VIII

R aphael was annoyed.

The past two nights, his attempts to spend time with Jax had been cock-blocked by the most obnoxious member of the Vrana household, Ruby. His teeth ground together as he fought off a wave of irritation. It wasn't her, per sé, that had cock-blocked him, but that damn grimoire. The pair were working fastidiously through the grimoire, trying to discover the secret to reversing the rabidus curse hidden within its pages.

But because he wasn't a precious member of their little family, his offer of help—however false it had been—was declined. Ruby's smirking face, as she'd informed him two nights ago, slamming the door of Jax's laboratory in his face, remained burned in his mind.

She would have her night of reckoning soon enough. He was waiting for the right moment to turn her petty, obnoxious behavior against her. From the start, he'd been careful to play the part of victim. To stay silent through each cutting remark and backhanded comment she made. It was only in recent weeks that he made a stand against her barbs, but even those he kept succinct.

Raphael's hands flexed; leather groaned in protest as ire rolled through his gut.

" Bitch ," he muttered as he exited one of his Lord's many individual temples. Raphael glanced up and down the demon quarter. A handful of demons wandered about. The hour was still early enough that he was unlikely to run afoul of someone—or someones—who despised him enough to act upon their hatred.

Raphael took off toward his sister's room without another thought. A few glares followed him and one wad of spit, but the remainder were too interested in their own affairs to pay him mind. Raphael let their hatred roll off his shoulders and steered his thoughts to more pressing matters.

The other infuriating woman in his life.

Raphael's brow furrowed. Rage had initially consumed him in the discovery that his signature power didn't affect Stella, followed by a humiliation he refused to cede attention to. Thankfully, the few nights apart allowed him time to reevaluate the matter. The recent development was a problem, but not one he couldn't handle.

After all, the banshee hadn't been completely unaffected by his attentions. A smirk slashed across his face as his irritation waned. Given a little time, she would fall prey to his charms. And once the tentative bridge of trust was there, he would finish her off.

He'd been sorely tempted to at the bathhouse.

Keep it simple and discreet , he reminded himself. Set her up for failure with her ludicrous little quest, and if all else fails, push her down some stairs. Both options held their own appeal.

Raphael ducked his chin briefly to hide his growing smirk lest the latest glaring couple of demons to pass him take offense. He was meant to meet with the little banshee tonight after his check-in with Layla. Raphael cast his gaze forward, head tilting back up just in time to catch sight of a trio of demons barreling his way. He skirted to the side before the male on the far left ran him over.

"Shouldn't you be out begging for scraps, mutt?" One of the men called over their shoulders.

"Good one, mate. Very original," Raphael responded before he could stop himself. The squeaky scratch of rubber soles grinding to a halt on marble tore through the hall.

Raphael sank his molars into his tongue.

"What did you just say?"

"Nothing," Raphael replied stiffly, unwilling to look back at them. "May our Lord reign." The perfunctory words of parting did nothing to appease them.

"Hey! I'm talking to you." And I'm ignoring you, wanker. Raphael picked up his pace. The fast clap of footfall chased after him, but only briefly.

"Let it go, Seth. We actually have places to be, unlike him ."

Their voices trailed off as mutual distance was placed between the parties. Raphael sent a silent supplication to his Lord for the briefness of the encounter, but it vanished mid-thought as he rounded the corner into one of the residential halls. His sister was there... along with Kat .

His shoulder blades hunched up, and he paused for a moment to observe their interaction. Kat's arms were crossed as she spoke to Layla. She wore a savage smirk that bordered on a sneer. Layla's head was bowed, her hair covering her face. Not good . Before he could intervene, Kat twirled away, leaving Layla nodding obediently in her wake.

Raphael waited until Kat was out of sight, entering a room without knocking. His gaze narrowed at that. The slew of unregistered demons at court kept rooms in the Demon Quarter. They left only to spy on courtiers from the Ether or on assignment. He knew for a fact that Kat's room stood amongst the slew of houseless courtiers, shifters, and sorcerers annexed to the sixth subfloor.

Who are you visiting? Raphael didn't dwell on the thought; instead, he went over to Layla, who stood in the same spot where Kat left her.

"Hello, sweetheart." Raphael let his gaze run over Layla in appraisal as he laid a hand on her shoulder to turn her toward him. Layla regarded him with a far-off stare. "Let's go somewhere to talk privately, ay?"

Layla made no fuss as he redirected them toward the main concourse and then into one of the many private rooms. Once inside, he turned on every light to cast away the shadows and locked the door behind them. He didn't want any demons eavesdropping.

