Carlisle by Night

Lucien slumped down onto his sofa, his exhaustion evident. All things considered, tonight could have gone much, much worse. The unmaking of his old ally Haasteus grated upon him deeply, further stirring the Torment that churned within him. Haasteus' destroyers had now in turn been slain...the white-faced assassin with the knives, whom Lucien recognised as one who bore the touch of the enigmatic Fae...the wraith who bore the shape of a Demon, and believed itself to be nothing less...that technological monstrosity, half man and half undead flesh, who seemed to have been leading them...and then the creature itself. In the aftermath of what had happened, Atasmiel had confided to Lucien regarding the memories that Huxley had experienced, the knowledge that the abomination they had fought had first been called into reality for use as a weapon against Heaven itself. The Host could not have stopped it; only with the use of Lore developed during the war had Lucien and his band of Fallen been able to avert the beast's rampage this night. Last time, it had taken the Morningstar himself to push the abomination back.

Pouring himself a glass of scotch, the Namaru further mused on the night's happenings. Lirithel had mentioned that Ar-Itfa had apparently survived the destruction of his physical body, and was now possessing one of his Thralls. Good. Nataraja had proven himself to be powerful, but also unstable, and Lucien did not wish to entrust any power or responsibility to the Dancer of Death. Ar-Itfa would serve his purpose better in the long run, at least while Atasmiel and Lirithel could direct him. Lirithel and Gustion would doubtless prove adept in their appointed roles, and Atasmiel himself...well, Lucien was not about to doubt the prowess of one of his own great House. Despite the horrors of this night, the Infernal Court of Carlisle had managed to establish itself. Despite their many injuries and the slaying of a host body, none of them had been lost to the Abyss. Their enemy was wounded and on the run; its final destruction might even be possible.

All things considered, the night truly could have gone much worse.