The Arbiter

by K. B. Ladnier

  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 is 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 night club owner who is, in fact, half Divine and Damned was seen encompassed by white light while dancing. The force of it shook the building. 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 feel her as he left. He has stayed outside and waited to see if she would leave. She hasn’t.”

  A club owner that doubles as a dancer is who we are to be judged by? This has got to be the most fascinating news I’ve ever heard of. I’d almost think it’s a false proclamation, yet 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 has been Arbiter for more than three hundred years. She is a powerful Imp and Rite mix, and a cold-hearted bitch. Yet, she held 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 into 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 a lack of an Arbiter at all. What happens to us, effects 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 just as bad, if not worse.

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

  “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 of something extra she would have to her personality if she is a dancer in a 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, and not act like I’m six-hundred-years-old. What’s the fun in acting old?

  ‘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.

  Nocturna

  I am so confused when I wake up. I lie in bed as I try to put the pieces of what transpired back together.

  It takes me a minute, but once it does, I go into a panic. My heart rate beats rapidly and my skin moistens with sweat. I grab the ends of my hair, I hold them up to my face and start hyperventilating. I lift my hands where my runes are etched into my palm and am shocked to find that my two separate runes have melded into one on both hands.

  The constriction in my lungs finally releases, and the air rushes forward, pulling a guttural scream from deep within. Jamie comes running in. She collapses on the bed next to me and clasps my hands in hers.

  “Okay, freak out time is over. This is not the end of the world. Just a minor setback.”

  I glare at her as I pull my hands from her hold, “This is not a setback.” Waving my new rune in her face, I growl, “This is a fucking nightmare. I don’t know how to bring balance to two fucking races of people! I don’t even know how to boil an egg! Do you know how sad it is to be almost two-hundred years old, and not know how to properly boil an egg?”

  Jamie rolls her eyes at me and smacks my hand down, “You don’t even eat eggs, so that’s completely irrelevant right now. Look, I know it’s not at the top of the list of things you wanna do with your life, but this is something I believe that you will be damn good at. You already keep balance between us here. There hasn’t been a single drop of blood spilled between a Rite and Damned in this place in what? Ten years?”

  Arching my brow at her, I give her a look that says that’s the worst example of me keeping good balance. Sure, some Rites come in every now and then, but with their lack of the concept of fun, it makes them the least seen species in my club. The ones who do frequent are laxer around their supposed enemies. Contrary to popular belief, they have no inane hatred for other species, and don’t really enjoy killing them.

  However, when the situation calls for a Rite to kill, they mark their skin, usually on their backs and chests, with a brand in the shape of an X. To them, it’s penance for blood spilled, and a reminder of the soul they extinguished. Hence, another reason why I hold no hatred toward the Rites. To feel the depth of killing so deeply that they need to put a permanent and painful reminder on their skin, is honorable to me. Balance must be protected, even if I don’t agree with them killing us.

  All of a sudden, I get why Jamie said what she did. I favor neither, except maybe in who I keep for company.

  Jamie smiles at me, and she gives me a knowing look at the revelation on my face, “See. You’re nothing like any of the Arbiters before you. They all had qualities that screamed nothing but Damned, and they all harbored disdain for Rites, even while doing their jobs. Whatever Cassia did to be killed, you won’t make that same mistake. It wasn’t just because she chose Damned lovers, it was because she let them sway her. You have the purest heart I’ve ever known. Even while being the fearless, sassy bitch that you are. You can do this.”

  I look into her eyes and see the sincerity there. Wit
hout hesitation, I pull her into a hug, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she says, returning my hug then pulling back, “But you’ve been knocked out since last night, probably from the influx of power that zapped you of energy. While you were out cold, Cedric received a call to the bar this morning. It seems The Infernal felt the power shift to you and want to have a meeting tomorrow night with you. They’ll be flying in around noon and will want introductions. Most likely to size you up. No doubt we’ll hear from The High Order soon too. I’m sure they felt the shift, and Damnation knows, they don’t want to be left out.”

  I slap my palm to my forehead and grunt as I remember that little detail. Why did it have to be me?

  “What time is it anyways?” I ask.

