Hell’s Consort

************************

Vampire King Apollyon

*************************

The captive had his black faerie wings almost torn apart, almost lifeless as any cadaver and just as pallid.

Fae blood filled Apollyon's nostrils as he held the crossbow on his arm and shoulder. 

Anything that wasn't Luna's blood wouldn't make him hungry.

It had the opposite effect instead, making his stomach lurch and his mind float someplace else.

"King Apollyon." The Faerie Prince had grabbed him by the shoulder when he showed no signs of stopping his torture on the faerie captive. 

He stepped in front of him like a fool, blocking his vision of the captive by stretching his arms outward. 

Prince Aspen had stood in front of him, but his cousin might as well be invisible because, in Apollyon's world, it was only him and the captive. 

He found an opening and shot another iron bolt on the prisoner's back.

The screams of the prisoner's agony were music to his ears.

It made Apollyon forget that he was a failure as a husband, if only for a moment.

Raising his hands in surrender, Prince Aspen gritted his teeth, "Stop, or you will end up killing the dark faerie."

He merely pretended he didn't hear that, but his only response was a burst of edgy laughter echoing into the night.

He was on the verge of self-destruction.

Mayhap, it was for the best.

Blinking rapidly, Apollyon didn't notice that a single tear had slid down his face.

He wiped the tear away before Prince Aspen could comment about it.

"Listen to me, Apollyon." Prince Aspen spoke, frustration evident in his clenched jaw. "If you kill him right now, we might not get a chance to capture someone from the cult."

As he peered over Aspen's shoulder, Apollyon met the captive's pained stare.

The dark faerie had refused to answer a question, so he must deal with the punishment and die a turtle slow death.

Apollyon muscles quivered as he drew in slow, steady breaths.

He deserved this for making a Vampire King like him painstakingly repeat his question thrice only to be met with protruding dark eyes, pairing it with an eerie silence.

He had expected something far better than this—something easier.

He thought that he could make him confess who their ringleader was, where their hideout was and which Archdemon have they summoned to acquire their powers, but he was wrong.

The captive had no response except to cry, groan and scream in anguish every time the forged iron hit his flesh. 

"They would figure that the Spring Courts have captured one of their members. " Aspen continued, trying hard to pierce through his reptilian brain like a guilty conscience. "They would be more cautious next time." No. Prince Aspen was cold, hard logic—the sword of truth—but Apollyon can't help but reject the idea. "This might be our last chance to get a hold of someone from their team."

"Oh, don't worry, Aspen." Apollyon's voice was as deep and cold as his revenge. "These immature male faeries, like this bastard over there, will always show off their newly acquired magic from the Archdemons."

He narrowed his gaze back to Aspen. "There will always be someone stupid and careless in their cult so we wouldn't run out of cult members to kill and torture."

"That isn't the point." Aspen reasoned out, "I thought you want your Empress back as soon as possible." 

Baring his teeth, Apollyon felt his heartbeat against his ribs as he cocked his crossbow with another iron bolt, "We will hunt every single one of them until the ringleader remained."

"You are not listening to me." Prince Aspen snapped a finger in front of his face as if that would clear his mind fog. "Torturing them to death for your own satisfaction and not for extracting information will make you lose sight of your goal."

This time, it almost sounded like Prince Aspen was pleading, "Be reasonable, cousin." 

"He's not dead yet." He said loudly, convincing himself rather than the Faerie Prince. 

"Three more iron bolts, and he will be." Prince Aspen snapped.

"I will only land one last iron bolt." He shrugged.

"You can torture him all you want but not to the point of death." Prince Aspen shook his shoulders, growling in his face, "We have planned this earlier."

"This motherfucker is disrespecting me." Anger intensified at the back of Apollyon's head that he could feel the heat creeping from his nape to his temples. "He can't even answer a simple question."

"Then rephrase the question. We shouldn't give up this easily." Staring at him, the dead-in-the eye. Prince Aspen enunciated every word, "Ask the right question, and he will answer. "

  "We had been doing this thankless job for hours." Apollyon wanted to listen to his cousin, but his inner voice urged him to kill the captive for good.

He finally decided not to care and pushed Prince Aspen aside. "Get the hell out of my way!"

He was a deaf man with tunnel vision, determined to punish the faerie for not revealing his secrets.

"I will ask you for the twentieth time." Stalking towards the faerie captive like the hunter he was, Apollyon yelled louder as he aimed his crossbow at him, "Who is the Archdemon that your ringleader had summoned?"

"I…d-don't know…." Coughing blood, he stuttered, and the small curve of his lips irked Apollyon all the more. "I'm t-telling…the… -truth."

  As Prince Aspen pulled on his crossbow to distract him, Apollyon just shrugged his hand off, proceeding to plant another forged iron bolt on the prisoner's back.

At this point, Apollyon had no sympathy left on the prisoner who had lain on his stomach with almost a hundred forged iron bolts sticking out from his back like he was a porcupine.

The faerie captive had fallen off from the clutches of the Hanging Tree.

Apollyon realized that the snag had a mind of its own.

Its dead branches and vines had slowly unwrapped themselves from the captive, sensing that the dark faerie was already on its last breath and there was no use clinging unto it anymore.

The deadwood had let go of him when they sensed the captive's breathing was ragged, shallow breaths.

After all, it takes one to know one. 

The captive was literally on his deathbed, but Apollyon could have sworn that the arrogant faerie was acting like he was merely having a cosy afternoon nap. 

  "We need to go home." Aspen stepped in again and forced him to turn his back from the dying captive now that Apollyon had landed one last arrow. "I will let the faerie sentinels continue this tomorrow until you are in the right state of mind."

Prince Aspen was right. 

Apollyon had a disturbed mind, an empty shell of cold blood and a hot head when it came to the captive.

Mayhap he needed to rest at the Lilac Manor and come back when Apollyon was calm enough.

"Night elves." Prince Aspen nodded to the creatures watching the bloody debacle and whistled.

The faerie dragon began to sing for the second time, activating the glamour to hide the dead forest where they lock up their prisoners.

Just as Apollyon had found hope, it immediately slithered out of his hands like water.

Apollyon quickly gained it back again when he saw his wife waiting for him outside Lilac Manor as they got home.