Page 2 of Conquest (The Four Horsemen #1)

1

Present Day

Conquest surveyed his surroundings from his position against the brick wall, his foot crossed over the opposite ankle and his arms folded over his chest.

In the heart of Arlington, Virginia, he watched the mortals as they hurried to their destinations. In order to complete the tasks required to pave the way for his brother War, Conquest needed to find a vessel that could hold him. If he were to reveal his true self to a mortal, they would first go blind and then, if he remained in place, they would combust. And while he’d enjoy that it wouldn’t serve any purpose.

He had been here for weeks now, searching, and what he’d witnessed… Conquest enjoyed the finer sins of life, as all Immortals did, barring the Angels. But this? This was far beyond that.

On a basic level he knew all about the current world, and its events; knowledge was power, after all. But knowing and seeing were two different beasts.

He was disgusted by how the Earthly plane had changed since the last time he had been here, a millennia ago when Diablo had summoned them to rid the world of virtue. He and his brothers hadn’t been able to complete their task, but in a way it had been a win for the ruler of Hell, anyway. The mortals here were a greedy, baseless breed; no substance, no purpose, no pride. At least their ancestors had been interesting and enjoyed the straightforward way of shedding blood.

Conquest lifted a hand and tugged his left ear lobe, his finger pressing the black diamond earring he wore. He slid a hand across his chiseled jaw and stroked his short, neatly trimmed beard.

A regular mortal wasn’t strong enough to hold his immense power, fragile as they were. Insignificant creatures made of weak flesh, brittle bones and easily influenced minds. Those strong enough to hold him, those that were more than they appeared, were rare. They were the humans that God chose to lift to Heaven, the Angel-born - chosen by God, fit for his purpose. Unlike the Angels that ascended because of their ‘good’ deeds in their mortal lives, the chosen Angels were born to be Angels. And they were the only ones that would do for what Conquest had planned; Angel-risen lacked the absolute purity that the Chosen had and Conquest preferred to corrupt the incorruptible.

He had been through dozens of cities all over the Earth to find what he needed. So far, either Conquest’s ability to sense them was diminishing, or there were less mortals worthy than ever before.

And Conquest’s powers were not in question.

A dark fog lifted from the ground a few feet from where Conquest stood. He recognized it as a gateway; it was how all Immortals travelled between dimensions.

Conquest’s white mare, Victory, appeared from within. The fog disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

Victory shook her white, French-braided mane out before approaching him.

“Where have you been?” he murmured, as she nudged her nose into the side of his head. He stroked a hand down her mane, his fingers catching lightly on the black ribbons threaded throughout. They were made of a malleable metal not of this world. It easily curled around her fine hair and even the strongest Archangels’ arrows couldn’t hope to penetrate it. The metal was exceedingly rare and when their supplier had some available it was only in sparse amounts. Other than the black bracelets around his wrists, he had used his share solely on his mare. She was his closest companion; her safety always came first.

She tapped a hoof on the concrete and he nodded, pushing off the wall. Yes, they had work to do.

He made his way down the busy side street and past the Courthouse Station. The humans flowed around them like a river around a heavy boulder. The mortals couldn’t see either of them, couldn’t touch their corporeal forms, but something instinctual made them walk around instead of through.

Conquest froze mid-step as they passed an old Irish style pub.

There.

Victory flicked her tail and turned in the same direction as Conquest. She had felt it too.

A human seated in the alfresco dining area in front of the pub was practically oozing Angel essence. He looked to be around twenty-two in mortal years, bright blue eyes and white-blond hair. He was tall, and the strength in his figure appealed to Conquest; he preferred a strong vessel even if he wouldn’t use it in battle.

“Stay close,” Conquest whispered to Victory. He touched the tip of a finger to his glass crown, the jewels embedded there flaring in response. The flow of power curled around him, resonating down to his very soul.

