VII

E xhaustion crept through Stella's body as she shuffled to her locker. A towel was tucked securely around her freshly washed body to fight the chill in the air. Alone in the changing room, a grateful sigh tendered from her lips as she let her posture soften and guard down. The peace and quiet was a rarity outside her small apartment, so she indulged in it a moment longer.

Her time with Raphael was nothing short of a blur to her now. Though anxious habits urged her to analyze every word of their conversation, she found herself too exhausted from the dawn rendezvous. She'd prepared herself for a longer battle of wills, but not—

Stella stiffened.

The soft pad of bare feet dominated the easy silence of the locker room. Her lungs locked up.

"Hello?" The footsteps drew closer. Stella clutched at her towel. Do not go quietly , she bullied herself. "Who's there?" Her voice bounced off the tiled walls and floor. "Answ—" Stella's jaw dropped and the world narrowed around her as she stared at the intruder. "You're not supposed to be in here."

Raphael grinned. "I won't tell if you won't."

There was no pause in his gait. No hint of menace lingering about his features. It surprised Stella considering how they'd left things just a few minutes before. At least he's still wearing his towel . Stella took a step back as he neared, bumping into the metal that held her belongings. Goosebumps scattered across her body. Raphael's grin widened.

"I come in peace."

A choked noise erupted from Stella, half-snort and half-gasp. Blood rushed to her cheeks as the sound rang throughout the room. "What are you doing in here?"

Raphael said nothing, only continued to herd her back until she was completely flush against the lockers. He stopped before her, bracing his forearm near her head. Stella's mouth went dry. She felt lightheaded, like the first telltale sign of going from tipsy to—

"What are you doing?" she asked again, her voice no more than a whisper.

Raphael's thumb toyed briefly with her bottom lip, and electric pulses danced across her body. "Testing a theory," he murmured. And then he kissed her.

Stella's stomach swooped low, and the logical side of her brain promptly turned off. It was startlingly clear within the first few seconds that Raphael was an exceptional kisser, with or without his demonic talent. He cupped her jaw possessively, thumb moving to press against the small indent on her chin and guiding her mouth open wider for his exploration.

The world around them faded away altogether with Stella's next breath. She couldn't believe this was happening. Raphael was pressing closer to her, masking the cold of the room and locker. His tongue delved deeper into her mouth. A moan slipped out of her.

He kissed her with near abandon as if consumed with greed to taste her completely. Stella's hands found their way to his shoulders and held on tightly.

She'd never been kissed like this before.

It was a kiss meant to ruin its predecessors… and it was working too well. One kiss from Raphael and the apex of her thighs was mortifyingly wet.

Stella pressed her legs together to ease the sudden ache that pulsed across her quim. As if somehow sensing the maelstrom of desire sweeping through her, Raphael pulled back. His hand ghosted down from her chin and jaw to cradle her neck. They both panted as his thumb brushed back and forth over her pulse.

"My theory was right." Raphael rested his forehead against hers.

Stella's eyes remained closed, afraid the world might tilt upside down if she opened them. "Which was?"

He continued to pet her throat as he twisted to lay his cheek against hers. Raphael's warm breath brushed over her ear in an all too familiar way causing her to shiver. Or perhaps it was the drop in temperature that suddenly encased the room.

"That you're a pathetic little fool."

The words were spoken with annunciated vitriol. It took several seconds for Stella to digest them. By the time she did, it was too late. The hand which stroked her throat affectionately now held her in a chokehold.

Weeks of training surged through her. The poignant summoning of her power twisted up her insides and burned her lungs as she prepared to blast Raphael back with her sonic scream.

"None of that now." Raphael's other hand joined the assault and cut off her airway. Sheer terror tore through Stella. She kicked out at him while clumsily fighting to remove his hands from her the way Nova taught her. "I said— urgh !"

Raphael released her as he bent in half to cup his balls. He issued another pained groan as he slanted a glare up at her. Stella ignored him, too busy wheezing and stumbling away from him. She pressed a hand reassuringly against her racing heart, fingers skimming over pebbled skin. Her breath clouded before her with each panted exhalation. And yet, the cold was only superficial.

