The first cambion to enter was smaller than Vera, red eyes just like Death’s, a pretty outfit of hellish red with golden swirls, a few plates of armour on her shoulders, arms, and lower legs, similar to the design of Valan armour in an attempt to blend in.

  Why she wanted to blend in? Death wasn’t sure, it would be hard for her to—light red, pinkish skin, a slippery pointed devil tail poking out from the back of her garments, pointy ears, the curled horns of a ram decorating her orange hair, unmistakably born with the blood of a demon, disguises wouldn’t do much for her at all.

  “A pleasure to meet you,” she said, shaking Death’s hand. “I am the one who wrote the letter, my name is Aleirica Flame, but you may call me Rica, if you wish, that is what my friends call me.”

  The second cambion made Vera take further refuge in the chair.

  He was larger than death, wider than death, muscular, the same family features of Rica, only with yellow eyes and the antlers of a stag, and without a tail.

  He grunted with every step, ducking under the doorframe. His hair was lush, silky, as was the hair on his chest and his beard, giving the illusion that he was wearing a lion’s mane.

  That one dresses lightly, Death thought. Looks like he wishes to be royalty, doesn’t care about hiding… he doesn’t look happy to be here.

  “You brought muscle,” Snow whispered. “Hairy muscle, save some hair for the rest of the men in Valan, you hairy bastard.”

  The large cambion gave a deep chuckle. “I like that one,” he said in a growly tone. “We could arrange a deal with her master for me to fuck her during this meeting.”

  Rica slapped him, then cleared her throat. “Apologies,” she said shyly. “My brother has spent more time in Hell than up here, the courtesy of man is not as… learned… but he will get there.”

  “Kinda reminds me of you, Death,” Vera snickered. “Having to learn manners from Snow… must be look looking into a mirror.”

  One more word, Vera, and I will let the cambion brute take you as a slave and fuck you as much as he wants… he would be doing me a great service.

  “His name is Aleion, if he oversteps or misspeaks, I bid that you forgive him and only take my words to heart.”

  “Why bring him if he’s so different?” Snow asked curiously.

  “This meeting is friendly, but it would be silly of a little cambion like me to travel by myself into a den of strangers—he’s my strength to defend myself, I would be hopeless without him.”

  If that brute decides to strike me, Death thought. I would win the battle without a doubt; I can sense that the only thing he has going for him is physical prowess, there is not much to understand in that slab of meat he calls a brain—punch things, punch them hard, that will be his tactic, maybe he’ll have a gift of a conjurable weapon that he’ll try swing as hard as he can.

  “Too cold in here,” Aleion boomed. “Hurry this up so I can get back to Hell, hate it up here.”

  “May we sit?” Rica asked Snow. “I conjured those chairs with the finest of magic, should feel like resting on an unsheared sheep.”

  They all sat at the table, Vera avoided eye contact with both of the cambions, no one was quite sure who to speak first.

  So, naturally, Death was the who took opportunity in silence. He placed the book of the Valan family tree and flipped it to the page that had Harren and Godwin covered in a bloody thumbprint.

  “Explain,” he said.

  “We don’t have to explain shit to a fuckwit like you,” Aleion snarled. “The fuck do you think we are, your little spies? I should beat you to a pulp for thinking we owe you anything.”

  Death shushed Rica as she tried to silence her brother. “Was he at this ritual with you?” he asked her. Rica answered yes. “Ah, I see, you must be the one who brutalised and raped the poor woman.”

  “Raped?” Aleion bashed his meaty fists on the table and held his belly in a deep laughter. “No one was raping anybody, you dumb cunt, cutting her open was a part of the process.”

  Interesting, Death thought. This big man is very easy to tease information out of.

  “The image of cambions have already been tarnished into false depictions of violence and rape,” Rica explained. “I want a change to how we are seen.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “You plan to do that by cutting open girls?” said Death.

  She understood his point and sighed. “I want to explain more, I really wish I could, I made a promise to keep it a secret.”

  “A promise to who?”

  “Surely you know I cannot answer that.”

  She is smarter than her brother, I will soon find out whether it is by a little or a lot.

  “We can’t trust the bitch,” Vera snarled bravely. “I bet this bitch felt powerful using the word plethora in her little letter… you’re lucky decided to show up, pink-skinned slag, what do you want?”

  Death slammed Vera’s head against the table. “Just as you ask me to ignore your idiot, I ask you ignore mine too.”

  “Acceptable terms,” Rica agreed. “The letter was what I meant, the tear of the angel for a favour… do we have a deal?”

