XXXXI

C ourtiers' eyes followed Stella as she rushed to the sixth subfloor. They judged . She wasn't surprised. Her outfit was far too casual and more fitting for a training session than wandering the halls. Usually, their patronizing regard would leave her shoulders hiked up to her ears and her chin dropped to her chest in avoidance.

Their opinion held little weight to her now.

Stella peeled down the last set of stairs, slipping by courtiers left and right on nimble feet. Yet, when she reached the final landing, she stalled. A knot lodged itself in her throat. Michael stood guard over the gargantuan doors to the Lunar Court—the sorcerer with his electric magic and short temper.

Stella peeled off to the side of the staircase's mouth. She was far from the person who'd tried to earn her way through the doors with kindness, but blasting her way through with her sonic voice wasn't an option. In and out undetected—that was the best course of action.

But how? The trick of the matter plagued her the entire way down to the sixth subfloor. Still, no answer presented itself.

" What are you wearing?"

Stella nearly jumped out of her skin as she turned to Jasmine. Her friend eyed her with a mixture of disbelief before her cold hand wrapped around Stella's wrist and tugged her back deeper into the grand staircase's shadow.

"You realize coming down here looking like that is asking for more trouble than you can handle," Jasmine said in a tone Stella rarely heard: sober.

A blaze of hope tore through her. "I need your help."

Jasmine snorted, lips quirking up into a half-smirk. "That's very obvious."

Stella cocked her head in the direction of the huge doors. "I need to get in there."

"The Lunar Court? Why?"

"I'm trying to help a friend… and I don't really have a lot of time."

Jasmine's smirk fell. "You're not going to get in there looking like that." A frown appeared. "Honestly, you might not get in even if you do dress the part. No offense, but—"

"Can you get me in or not?" Jasmine's eyebrows rose at the frantic edge of Stella's voice. Then they furrowed back down in contemplation. Stella's heartbeat ran rampant in her chest. "Please. I'll owe you one."

Jasmine looked around furtively; lips drawn in a tight line. Her arms wound around her middle. "You'll owe me one?" She sounded skeptical, but Stella's head nodded vigorously.

"Yes, and considering I'm now a Vrana—" Jasmine's eyes widened at Stella's rushed whispered words "—that I-O-U will go a long way, don't you think?"

She didn't respond immediately, but then Jasmine shuffled closer. Her voice was equally soft as she replied, "I have a token."

"A token?" Stella prodded.

Jasmine nodded. "I won it not long ago while gambling. It's the new way of gaining entrance or an audience in the Lunar Court if you aren't part of their club. I was, sort of, saving it." A smidge of color rose to Jasmine's cheeks as she shifted her weight.

Stella reached for one of Jasmine's hands and held it tightly in her own.

"As a friend, I'm asking you to please give me the token. I will do you the biggest favor in return. Please . This is a life or death situation."

Jasmine cast her gaze aside, and fresh panic stirred in Stella's stomach. This was her best chance at getting into the Lunar Court. Her only chance—

"Okay."

Stella's heart skipped a beat. "Really?"

Jasmine nodded and sidled up to Stella's side, hooking their arms together. She guided them down the corridor. Away from the Styx. Away from the Lunar Court.

"You can have it," Jasmine said, keeping her voice low. "My room's tucked past the Commons, along with the other undesirable courtiers not good enough to have a house or be accepted in the Lunar Court."

Stella smiled widely. " Thank you . You don't know how much this means to me."

Jasmine chuckled at her exuberance. "What are friends for, right?"

There was the barest hitch in Jasmine's voice at the end that took the rhetorical implication right out of it.

"Right." Stella reached across with her free hand to squeeze Jasmine's linked arm as they put the crowd farther and farther behind them with their quickening pace. Adrenaline shot through Stella's body and kept her heart working a mile a minute.

Stella ran a hand nervously over the platinum blonde wig Jasmine had insisted on her wearing, little black horns poking out of it. It had been part of Jasmine's outfit for the Heaven and Hell ball. Holding her tongue, Stella glanced over the rest of the outfit given to her.

A dress that was far too snug and heels at least one size too big. She'd wanted to run back to Michael with the token in hand the moment Jasmine passed it over, but when she expressed her nervousness about drawing too much attention, Jasmine got straight to work.

Impatience swept through Stella as Jasmine took a few precious extra minutes to put a heavy hand of makeup on her. When Stella caught a look at herself in the mirror before leaving, she did a double-take.

"I don't look like me."

Jasmine rolled her eyes and herded her out the door. "That's the point if you're so desperate to be incognito."

Stella summoned a smile and then proceeded to walk as fast as she could back to the Lunar Court entrance. Michael wore a sneer as she showed him the token. He yanked open the massive door for her.

"Trying a bit hard, aren't you?" he commented as she passed. His gaze landed pointedly on the horned wig.