Stella blinked and swallowed roughly. It didn't matter. What mattered was that she was alive.

"There's nowhere to run, Stella," Raphael taunted, his eyes bleeding black as he forced himself to straighten.

Stella's hand fisted at her chest. Her body tensed as it flooded with anger and her powers once more rose to her call, and then she screamed.

All around them, the shrill cry echoed. Metal rattled. The lockers closest to Stella visibly dented from the force of her unique gift. Raphael was launched, arms pinwheeling and towel torn away as he landed halfway across the locker room.

A thrill filled her as she cut off the scream. Her eyes lingered closed as she caught her breath, but when she opened them a second later, a more chilling fear lanced through her.

" What ?"

She wasn't in the locker room.

She wasn't—

The realization was like a bucket of ice water being poured over her. Another, more violent, shiver wracked her body as she spun herself in a tight circle. The ground scratched at her bare feet, a mixture of sand, dusty gravel, and rocks. Stella clutched her towel closer to her body, shoulders hunching inward as she stared down endless dunes and drab desert.

"Hel-hello?"

Sinister laughter boomed across the landscape, battering Stella from all directions. It bruised her. Stella watched in horror as purple contusions began to litter her arms and legs. She groaned in pain as the laughter stretched on until she sank to her knees and clapped both hands over her ears.

Gravel and sand cut into her knees and shins as she curled herself into a ball with a whimper.

She didn't know how long she stayed like that waiting for the onslaught to end. The cold and aches and pain ravaging her body stole every ounce of her focus until, all at once, there was silence.

For several beats, Stella did nothing but tremble. She raised her gaze warily to survey her surroundings.

To her left was nothing but endless desert, and to her right, three feral dogs. Stella's heart threatened to launch itself out of her chest. Their pointed muzzles were peeled up to reveal razor-sharp teeth that were made all the more fearsome with their obsidian eyes and unnaturally tall ears.

The moment they lunged, Stella did as well, almost tumbling from her bed.

Stella looked around her bedroom, first in panic, then confusion before a sob wrenched from her body. She lay tangled in her sweat-soaked sheets, crying until a pounding headache forced her to stop. Slipping out of bed, she wobbled to each lamp and light switch her apartment had to offer and turned them on. Once light flooded every room, her anxiety calmed.

"It was just a nightmare," Stella muttered to herself as she made her way to the kitchen sink. She stopped a foot shy from her destination to stare at the bottle of rhodiola and the near-empty glass beside it.

She'd only wanted to calm herself down enough to sleep after her meeting with Raphael. But then she'd had another glass. Then another.

Self-hatred and anger made her snatch the bottle and stomp toward the trash. Her arm and hand shook as she held it above the bin, but she couldn't summon the strength to let it go. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she let her arm and the bottle fall to her side.

"Stupid," she muttered to herself as she placed the green-tinted bottle back where it belonged, out of sight on the top shelf of her kitchen cabinet. She moved robotically onward, claiming a fresh glass, filling it with water, and downing it in messy gulps.

Stella dragged a hand over her mouth and chin, chest heaving slightly. "If you don't want nightmares, don't drink the green stuff." The self-inflicted censure made her heart squeeze painfully. Stella poured herself another glass of water and then took a seat on her loveseat.

Legs curled beneath her, and glass cupped in hand, her thoughts wandered to Bailey.

The she-wolf always seemed to know the exact words Stella needed to hear. She chewed on her bottom lip, surprised to find it sore.

I probably bit it during the nightmare. The logic didn't soothe her as she sipped idly on her water. Her fingers tightened around the smooth glass and unclenched in a steady rhythm as her thoughts drifted back to her absent friend.

She'd never gotten the chance to tell Bailey before she left that she saw the other woman as the older sister she never had. And that if it hadn't been for Bailey and River all those months ago, she wouldn't have survived the Dark Court. Stella thought they probably already knew the latter, but the former? That was a secret she kept close to her heart, and it never failed to keep her afloat in her darker hours.

