“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Underground Infernal Organization, or UFO for short. The ‘In’ is dropped to cause some confusion.” Chuckles of amusement rumbled in the crowded stadium. A twinkle shone in the auctioneer’s sharp eyes, and a bold grin plastered his face.
“Let me introduce you to the first items of this delightful evening.” He motioned his hand to the spotlight on a covered box. A black cloth was lifted from a machine, to reveal a single golden feather. “The Choir’s quill belongs to the Archangel himself!”
A small gasp flooded the massive room. Infernals sat on the edge of their seats, and excitement flickered in those monstrous eyes. A plume from a Choir’s wings was an ingredient for healing potions, but with the Archangel’s feather, the wondrousness of what the ingredient could bring became the thrill of the mystery.
“Before we bid,” the auctioneer crooned, bowing to the huge crowd, “My name is Brad Raff. I come from Switzerland, and yes, I am one of those special humans.” He leaned on his scepter a little. “The rules are simple: no stealing, no murdering, or counterfeit currency.”
Brad announced, “Remember, money isn’t the only thing you can buy an item for. Precious jewels, spell books, or anything you think of extreme value can be bartered for an item!” He raised a scepter and thumped the stick to the ground. “Let the auction commence! Would you give two million dollars for the Archangel’s feather?”
“Dollar bid!” shouted a wendigo.
“I got two million; how about three million dollars?” Brad exclaimed.
A werewolf waved his numbered sign, designed with his clan logo on it, “Dollar bid!”
“Would you give four million dollars?” shouted Brad, lifting his specter along with the beat of raised signs and the voices of bidders. And so, the UFO began, the Infernals bid outrageous numbers, and within minutes, the Archangel’s feather had a promising buyer.
“Now I got twenty-two; anyone else twenty-three?” Only a few seconds until Brad declared, banging his specter to seal the deal, “Sold to that lovely lady in the dazzling hat for twenty-two million dollars!”
A witch from New Zealand, Janet, let out a whoop of glee, ignoring the envious looks snatching her way. A dollar sign appeared on her panel. The dollar meant she brought an item, and the more money symbols she had on her bidding number, the more items she purchased.
The Gala couldn’t leave the building without paying for the items because she had sealed the panel with her blood in the computer databases. She would be checked off for safety once she paid. If she didn’t, an assassin could track her for her dishonesty…and the rest is history.
Brad laughed heartily, pulling on his tuxedo jacket. “Damn it, starting strong, I like it!”
However, Katerina Dixon was the opposite. She detested the chorus of laughter ringing out, bouncing in the auditorium. The sinister glint in the Infernals’ expression had a chill skittering along her arms.
She clutched her teeth and ambled down the stairs leading to the stadium. Keeping her powers within her, the Infernals wouldn’t feel her frisson lingering in the already magical atmosphere.
If anyone recognized the tingling sensation of heavenly flames, her frisson would catch attention like wildfire; the mission would be ruined. Not everyone who imparted in the event was Infernals; some non-biased Galas tagged along to see what would be selling and having fun with their friends.
The auctioneer twirled his scepter and said, “There are stands outside with food, bars, and merchandise! Some paintings are being sold now, if you are interested! With that said, I highly doubt you won’t want to miss the next item!”
Red curtains drew back, but no spotlight beamed on the item. Darkness completed the room, and everyone had hushed their voices. A glint shone and sparkled like diamonds on the stand. A dimmed light switched on.
Brad claimed, “There will be no bright light on this fine gem. Any light will affect the appearance and glimmer of this wonderful jewel.”
The jewel could hardly be described; it was a masterpiece to behold. It lay on a black cushion, and a glass case covered it. A ruby glistered with diamonds lining the necklace. “Let me give you a brief history of this beauty!”
“A witch brought a ruby, cut it to her wishes, and put some sort of magic in it. It was a gift to propose to Gala’s girlfriend. Now, don’t quote me on this, but rumors have it that whoever wears this necklace will know that person’s love or affection for them. Friendship, romance, family, you name it!”
“The necklace was found hidden in the witch’s lover journal, and she said of such things. Each time she wore that necklace, she never doubted her wife’s love for her,” Brad chuckled, gazing at the onlookers whispering in astonishment among themselves.
“For this worthy gem, one million dollars!” Silence filled the stadium, and Galas awed magnificent, stunning jewels, leaking the charm of love like a spell. Brad joked, “Well, I say if no one will buy it, I’ll give it to my lovely wife then.”
The eager shoppers leaped to their feet, calling out huge numbers, and some shouted to exchange items. A hum of giddiness cut the wind, contagious among the Galas. A buyer purchased ten million dollars for the jewel, and many men patted him on the back.
Kate wondered if the auctioneer was true to the magic. Only a sixteen-year-old girl wonders: if her boyfriend gifted her the necklace, would there be a strong connection of love between them?
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The auctioneer continued bidding off more exquisite items. The Prowler’s stomach growled with uneasiness and hunger. Knowing she would be here for a while, Kate headed into the concession stands.
She pulled the strings of her hood, concealing her face. She wanted to use an illusion spell to change her appearance, but any frisson alluring her would bring unnecessary attraction. While heading to the restroom first, Kate breathed out to play cool, but any mistake could lead to her death.
Don’t fuck this up, Sara.
Unconsciously, Kate touched her pistol buckled on her belt for comfort, understanding how hard the Archangel worked to get them here as discreetly as possible. Finding the underground auction was a nightmare, and handing a ticket to a watchful guard had been even worse.
