A/N: Thanks for World at DLP for fixing up a great number of grammar mistakes in this chapter. I go for my fist exam on Thursday, so those who like me can wish me luck, those who hate me can try to psych me out and those who don't care can don't care.
Harry was approaching the end of the chant, a series of lilting musical syllables that were almost too complex for the human ear to decipher. The chant echoed around the spacious living as Harry snapped off the last word, something sounding both similar to 'Cessbulby' yet so completely different. Power reverberated throughout the room, focussed true-magic as Harry continued to work the spell and create a rift between the real world and that of the Nevernever, the world of faeries, demons and other entities that he could only dream of. Harry's lack of innate talent and ability was balanced by his access to potent Hellfire, which was more than enough to seek out and bind the creature he needed to interrogate.
'Here it comes,' Meciel said softly, her voice whispering into Harry's ear.
Harry didn't need to be told and he pushed his emotions and thoughts away, concentrating solely on keeping the summoning circle secure. A faint splash of crimson and yellow light flickered through the air, little burst of energy sparkling through the air. The summoning circle was made of simple yet sturdy ring of copper and encompassed most of the now-bare living room. A circle of intricate runic symbols had been carved into the wooden floorboard, and these had started to glow with a faint silvery light. The thick curtains, permanently spelled over the window, fluttered as a soft icy wind as the light began to grow brighter and brighter with each second. From within the silver glow came a showering cloud of sparkling silver motes, which disappeared as it touched the ground with soft pops and short, tiny blinks of light.
And then, it came.
Harry caught a glimpse of red, blue and silver blur as the light receded and he lowered his hand, a c ring of crudely constructed piece of metal with a small gem set in the middle flickering with the last vestiges of light. The focus, the first Harry had ever built, had been Harry's only source of channelling true-magic since his blade was destroyed by Voldemort. Truthfully, Harry had thought he had thrown it away until he had found it in a corner collecting up dust. Since he had been too lazy to construct a new one, the ring suddenly became useful once more.
'Oh dear,' Meciel said blandly. 'I think it looks upset.'
“What?” Harry said in surprise and instinctively flinched as the blur slammed into the barrier separating Harry from the summoning circle.
He took a step backwards, a cautious frown on his face as he watched the blur zip around the barrier, occasionally slamming into it and producing a sizzling flash of crimson light. Finally, the blur halted directly in front of Harry's face and Harry got a glimpse of what he had just summoned. It was a beautiful humanoid faery, no bigger than six inches, with a shaggy, silken mane of pinkish red hair. Glittering dragonfly wings protruded from her back and her eyes were of a luminous blue.
“Cessbulby,” Harry greeted with a raised eyebrow, feeling a little amused at the faery's antics. While all faeries were absolutely not to be trusted, Harry had to admit that he had a fond spot for this particular one, both because she was a delightful little bloody-thirsty sociopath and because she had access to the deepest heart of the Winter Court's intelligence operations.
“You!” Cess barked out, her voice far too high-pitched to be any threateningly. She added in a few choice curse-words that had Harry blinking in surprise at the sheer filth of them all before folding her tiny arms over her little body and pouting.
“I'm touched that you've missed me,” Harry said dryly.
“Do you know how long it's been since I've had yoghurt?” Cess demanded. She blew Harry a loud raspberry and with a flick of her wings, threw a hail of silver motes at him. They burst out of existence as soon as they touched the shimmering barrier with soft, harmless pops. “I thought we had a deal.”
“We do,” Harry said patiently, exhaling loudly. He pointed to the centre of the circle and gave his best smile. “See, there's some fresh fruit and yoghurt now. Why don't you go and eat and we'll talk…”
Cessbubly moved as a blur of flapping wings, silver motes and pink hair and had dived at the tray of food before Harry had even finished his sentence. She tore into it with great vigour, food literally flying through the air as the tiny little faery hurled great portions of fruit dripping with yoghurt into her tiny mouth.
“Later,” Harry finished slowly and watched with barely concealed disgust as Cess shoved an entire strawberry into her mouth. He shook his head, partly in bewilderment and partly in genuine curiosity. “I bet she's really popular with the boy faeries.”
Harry had summoned every ounce of patience he possessed as he listened to Cess chatter. He had lowered the protective circle to bring out more food as Cess gorged herself. The tiny faerie was casually sitting inside the half-eaten yogurt, her little dress splattered with the juices of an entire fruit salad. Little goblets of yogurt and the mangled remains of the fruit that Harry had bought littered the ground around her.
