“Mephistopheles?” I repeated the shadowed figure’s words as the torch light illuminated his face, once he stepped forward.

  A hooded figure, in a tattered blackened robe, with deep sunken in white eyes, their pupils nonexistent, and leathery wrinkled skin all throughout his face, surrounding his abyssal black lips.

  Isaac stepped in, pouncing in front of me, growling.

  “That is correct, undead one,” the figure spoke, in hushed tones. “I am the warden of his shrine. Borge Alessia.” He half bowed to introduce himself.

  “Where lies Denaux, creature?” Isaac spat, bearing his razor sharp fangs, that gnarled between a tongue lapping for blood, even that of an old, weary, time worn creature such as this.

  Alessia smirked, his wrinkled skin stretching at his lips. “He is here. He is...safe.”

  “Why should we trust the words of a monster?” Isaac snarled. “An associate of Hugo Perrault.”

  Alessia scoffed in amusement. “Associate?” A glimmer of distaste shown in his eye. “Now where would you come upon such an idea?”

  “You kidnapped our friend, after slaughtering innocents in his den,” I spoke up, though lacking confidence as he stood there.

  “I?” Alessia gestured to himself. “You are mistaken, undead one.”

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  “You did kidnap our friend though?” I reaffirmed, doubts creeping into my mind.

  “That,” he responded, “is a fallacy.” He shook his head, before bearing rotted teeth in a smile, and licking the cracks and holes within them with odd pleasure. “Perrault, however, is a scourge.”

  “And we are to trust your words?” Isaac said. “You took our friend, and you will show us to him,” Isaac leaned forward, his claws digging into the stone, chipping it with substantial pressure above them. “And then you will lead us to Perrault.”

  “Perrault is not to be trifled with, in his current state,” Alessia said, eying us with peculiar interest. “Nor is his patron Saint, if you will.”

  “Irrelevant words of a snake,” Isaac responded. “We know you not, creature, and I will jubilantly slay you if you don’t adhere to my demands.”

  “Demands are made only by our king,” Alessia said, looking up to the statue behind us, and sashaying past with an errant arm. We tensley held still as he did so.

  “He has so graciously allowed me to hold his guard for many a century,” he knelt before the statue, and kissed two fingers, which he delicately tapped the stone base with.

  “And what does this...Mephistopheles want?” I asked.

  “Why...restitution, of course. A comeuppance, if you will,” Alessia said, rising at just the same moment and holding his listless stare well off past the statue. “For his sister.”

  “Sister?” I raised a brow.

  “The one who tricked him, betrayed him, leaving this beautiful king chained in the depths of the deepest circles of Infernus,” his lips twitched with muted rage. “Lucretia.”

  “How does he mean to free himself?” I asked.

  “No,” Isaac moved forward. “We continue these games no longer. Where is our friend?”

  “How?” Alessia continued, looking at me, with a wry smile. “With your help.”

  “We will not unleash a demon in hopes of any personal aid,” Isaac said.

  “Then why did your friend come here?” Alessia said.

  “You!” Isaac howled, priming his claws for attack, as he hissed, losing control.

  I shot a look at Isaac and rested a soft hand upon him. “Isaac,” I said, sending calming vibes his way, while also reminding him that I was the one not losing control this time.

  Isaac's long furry snoot twitched with rage, as he recognized my efforts and eased down to some degree.

  Alessia grinned and outstretched an arm to cut between the path of Isaac and myself. “No,” he said, brushing past with down-turned eyes. “He came all his own.”