These So Called Devils

Gabriel de le Poer · 09-13-2010, 09:18 PM

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Once, Inferni had been full of beings who sought nothing but the blood and slaughter of wolves. Gabriel had lived within an Inferni like that. His own mother had crushed children’s skulls while her warriors slaughtered those who did not flee fast enough. While the bloodlust had become controlled, the violence had never left the clan. They did what they needed in order to survive—this was what Gabriel had convinced himself even as he attacked strangers, even as he crushed the ribs of a crippled man, even as he killed simply because he felt the need.

So in truth, it would be lying to say much had changed. Certainly some of the coyotes had grown weak, like his half-brother, but there were those still who would obey Gabriel’s orders without question. The Hydra, his mother and her hellspawn, those who had nothing to lose but everything to prove. Inferni was not weak. Gabriel would not allow it to be.

It pleased Gabriel to hear that Crimson Dreams was once more neutral. He had nearly gone to war with its former leaders, though the white she-wolf had offered him aid and crushed this idea. Inferni had never needed to deal with the pack to the south much beyond that. His face crunched into a smile, entertained that the large male was wise enough to mention new adults (new warriors) and the growth of the presumably strong pack as it stood. Yet it was the news of the second litter that made Gabriel’s ears rise to a black crown atop his head. His eyes lit at the mention of three sons. His three sons. Realizing the slip, his face twisted into a dark mask. “I did,” he growled.

“He should have died long before this, though.”

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