  She checks her watch, “Four forty-five. Why don’t you take some energy from me then have a nice, long soak in a bath? Maybe come dance again with us tonight, since you botched last night horribly.”

  The grin that follows her words lets me know that she’s only joking.

  I laugh and hit her in the face with my pillow. “You’re an asshole, but I’m liking the sound of that plan. Oddly enough though, I don’t need your energy. That surge on top of the restful sleep has me pretty rejuvenated.”

  Jamie hops up and goes to my closet. She throws an outfit on the bed for me to wear tonight, “Good. There’s your clothes, now get your ass in the bath, then get dressed and come down. I’m thinking Half God Half Devil by In This Moment. Should get them good and riled up.”

  “Maybe,” I tell her. “I’ll let you know when I get down there.”

  She nods and skips from the room.

  The minor distraction with making me laugh helped, but as soon as I start soaking in the tub, my mind races back to its previous doubts. Do I really have it in me to do this? The Creator must think so if he chose me out of all the other halfies in the earthly realm. I just hope he wasn’t mistaken. Policing the Damned is easy enough. Like the Rites, I do it on a nightly basis anyway within the club. But being the Arbiter allows me to police the Rites as well. There are far fewer of them that break the integral laws set by us all, but every now and then one slips through the cracks and becomes overzealous in their power. I’ve never fathomed how one would go about killing a Rite. It’s not something I’ve ever tried.

  It is so fucking nerve wracking to think about all of this, then adding my meeting The Infernal tomorrow night. I don’t know all their names, what they look like, or anything at all about their characters; Mignonette and Renald, are the only exceptions. They are the Succubus and Incubus Infernal. Because of my heritage, that is who I’m technically ruled by; or was ruled by. The Infernal are the most powerful of each race, so it goes without saying that I’m expecting them all to be just as arrogant as my own rulers. Arrogance is only another characteristic gained with that power.

  Power, that I now have.

  It fucking terrifies me that I am technically now their equal but can do something they can’t. This new title comes with the perk of being able to force a soul into Divinity or Damnation with just a touch. How I am supposed to go about doing that is completely lost to me, though.

  I feel pretty much the same as I always have; except maybe just a little more now. I can’t describe the more, but I can definitely feel the power coursing through my veins. I feel every single being in the building. Is that part of being the Arbiter? Being able to feel more connected to the different races that surround me? Possibly their very souls?

  Shit. I may need an extra shot tonight before the show…

  Monroe

  The plane ride was long, and we arrived at our hotel just in time to change before heading off to this club, which I now know is called The Apothecary. Quite clever name, considering what apothecaries did when they were still in practice; supplying humans with medicine, drugs and such. I spent the entire flight here reading up on this place. This woman caters to all sides without judgement or persecution. She allows all races to come in and medicate themselves in some figurative form or fashion; be it alcohol, energy, or blood.

  I find myself smiling as Raphael pulls the car in to the parking lot.

  I laugh heartily when I realize that the place is an old church. What a sense of humor our new Arbiter has! I slowly begin to laugh harder than I have in a very long time.

  Raphael simply stares at me as if I’ve gone mad.

  “I don’t know how I feel about you laughing,” he admits. “It’s quite terrifying actually.”

  This of course, just makes me laugh even harder. I pat his shoulder before stepping out of the car.

  “Oh, pauve to bête! You must get out more my friend. Allons!” I tell him excitedly.

  I don’t think he takes too well to me calling him a poor thing, since he grumbles something under his breath when we start to walk.

  The inside of this place is calling me, so I don’t bother with his mumbling. There are at least sixty people, both human and Damned, waiting to get inside as music pounds from the speakers. The bass vibrates the ground beneath our feet.

  I’ve felt the pull to her power ever since we stepped from the plane. Now, standing only a few hundred yards from the building that she’s in, it’s like my soul is singing to be closer. I know without a doubt that she’s close. It’s like this with the most powerful of our races. We will be drawn like moths to her flame until we are at least in her presence once. Only then will the incessant need to be close disappear. It is quite the trick on the Creator’s behalf. This way we never forget who the Arbiter is.

