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It was dark in the Coven chambers. Buried deep underground between the ancient cliff dwellings of Manitou Springs and the cavern structure that ran for miles beneath those mountains, it was always dark in here. Torches hung along the adobe walls, guiding the thirteen figures cloaked in black that made their way into the ritual room.
Normally these meetings were planned. Tonight’s was not. That was why every Coven member was currently uneasy, questioning what Donovan could want at a moment’s notice, knowing that anything their lord ever wanted at a moment’s notice usually cost them blood.
Balak stood along the wall with his arms folded across his dark, barreled chest. He didn’t like this. Meetings in this place were tense enough as they were, but having to call this one himself (especially when he didn’t know what it was that Donovan wanted) was enough to put even his nerves on edge.
He could see the fear in the eyes of every witch that filed into the cavern. The only eyes he didn’t see fear in were the one that should have held it; the girl who stood at the edge of the wall, not yet allowed near the ceremonial fire at the center of the room, not yet inducted as an official member of the Coven. She was the thirteenth member in waiting, and one that Donovan was particularly fond of.
And right now, her eyes were set on Balak’s.
Balak shifted uncomfortably beneath her gaze, not wanting his lord to notice. If he did, Donovan might be tipped off as to the reason for his tardiness earlier that evening when he was supposed to be on watch.
Fortunately, Donovan didn’t notice. He was much too distracted as he entered the chamber to pay attention to the green-eyed beauty along the wall.
Everyone froze when he entered, clasping their hands in front of them and keeping their heads down. Their hoods were pulled in a way that their faces weren't shown, and they kept their eyes fixed on the fire, but when Donovan stepped up and addressed these that had made a covenant to serve him, it was apparent in every one that they feared the worst.
“Our plans have been altered,” he told them. “It seems we have been met with resistance a bit earlier than expected.”
The others didn’t react, at least not outwardly.
Donovan went on. “We will need to realign our strategy to deal with this…issue. That is why I have called you here tonight, so that we can take care of this matter quickly.” He looked up and directly to the girl who stood against the wall.
The gesture made Balak nervous.
“Step forward,” Donovan commanded her.
Immediately the girl complied, walking gracefully across the stone-floored chamber to stand before him. Donovan lifted her chin with his fingertips, smiling as he looked into her porcelain face.
“I have an assignment for you, my dear.”
Her emerald eyes glowed brighter in anticipation, illuminated by the light of the fire. She was excited. Even in her working to hide it, Balak could see that clearly. He knew what this one looked like when she was excited.
It always made him uncomfortable when Donovan touched her…when he looked at her like that. They were a lot alike, those two. Their eyes held the same hollow darkness, the same blackened fire that burned for the blood of the awakened ones. Still, as evil as this black beauty was, Balak knew she didn’t compare to Donovan.
The bloodlust of a witch was one thing. The maniacal drive of the Nephilim was another.
Normally these meetings were planned. Tonight’s was not. That was why every Coven member was currently uneasy, questioning what Donovan could want at a moment’s notice, knowing that anything their lord ever wanted at a moment’s notice usually cost them blood.
Balak stood along the wall with his arms folded across his dark, barreled chest. He didn’t like this. Meetings in this place were tense enough as they were, but having to call this one himself (especially when he didn’t know what it was that Donovan wanted) was enough to put even his nerves on edge.
He could see the fear in the eyes of every witch that filed into the cavern. The only eyes he didn’t see fear in were the one that should have held it; the girl who stood at the edge of the wall, not yet allowed near the ceremonial fire at the center of the room, not yet inducted as an official member of the Coven. She was the thirteenth member in waiting, and one that Donovan was particularly fond of.
And right now, her eyes were set on Balak’s.
Balak shifted uncomfortably beneath her gaze, not wanting his lord to notice. If he did, Donovan might be tipped off as to the reason for his tardiness earlier that evening when he was supposed to be on watch.
Fortunately, Donovan didn’t notice. He was much too distracted as he entered the chamber to pay attention to the green-eyed beauty along the wall.
Everyone froze when he entered, clasping their hands in front of them and keeping their heads down. Their hoods were pulled in a way that their faces weren't shown, and they kept their eyes fixed on the fire, but when Donovan stepped up and addressed these that had made a covenant to serve him, it was apparent in every one that they feared the worst.
“Our plans have been altered,” he told them. “It seems we have been met with resistance a bit earlier than expected.”
The others didn’t react, at least not outwardly.
Donovan went on. “We will need to realign our strategy to deal with this…issue. That is why I have called you here tonight, so that we can take care of this matter quickly.” He looked up and directly to the girl who stood against the wall.
The gesture made Balak nervous.
“Step forward,” Donovan commanded her.
Immediately the girl complied, walking gracefully across the stone-floored chamber to stand before him. Donovan lifted her chin with his fingertips, smiling as he looked into her porcelain face.
“I have an assignment for you, my dear.”
Her emerald eyes glowed brighter in anticipation, illuminated by the light of the fire. She was excited. Even in her working to hide it, Balak could see that clearly. He knew what this one looked like when she was excited.
It always made him uncomfortable when Donovan touched her…when he looked at her like that. They were a lot alike, those two. Their eyes held the same hollow darkness, the same blackened fire that burned for the blood of the awakened ones. Still, as evil as this black beauty was, Balak knew she didn’t compare to Donovan.
The bloodlust of a witch was one thing. The maniacal drive of the Nephilim was another.
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