Every Immortal, except for the Angels whose gifts were an integral part of their being, had a Focus. While they were all powerful in their own right, their Focus was the truest source of their power, their greatest strength and their biggest weakness. It allowed them to harness their full power and utilize it effectively. Conquest’s Focus was his crown. Immortals who were stupid, or had a death wish, would sometimes come for it, thinking he would be a sitting duck without it. They would never know if it was true; he fed them their own entrails and watched as they choked on them.

His power pulsed, once, twice, before settling deep within his bones.

When he stopped in front of his chosen prey, they froze and looked up at him. Conquest knew the mortal couldn’t see him, but was impressed with their situational awareness. It was always intriguing, watching the Angel-born. They spoke differently and moved differently; because they were, for all intents and purposes, created to be different.

Conquest closed his eyes as he lifted his nose into the air and took a deep breath taking in the very core of the mortal. There were no disfigurements on him; no piercings, no tattoos, he didn’t smoke, didn’t take any drugs, fed himself well. It wasn’t surprising, since he was made for purity. The Angels were all disgustingly pure.

The Archangels were worse, perfect embodiments of the seven virtues. There were only three currently in existence, but Conquest had a score to settle with each and every one of them. He knew they would meet again before the end; he would make sure of it.

And if he could wave the empty vessel of an Angel-born in their face first? All the better.

Conquest pushed his power outwards, feeling it pouring through him all the way to the tips of his fingers. He reached out and placed three fingers to the cheek of his prey. A tremor ran through Conquest as the soul beneath him was completely bared. Predictably pure, of course.

A different presence filtered across the periphery of Conquest’s mind as he was getting ready to rid the vessel of its soul.

He straightened and turned, his nose wrinkling at the rotting scent of a fresh Demon. It wasn’t nearby so the scent wasn’t strong, but Conquest’s ability to sense auras meant that he could pick up the depraved soul across large distances. Nothing gave off the same kind of aura that a baby Demon did; it was even more of a beacon among the mortals than an Angel-born was, mostly because an Angel-born wasn’t an Immortal until they passed. Baby Demons had already moved on, and were freshly made Immortals.

And it was coming closer.

Conquest knew that they were the only two Immortals in the city; if there were more, he would know about it. It was either there for him, or was having an unlucky day. An unlucky day that was about to become so much worse.

Conquest mounted Victory and headed towards the scent. The Angel-born could wait.

It didn’t take Conquest long to find it; it was doing absolutely nothing to hide its true nature. It was so young, fresh spawn that didn’t have that foul, soul-deep rot that a fully grown Demon had. It probably didn’t even know how to hide, which meant it was easy pickings for any Angel or Archangel out hunting, or another Demon.

Conquest hadn’t encountered many freshly-spawned Demons before; Diablo preferred to keep them locked away in the Hells this early in their development. He had more fun playing with them himself, twisting them into the broken and wrong creatures they became. The only time they were allowed to roam and play was when Diablo was using them for cannon fodder and things had been quiet lately between the Heavens and Hell, so that couldn’t be it.

The Demon smiled wickedly at him and Conquest knew that he was going to enjoy knocking it down a peg, or twenty.

Conquest slid from Victory’s back and murmured his thanks against her neck. He scratched just below her ear and she leaned into the touch.

“You’re a long way from home, baby Demon.”

“I’m not a baby,” the Demon spat. “I’m powerful now that I’ve been given this form. And I’ve come to take your head!”

Ah, the arrogance of youth. Conquest did so enjoy destroying the ego before he killed the Being in question. He tugged at his beard as he pretended to contemplate the threat, if it could even be considered one. “Oh? And what do you plan to do with it?”

“I’m going to take it to Lucifer, and he will grant me a place by his side.”

The idea had merit, Conquest could agree. But his head? That was a new one. Why not his crown? How young was this Demon, that it didn’t know that the Focus of a Horseman was the true treasure, not their heads? It was such a disgustingly human conclusion to reach and Diablo wouldn’t care one iota. Unless they went for Famine’s Focus, of course. No-one could save them from what Diablo would have planned for them if they were to target the third Horseman.