"What were you talking about with Kat?"

Layla blinked back at him. "Aren't you going to ask me how I am first?"

Raphael inhaled through his nose and pasted on a thin smile. "How are you? What were you talking to Kat about?"

"Oh, I'm divine."

A saccharine smile ghosted over Layla's lips. A brief light entered her eyes, making them sparkle with something akin to mischief. Raphael swallowed at the sight of it. The small glimpse of the old Layla sucked him effortlessly into the past. He missed his younger sister, who adored sarcasm and teased her brother to madness. Until…

Raphael's heart splintered.

He craved the glimpses of the old Layla—the Layla who was human—but they'd become few and far between.

Raphael's smile softened into something more genuine, and again, looked over at his sister. They shared many of the same features. Thick dark hair. The set of their soulful brown eyes. Her face was more diamond-shaped than his with her pointed cleft chin, but it was no mystery they were siblings if you put them side by side.

"You're looking at me in that way again," Layla bemoaned. "You know I don't like it when you do that. It reminds me of..."

The way her voice trailed off into a cold whisper, and the meager light in her eyes snuffed out, made Raphael's throat lock. He mumbled a quick apology.

"You don't need to do that anymore. Take care of me," she explained. A slight tremor infiltrated her voice. A strain. She hadn't liked him looking after her before they were demons, so he supposed it wasn't too out of character for her to complain now.

"We might be demons, but I'm still your big brother." Layla's eyes heaved upward in tired exasperation. "Now, are you going to tell me what you were talking about with that she-devil or not?" An air of suspicion shrouded Layla as she peered around the room. "It's all right; no one can hear us or listen from the Ether—there's not a shadow in sight." His sister continued with her inspection, roaming the small room. Almost pacing around it.

That was never a good sign for where her head was at.

" Layla ."

She stopped. A bewildered look came across her face at being startled, but then a wide smile split her mouth open in a way that was both dreamy and unhinged.

"A mission," she all but sighed, shoulders sagging as her eyes drifted closed. "I'm going on a mission."

Raphael straightened and walked over to her. "What mission?"

Her lashes fluttered open. "I'm going to help sabotage the sorcerer edict." She grasped his hands. They were clammy, but her grip was unyielding. "Thank you, Raph. The information you shared from that Delacroix woman you were with; it's everything . With it, we will cause such ruin."

The wistful melancholy that punctuated her words reminded Raphael of a sad lullaby, but the glimmer of light was back in her eyes. He chose to focus on that.

"We'll kill two birds with one stone and with such minimal effort. Maybe even three or more." she waxed on. Raphael led her to one of the few chairs decorating the space and sat opposite her. Layla's hands lay limply in her lap as she stared off into space, her off-kilter, dreamy expression unwavering.

"What will happen? What role will you play?"

Her gaze shifted to him. "I'm to tamper with a set of documents located in the Medici quarters to make them more… inciting, so to speak." Raphael frowned. He had no idea what or how the Medici would play a factor in sabotaging the sorcerer's edict. Apparently, Layla took his frown as skepticism. Her features fell in sadness. "You know I'm good at getting into places I shouldn't through the Ether. It's the reason they haven't killed me yet. Wards and spells—they don't work on me as they do the others. It's like I'm a ghost."

Raphael knew. He knew, and he hated it. He swallowed thickly and said more forcefully than necessary, "You're not a ghost."

"I won't get caught. I haven't yet." Layla persisted, even as her voice grew timid. Raphael counted to ten in his head to recompose himself.

He cleared his throat. "Do you know what the papers are?"

Layla's head swayed from side to side. "Kat says it's none of my business and to do as I'm told. That, and that the ripple effect of our actions would cause tidal waves."

Raphael didn't hide his displeasure. "Typical," he muttered. "Is she going to help you with this mission at all?"

"Of course."

Layla wouldn't meet his gaze. His hands began to fist.

"I don't like her. Or trust her," he voiced lowly, and finally, Layla dragged her gaze back to him.

"It doesn't matter. Kat's been appointed as my mentor. Irial said if I do not grow my horns under her tutelage, he'll end my sorry life," Layla explained calmly with a shrug.

"What?" Raphael lurched up to his feet.

A small knot appeared between Layla's brows as she peered up at him. "You're surprised?"

"Of course, I am!" He began to pace. "When did this happen?"

"Weeks ago."