“…and Maeve is really, really busy now,” Cess said with a slight giggle and threw Harry a shrewd look. “We all had fun watching you two sport with each other. Really, there was only one thing better….”
“I don't really want to hear about Maeve,” Harry said, raising his hand and interrupting Cess quickly with a pained expression on his face. Meciel was flickering with irritation and amusement within his mind, her feelings about the Winter Lady quite clear.
“But…” Cess whined.
“Tell me about Vesper,” Harry said firmly. Cess made a scoffing noise and pouted like a child as she folded her arms. She shook her head childishly before giving Harry an impish grin and buzzing her wings a few times.
“You're going to be sorry,” she said in a singsong voice. She buzzed her wings again and jumped out of the yoghurt bowl, pausing to flick a small goblet of juice off her arm and then rising to hover in front of Harry's face. “But since you asked, then I'll tell you what I've managed to peak out of Maeve's scrying mirrors. Vesper killed Balthrail.”
“Shit,” Harry muttered and frowned. Of the thirty Denarians in existence, only three had ever managed to gain any form of clout or control over their brethren. Of those three, Nicodemus had been killed by Harry last year and now Balthrail had been killed by Vesper.
'With both Balthrail and Nicodemus gone, Vesper is now the leading power of the Denarian factions. She could unite them all and gather them against you,' Meciel said worryingly and paused. 'It might be prudent to inform you that while all Denarians despise me, Vesper's hatred of me knows no bounds.'
'Of course she hates you,' Harry thought snippily. 'Who the hell doesn't anyway?'
“What can you tell me about the other Denarian?” He continued, ducking out of his thoughts and addressing the little faery buzzing in front of them. “Who have you seen working for Vesper?”
“Ooh, there are lots of them, lots and lots,” Cess said excitedly, animatedly gesturing with her hands. Her blue gaze glazed over as she began reciting a list of names. “There's Berith, Verrine, Gressil, Marchosias, Gaap, Belphegor, Poldriul and Sammerial. That's all I saw, anyway.”
'Verrine, Gaap and Poldriul have always been Vesper's servants,' Meciel said thoughtfully. 'Gressil and Marchosias were very strong supporters of Balthrail and Sammerial, Belphegor and Berith are, simply put, insane. They will follow whoever can give them blood.'
“That's gotta be half of the free Denarians,” Harry said grimly and sighed, unconsciously fingering his wand as his mind whirled with a dozen possible scenarios. “This could get tricky.”
'You do have the sword of the Knight's,' Meciel reminded him gently. 'And your skills are quite formidable. With my power, you could crush most of them quite easily. Alongside Vesper, only Verrine and Gressil would give you the most trouble. The rest are half-insane or worse, at best.'
'Not anxious much or anything?' Harry thought carefully.
'I have waited a long time for my revenge,' Meciel said and Harry was struck with a flash of hatred so vast that it made even him shudder. There was cold steel in Meciel's voice as she continued. 'There are issues between my kin that must be resolved, and resolve them I shall, with blood, fire and death.' Her voice then became gentler, although no less determined. 'However, I am patient. I have waited a four thousand years for my revenge. Before, when I acted out of haste, my hosts were all killed. I will not permit you to fall, beloved, so I will wait a little longer.'
“Okay….” Harry trailed off slowly. But concern tingled in his heart and he cautiously reached out for Meciel's presence only to find her blocking him off as she retreated into the forefront of Harry's mind. He sighed and turned back to Cess. “What else do you know?”
Cess made a pouting noise, buzzing high and out of Harry's reach. She stared down at him with childish hurt in her eyes and crossed her arms against her tiny chest.
“You could be nicer to me,” she said sulkily, absently running a hand over her yoghurt splattered leg and licking it off her finger. “Ooh, there was strawberry in that. I like strawberry.”
“Um…Cess?” Harry asked and Cess blinked. A bright smile crossed her face as her little tantrum was instantly forgotten and she came buzzing down.
“Yes, Harry?” She asked squeakily and frowned, her mind jumping from one topic to the next. “Did I ever tell you about the time I stabbed a summer pixie with my spear, then coated him with honey and ate him? Because that was nice...could you make me that sometime?”
“Great,” Harry said after a moment's pause. He stared at Cess with a strange expression on his face and then sighed. “Cannibalism aside, do you have anything else for me?”
“Ah,” Cess said and waggled a finger in front of Harry's face. “Only what I see, remember?”
Harry sighed and bit his lip in thought. Suddenly a thought occurred to him, probably prodded there by a helpful Meciel, and he smiled.
