Velma had scattered the invitations to the four winds. She knew their numbers, the members of her family, weren’t as large as they had been in the past but tonight they were celebrating unity and renewal. The Ravager knew that dark clouds loomed in the horizon even if most weren’t even aware of them. Unity was not an option, it was a necessity – renewal was the only way to ensure her grip on her family for what was coming.
The Priscus of the Succubus herself had taken charge of the preparations. Tonight the Lily was only accepting those with an invite, the lights were dim, the ceiling was dark and one could not actually see it, lost in the darkness that permeated it, only the briefly form of the stout columns that elevated it stood firmly in place, pale yellow.
In the center of the room there were six comfortable chairs of Victorian design in red velvet lining. There was a small mahogany tea table amidst with a small jar with a white and a red rose, there were cigars on display – expensive looking ones of dubious import and a single bottle of Krug champagne chilled inside an ice bucket, abandoned like the six crystal flutes whose glass played tricks with a little light.
The rest of the cigar bar seemed to be deserted.
On the background there was music, low and almost imperceptible.
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