Conquest’s mouth lifted in the corner. “Well, what are you waiting for? I don’t have all day.” He took stock of his prey. It was tall, hitting just over six feet, with short choppy black hair and an almost Angelic face. The irony warmed Conquest’s heart. It couldn’t have been more than nineteen when its human life had ended. To have been turned to a Demon so young meant a short, horrific life, whether by its own choices or someone else’s. Not all Demons were turned because they were full of sin, but they ended up broken souls regardless.

Conquest had planned on using an Angel-born not a baby Demon for a vessel, but it would do. The baby Demon was fresh enough, its immortality too new and too weak, for its revealed form to hurt any mortals. And Conquest would enjoy the way the form made mortals uncomfortable in a way they didn’t understand.

The baby Demon charged at him with no finesse. Conquest shook his head in disgust as he easily gripped its throat, and slammed it against the nearest wall. It tried to tug at Conquest’s hands and squirm out of his grip, but it was no match for his raw strength. It was so fresh, so vulnerable , that Conquest didn’t even need to channel any of his immortal strength to keep it in place. “You’re learning a very valuable lesson right now,” Conquest said. “It’s a lesson you won’t survive.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” it choked out defiantly.

Conquest knew that was a lie. He could sense the fear that was practically oozing from the baby Demon, its aura a murky grey. How stupid of it to seek out a target it hadn’t bothered to learn about. Stupid, ignorant child trying to play in the adults’ realm.

“You’re lucky you don’t have wings, baby Demon,” Conquest whispered harshly. “Or I’d enjoy shredding them while you scream. You’d die in agony as I slowly ripped them from your spine.” Conquest could feel the power leaking from it, the Demon’s fear consuming every inch of its form. Fear meant losing control and losing control meant that what little power it had was essentially useless. Frozen with fear was a common saying for a reason.

Conquest wrapped his energy around the baby Demon, keeping it in place as he concentrated on the crown atop his head. The amplification of his strength allowed Conquest to delve deep inside its mind in an instant.

Images pulsed through Conquest, one by one, as the memories of a disgusting mortal life seeped from the baby Demon along with the ones that marked him as a newborn spawn. Conquest was almost impressed; that much damage in so short a time? This one had true depravity at its core.

But brutality for the sake of it had never appealed to Conquest. He preferred his inflicted pain to serve a purpose.

Conquest discarded every single memory, every unique part of what was left of its soul, leaving an empty slate. He stepped forward and sunk into the body, filling the blank space within. A mere blink of an eye, and he was looking at the world through a new lens.

Thankfully, he wouldn’t need to use the body often. It was only for when he required interaction with the mortals. He would need to find somewhere to keep it stored when not in use.

Conquest rolled his shoulders as he tried to orient himself in his new body. It was disconcerting - it always was to begin with - but he would get used to it.

* * *

Conquest, in his Demon vessel, watched as Victory trotted after the children running around in the park they had found in the middle of the capital city. She curiously sniffed at them as they giggled and played together. They had no idea she was there and walked straight through her, but she was content to follow after them, her long white tail flicking in delight.

Conquest stood as Famine approached in his armor. The black glinted in the sun, and the green that outlined it moved like sand on the fabric, a living entity all its own. Famine’s mare, Justice, trailed behind, and his ever-present pet Paul was curled up and sleeping in the curve of her neck.

Conquest disliked Paul on many levels, the very least of them being the fact that he was a large dog-sized spider.

Famine’s nose crinkled as he took in Conquest’s form. “A Demon, Con?”

“They’re like moths to a flame,” Conquest answered. “It took me weeks to find an Angel-born vessel, and the baby Demon all but handed himself over.”

Famine glanced around at the mortals enjoying the sunny day. Justice watched Victory, but made no move to join her frolicking. “The world is changing,” he said. “Corruption is no longer hidden in the shadows, stalking the unworthy.”