Stella gave a raspy laugh. In under a year, she'd formed bonds with Bailey and River that had completely changed her outlook on life. They'd shown her that her worth lay outside being a banshee, and she was capable of shaping her future to her wants and dreams—not her family's. Her derisive laughter morphed into a sigh.

It wasn't that her family treated her poorly… they simply treated her in a very specific way. It just so happened that said way made her akin to an outcast.

An outcast that was placed on a pedestal high enough to reach the stars at her first caoine.

That first infamous keening scream had sealed her fate and set her apart from her family. They treated her like something that was beyond their reach. Divine and powerful in a way that demanded the utmost respect and formality from each member of the O'Conner family, just as generations past had done.

Stella sank deeper into the couch, the worn cushion giving way to her weight without protest.

She supposed she understood their odd reverence and treatment of her to an extent. To carry on the family legacy was the greatest honor an O'Conner girl could achieve. The banshee secured not only wealth for the family of mediums and seers, but prestige.

There were nights, though, when Stella was ready to sell her soul if it meant trading places with one of her many cousins. Let one of them bear the looks of the soon-to-be departed as they caoined until their throat bled. Those unfortunate souls' sorrow and righteous anger haunted better than any poltergeist.

Stella knew she could write to her Aunt Claire about the matter. Share her struggles and find some empathy, but she didn't wish to burden her with memories of her own time as the court's resident banshee. Another part of her hesitated because she didn't want word of her new powers getting back to her family.

Stella didn't need another reason for them to treat her differently.

Glancing over her shoulder, Stella eyed the mantle clock and groaned. It was nearing quarter to four in the evening. Nova would be there soon to walk with her to the training room behind the pits. Stella rubbed a hand over her face and heaved herself up from the couch and back to her room to get ready.

She'd come a long way since her initial training with Bailey. The occasional elbow was still delivered to Nova or Deval's nose by accident, but between their efforts, Stella was in more control of her powers than ever before.

In a small crowd, she could single out up to two people with her power of immobilization, instead of affecting everyone within hearing range. It usually left her drenched in sweat, but Stella didn't mind the tradeoff too terribly. Besides, Deval said with more practice the stinky side effect would subside.

Stella was immensely proud of herself. The power had taken months to refine and understand how it worked. They ended up deducing it relied on her ability to dissociate from all but her intended targets. A task that was hardly easy in a court where everything was meant to ensnare your attention.

By far, the easiest to hone was her sonic scream. Though Stella wasn't a fan of how it twisted up her insides or set her lungs on fire. Stella raised a hand to her chest and rubbed as the memory invited a phantom of the sensation to spirit up her body, chased by a far more visceral shiver of distaste.

"Definitely not my favorite," Stella muttered to herself as she moved back into the front room of her apartment to finish getting ready. A pair of trainers swung from her fingertips.

Stella plopped back down onto the loveseat, sending a glance over her shoulder at the mantle clock as she absentmindedly put on her shoes. The second hand was struggling to make it past the faded black eight. Stella expelled a familiar sigh at the pathetic state of her possessions and shook her head.

Trainers secured with double knots, Stella stood and confronted the clock. "If you don't shape up, you'll be sacked." Stella's matter-of-fact tone went unacknowledged. "You can only receive so many warnings before enough is enough." Stella leaned closer as she twirled the second hand around the clock face a number of times until the minute hand represented time more accurately. Or so Stella assumed. "There now. That should do it," she commented.

Stella's self-satisfied nod stopped short as she caught her reflection in the mirror hanging above the mantel. Her lips pressed to a thin line briefly.

"Stop talking to your furniture as if they were alive, Stella. People will think you're crazy— crazier ," she amended. Sealing her mouth, she let the slightly arrhythmic ticking of the clock to settle comfortably around her.

Stella started to stretch idly as she waited for Nova's arrival. The only power Nova and Deval hadn't been able to help her learn better control over was the infamous banshee caoine. It was difficult to get in any practice on singing her caoine rather than screaming it when it came on so sporadically. At one point, Nova suggested putting a few court thralls out of their misery so Stella could learn.