  “Gotta make sure he’s got it,” Aleion bellowed. “Little man, the tear of the angel, show it to us!”

  “I trust that he had it,” said Rica. “Now, Death, is this something you are willing to trade? I can see you are not shallow, you know it is a powerful stone, you could get a fortune for it, use it yourself if you wished, it is imperative that I get that exact stone.”

  “I will only trade it with you if you explain to me why you want it back so badly.”

  “It can be tracked to us,” she explained. “We have used it in far too many rituals, the magic inside it is bonded to us, a well-equipped hunter could sniff us out if they got a hold of it.”

  “What favour do you offer me?”

  “A service of any kind. Murder, transport, gold, information, and if you desire it… pleasure.”

  “No pleasure!” Snow yelled. “That’s not an option.”

  “No pleasure then,” Rica said softly. “Oh, pardon my words, it would not have been me, there are plenty of scandalous little demons prettier than I waiting for opportunities like this.”

  “Succubi are extinct,” Death said flatly.

  “That is a good thing for you, they would be pleasuring you not out of deceit, but because they want it.”

  I thought if I mentioned the succubi her expressions might let it slip that there is one still in hiding… or maybe she doesn’t know, or maybe she expects me to use this favour to find that information. No, she would have no way of knowing that I am hunting one, nor would they know I am aware of one remaining one… her face would’ve slipped at the mention, she must be unaware.

  There was a long silence. “Make up your fucking mind!” the brother yelled. “I don’t have time to be sitting her all day and night waiting for you pale cunts to strike a bargain.”

  “You are making the pretty girls uncomfortable,” Rica told him sternly. “What did I tell you about etiquette of the above world? You be kind to pretty girls, treat them like princesses, you speak to every man like they are a friend of your father.”

  “Fuck you rules, Rica,” he growled. “I want to smash their heads together and crack them like eggs!”

  Vera stood and summoned her daggers. “Oh yeah? You think you can take me on, you pink-skinned meat slab? Fucking come on then! Charge at me with those fuckin’ antlers and I’ll put them on my mantlepiece!”

  Aleion bashed his fists on the table. “I like that one too! A jester and a warrior! I will take them both as slaves and fuck them both!”

  His sister touched his cheek, his eyes flashed black, then white, then returned to yellow, he fell back down to his chair with a boom like a crack of thunder. “He’s lucky I conjured such a strong chair with my magic,” she joked, rubbing his head. “He will return to his normal self in a couple of minutes; I do apologise for his behaviour at this meeting.”

  “What did you do to him?” Vera stood and waved a hand in front of his eyes and got no response. “Can he see me?”

  “Magic,” Rica giggled. “Witchcraft, a temporary spell which calms the mind and makes you gentle.”

  She’s lying, Death saw. Whatever she did to her brother was not a magical spell or an act of witchcraft… it’s some sort of power, a gift, I should be wary of this.

  “I am afraid that now he has acted this way, when he returns to his conscious state, he will do what he always does—fight, he loves to fight, never understands that not every situation needs a fist to be thrown. I barely managed to drag him away when we heard your voices at the site of the ritual, I would suggest we go on a walk, just you and I, Death, with this idiot trailing behind us.”

  “No!” Snow yelled. “You’re trying to separate us from him so that you can kill him and take the tear of the angel?”

  “I would not be so cruel,” she insisted. “I simply do not wish to force you to endure my brother a second longer.” She removed a necklace and pulled a red gem from her cleavage, she offered it to Snow, closing her hand around it. “Collateral, an assurance, I don’t intend to kill Death or betray, that gem is very fragile, you could crack it in your palm if you wished.”

  “What is it?” Vera asked, peeking at it. “Looks boring.”

  “It is an heirloom passed down from my family, priceless to me, my heart would crush and break if I were to lose it… metaphorically of course, take it as a promise that I will return once a deal has been made, safety for an heirloom.”

  Death saw a sadness in Rica’s eyes, a willing reluctance to hand over a prized possession to prove she could be trusted.

  “Fine.” Death stood from his chair, he shown the tear of the angel as proof he had it, then put it back in his pocket. “I will walk with you for a short time; we can discuss terms and keep my two companions a safe distance away from the big one.”

  “If a fight starts, just shout for me!” Vera exclaimed.

  “Thank you for your trust,” Rica said with a smile. “It truly warms my heart that you would be so trusting of cambions when the world has such a hatred for us… I promise you I will not disappoint with whatever you desire. Now, come Death, there is much for us to discuss alone.”