Page 7 of The Arbiter

I grab my cell phone from my desk and immediately conference call the other Infernal. In a matter of moments, I have all the others on the line.

“I know we all felt that. What is the word on Cassia?” I demand the moment we’re all connected.

A growl comes from the Lupin Infernal, Saul. “Do not make demands here, blooder! Yes, obviously we all felt it!”

You know that old human myth that vampires and werewolves don’t always get along? Well, that is definitely true between the Strige and Lupin. My race is on their shit list, right under The Rites and their precious Order of Abel. However, I’m only amused by his ire. It’s actually kind of fun to make him mad, especially when I’m not even trying.

“Calm yourself, Saul. We were all thinking the same question,” Alida, Infernal of the Imps, replies in a mildly bored tone.

“As if we don't already know the answer to that,” adds Enoch. He’s the ruler of the Others, the Damned who don’t quite fit into any specific category. No one knows much about him, other than he has more power than the rest of us. What we do know is that he’s a Damned made of Damnation. Basically, he was created not by the Creator, but by Cain in the deepest depths of the realm itself, and his second form literally consists of its fire and stone. He’s also a smug bastard. I love ruffling his feathers almost as much as I love ruffling Saul’s, though it’s a bit more literal with Enoch, considering he has a pair of black, feathered wings that shoot from his back when he shifts.

“Cassia had her dalliances with an Incubus for centuries since taking up her mantle. We all knew she would tip the scale keeping the balance and either lose her power or be killed for it. I believe it was the latter of the two,” he says, his ever-smug tone tightly in place.

The Incubi and Succubi rulers, Renald and Mignonette, both scoff in offense at the disdain in his voice while saying the word ‘Incubus.’

“Be careful how you speak of my kind, Enoch, for I have heard of your own romances with many Succubi before, and they would not be pleased to be referred to in such contempt,” Mignonette snarls back with acidity coating her tongue.

“Assez!” I shout, interrupting the brewing fight. “It doesn’t matterhowit happened. What matters now iswho. Who has taken her place, is the question we should be asking ourselves.”

There are mumbles of agreement. My second-in-command, Raphael, comes into the room and nods, letting me know he has already been on the task of finding out where the energy wave came from. He’s rather snide for a Strige, but his aptitude for gathering gossip is remarkable and very useful. I am never left out of the news in the world of the Damned because he always gets down to the bottom of things before anyone else.

“My second has information,” I say, setting my phone down and switching to speaker. I lean my hip against my desk as I cross my arms and give him my full attention.

“I made some calls the moment the power awoke me. It seems there was an incident in Portland, Maine. A nightclub owner who is, in fact, half Divine and Damned was seen encompassed by white light while dancing. The force of it shook the building, and all could feel her even after it was gone. Luckily, the humans in the vicinity believed it to just be part of the show. Last my informant heard, she was taken upstairs and out of sight, but he could still sense her as he left. He has stayed outside and waited to see if she would leave. She hasn’t.”

We’re to be judged by a club owner that doubles as a dancer?This has got to be the most fascinating news I’ve ever heard of. I’d almost think it’s a false proclamation, but Raphael’s informants are never wrong.

“See to it that she is contacted to be prepared for a meeting with the Infernal. It is our right to know who shall be the one we seek in crisis,” Renald orders.

Raphael looks to me, never taking any other’s orders but my own no matter how much more powerful they are.

“Merci, Raphael. Go ahead,” I tell him. He bows his head before making a hasty exit.

“It will be done,” I say to the others. “I’ll have it set up two nights from today. That should give everyone a chance to get there. I'll have the address sent to all of you once Raphael has it,” I assure them.

“May the Infernal always burn,” we all reply in unison before hanging up. I hate that stupid motto. Pushing my phone to the side, I drag my hands down my face.

I’m both perturbed and anxious by this turn of events. Cassia had been Arbiter for more than three hundred years. She is a powerful Imp and Rite mix and a cold-hearted bitch, holding the balance well enough for so long, much longer than any of her predecessors at least. Cain always has a hand in fucking with the Arbiters. They either give in to their Damned side, or they are slaughtered for making decisions that others don’t agree with. It’s a hazardous job, but it has to be done. Without one, the realms as we know them will fall into chaos as they did before. Human wars? Yeah, those were products of either an Arbiter slip-up or the lack of an Arbiter at all. What happens to us affects everyone.

The Spanish Inquisition. The Holocaust. The Great Depression. The Black Plague, just to name a few. Though, the bloodshed in the past between the two of our supernatural sides is just as bad, if not worse even with an Arbiter.

Raphael comes back into the office with a piece of paper in his hand, saying, “These are the coordinates of the woman’s club.” Signaling to the cell phone in his hand, he adds, “I have the pilot for your plane on hold for when you wish to depart.”

“Ça c’est bon. We leave tonight. I told them the meeting would be set two days from now, but I’d like to see this new Arbiter before the others. I have a feeling she won't be what we're all expecting. My guess is she’ll have a certain…lagniappe about her.” I smile as I think about what kind ofsomething extrashe might have since she’s a dancer in the club she owns.

Raphael chuckles. “No, I dare say she won't be. Her job title makes her sound like a baby compared to all the Arbiters before her, though. Surely this is a joke the Creator is playing on us.”

I shrug my shoulders and laugh, dropping the seriousness that is expected of me while conducting Infernal business. I’m actually pretty laid-back for a Strige, but that probably has to do with my free-spirited, Cajun nature. You can’t really be that serious when you were born and have lived out all your years on the bayou in Lafayette, Louisiana. I find humor in things that all the other Infernal would find beneath them. Well, all except for Enoch. He isn’t as stuffy as the others, just far more arrogant. I prefer to find enjoyment in life, not acting like my six hundred years of age.What’s the fun in that?

‘Joie de vivre’I always reply when asked why I’m not so formal in my position.

Joy of living.

As worried as I am about this new Arbiter being our only hope of keeping the peace, I’m also beginning to get excited about the possibility she doesn’t have a blessed blade stuck up her ass.

“Let's get a few hours of rest. We leave at daybreak,” I say as Raphael bows his head and follows me out of the office. When I get back to my room, I shrug off my robe and climb into bed. My mind races, trying to put a face to this woman. I have a strange gut feeling that I will end up liking her no matter what she looks like.

With that in mind, I drift off to sleep.

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