“When you saw the other Denarians,” Harry began slowly. “Just where exactly did you see them?”
“I was hoping you would say that,” Cess said with an impish grin and zoomed forward with a blur, landing and nestling herself in his hair. “You see, there's this club that Vesper goes to all of the time…”
“The Rainbow Crow?” Harry muttered, peering through the darkness and staring at the large building in front of him. He was hiding behind a tree on the other side of the road, perhaps five-hundred metres down from the entrance of the club. He could hear the loud thump of the rock music from where he was standing. It was a busy street that night and there was a long queue of young skimpy-dressed females and burly men, all who were looking impatient as the bouncer, a large, thick-muscled man, took his time letting them in.
'It certainly is…artistic,' Meciel said in amusement. 'Is this really what's popular these days?'
“I don't know,” Harry muttered, raking a hand through his head as he carefully analysed the outside of the club. “I'm a little out of the loop.”
'That is true,' Meciel said and paused. 'Besides, it can't be any worse than the Seventies. Disco was an enjoyable past-time for my host and, for a short while, the bane of my existence. He could simply not get the fact that he looked like a complete moron.'
“You know, you never really talk about him much,” Harry murmured, ducking behind the tree to avoid the headlights of a passing car. “Your former host, I mean.”
'There is no need,' Meciel replied softly. 'He was an adequate host, perhaps not as entertaining as you are but twice as obedient. His magical skills were not impressive but I sensed that he would have had great potential in the future. His death was necessary though, otherwise we would never have become one.'
“That sounds so dirty,” Harry murmured and let a smile cross his face as Meciel's amusement drifted into his cognitive senses. He peered around the tree again and shook his head at the club's horrible appearance. To Harry, it seemed as if a dozen people had opened up cans of paint from all the colours of the rainbow and then threw it on the walls without a care in the world. “You know, I bet the painters were Mexican.”
'Intolerance,' Meciel mused, 'is evil's most treasured gift.'
“Well then, you're in luck,” Harry muttered softly to himself as he ducked out of the tree and began walking to the club. “I have intolerance by the bucket's loads, and in all different kinds of flavours.”
'So I've noted,' Meciel muttered.
Harry bypassed the line completely, ignoring the dirty looks he was receiving, and strode right up to the bouncer, the cane-sheath clicking loudly on the ground. The burly man stared down at him with an exasperated look on his face.
“No kids, pal,” He said and jerked his thumb. “Beat it.”
“There are two definitions of pal,” Harry said coldly, his eyes glinting as he stared down the other man. “There's the 'friend, buddy, pal!' type of pal and then there's the dog-food. To you, I'm neither.”
“Look…” The bouncer started to speak with a touch of menace in his voice, and he flexed his muscles as he stared down at Harry.
“Go get Vesper,” Harry interrupted with a bored expression on his face, waving the bouncer off with an imperious wave of his hand. He idly glanced at his surroundings, noting that many of the people in the line were glaring at him.
“What?” The bouncer started, stiffening up and staring at Harry with a little more caution. Harry could tell that the man was a trained fighter as he shifted on his feet, moving into a fighting stance and clenching his fists.
“Vesper,” Harry articulated slowly, staring at the man as if he were a moron. “The owner of the club. The woman I know is in there. Go tell her that an agent of Meciel wants to speak with her. Now.”
The man narrowed his eyes but pulled out a walkie-talkie from his belt and began to speak to somebody on the other end. Harry stood there and waited, not letting an inch of emotion show on his face as he placed his hand in his pocket, clenching his wand. Past his blank eyes, Harry sought out Meciel's presence with no small amount of hesitation and nervousness.
'So, are you sure she won't kill me?' Harry thought carefully. 'Because, I would…if I were her, I mean. Although, if I were her, I might not…I'd get too distracted playing with my breasts all day.'
'This club is part of the neutral accords,' Meciel explained with the patient air of somebody who had been over it a thousand times beforehand. 'Inside, prominent members of the Vampire Courts, Order of Blackened Denarius, businessmen, mobsters, even Faeries, meet and make alliances that shape the world. In her current position, Vesper would not dare to break these accords, not when she is trying to consolidate her power.'
'Oh,'
'That said, she does possess somewhat of an irrational hatred towards me,' Meciel thought and Harry felt her amusement…and satisfaction. 'I can't imagine why.'
“Always a catch,” Harry muttered sourly and drew away from Meciel. He blinked as the bouncer lowered his walkie-talkie and gestured Harry forward.
