Page 65 of The Simurgh

His subordinates complied, their equally chilled-blue eyes never leaving Lucifer as the enchantment engulfed them. The Elves were a handsome race, even he, with small taste for the beauty of the flesh, could not deny it. They were the closest in form, of all the Fae races, to the purebreds, but Lucifer had always found the sharpness of their features perturbing. It made them seem cold somehow. The points of their ears like dagger tips.

‘Carry on then,’he said, ‘don’t let me hold you up.’

In unison they turned, in somewhat of a trance with the weight of his enchantment upon them. The lorebiders walked with relaxed abandon, their staffs lowered, the points held towards the ground in a casual, careless pose they’d not dare without Lucifer’s controlling influence.

Once he was happy with his hold upon them, sensing them pliant, Lucifer called out, ‘Captain, might I have a word?’

The elf halted and turned, whilst the others continued on.

‘Only ten more steps then wait for me,’ Lucifer called, knowing he’d be obeyed even though no reply came.

The captain moved towards him, eyes glazed, deep-blue lips parted. Lucifer took in all the details of his appearance and imprinted them to mind, captured the essence of his walk, the hold of his shoulders, the way he flexed his slender fingers as he moved.

‘Stop there.’ Lucifer knew his words were an elixir few could refuse. Certainly not this creature trained for much of his life to obey.

The captain halted. Staring up at Lucifer, who had a head on him in height, with something akin to rapture in his cool gaze.

‘You are beautiful,’ he breathed.

Lucifer sighed. He was unmoved by gratifications of the flesh that many others seemed obsessed by, including the prince, who was spreading his legs more often than keeping them closed. That sort of physical intimacy repulsed Lucifer. He could barely tolerate the closeness of friendship or camaraderie, where there need be no touching at all. He did not enjoy closeness, of any kind, as a general rule. Seraphiel being the most unexpected exception. So it turned Lucifer’s stomach, the way his enchantments made his targets into simpering, desirous fools. Gazing at him like he were the only thing in the world that could sate their desires.

‘I am not beautiful, I’m sorry to say.’ Lucifer stepped behind the captain, and before the elf could turn his head, placed his hands about his neck. ‘Stay where you are. Now tell me, which of these towers are we headed for?’

‘Can I look at you, please?’

‘No. Which one is it?’

The man described the tower, but the description could fit any number of the towers about, which were remarkably plain compared to the usual fae extravagance.

‘Do the others know which one we should go to?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thank you.’

And with well-practised ease, Lucifer snapped the elf’s neck with a clean twist. He caught at the captain so the armour would not make an almighty noise when he landed, and as soon as the elf was laid out, Lucifer set about making himself a mirror image of the corpse. He set to mind all the details of the armour, the captain’s face and white hair, which was to his mind ridiculously long, the intricate braid reaching all the way to the back of armoured thighs.

Once he was done, Lucifer took a moment to survey himself, and the illusion he’d created. Superb job, if he did say so himself. To all and sundry, he would appear an exact replica of the captain of the lorebiders. He kept Old Bess’s cloak on, deciding if there was a Higher Angel to be faced then it was best he have assistance in maintaining his charade.

Exactly ten paces ahead the two other guards waited on him. His enchantment told them there was only the captain to see, no dead body, no daemon playing dress-up. They waited in silence. He’d allow the enchantment that held them in check to ease in a moment, and test his new appearance on them.

Lucifer touched a hand to the base of his neck. Knowing full well that the Trumpeter was still there, but reassuring himself anyway. A slender metal whistle, in appearance at least, but a world-changer in design.

‘Go where your instincts take you.’

The cryptic words of the lord had always challenged Lucifer. But he knew better than to ask outright what the ruler of Arcadia wished him to do.

His instincts had drawn him here.

To the heart of the matter. The nest that had borne the Morrigan and sheltered those who sought to overthrow the Lord of Arcadia.

He knew what must be done.

He must destroy all who endangered the Ophanim Throne.

And that must include the weapon Seraphiel had so painstakingly crafted and placed inside a volatile Dominion prince.

CHAPTER NINETEEN