"What's it to you?" Stella replied before sauntering out of earshot.

The large door shut behind her with a resounding thud. Stella sent a prayer of thanks to the Gods for the good fortune. She hoped it lasted.

Now, to get into the Demon Quarter.

Stella blew out a long stream of air to settle her nerves before tilting up her chin and starting down the long concourse. Then she put on a scowl. Between the costume wig, heavy makeup, and now disdainful expression, she'd donned a mask of sorts. Courtiers slipped out of her way as she strode down the hall, not for politeness but out of fear. It was different than the fear she was used to being on the receiving end of, with pity or abuse playing a hefty role.

This fear lent itself to power.

And she liked it.

As Stella neared the last intersecting hallway, she found it difficult to maintain her haughty stride. She flashed a look at the token. Raphael spoke of a magical forcefield. Would the token get her past it?

Her limbs stiffened as she scanned the area ahead, looking for any visible signs of the forcefield. Nothing made itself known to her—no extra guard to bar her entry or demand the token. No shimmering magical sheen to the air. Stella held her breath as she closed in on the last cross-section of halls, her steps slowing in a strange sense of deja vu.

Stella's foot felt the wall of magic first, felt it resist her entry as if she was trying to step through a sheath of plastic. A moment later, her foot sank through, and static electricity roiled up her leg. She clutched the token tight as her breath flew out of her. Pins and needles skirted over the remainder of her body as she came to stand on the other side of the wall. Stella sneezed and rubbed irritably at her nose as she stepped forward cautiously.

Uncertainty drew her to a stop. What if her nightmarish premonition was wrong? What if she was walking blindly into the demon's stronghold? What would they do to her if they caught her?

She swallowed thickly and forced herself to keep moving forward, one foot in front of the other. It had to be true. She hadn't come this far to be wrong.

Stella angled to the last hall on the left, some of the tension leeching off her muscles as she smoothed her gait. Her pulse, however, stayed at its clipped pace. It jumped as a door slammed open nearby. Stella wiped the uncertainty from her features and replaced it with a scowl that bordered on pain from the way she kept her mouth pinched and forehead furrowed. A foursome of demons swaggered out of the hall that she aimed toward.

Not one of them paid her any mind. Except for one.

One of the females gave Stella a second glance, curiosity slowing her steps and speeding up Stella's. She looked like she was about to address her when one of the other demons in her group tugged at her sleeve to regain her attention. Stella stopped herself from breaking into an all-out sprint—but only barely—and wrangled her stride to be filled with haste and purpose. Or something close to it.

Stella reached the door the demons exited and slipped inside. Another wash of deja vu flowed over her in the act. She was sure it would have rankled more if it weren't for the sheer amount of demons crowding the enormous hall she entered.

"Oh, Gods," she muttered to herself.

There was a hitch to her cadence as she took in the scene. Stella schooled her shock by biting down on her tongue and keeping close to the wall as she gathered her wits. She needed to focus. If they caught her…

A shiver of terror drew down her spine like a caress.

She couldn't allow that to happen. This gamble wouldn't just cost her her life, but Raphael's too. Fuck . The weight of her decision sank through her like a stone in water.

He'd been prepared to do the same , she tried to rationalize. The only difference was that Raphael had a built in exit strategy, the Ether. She hadn't. Stella swallowed and fought against her nerves, almost missing the statue in her path. She halted abruptly as her eyes traveled up its naked torso, stopping at the hands that clawed at its open chest.

Her mouth dried.

The echo of her nightmare thrummed through her as Stella looked up at the statue's face. The sorrowful gaze. The downturned, opened mouth. It was the epitome of despair, screaming to the world its helplessness and pain. Goosebumps littered her arms.

Find Layla and get out.

Stella moved around the statue and fastened her scowl back in place. She kept her head ducked, letting the wig partially obscure her view to help hide her face as she scanned the crowd for Layla.

The majority of demons weren't courtiers she was familiar with. Some juggled folders and paperwork and other supplies she'd expect to find in a sorcerer's workshop. Yet what distracted her more so was the variety of horns on display. They were of all shapes and sizes. Some were short and curved, others stately and curled or swung up into the air.

There were horns the shade of a starless night, those that looked the color of old dried blood, and others bone-white. No matter the size, shape, or color of them, almost all had runes etched onto their surfaces. Stella gulped. The wig's horns had no such markings.

"You're not supposed to be here."

Stella almost yelped at the sudden voice behind her. She spun, her heart hammering nearly out-of-control as she faced the voice. Relief coursed through her.

"Thank the Gods," Stella uttered and reached for Layla. The girl pulled back from her with a distrustful frown.

"Why are you here?"

"I can't explain here," Stella said. "It's—"

A sudden high-pitched bell rang, and immediately after, a surge of voices and opening doors interrupted Stella. They came from all around as demons poured into the imposing hall from various doors peppered throughout the room. Stella stiffened as she recognized several faces.

