Pandora's Box: Book 3 of the Crystal Raven Series

Overhead an angry thunderhead slowly circled. Lightning licked their black bellies, chasing each other across the billowy surface of the sky. Below, like ants labouring over a forgotten feast, a host slaved away, building a city where for hundreds of years, only jungle had stood. Their numbers snaked up the steps, growing larger as they neared the altar until they were no longer ants but mortals. In the immediate foreground, victims were held down to the bloody stone, where they lost their hearts to a nameless god and their lifeless bodies to a hungry horde at the base of the temple. Again and again and again in an endless cycle of death and life.

Delph wrapped his cloak tighter around his shoulders and turned his back on the scene. He did not know why his advisor had insisted he wear this traditional dress, the cape with its habit of clinging to everything and the overblown jackboots that came almost to his knees. He felt anything but impressive next to the massive winged creature or the red-scaled brute he had come to meet, neither did he feel intimidated. He represented the combined might of the Vampyre Nations, and no matter what these two thought of him, this could not be ignored.

Already his people were moving in numbers into Turkey, where he anticipated they would soon fight the final engagement with the Brotherhood. With his sleepers infiltrated into almost every human government, the two other sides in what was quickly shaping up into a four-sided war had to deal with him, especially while still establishing their own beachheads. And that is exactly why he had been invited to this meeting in the middle of blood-drenched nowhere.

Their host had brought them here to the top of the temple in hopes the smell of blood would distract him. Did that corrupt bug think he was a freshly blooded toddler who would wet himself over the scent of food? He would learn that Delph was a true scion of the House of Romanov.

“And why should My Lord treat with lesser beings like you?” The red brute grated. “His forces could crush you puny weaklings like sticks.”

“If his forces were not locked away behind the Seven Seals,” their host offered. “Until then, we can smash any toehold you establish. In fact, with my young colleague’s connections, we could have the humans do it for us.”

The demon lord scowled and nodded. Bluster was not going to work here, not with their host present. Perhaps if he could get the youngling alone? Something in that one’s eyes told him it wasn’t going to happen. There was a hardness he had not expected to see there. This youngling was amongst his betters, and he did not care. He had a soldier’s disdain for politics and politicians.

Delph raised an eyebrow but said nothing. His father had taught him that there was a time to speak and a time to listen, and if you were speaking, you were a fool.

“And what is it you two wish of my master?” The demon lord grunted. He was beaten but would never admit it. The Humans outnumbered all three forces by so much that they had no choice but to stand together, at least in these early days.

“I propose we divide the world into three spheres,” their host offered. “We will allow your master the largest portion, Africa and Asia. I will take the smallest – South America, Central America and all those insignificant islands.”

“And we would hold North America and Europe,” Delph concluded bitterly. In this business, the first world was the least.

“Ah yes,” his host smiled, “I see you understand the concept. I suggest we each keep to our own spheres and learn to fend for ourselves.”

“Not acceptable,” the demon lord raged, lightning flashing from the sky to strike the nearby jungle. As the reverberations shook the temple, he continued. “We must have it all on the Final Day!”

“On that day, we will stand together,” their host replied. “But until then, He will not interfere.”

The demon lord drew breath for another harangue and suddenly stopped. He looked at his host closely before asking. “And why not?”

“The covenant he made with Noah,” the winged creature replied. “He cannot place his hand directly in this world without causing widespread devastation. And while he might work through agents like his angels, a large confrontation between our two kinds would break the world. And His promise to Noah was never again to break the world.”

“A promise, bah,” the demon lord scoffed. “Words are easier to break than bones.”

“It is not the appointed hour,” the other returned. “For everything, there is a season… Until that moment, He will not break the world.”

“And so we have a thousand years to prepare for his coming,” Delph commented almost too quietly to be heard.

“Very well,” the demon lord conceded. “But I would have the pact bound by more than words.”

“A blood oath?” Their host offered.

“We will swear by our immortal souls,” Delph interjected. “Bound until soul death, and by our immortal souls bound to keep the pact.”

His host raised a speculative eyebrow. This youngling was either more dangerous than he had expected or did not know what he asked. Or both… No matter, it was a small thing to get the other two to attack each other.

“I have the words…” he began.

“The words will be plain and straight forward,” Delph replied. “Each will swear to keep the letter of the pact or forfeit their immortal soul. We stand in this together or not at all.”

His host nodded. Looking ready to explode in a burst of violence, the demon lord followed suit.

“By the blood of our ancestors,” Delph intoned, “we three do swear to hold this accord:

1. The mortal realm will be divided into three spheres of influence as follows: from the Antarctic to the Rio Grande and all islands in the major oceans to the Mayans. From the Rio Grande to the Ural and Caucus mountains to the Vampyres. And third, from the shores of Africa to the Indian Ocean, encompassing all lands known as Africa and Asia to the Lords of Hell.

2. Each side will maintain a mile no-man’s-land within their respective borders between each of the three spheres of influence.

And 3., any two involved in a dispute may appeal to a third for binding arbitration.

On these words, we stake our immortal souls and the souls of all our subjects.”

“On these words, I do stake my immortal soul,” the other two murmured in poor grace.

When the oath was sworn, Delph nodded. From behind his two opposites, a pair of Shadow Slayers emerged, sheathing their blades as they moved to stand behind their lord. Yes, this youngling was dangerous but not as bright as he thought. The words he swore were exactly what his host needed when the time came to eliminate his competition.