  As we get closer to the door, the Strige bouncer notices me and waves us over. He may not be living under my rule, but all Strige know who their Liege is, though I never let them call me that. Power recognizes that dominance over its own.

  “Mr. Monroe. It’s an honor to have you here, but Mistress Nocturna wasn’t expecting any of you for another few days,” he says whispering the last part, wary of human ears. He has a worried look on his face, so I give him a genuine smile to ease some of his tension.

  “I wanted to see who our new Arbiter is before the other Infernal start skulking around. Tell me, where might I find her? I can feel in her in there.”

  His shoulders relax, and he smirks, “She’s about to dance. Normally, she only does one dance on Friday nights, but last night was a train wreck.”

  The words have just barely left his mouth when the first beat hits. The Strige opens the door with a smile and waves us in, “Welcome to The Apothecary.”

  I step in with Raphael following close behind me and make my way towards the slightly raised dance floor. There in the middle of the dancing girls is the most exotically, seductive creature that I’ve ever laid eyes upon.

  I know without a doubt that she is the one that I am here for.

  Her raven black hair with white tips is put into a fifty’s style finger wave. Tight leather pants cover those sexy legs in a way that makes them look painted on her body. The spiked corset covering her torso barely conceals a thing. There’s a good six inches between the bottom of it and the top of those sinful pants. Every time she leans over, I find my breath catching in my throat at the sight of that white skin showing from her breasts to her neck. Those black stilettos with silver skulls give her a little added height and show off her well-toned ass as she dances.

  The most striking feature of all, is her eyes and skin in her second form. Those silver eyes glow like liquid mercury, and her translucent skin displays some of her skeleton underneath. Many Succubi have the same second form, but none have ever worn it quite so perfectly. I swear in all my six hundred years, I’ve never known a beauty like hers. She is unlike any of the Arbiters I’ve seen before. Cassia had more of a formal flair. She showed skin, but her overall attitude made her physical beauty sickening to me.

  Glancing over at Raphael, I see that he too is in shock; his jaw unhinged, and eyes wide. I chuckle at his reaction and turn back to temptation in its purest form.

  She moves like a fucking
goddess. I am struck with a sudden insatiable envy for her blood. Fuck, I want her body too.

  Unconsciously, I move closer and closer. I’m hypnotized just as much as the other men around me. Her eyes lock on me then. I know without a doubt mine are illuminated red with need. My fangs elongate a bit, and my mouth waters as she sings about being half god and half devil.

  If the Creator struck me down here and now, I would die the most satisfied Damned to ever walk this realm or any other. Not even the idea of being an eternal prisoner to Cain upon my death could ruin this moment.

  Since locking on, her eyes have not left mine. When the song comes to an end, I grin at her, silently acknowledging that I know she has seen my desire for her. In one swift move, she snaps her attention away from me. That one small rejection leaves me smirking.

  She has no idea that this has just become the best chase of my existence.

  Nocturna

  The show started like any other; only now as I dance, I am acutely more aware of the extra fascinated stares of the Damned around me. Even more Rites than normal are in tonight, all wearing matching expressions that I can’t seem to decipher. I can feel every single creature in here as I sway my hips and lip sync to the song.

  A little over two minutes into the song, I feel something shift inside of me. There is some crazy intense presence trying to make itself known. Halfway through, I have a face to go with it. Two unknown Striges step close to the stage. Both have their eyes trained on me, but it’s the one in the front that holds my attention. It takes all the concentration that I have in me to keep going.

  He is devastatingly handsome, and his signature Strige red eyes glow with hungry fire. Veins spread out from those eyes and along the sharp edges of his cheek bones. The young face holds wisdom, showing that he is much older than he seems at first glance. His lips are full underneath a slightly pointed noise and thick eyebrows. Long, straight, jet-black hair is stylishly pushed back away from his face. I almost drool right there on stage at the pale skin that peeks out just above this sexy dark-grey, V-neck shirt that he wears underneath a leather jacket. Sweet baby Jesus, have mercy on the damned half of my soul. Those sexy leather pants does nothing to hide his muscular, yet slender built body that sits right at six feet.