And if I can recognize them, they can recognize me.

"We need to get out of here now ."

Layla's expression didn't change. "You can't." She looked to the demons, shoulders sinking as the frown dripped off her face. "Shift change for the Styx."

"What?"

"It's ten to midnight. Shift change." A whine entered Layla's voice as she explained. "I can't go. They don't want me working. Not yet. Not until I've earned it."

Stella's breath stopped short.

Ten to midnight? Already? Did that mean I made it in before the tripwire or after? How long had she been in the hall?

She gave her back to the mass of demons. "Layla, this is life or death. We need to go."

A brief yet steely look entered Layla's eyes. "I'm not going anywhere with you . I hate you."

"It's Raphael," she tried to reason. "He's in trouble, and so are you. He wanted to come and get you himself, but he's dealing with the fallout from Jax."

Layla rocked back. Dejection imprinted itself in her expression and wafted off her. The hit of her demonic powers floored Stella. She stumbled back but found no relief from the sudden impression that she was worthless and weak. Weak and wrong in thinking she could pull something like this off.

"You know?" Layla asked tentatively. "He told you? You tell each other those kinds of things?"

Stella found herself nodding. Then crying. Layla watched the tears spill over her face with growing fascination. A thought drifted through Stella's mind, that what was happening wasn't right, but she couldn't summon the energy to care.

She couldn't summon the energy to move or save herself, let alone Layla.

Her eyes drifted closed. She was alone. Abandoned. Left out to sea on a stormy night. Drowning with no one to save her or lend her a helping hand. You can't even save yourself, so why bother? A downcast voice whispered in her mind. Just let go. A tingling sensation trailed down the side of her neck.

And then slowly, oh so slowly, the devastating melancholy seeped away.

Stella opened her eyes, blinking away the tears. Layla stepped forward and reached for Stella's hand. It was clammy and too cold for Stella's liking. The problem was, she couldn't tell if it was her skin or Layla's that felt that way.

"You taste sweet," Layla told her. She leaned forward as if her words were part of some kind of conspiracy. "Can I have another? Please?"

Disgust rushed up her throat. Stella tried to mask it as best she could before shaking her head. She was shivering.

Layla's face crumpled. Her fingers began to slip from hers before Stella's better senses caught up with her. She latched onto Layla's hand, quick and tight.

"Maybe later?" Stella offered. "Once we're with Raphael?"

It disturbed her the way Layla's lip twitched. Stella didn't know if she was trying to smile or—

"Promise?"

If it got them out of here in one piece, Stella would have let her feast on her. "Yes. Do you know a way out that isn't so public?"

Layla tugged her hand out of Stella's grip as she nodded somberly. Her head swayed in the direction of a nearby door left cracked open. "We'll go back the way I came."

Stella followed her eagerly into the slim hall. A little too eagerly. More than once her toes caught on Layla's heels. Stella muttered her apologies. She hoped they wouldn't have to run. The heels' straps were secured tight around her ankles and would take an ungodly amount of time to undo.

They kept down the dimly lit hall for some time before making a left. Shortly after that, they reached a door. Layla opened it with grave care, looking only once at Stella in a silent plea that begged her to stay quiet. Stella kept her mouth shut and passed one last glance over her shoulder to make sure they weren't being followed. Only the shadowy hall greeted her, yet her trepidation lingered.

"Layla?" Anxiety spiked inside of her as she turned back around only to find Layla gone and the door left open for her.

She walked tentatively inside, keeping one hand on the door frame as if it might disappear. The room or hall ahead was pitched in darkness. She couldn't see—

"Hurry, before he comes."

The panic in Layla's voice drove Stella into the dark. "Ouch, shit." Stella's toe echoed the sentiment as it slammed into something hard. She held out her hands in front of her before shuffling around the invisible impediment and forward. "Where are you?" She whispered. "Isn't there a light in here somewhere?"

"I'm here."

Stella followed her voice and increased her pace. She came to another sudden stop when her hands knocked into something. Whatever the second something was, it clattered to the floor and sounded as if it rolled away.

"Are you… all right?"

Gratitude touched Stella's heart. From hate to polite consideration. Layla was a rollercoaster of emotion, but at least she seemed to gather the severity of the situation.

In the seconds that followed, the strike of a match and crackle of light were heard in concert. Light and shadows bloomed over Layla's face, which was pinched in concentration as she lit a candle. The demoness sighed as the wick took to the flame and set the candle down on the ground.

With the meager beacon in play, Stella moved more confidently to Layla.

"Where are we?" Stella asked as she neared. "What is that?" She squinted at the lines drawn on the floor, and how the candle sat perfectly at its intersection. "Layla—"

The almost delicate whoosh of air didn't register as something to be frightened of. Not until something decidedly hard crashed against the side of Stella's skull and brought with it a ringing pain and all too familiar darkness.