Fortunately, none of the guards cared about people bringing weapons because magic was more dangerous. They looked out for suspicious activity and prevented any murders.
Nerves racketed through her, fireworks exploding madly in her chest every time someone glanced her way. She entered the bathroom stall, exhaling to calm herself. After she used the restroom, Kate washed her hands, seeing friends walk in.
The teenagers, a little older than Kate, slid next to her and opened their makeup bags. One girl twisted her cherry lipstick and applied it, smacking her lips. She giggled at her friend, who smeared her lipstick on her chin clumsily. “Stop laughing at me. It’s hard being tipsy.”
“I told you we were going to get wasted,” declared her friend. She muttered, “I seriously would not have survived without you tagging me alone. My damn parents are here to buy some crap and told me I needed the ‘experience.’” The girl revealed her fangs: “At least the Bloody Mary here is a killer.”
Kate finished washing her hands, looking for towels.
The tipsy girl swayed her head, grinning, “I mostly came with you in hopes of seeing Lucifer.”
“Oh yeah,” the vampire shrugged, “I heard he’s not coming.” She snapped her purse closed. “He’s still mourning or some shit over his dead sister. It’s been forever, get over it.”
“Well,” the other Infernal clarified, “if you die, I don’t think I’ll ever stop being sad.”
Kate found the towels, gripping them tightly as hatred fumed inside of her. Whoever the Devil was mourning over, he deserved it. No doubt his pain matched hers. He had slaughtered her family in front of her without mercy. She tossed the towel away and left the bathroom, trying to control her raging heart.
Walking in line, her grumbling stomach nearly competed with her thumping heart. Kate looked up at the board that listed off the food, and she took a step forward, lost in the trance of what to order and the girls’ conversation.
The Prowler bumped into someone cutting in front of her. She jerked back, her hood coming slightly off her head. Flustered, Kate tugged on her hood as some of her cinnamon hair loosened. Glancing away and keeping her Russian accent that had been passed on from her mother, she muttered, “Sorry.”
Her heart skipped a beat, feeling the person stare longer at her than she liked. A second passed from the man gazing at her, and she thought with dread that he might’ve realized who she was. Fortunately, he went back to his business.
A sigh of relief escaped her lips as Kate ordered her soda and protein bar with cash. The job was more tedious than she liked. She sat back in the auditorium. While unwrapping her protein bar, she watched the bidding go on.
On the stand, a bottle shimmered hot pink. A few seats back, she heard whispers of disbelief about it being a love potion.
Love portions were illegal for the Harmonies and supposedly illegal for the Infernals. With that knowledge swarming around, the Galas were tensed with anticipation of what might come next.
Before Brad ranted off a crazy amount of numbers, an Infernal jumped from his seat, shouting as loudly as he could: “I have the sword! I’ll exchange the item for the love portion.”
Gasps rippled, and stares flocked at the man. Either the auditorium was getting increasingly hot with the rise in temperature or hearing the news had Kate break out into a sweat. Her pulse coiled, unsure how to react to the statement.
The Infernal boldly stroked to the stadium with his chin up. A sword was grasped tightly in his hands. The guards stationed in the arena prevented Galas from going up to steal items; they let him pass with furrowed brows.
Not only was the UFO an event for the Infernals to spend their money and socially gather, but Galas could flaunt not only their money but their powers. This Infernal had bracelets with demonic runes that glowed. He wore an overcoat that had many pockets stuffed with magical supplies. He was a Cambion, half Infernal, and a wizard.
Exasperated but trying to hide his shocked expression, Brad gawked at the weapon that could bring destruction. He cleared his throat. “That’s a nice sword that you have, son.” He nodded respectively, his awestruck gaze never leaving the sword. “How do we know you aren’t lying?”
“Why would I be lying? You can test it out after the show!” The Cambion replied, sitting on the VIP seats in the first row. Lazily waving his hands, magical sparks flying out of his fingertips, the Cambion put the sword between his legs, leaning on it, which made some Galas look horrified at the way he treated such a prized weapon.
“Don’t you think, Mr. Raff, that would be a nice trade? A love potion will do me good,” grinned the daring man.
Dumbass, you need a love portion because you obviously can’t get laid. Kate thought, gritting her teeth together.
Brad was attempting to remain calm; however, his grip on the specter tightened and his voice strained. “You know the rules, sir. If this is the sword you claim to be, are you willing to give it up like that?”
The cocky Cambion shrugged, reclining in his chair, “As I could—” he stopped when an infamous Infernal walked towards him. He leaped to his feet, his face draining of any color, as a Prince of Hell stepped in front of him.
“Hello,” the sub-prince of Hell reached out his hand, “do you mind giving me the sword?”
Staring up at Asmodeus, the Cambion gulped weakly. Clearly, he was not expecting a high-ranking Infernal to be here or anyone to inquire about his claim. A few snickers vibrated off the walls.
Asmodeus remarked, “If this is the real sword you say it to be, then I’ll give it right back to you.”
Breathing caught in Kate’s throat, her heart squeezed inside of her chest. If this was truly the prized sword, there would be no way the sub-prince of Hell would give it back to a Gala.
The Cambion laughed unsteadily, holding the sword closer to him. “With due respect, I have the sword, and you can’t take it away from me. I wish to exchange it for the love potion.”
The sub-prince of Hell inched closer, his dark eyes narrowing at the disrespectful Gala. “I tried to be nice. Give me the sword; that’s an order.” He snatched the weapon from the man’s hand and raised it to the air. Everyone became quiet to see what Asmodeus would do next.