“Alright, Vesper will see you,” He said. Harry gave the man a little satisfying smile and made to move forward, but the bouncer halted him and narrowed his eyes at the cane in his hand. “Whoa, what's that? I won't believe for a second that you're disabled.”
“Dude,” Harry exclaimed with an easy grin. He clapped the man on the shoulders and smiled brilliantly at him. “It's my pimp-cane.” He smirked at the bouncer's blink of shock. “You see, Vesper is my bitch.”
“Just get the hell in,” the bouncer muttered and stood back, allowing Harry to pass.
“What the hell do you think I was trying to do, dumbarse?” Harry muttered under his breath and strode into the club.
The inside of the club was full of thunderous, beating music. A band dressed in stripped leathers performed on the stage, their long hair flying as they poured their souls into their music. A shower of glowing sparks shot out of the stage as they struck a particularly loud chord, and the crowd before them screamed in applause. A bar had been built into the back of the club and past that was a small lounge, occupied with couples desperately trying to suck the lips of the other person. Harry saw dilated pupils and red faces everywhere he looked. In one corner, a man was surreptitiously injecting a needle into his arm; another was staggering drunkenly towards the crowd in the other.
“What a fucking dive,” Harry muttered sourly and wrinkled his nose at the smell of sweat, alcohol and fast food. He strode through the crowd, knocking people aside if they got in his way, and aimed for the bar.
'Snobbery from you,' Meciel said with a snort. 'That's rich. I have seen the way you keep the apartment.'
'Meciel, I don't live like that because I choose to,' Harry thought patiently. 'I live like that because I'm lazy.'
'Of course,' Meciel murmured sardonically. 'Forgive me.'
“Hey!” Somebody bellowed, although Harry barely heard them over the distorted sound of guitars and mindless screaming. He turned around to see a tall, lithe man wearing a distinguished suit and a no-nonsense expression on his face. “You're Meciel's boy?”
“That'd be me,” Harry drawled and gave the man a once-over glance.
It was faint but both Harry and Meciel could sense the darkness within him, a darkness that both were particularly familiar with. He was a Denarian. Although Meciel couldn't recall his hosts face, she knew the presence quite well.
“So, you're Marchosias,” Harry said and paused, curling his lip in derision. “Vesper's little bitch.”
“You watch your mouth you little fucking punk!” The man snarled, his eyes brewing with rage his face distorted with anger. There was a spark of yellow behind the man's pupils and Harry knew that he had just grasped Hellfire. He made to do the same but just as soon as it had come, it was gone and the man's face was blank. When he next spoke, the voice was smooth and cultured.
“Forgive my host, Meciel,” The man said with an expressionless face. “He angers quite easily. Vesper will see you now.”
“Lead on,” Harry said and gestured for Marchosias to move. The man thronged his way past the crowd and led them towards a plain unmarked door at the back of the club. Harry's sharp eyes noted a faint line of runes carved into the wooden frame and felt a multitude of wards lift as the man opened the door.
“Come,” Marchosias ordered and noted Harry's hesitation. “Believe me, Meciel, if we were not going to follow the accords, then you would already be dead. Come.”
“Alright,” Harry said crossly. His cane shot up and his jabbed the end of it in the other man's chest as he made his next point with ice in his voice. “But if I'm betrayed…you'll be the first to die, I promise you.”
Marchosias rocked on his feet and Harry saw a glimpse of emotion behind the stony mask. Feeling quite self-satisfied at unsettling the other Denarian, Harry took a deep breath and strode forward to meet one of his greatest enemies for the first time in his life.
The room inside was nothing short of lavish. It was a small lounge, complete with an assortment of leather chairs and couches. A small, private bar had been set up in the corner and a fireplace blazed in the corner, more sentimental then practical. Silk hangings drifted from the roof and when Harry glanced up, he could see the night sky.
“Do you know you have a large hole in your roof?” He asked Marchosias, but the Denarian ignored him and strode to the centre of the room, where a single woman waited for him. Harry ignored the throbbing beat that resounded throughout the club as saw Vesper with his own eyes for the first time.
She stood before him in light wavy dress of almost-transparent grey silk, her voluptuous chest barely concealed by the hazy fabric. Her beautiful blue eyes seemed to throb with innate power, inhuman at best, and her hair gave her the appearance that she had just walked through a gale. Sitting on her shoulders was a small bird with grey feathers and a wicked-looking beak. Harry glanced at it for a brief second; his mind still tightly wrapped around Hellfire, and sensed the dark currents of powers that ran under its feathers and cold black eyes.
