour of pure sin: it was no wonder so many of the Dark kind lingered here, the atmosphere alone was delicious enough. It was always better to go to this end of Gotham (not that the others weren't also sin-ridden) at night- the night life was exceptional and the most hostile of species rendered hospitable after a little drink. The locals Gothamites had learned to firm it, unnatural occurrences were all too natural. What was there to be fazed by?

Scrunching her nose, the demoness' senses flared as she sensed two approaching presences. The ssshtt of metal on metal was the next warning before Raven had a man by the neck. Having kicked the butterfly knife out of the first man's hand and holding him in place, Raven sent a flash of pre magical energy at the other man, knocking him to the floor. Taking in the struggling man's breath- as expected, it reeked of marijuana- his thuggish clothes, bald head and ear piercing (not to mention the aura that spiked off him) Raven concluded that this man was a common mugger, a petty thief.

Snorting, the demoness threw him to the ground and picked up the discarded butterfly knife from a muddy puddle, her spine shivering as her fingers touched the icy water. Leaving the two grounded thieves, Raven made haste out of the alleyway and in to the street. The first shop on the left was her destination, and if she knew anything about its mole of an owner, the woman within already knew she was coming.

Shoving the door open, Raven instantly raised her hand as the bell twinkled above. A fog of decay raged in her direction yet is did not touch her, barred by an invisible wall of magic. A few seconds later, the cloud of death receded and Raven heard a laboured panting from about two meters away. The door closed.

"A disappointment on your part Marlena.", Raven clicked her tongue, boots making a similar sound. "A witch as accomplished as yourself ought to be more powerful than that, was it supposed to be a deterrent? What happened to the might of your death gas?"

The witch's regularly silky black locks had been  traded for all but a mop, matted and wild. Nor did she don her usual provocative dresses of black lace and green accents. Before Raven was a mad woman, and oh was she dying to know why. Studying the young witch for a moment only served to confirm her suspicions. Around her throat lay a pure white chain bearing the weight of a pearl-like stone, beaming even in the dim afternoon lighting provided by the sun and the dimmer yet lamps around the room.

There had been one cause for such weakness in so promising a witch, and it stemmed from the dirtiest of all bad deeds- not sins, mind you, but bad deeds, two entirely separate things- betrayal. A two-faced witch would never survive in the worlds of Light and Dark.

Rusting from the door on the other side of Marlena's voodoo and witchcraft store confirmed all Raven's suspicions. The door (from which a shrunken head swung) was slammed to the floor as individuals in white robes streamed through the door, gushing in to the shop until they had the demoness surrounded.