"Weeks?" Raphael turned on his sister. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I could have—"

"You couldn't have helped," she interrupted. "You can't now, don't you see? You'll only cause trouble for me with her. Besides, you've tried for years, and nothing works." Her eyelids drifted shut again. "Did you know the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and over again, expecting different results?" She laughed. The bright tinkle of it scratched at Raphael's eardrums. Her eyelids opened languidly, the sheen of madness pulling over her dulled regard. "We're insane, you and I."

"Don't talk like that," Raphael snapped, feeling his heart burn with the new knowledge.

Layla frowned and stood too. "What's done is done. There is nothing for me to do other than follow Kat."

Raphael pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't like this."

"It doesn't matter , Raphael," she said. "Nothing really matters when you think about it. Besides, I'm not worried, so neither should you be."

" Oh? " He couldn't keep the sardonic tone from his reply as his hand dropped to his side, and he leveled her with a glare. Layla stared blandly back at him. "Pray tell, why shouldn't I be?"

"Because I shall feast tomorrow on the despair wrought by our mission. It's not only Kat and I who are carrying out the task at hand. We're but a few pieces on the board." Her regard turned somewhat pensive as she studied him. "You should stay clear of the sixth subfloor tomorrow," she advised him.

It didn't sit well with him—none of it did—but what could he do? Especially when interfering would mean trouble for Layla.

Raphael sighed. "Fine then but be safe. As for whatever's happening tomorrow evening, I have plans that will keep me away from the sixth subfloor."

Layla perked up. "To kill the banshee?"

He nodded. "Among other things."

"Wait and see, Raph. Soon, we'll both be whole. Won't that be marvelous?" The distant look came back to her eyes. Raphael's heart clenched painfully. His greatest hope—his only hope—was to see Layla made whole. Because if she were to become a demon fully, he would get his sister back. Sanity and all. "I don't think you've ever known yourself," Layla continued. "You've never known what it is to be you and not a son or a brother or a whore. What will you be once you're freed? Who will you become? Who will I become?"

Raphael folded his arms over his chest.

"I know who I am, thank you very much. And for your information, I've never minded the roles I played in life. Or yours in mine."

Layla hummed. He couldn't tell if it was in agreement or walked the edge of condescension. "We must evolve. We must belong somewhere fully—this in between… it tortures me. I can't survive it much longer, Raph. I need this mission to work."

"Yes. Yes, I know," he whispered.

Layla fussed with the hair above her ears. His horns tinged with uncanny awareness, and his own fingers longed to stroke them reassuringly.

"I've got to get going, but I'll try and check in with you again soon." Layla didn't respond. "And tomorrow… just be safe, all right?"

Stark lucidity washed over Layla's face as she barked out a laugh. A mean smile crossed her lips. "Never again." The words struck him like a dagger to the heart, but he had no rebuttal or parting mark to give, so he left for his date with the banshee.

The early risers of the court were making their appearances as Raphael made his way to the second subfloor. They walked the halls with purpose, shoulders thrust back, and chins held high in practiced self-importance. Raphael ignored the majority—as they did him—but to the gentlemen he'd encountered the other week at the Lamia Den he tipped his head in greeting. They returned the gesture. A flush of pride swelled in his chest.

What other demons at court claimed acquaintances and such cordial familiarity with the vampyré elite? None.

Reaching the spacious training room hidden away behind the Pits with a new vigor to his steps, Raphael lingered in the shadows of the locker room entrance to gauge its occupants. His mouth twisted in mild annoyance at the sight before him.

Stella lingered in the middle of the room with Deval. The large hybrid's head was tipped back as laughter poured out of him. Raphael's brows tipped downward as he saw the impish grin Stella wore in return. Her sweat-slicked skin shined underneath the overhead light. And he couldn't help but notice it made her fair skin glow.

A moment later, Deval's laughter subsided. He grabbed the duffle bag by his feet and lifted a hand in farewell. Then he was aiming for the nearby side exit. Raphael didn't immediately reveal himself once the hybrid left. He watched Stella instead, ducking further into the shadows.

She looked undisturbed.

Calm.

It was… strange. More so than her friendly interlude with Deval. In truth, he was used to seeing the banshee looking haggard or in a perpetual state of anxiety. Raphael watched as she began to stretch leisurely, pulling one arm over her chest and then the other. Her eyes drifted around the empty room every so often, no doubt wondering when he would appear.

A devious smile wormed up his lips.

It was showtime—

"Just the girl I was looking for!"

Raphael's stomach hollowed out as he jerked to attention. His gaze snapped to the newcomer in the room and bit back a growl as Gabriel strode toward Stella. For her part, Stella seemed just as startled as Raphael. She eyed Gabriel warily as he stopped several feet away from her, his hands held up placatingly.

