The Demon Chronicles: Nevoc & The Necromancer

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Chapter 1 - Next Book Lahash & Black Moon Lilith

These meetings are so dreary, really. I wonder if these politicians ever consider what their choices indeed are. Do they realize how much power they really have or give? I felt the corners of my mouth twitch into the smirk that may have lightened up my stone face. I can reconcile their thoughts by looking at their cold faces, and dubious behavior. The most amusement are how they speak to one another is a stark contrast of how they must think of one another. Such the good ole boys club. I feel the subtle snicker coming up from within, and wouldn’t it be such amusement for these lawmakers to hear me, to see me standing here with pleasure? Watching them scar those who had to succumb to their whiles. Under the guise of the betterment of the country doesn’t inspire me, but it does remind me of missed days of Milan when men like these would visit Cortigiana’s brothel and when I met the first lawyer of many; and his sister. Her memory haunts me and not a day passes that I do not see her face in every woman. Like it was yesterday, at the masquerade ball when I met her in the flesh. At the time, it didn’t seem she knew who I was and that was my first mistake. I remember the dance just like it was yesterday.

Sophia looked at me as though she was in a trance, deep within a hypnotic state and with such a stupor that I imposed upon her, it was then I took her by the hand, with an unspoken request, to lead her in a dance, and to have her to myself. We sauntered to the floor and it was then that the tempo, mood, and atmosphere changed as the orchestra played Bach’s Air on the G String.

Even with the respite, she did not notice the change, and her eyes kept a fixed place right though my mask and into my hidden and evil soul. After so long, so much time that passed since I could feel, and be amongst those who gave me life and energy must have been the most amazing feeling in my existence. Although, with Sophia in such pure and rare form, it was not her energy that made me flourish. She gave me something I have never experienced, that stole the words from me, and with that, it was only the unspoken we shared on that dance floor as I held her hand and wrapped my arm around her waist.

Her lavender scent lingered, and the aroma mixed with her natural scent was invigorating and intoxicating, that I struggled with, fighting against demon desires. I didn’t realize then how destitute and powerless someone like she could leave me, vulnerable; not something that I was accustomed to.

When I pulled her body into mine, it was then, I knew that she could be the one who left me destitute and for the first time, I was afraid. A being such as I, was not good enough for a pure soul like Sophia. She was better than me, her brother and those who wished to court her. It didn’t matter though, for the time I didn’t care, for the five minutes we shared behind our masks on the dance floor, she was mine.


It was the 1700s in Italy. Where the white wigs were powdered, and those who sat in the court were distinct. The judges and lawyers even kept a little color to their cheeks, and some looked more dashing than their wives or women for the night.

I remember the smell of old leather, and the squeaking of the wood floor as their heavy heeled boots raked across it. The reluctant greetings of one another for the daily session. Some came from their humble offices across the unpaved road from the courthouse. I watched them for a bit and then it was time for me to follow to the gentlemen’s club where the events and travesties were so much more fulfilling and amusing.

As I followed one senator, I entered to see that there were all the familiar friends. Reading, drinking a splash of brandy and waiting to be served by the less than formally dressed women of the hour whose eyes told of something more. Their time would not be up after a hot plate of pasta and garden herbs quickly devoured with the finest silver one’s tongue would grace.

The man I clung to for the time, was a short, thin man. His stockings looked as though they had not seen a wash, and he smelled strange. Not like the ones before. His wig was tattered, and he must have borrowed it or stole it from the wig scrap pile of one of the rich. He seemed nervous, and his large sweeping cuffs jiggled when his hands shook, no matter how much he tried to steady them.

An older man from across the room stood up from his chair, still chewing what was left in his mouth. Such a shock any food remained in his mouth, being his manners were comparable to the cow he was eating. Grease stains marked his dark blue velvet jacket, and when he spoke, the crumbs fell onto the wood floor.

“William, oh son, I am so glad that you could come here. I wondered if you were to come at all,” he said with a wretched grin and horrifying teeth.

Even scary for me to see, and like a demon, I have seen a few things in my day. But the ill-mannered man waved the young boy on, urging him to promptly take a seat.

“Come, here, boy, and sit. We have much to discuss, here have some brandy.”

I watched the nervous little man-boy have a seat and crouch in his chair as though he was waiting for something terrible to happen. The atrocious fat man said, “William, why the nervousness? This is a beautiful establishment,” he said as he leaned over, dropped more food out of his mouth while he whispered in the lad’s ear. It was undoubtedly difficult for me to watch him talk to little William. I could not help but watch the food falling from that mouth. It disgusted me more than watching the slain death at the hands of the serial killer I once followed until they put him to death by the invigorating lawyers. The little man-boy finally said a few words.

“Well, uh, you know. This is my first time here. I certainly did not know what to expect.” He scooted his chair forward, letting his coat jacket brush the plate in front of him. As his eyes surveyed the plate, he stared at the woman’s hand, who had just set the lovely silverware out. His eyes were steely blue, almost hollow it seemed. Despite little man-boy being such a well, a man-boy, his eyes told of the secrets he held.

As he continued to survey her hand, he crept those steely eyes upward until they stopped at her shoulder and then froze as if someone caught his hand in the cookie jar. Now, this was becoming interesting.

This establishment was not the ordinary gentlemen’s club. Full of notoriety, famous judges graced the place with their presence and, of course, the lover for the hour. High-class dining in the front with the finest liquor to go around. Behind the infamous curtain, there was a little more entertaining. The women parade themselves around like they were doing these men a favor.

Wretched. Their fine silks from China no less was merely a high-class gift-wrapping paper for trash. Their lips were burgundy, their faces seemed pale already, even under their powder. It seemed to that the wigs were getting more ridiculous. It was not common for the Italians to keep white wigs, but these women ensured they resembled more like the French.

But the boy, there he was, still frozen. As I moved closer to him to examine his face, his eyes fluttered, and he winced. His lips parted subtly, and he proceeded further to the back of his chair.

Now, what was that? He seems a little nervous, could not possibly be a threat, or was he too so evil that he knew of my presence. The server was kind and obliged him with a smile and a nod toward the curtain.

Mr. Manners, I will call him, said, “William, if you are not feeling hungry, perhaps you should join her.” Oh, and here come the manners from Mr. Manners, and he said, “I am sorry, I don’t recall your name.”

She giggled and sounded childlike despite the wrinkles around her eyes told of her age. “Oh, it is no trouble, my name is Monique.”

I sighed at the name and rolled my eyes, sure like that is her real name. Why doesn’t she shorten it and call herself Mona? She is getting paid to moan.

Little man-boy perked up and quickly came to his feet and took Mona’s hand as she ushered him behind the crimson red curtain, that although I know what goes on in the back, I couldn’t allow myself to trail too far behind. It seems William, the man-boy has caught my eye, and with all the time I had, it certainly wouldn’t be a waste to spend it with him.

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