'Accursed bitch!' Meciel snarled into his head, an outburst of pure, blinding rage. Harry could feel her rear up in his head, her mighty presence almost demanding that he lash out at her. Instead, though, he did his best to block it out and, with a lazy smirk on his face, eyed Vesper's body with an appreciate glance.
“So,” Harry drawled slowly and gave her his best suggestive smile. “As one Denarian host to another, let's say we ditch these Fallen, who only want to throw their little temper-tantrums, and, how does one put it,” Harry trailed off with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Ah, yes, have sex.”
“I'm afraid, little boy, that the one you are speaking to no longer exists,” Vesper said quietly. Her soft voice was much like her appearance, breezy and unthreatening, but the smile she gave Harry was nothing short of predatory. “She was such a foolish little girl, wanting to be more beautiful than her sisters and unaware of her vast magical potential. She was easily seduced and when I was through with her, she all but begged me to destroy her mind. So I did.”
Harry squared his shoulders, his face falling blank as he regarded Vesper a little more carefully. The bird jumped off the other Denarian's shoulder and glided across the room. An almost unnoticeable shudder ran through him but Vesper seemed to notice and smiled cruelly.
'Meciel, if I ever say that you're terrible to me then I want you to backslap me,' He thought with all seriousness.
'Agreed,' Meciel replied quietly.
However, Vesper didn't seem to be offended and gave Harry a soft, sexy smile. She glided forward in a slow, sensuous movement, her blue eyes boring into him as the thin fabric of her dress fluttered around her. She pressed her voluptuous chest against Harry's and stroked his expressionless face with the back of her hand.
“Still, you are quite pretty,” she mused and she gave a smile filled with a thousand different promises. The smile quickly transformed to one of malice as her voice hitched with hated. “Even if you are hosting that traitorous whore!” Her voice softened and lowered as she finished. “If you are still interested, I could show you things that you would never dream of. After all, I have had thousands of years to perfect my…technique.”
“Hmm,” Harry uttered slowly, nodding in what seemed like thoughtfulness. “How about I stick my dick in cheese-grater instead? It will be less painful and I won't catch anything rancid off it.”
Vesper's smile dropped and she hissed as if she had been struck. Her eyes flickered with an odd yellow light and Harry almost frowned, but continued on and appraised Vesper carefully.
“You're not really my type anyway, although I do like these…” He drawled slowly and raised his hands, quite deliberately slipping them inside her dress and squeezing her voluptuous breasts. Vesper stared at him as if she couldn't feel him groping her body, hatred flaring in her eyes.
“But…” Harry continued and his hands trailed over her skinny arms with a sympathetic expression. “There's lithe, Vesper, and then there's anorexic. You look like you're wasting away. Have you ever though of eating a cheeseburger or something?”
'Oh, she is wasting away,' Meciel said with quiet satisfaction and Harry was surprised at the amount of cruelty and pleasure in her voice. 'I saw to that.'
“Your Fallen saw to that!” Vesper hissed and yanked Harry's arm away, taking a step backwards. The other Denarian's fury only seemed to grow and her voice reverberated with a shrill, unholy tone that slammed into Harry's mind with great force. It was only Meciel's presence that allowed Harry to stand on his two feet as Vesper loomed over him, spittle flying from her mouth. “How dare you touch me like that, you, some pathetic, insignificant mortal touch the receptacle of my celestial being?”
Harry stared with wide eyes and shock rocked his mind as Vesper underwent a transformation before his very eyes. Her skin darkened with sickly, faded splotches, like very old bruises, and her eyes tightened up together, sky-blue fading into a cruel yellow. Harry noted from the corner of his eye that Marchosias had ducked his head and was doing his best to ignore the newly-revealed Vesper.
“Your…receptacle…looks like it could use some surgery,” Harry said slowly, taking a wary step backwards. He ran his eyes over Vesper and grimaced. “Okay, lots of surgery.”
“It is the curse,” Vesper snarled with rage, her cruel yellow eyes flickering with Hellfire. “Her curse- Meciel's curse!”
“Meciel did this to you?” Harry asked slowly, taking in Vesper's appearance. “Why don't you get a new body then?”
“You stupid imbecile,” Vesper snapped, but her immediate rage had disappeared. “She did not curse the body, she cursed the coin! Forever will my receptacles fall victim to this…accursed state as long as I remain present!”