“I’ve never been more glad for a cleansing.” Conquest met Famine’s gaze as the other Horseman looked back at him. “Did you find out anything about our summoning?”

Famine conjured a light green flame, flipping it around and under his hand. “No. Samael wouldn’t give me a clear answer, but I can sense it wasn’t him. And God would have approached us by now.”

Conquest didn’t like the sound of either of those things. He preferred Famine to steer clear of Diablo, or as Famine called him, Samael, whenever possible, and the uncertainty of their arrival was unusual; they had never been left to their own devices like this. “Do you have what I need?” he asked.

Famine pulled a custard pastry out of thin air and tossed it to Victory, who caught it, crunching it down with one bite.

“Don’t feed her,” Conquest said. She was spoiled enough. When she got within reach, Conquest tugged lightly on her braid. “No more,” he told her and swiftly moved out of the way as she tried to step on his foot.

He took the keys and paperwork that Famine handed him and flicked through it.

ID, social security number, contract and deed for an estate, payment details, the works. The Earth these days sure seemed to like their processes and paper. He remembered the good old days fondly, when you could simply take what you wanted through bloodshed and mayhem. No-one had batted an eyelid at the carnage used to overtake a home. With murder being more frowned upon now, their approach required more finesse. And paperwork.

“I don’t say this often, but I agree with War. Why can’t we just kill everyone in our path?”

“You can, if you want.” Famine was looking off into the distance. “But you and I both know you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

Conquest had to concede that. Hunting was no fun if your prey was weak and easy. The Demons and Angels were far better sport. And since neither Diablo nor God had approached them, as far as he was concerned everyone was fair game at this point.

Conquest looked over the specifics and made note of the address that Famine had given him, as well as the pictures. The estate Famine had acquired was perfect for their needs. A large gated fence with impressive electronic security, and high brick walls surrounding the entire property. The house was a fair distance from the gate, large grassed areas that would be useful for Victory, and if any unwanted intruders wanted to play they could be handled before they reached the house. There was also a large pool that he and Victory would both make use of once they drained it of that disgusting chlorine and filled it with something more natural from their home dimension.

“I’ve already switched out the water,” Famine said, always one step ahead, “and I’ve furnished it. The protections have been placed around the fencing, and the entrance. Try not to disrupt it.”

“Destruction is War’s style, not mine.” Conquest was offended by the implication. He had far more finesse than his brother.

“Tell that to the third level of our home,” Famine said dryly. “Our dimension will never be the same.”

“Practicing your dramatics?”

“I’ve acquired appropriate clothing for you,” Famine said, ignoring the quip, “you’ll find them all in the third bedroom to the right on the second floor. I’ve woven defenses into them, but if you pick a fight I’d still suggest donning your armor.”

“Sure.”

Famine eyed Conquest’s new form. “I’ll get some for this size as well.”

Conquest looked down at the suit the baby Demon had been wearing. The three-piece outfit was gaudy as fuck and screamed ‘I have too much money and not enough taste’. It also itched slightly and Conquest didn’t want to know why. Fucking Demons, he thought with disgust. Angels weren’t much better, but at least they were clean. “I’d appreciate it.”

Victory pushed her nose against the papers and sniffed. Conquest shoved her face away. “Get your snout out of it.” She nipped at his shoulder and a sudden sharp pain lanced up his arm. He glared at her. “Meet me there. No stops for food.”

She snorted, and vanished in a blanket of fog.

“Did you get me a ride?” Conquest asked. There were a few stops Conquest would need to make where he wanted to arrive in style. He was not going to get around in those disgusting yellow vehicles he’d seen on the streets.

Famine lifted a fob and clicked it. The responding beep came from a shiny black Lamborghini Aventador SVJ parked on the side of the road. “The enchantments I placed on it means that you’ll fit, no matter what form you use,” Famine said. “I haven’t given it any protection. It’s not worth my energy; if you damage it I’ll just get you a new one.”

Conquest grinned. There were some things about this era that he knew he was going to enjoy. “Perfect.”