She'd politely refused.

A knock interrupted the memory. Stella hustled to the door and undid the locks with practiced ease. Apparently, even in her state of rhodiola intoxication, she was smart enough to remember to lock her door. Stella left only her chain lock secured as she opened the door a crack to peer at her visitor.

Nova stared back at her. "Didn't River put wards on your place to keep out unwanted guests?"

Stella shut the door and unlatched the last lock before welcoming Nova in properly. "She did, but it doesn't hurt to be safe."

"Seems like overkill to me." Nova moseyed inside as Stella closed the door behind her. "Hope you don't mind if we talk for a few minutes before heading out." She gestured to the gym bag she carried on her shoulder. "Valdora gave you the grimoire right?" Stella nodded. "I need to take it from you. Ruby and Jax want another go at it."

"Of course!" Stella made a beeline for her bedroom and retrieved the grimoire from its magical hiding place. Walking back out with it in hand, she gave it to Nova. "Whenever you need me to store it again for safe keeping, I'm more than happy to."

Nova gave her a half-smile in return. "It was hard enough getting Jax to agree to the grimoire's rotation in the first place, let alone to share with Valdora. I'm not sure once he gets it back, he'll want to part with it again." She shoved the grimoire with little care into her bag. "He's obsessed," Nova continued, zipping her bag shut with more force than necessary. "It's a problem and one that Ruby does a miraculous job of ignoring. I'm sure once I hand this to him, they'll work together on it non-stop."

"Sorry."

Nova waved off the unnecessary apology. "Whatever. If I had my way, we'd let River and Valdora take over reversing Irina's curse, but I was vetoed. The Vranas can be so democratic at times."

Stella smirked and crossed her arms. "You're a Vrana," Stella reminded her.

"And I can also be incredibly annoying at times," Nova quipped, matching her smirk. "So, do you want to tell me what went down at the Styx a few nights ago?" Nova side-eyed her as Stella walked by and grabbed her empty glass from the coffee table. "I heard a rumor…"

Stifling the cringe that wished to come forth, Stella volunteered the story of what occurred at the doors of the Lunar Court. Nova listened intently, waiting to speak until she was done.

"You're really making me reconsider more spontaneous sparring outside your training sessions. Or seriously upping your hand-to-hand combat training."

This time Stella did cringe. She feared that if someone were to leap out and attack her, she would accidentally kill them with her sonic scream. Which would then, of course, most likely inspire her caoine. It was a two-for-the-price-of-one scenario Stella wanted to avoid at all costs, and why she turned down Nova's suggestion of spontaneous sparring in the first place.

"So, I guess that means we'll have to find another way to get demon blood. Damn ."

"Er, not exactly." A pleased flush crept up onto Stella's cheeks. She went on to explain her game of liar's dice with Raphael, and subsequent winning request. "I met with him this morning, technically at the Turkish Baths, to discuss the details. He'll teach me, but I can't say for certain how long his lessons will last."

Nova didn't respond immediately. Her carefully placid expression, surely meant to put Stella at ease, did the opposite. The gears were turning in Nova's head. Stella could practically see them moving in her eyes.

"How exactly do you plan on getting his blood during these secret tutoring sessions?"

Stella straightened, her two-handed hold on her glass tightening. "I'll gain his trust, then wait for an opportunity to stab him in the back."

Unfortunately, Stella's attempted bravado fell flat somewhere in the middle of her delivery. Nova mirrored her earlier cringe.

"How have you survived here this long?" Nova shook her head in wonder as Stella shrugged.

Stella made her way to the kitchen, muttering distractedly to herself as she mused on Nova's words. She'd often wondered the same thing, more so now that she was training so consistently.

"Hey, Stella?"

"Hmm?" She replied distantly as she rinsed the glass.

"What's the name of that song?"

Stella's methodical cleaning slowed to a stop, realizing her muttering was, in fact, some soft song. She set the glass aside to dry, eyebrows drawing together in confusion as her mindless singing came to an end.