“Okay,” Harry drawled slowly, eying Vesper carefully. “Am I going have to kill you now? It'd be bad for the accords, but hey, it's not like I'm used to having people wanting to kill me.”
Vesper smiled coldly and took a deep breath, her eyes fluttering shut. After a few more breaths, the sickly splotches on her skin faded away back into a creamy, pale flesh. When Vesper opened her eyes they were once more blue and were staring at Harry, or more specifically, Harry's cane.
“It's my pimp cane,” Harry explained after seeing her glance. “For my hoes. A brother's gotta respect his homies, yo?” He paused at the expression on Vesper's face and shrugged his shoulders. “Don't worry, I don't know what I just said either.”
“So, you are a knight,” Vesper mused and shook her head in disgust. She strode across the lavish lounge and with a flick of her hand, summoned a glass of sparkling wine into her outstretched hand. “I admit, it befuddles the mind, it truly does. How does a Denarian, one of us, become a Knight of the Cross?”
“I'm not a Knight,” Harry scoffed, waving the idea away with his hand. “I use one of their swords, sure, but mercy, forgiveness, love and all that crap? I'd rather…well… like I said, I'd rather fuck a cheese-grater. It's funny how you said that though. Sort of like that you almost knew what happened?”
Vesper didn't say a word but Harry caught a glance of her lips curling up as she took a sip of her wine.
“The only way you could have heard that if you've been in contact with somebody who saw me use it,” Harry concluded thoughtfully and held his hand up. “He's about this high, pale skin, slit-like nose, dreamy crimson eyes, likes long walks on the beach, holding hands and expressing his feelings in a variety of many different lethal spells.”
“Lord Voldemort and I have entered into a business arrangement, yes,” Vesper said abruptly. “How you believe that concerns you, I have no idea.”
“It concerns me because, apparently, you two have allied to kill me,” Harry replied grimly, narrowing his eyes. “That makes it my business.”
“Oh, you poor fool,” Vesper said with a light laugh. She lowered her glass and, with a careless wave of her hand, sent it soaring back to the table. “Are you that arrogant as to believe that I would enter an alliance merely so I could kill you? Oh, Meciel has not conditioned you well.”
“So you're not trying to kill me?” Harry asked sceptically and snorted. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Of course I'm trying to kill you,” Vesper answered honestly, a cruel smile on her face. “I despise Meciel and you haven't exactly left me a good first impression. But there is much more to our alliance than just you. Obviously, your sources aren't as thorough as you thought.”
“Vesper…” Harry started with a low growl.
“Enough!” Vesper snapped and Harry fell silent as her skin flickered with the blotches. Her eyes wavered between cruel yellow and soft blue. “I don't know what you intended to gain from coming here, but I can tell you what you have gained. You have gained my ire, my notice and my wrath!”
'I think you should leave,' Meciel said worryingly. 'If she continues then she will lose her temper and believe me, beloved, once she has lost her temper then it is very hard for her to regain control.'
“It's like a supermarket, isn't it?” Harry said blandly. He made a show of raising his hand to check at a non-existent watch. ”Anyway, I've left my oven on so I might leave now…okay,” he said slowly at Vesper's glare, raising his hand in a placating gesture. “I'm really going to a brothel, since I didn't pick up any here. I'll catch you later, Vesper.”
“Count on it,” Vesper promised quietly. Her arm lashed out and she pulled Harry' in, her yellow eyes boring into his face. “I promise you, renegade, the next time we meet, you will die and Meciel suffer as I have suffered for the rest of eternity,”
“We'll see, won't we,” Harry said just as quietly. Vesper sneered and pushed him away, abruptly spinning around and gesturing to Marchosias. The Denarian, who had been completely silent, rose to his feet and stared at Vesper calmly.
“Get him out of here,” she snapped.
”So, who did you see?” Harry muttered under his breath as he stalked out of the club. Hellfire blazed in his mind and an invisible barrier of magic surrounded his form, designed specifically to stop anybody putting a bullet in his exposed back.
'Several influential members of the Red Court, some corporate businessmen, a rogue warlock that I have met previously, three Denarians and a Winter Faerie in disguise,' Meciel said worryingly. 'She is forming her connections and building her empire.'
“Was it worth it?” Harry asked with resignation as he approached the cluster of trees where he had hidden himself before.
'I believe so.'
Neither of them noticed a grey and red blur shoot from the bar as he disapparated. Vesper's bird's eyes gleamed with dark power as it soared into the night sky and circled the bar once, before shooting off into the distance towards Chicago.