Israfel's dinner with his friends ended shortly after he'd told them about the Countess, and his plan to find out, if, just as the Highfather had said, she was a practitioner of the banished spells of the dark arts. Prior to the incident at Vallon-de-Grâce, he had heard nothing of the County of Avila.
But one thing he carried home from the restaurant that night: the ordinary noble Lady didn't make a cross heat up and burn. Only vampires did that. And [monstros inferna]. Monsters of Hel.
In his bedchamber at Salem Hall, Rafel fell into the quiescence and closed his eyes. He did not get much sleep. Spots danced into his vision and he kept having the feeling that he was being watched. As a Hellion, he sure as fuck trusted his instinct. It had saved him many times in culling out the repeat assassins who always showed up to his dark castle in Hel; a con of being the worshipped Apollyon.