Hail, Brother

Mammon lurked in a dark alley, nursing his wounds.  The Council pests had inflicted more damage than he had thought possible for such weak creatures.  The Reaper, while still not a match for the demon prince, was quite talented.  Although unmistakably human, he obviously held the favor of the shadow lords.  The young shapeshifter was a clever trick on his part.

And I almost fell for it, Mammon thought with a laugh.  The little half terrow had fought bravely, but even his death would not have stopped Mammon; he was a fool if he thought otherwise.  The other human, the elderly, mundane one, had surprised Mammon.  He attacked with a great deal of ferocity for such a fragile creature.  The angel was interesting; fallen angels were few and far between.  The prince could since the demon magic in her, and it was more than just the blood she had ingested in a vain attempt to defeat him.

Mammon’s thoughts were interrupted; for the second time that night, someone was using his homing incantation.

Foolish mortals, it is dangerous to call a demon which you did not summon.  The demon prince took off winging through the air towards the source of the spell.  It led him out of the city and over tracts of land, littered with suburban houses.  He saw the source, a small clump of figures gathered in a field.  He landed pulling himself up to his full height.

“Who dares call a demon prince?”  Mammon’s voice boomed in the still night air.  Several of the figures before him trembled in fear, making the demon sneer with pleasure.  A woman in a long, red cloak separately herself from the crowd and stepped forward.  She had uttered the homing incantation.

“Hail, brother and lord, your time has come.”