Page 65 of The Nephilim's Finesse

I loved my enemy. I should feel shame for betraying Luthriel and my brothers and sisters. Only, I felt a longing for Victorija.

My phone rang. When I looked up at the display, I saw the number of the German Nephilim headquarters.

“Hello?”

“Yes, hello, is there Raphael?” a deep voice in a German accent asked.

“Yes, I’m Raph from the London brotherhood. How is the weather in Munich?”

“It’s raining unicorns,” he answered, the secret coding between the brotherhoods. “And in London?”

“The sun is glittering like popcorn,” I quoted the response, which made no sense at all but ensured that both sides knew that another brotherhood had called and not someone from the outside.

“Good. We didn’t have the opportunity to talk since Asasel is no longer your leader. I’m Michael. Could we talk via video call?”

“Of course.”

We exchanged protocols for setting up a secure line, and two minutes later, I watched a white man in his fifties with greying hair and brown eyes.

“How are things going?”

Michael exhaled. “Not so good. We’ve had a lot of demon attacks in the last days. They swarmed the English Garden, and we had a hard time keeping it quiet. I wanted to know if you saw this too?”

I frowned. “Yes, we’ve had a lot of unrest in the last few months,” I told him what had transpired since Alissia got pregnant. I assumed that Asasel had shared the information with the other brotherhoods around the world, but at least the Germans didn’t know anything about it. Michael was stunned, to say the least.

We talked for about an hour, and we shared what happened. I was shocked at how far the demon attacks had spread. I thought it was only London they’d targeted; I never thought they'd attack other cities outside the UK. We agreed to call the other sites and schedule a meeting with all brotherhoods around the world.

I talked to leaders in Europe and America for the next few days while Michael called the Nephilim in Africa, Asia, and Oceania. What I learned concerned me deeply. Not only Munich and London were targeted; all around the world, demons and vampires threatened both the mundane and magical worlds.

19 Victorija

With my arms crossed over my chest, I watched the fiends swarm over the country house. The sky was dark and cold over the mansion, the meeting point for local witches and warlocks in Canterbury, on the outskirts of town. We knew that about thirty people were in there. Thorne wrung his hands in excitement.

“This will extinguish their community here. One by one, they’ll fall.”

The small demons and devils around us were a strange sight to behold. They ranged in size and appearance, but all had one thing in common—their eyes burned with an unnatural crimson that seemed to pierce through the darkness of night. Their movements were disjointed, like they weren't sure where they were going or why, as they had been summoned from another world.

It was as if these creatures of nightmare were invading every square inch of the area. I could feel their tiny claws scratching at my skin as they raced past me, screeching and cackling in delight.

The smell of sulphur filled the evening air as they swarmed around us, their wings beating against our faces and their little fingers tugging at our clothes. I could hear them hissing and growling like a pack of hungry wolves searching for prey. Despite their miniature size, there seemed to be an endless supply of them surging forward in an attempt to reach the entrance to the country house.

They moved in unison like a swarm of bees or locusts, flying and running towards their doom.

The minor demons and devils reached the perimeter. Wards to shield any other magical being without a red aura sprang to life. However, the aura was made against vampires mainly, as they were the main foes of the witches. The fiends fought against the wards and scratched against the invisible barrier with their claws and teeth. I couldn't make out any details, but I felt the barrier weaken. Suddenly, the front door burst open, and a handful of witches spilt out, already chanting a spell. But they were too slow. The moment they exited the wards, a dozen demons jumped on them. Thorne brought in hundreds, leaving no room for failure.

The air was thick with their cacophonous cries. It was a mix of growls, howls, and screeches that filled my ears like an ungodly chorus of despair. The abominations slithered around the house, climbing up its walls and peering through its windows in search of their prey. Every time one entered the house, I could hear heavy furniture being overturned and objects crashing to the floor in protest. A bloodcurdling scream tore through the night, coming from inside as they took out one witch. The screams were haunting and lasted for far too long until a witch or warlock died.

Next to me, a young vampire wrung his hands and chanted to himself, his eyes glued to the horror before us, “Please mind the gap between the train and the platform. This is Aldgate,” he said in the typical singsong voice of the speaker announcement voice. “This is a Circle line train via Liverpool Street and King’s Cross St. Pancras.” He rocked forward and backwards, holding his hands over his ears to silence the screams. “Please mind the gap….”

I couldn’t stand the young vampire's skipping action to calm down and relate to reality, so I walked a few steps forward. A guttural scream came from the building, which was cut short abruptly. The whole ambush was over in mere minutes; the witches didn't stand a chance, but it felt like hours standing here to listen and watch.

When it was finally over, I was horrified when I entered the coven building. There was destruction, overturned furniture, and shattered glass everywhere I looked. But that wasn't the worst of it—the worst part was the remains of those whom these fiends had taken. Puddles of liquefied flesh lay scattered across the floor, with devils that resembled giant mosquitoes feasting on them. The sick slurping sound they made as they sucked up the remains, combined with their pitiless cries, filled me with an uncontrollable dread.

We took all the valuables we could find before setting the building ablaze. I could see the flames behind us as we fled the country house. The entire structure was burning to the ground, taking with it the hope of our enemy and any secrets they may have kept. Thorne's minions had slaughtered the witches, and it was clear that he hadn't only outwitted them but annihilated them in a matter of minutes.

As I watched them die, I should have felt relief. After all, they were our sworn enemies and had caused so much suffering. But instead, I felt nothing but horror and sadness. How could one person be so cruel? Thorne had gone too far this time, and I was the only one who could stop him. However, would I be able to bring myself to do it?

I descended into the cellar of my mansion. Thorne was out, busy annihilating another witch coven. This was my chance to talk to Beleth, a mighty and terrible king of Hell, who commanded eighty-five legions of demons, as he told me proudly himself. Entering the room Thorne used to summon the demon, I could see the markings on the floor. Even the candles stood there still. The pungent aroma of sulphur and charred herbs lingered in the room, a reminder of the previous summoning. Shadows danced on the stone walls of the summoning chamber, cast by the flickering flames, as I lit the final black candle. My heart pounded with anticipation as I glanced around, ensuring everything was in place—the circle of salt surrounding me, the symbols etched into the floor, and the hazel wand clutched tightly in my hand.

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