Demons (Damirae)

Chapter Eighty-Three

The next lead in finding Mr Leiwandowsky's son led the two part-demons all the way to Vegas, delving in to the lavish casinos where the recklessly wealthy threw their riches and responsibilities to the wind and trusted in Lady Luck. As Raven's heels touched the concrete and she inhaled, crisp, sinful air flooded her lungs and Pride reared her head, energised. The demoness loved and loathed Las Vegas. So much sin for a Sin to devour. No wonder uncle Lucifer bought it all.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Clouds of shadows melded together, shifting and drifting until they formed the figure of a tall, lean man. With a snap the shadows disappeared, in its place stood a man in a black leather suit with gold accents. Brushing the gold-paisley patterned collar of his jacket, Lucifer's carmine eyes slammed in to the demoness'.

"What brings you back to town Raven my dear?", he noted the boy besides her, particularly the jade orbs of his irises. "And with an Al-Ghul too..you're not Talia, so I'm wagering Damian?"

The ex-assassin dug his hand in to the pocket of his slacks as the other unbuttoned the top button of his dress-shirt, "That is correct." Even outside, at the casino's entrance, the number of bodies was almost overwhelmingly sweltering- in spite of the season.

"Not that I don't like to see my favourite not-niece, but is there any particular reason for your excursion here?", Lucifer's jagged face seemed to transform entirely as he grinned and his light hair felt less unnaturally white and more softly platinum. "I hope not to gamble away all your wealth?", he chuckled and nudged Damian, "And between the two of you, that's quite a hefty sum, eh?"

Assuring Lucifer that their inheritances were safe, Damian and Raven were bade farewell by the demon with a hearty, "Well, if you're going to kill anyone, do it discreetly. And try not to stain the carpet too much- or at least, none of the carpets in any place I'm fond of. Ta ta!"

As Lucifer faded to smoke, Damian raised his eyebrow at his girlfriend, "I didn't know we'd be running in to Lucifer of all creature's, but at this point I've seen too much to bother questioning it."

Fair play to him.

The two of them slid through the doorway of Lucky Swans, past social elites decked to the max in jewels and precious metals and fitted in to materials worth as much as their accessories. Raven smirked as her shoes stopped click-clacking and met the carpeted floor. It was deep red. Spilling a little blood wouldn't do too much damage; their mission wasn't to kill, maim or remotely injure, it was a retrieval task.

The first think to notice when entering the Lucky Swans casino was the people reclining in its chairs and leaning over its tables and gliding elegantly over its floors. Jade flickered around, searching the lavish building, taking on everything from the chandeliers suspended metres above like glowing, upheaved wedding cakes, to the chartreuse pendant around a woman's neck. A woman with light-blue skin tainted frosty white. She turned around and for the briefest of moments, her eyes met Damian's. They were drowning in pure, frozen red. That, paired with her height of at least seven-and-a-half-feet, led his to one solid conclusion. Frost Giant. Origin: Jötunheirmr.

Linking arms with the Jotun was a man at least half a foot shorter, draped in robes reminiscent of ancient Oriental fashions in a regal red and gold colour scheme. His long black hair was tied in a loose ponytail and his face was soft with the smooth angles of a feline. Yellow eyes shine in the chandeliers' glow. Possibly a shifter.

But they were not in search of shifters or Frost Giants or witches or half-trolls, no, they sought a half-gargoyle-half-Mage. By the name of Dorian. And as a demon and shifter nodded their respects to the two, Damian spotted their prize. In the far corner, sliding chips forward. He drew his head closer to his girlfriend's and murmured, "Got him."