"I come in peace," Gabriel exclaimed with a playful grin and crossed his heart. Stella didn't appear reassured, but she responded to his abrupt greeting and arrival, nonetheless. Unfortunately, her words were too soft for Raphael to hear, as was Gabriel's reply.

Raphael quickly scanned the area Gabriel appeared from. Solid wall drenched in shadow mocked his inspection. So, he traveled the Ether to find her. It was a reckless move seeing as how the other supernaturals didn't know of this talent of theirs. Raphael's hands clenched at his side. The leather stretched tight over his knuckles.

The sound of Stella's forced laughter further pushed at Raphael's annoyance. He watched her shift around in clear discomfort. The sight filled him with disgust, and he leveled a glare at Gabriel from his hiding spot.

He was a demon of lust .

Raphael hadn't known it was possible for his kind to inspire such awkward unease, but Gabriel was proof against it. On the other hand, he wasn't remotely surprised. It was Gabriel after all. However, the other feelings that rattled through him at Gabriel's interference truly took him off guard. Animosity and resentment.

Stella was his .

Gabriel leered and Stella shuffled back a step. At that, something in Raphael snapped. He strode out into the room, hands relaxed at his side. Gabriel caught his eye and smiled widely.

"Well, if it isn't the resident mongrel!"

Raphael stopped at Stella's side and peered down at her. "Is he bothering you?"

She flushed. Irritation flashed in her regard. "I can handle this." Raphael cocked an eyebrow, silently daring her to—"Fuck off," Stella said to Gabriel. The color on her cheeks deepened. "Please."

Gabriel scoffed, brows tumbling down in a frown as he shifted his gaze between the pair. Raphael smirked back at him as Gabriel struggled to smooth his expression. The other demon returned his attention to Stella.

"My offer still stands. I'd be more than happy to bring you to a Lunar Court event or gathering as my guest." There was a shift in the air. Raphael recognized it in an instant as his kind's signature manipulation. The sudden unnatural warmth was both seductive and addictive to any in its vicinity. Including Stella.

She gasped and her eyes glazed over.

"I'll think about it," Stella responded breathlessly.

This time it was Raphael who frowned. He stepped between the pair, blocking the sensory assault. Gabriel grinned cruelly back at him.

"You're no fun anymore, Raphael," he said with a shake of his head. "Not that you really were to begin with." Gabriel leaned to the side to shoot Stella a milder version of his grin. "I'll see you around."

They both tracked his retreat out the same exit Deval took before either spoke.

"Making deals with more demons, love?" Raphael placed a hand over his heart and pouted. "And here I thought I was special." His teasing didn't elicit the response he wanted, a scowl instead of a fiery blush.

"I'm not in the mood for this Raphael. It's already been." Stella abruptly stopped herself with a shake of her head. "What am I doing?" she muttered to herself. "Listen, before we start our lesson, I need to clean up," she told him sternly.

"By all means, love." He swept an arm toward the locker room. "I'd hate to waste any more time than necessary."

With a little humph, she marched off toward the locker room. Raphael followed in her wake a few steps behind; a light whistle on his lips. She shot him an irritated look over her shoulder and stopped at the first line of lockers. A rosy hue had climbed up her cheeks.

"What are you doing?" She demanded.

Raphael stopped, head cocked to the side and hands folded behind his back. "Hmm?" He resumed his whistling, delighting in the way anger spiked in her eyes and darkened them.

"You can't come in here."

His whistle died as both eyebrows shot up. "Discriminating based on sex?" He tsked at her in a false reprimand. "That's not very kind of you. Last I checked, this locker room was meant for everyone."

"You don't even need to use it!" The shrill outburst coincided with the appearance of red patches up her neck. "Just—wait for me outside."

They stared at each other for a pregnant pause. Her glaring. Him deeply humored.

"As you wish." Raphael's hair fell forward as he bowed mockingly.

He returned to the locker room's entrance to wait for her. The distant sound of her puttering around registered faintly in his ears, and a minute later, the blast of a shower head.

Raphael inspected his nails then surveyed the training room. Soon, the room would be filled with fighters looking to hone their skills. But, at the moment, it remained empty. He straightened slowly as anticipation thrummed through his veins.

He had every intention of respecting her privacy… but it would be in far worse taste for him to turn down such a window of opportunity. Outside Gabriel, nobody had seen him with Stella, and he doubted the other lust demon would go running his mouth about their brief encounter. Doing so would only place himself at the scene of the crime. Raphael smiled and walked casually back into the locker room as the sound of the shower echoed in the tiled room.

Stella was about to have a very unfortunate accident.