A moment later, the edge to Nova's voice registered.

Stella's eyes widened as she became aware of the subtle supernatural tingling over her vocal cords. The hair on her arms rose as she turned to face her friend with rising dread.

"I wasn't singing anything, Nova," she softly insisted, the denial false even to her ears.

Nova swallowed as she paled. Stella hadn't known it was possible for a vampyré to lose even more color to their skin.

"You were," Nova said. She shut her eyes. "You sang for me, didn't you?"

"I—I." Stella struggled to breathe, watching as Nova's face crumpled, her own heart breaking into a thousand pieces. Hot tears spilled over Stella's cheeks.

She so rarely sang her deathly predictions, that she never learned their specific forewarning signs. Even now, doubt plagued her for committing the act. Her screaming caoine's tells were obvious. Her teeth went on edge and her vocal cords flared with heat, and before a second thought could ever be given, she screamed.

But Nova had heard her sing, and that suspicious supernatural tingling lingered upon her vocal cords. Stella knew Nova was right. Knew it and hated herself all the more for it.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry, Nova. I didn't—I didn't mean to."

She didn't know what else to say or do. She couldn't take back her caoine, no matter the form it came in. That wasn't how it worked.

Stella's knees buckled at how powerless she felt and grabbed onto the counter to keep from falling to the floor.

Nova wiped at her eyes and sniffed loudly. "Of course, you didn't mean to Stella." Nova met her eyes. She looked ready to say more but stopped herself to bite viciously at her bottom lip instead.

"Are you… okay?" Nova speared her with a droll look. Stupid , Stella scolded herself, you just predicted her death. Of course, she's not okay.

"I've definitely been better." Nova licked her lips and shook her head, eyes slipping shut. "But it's not like I haven't died before, so." A sardonic chuckle made its way out of her mouth. When Nova opened her eyes again, she aimed her gaze at the floor. "How long?"

The quiet question brought a new wave of goosebumps across Stella's body. "I don't know." You know I don't know , she longed to tack on. How many discussions had they had on her caioning power in lieu of training it? Nova knew.

"What's the quickest someone has died after you've—" Nova made a vague gesture with her hand.

"A minute?"

Nova's throat bobbed.

"And the longest?"

"Umm." Stella squeezed her eyes shut as she ransacked her memory. Her grip tightened almost painfully on the counter's ledge. "A month or so? Definitely at least three weeks. It was a shifter named—"

"I don't need the particulars." Nova wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand and sniffed some more. "You can't tell Ruby," she said, locking eyes with Stella. "You can't tell anyone ."

Stella's breath caught. She took a step toward Nova, a new surge of sadness bringing wetness to her eyes. "But Nova—"

"Swear it." Nova's eyes hardened as she stood. She pointed a finger at Stella. "I need you to swear to me right now you won't tell a soul. Please , Stella." Her voice cracked on the final note of her demand-turned-plea.

"I swear I won't tell anyone."

A piece of Stella's heart turned to ash as she made the oath. She couldn't deny her friend this dying wish.

"Good," Nova said. Her sniffling died down. "Good," she repeated more forcefully. "And thank you. I know what I'm asking you isn't easy."

Stella shook her head while wiping away the tears from her face. "You don't have to thank me for this, Nova." Stella gave her a sad smile that threatened to bring about a far more crushing tidal wave of heartache. "What are friends for?"

For once, Stella's delivery hit its mark. The levity of her gallows humor earned a genuine laugh from Nova.

"Come on, we should get to the sparring ring before Deval has a fit and makes us both do sprints."

"Are you sure you still want to go?" Stella asked tentatively as Nova shouldered her bag.

Nova paused. "Maybe not," she admitted. "How about I just walk you over and pretend that nothing happened, all right? I think I need to… process all this. Decide how I want to move forward with what time I have left. However long that may be." Nova's words were nothing more than a whisper by the end of her short speech.

"Okay," Stella agreed. "Whatever you want."

Pain radiated through Nova's gaze as she passed Stella a grateful smile. "Thanks, let's go."