IX

? ?Water scalded Stella's fingertips as she tested the steaming shower. A hiss burst past her lips. Reaching past the jet of water, she nudged the faucet handle counterclockwise and waited a beat before testing the water again.

It will have to do .

The bite of heat still stung her skin, but it was far more manageable than before. Her hands went automatically to her towel, tugging at the corner that kept it snug around her body. Yet, something stopped her from undressing further. Stella stilled.

Trepidation nipped at her nerves as the hair on her arms rose.

She wasn't alone.

Is this another nightmare? Would I even know—

The lights flickered. Stella twirled around, one hand out at the ready to help guide her sonic scream should she need to use it. The other clutched her towel. "Who's there?"

Soft laughter rippled through the air and a breeze ghosted over her shoulder.

" Boo ."

Stella welcomed the fire that tore through her lungs and tightened her gut as she whirled around. Her sonic scream was poised at the back of her throat, but her assailant was prepared. A fist crashed against the side of her head. Black spots shattered through her vision as she stumbled sideways.

Her assailant gave no quarter.

Stella shouted in alarm as they grabbed a fistful of her hair and dragged her back. Her hands scrambled to the rescue, clawing, and prying at the merciless grip.

"Let go!" she demanded and doubled her efforts. Then her gaze landed on the second assailant waiting in the wings, toying with a long, serrated knife. Her heart dropped to her feet. They wore a Halloween mask sporting a toothsome grin that stretched from ear-to-ear and green, reptilian eyes painted over mesh screens.

Pain seared her scalp as the person behind her tightened their grip. Stella's sights narrowed on the second attacker prowling toward her. Determination surged through her, scorching her lungs, and constricting her insides. She screamed.

The lockers rattled from every direction as she thrust a hand out to direct her sonic power. The knife-wielder crashed backward, clipping the back of their heads against one of the trembling metal rows. They tumbled to the ground as Stella's voice cut out suddenly. A sudden fist to her kidney stole her breath.

"Don't think you'll get away that easily," a voice hissed near her ear, still yanking her back. Stella's eyes rolled upward, then side to side as she caught her breath. She didn't expect to see Raphael standing gobsmacked between the locker stalls.

"Help—"

To Stella's own ear, her cry was muffled. Her eyes widened as the strangest sensation of pin pricks raced up and down her body. Next her vision wavered. The world blurred before her eyes as if she was being submerged under water. Panic began to eclipse everything else inside her.

Raphael shouted her name, but that, too, was muted. Her vision adjusted as she fully entered whatever magical ward she'd been pulled into. She'd never seen or experienced anything like the aquiform dome surrounding her.

And she was stuck inside it... with her sorcerer assailant... and without her towel.

Anger and embarrassment flooded her body.

"Damn you!"

Her assailant still clutched her hair, pulling her back step-by-step. This time, Stella didn't fight it. With a guttural cry, she launched herself backward. Using her head as a battering ram, she slammed into her assailant's sternum. The grip on her hair loosened considerably.

They snarled something unintelligible, but Stella was already moving. She ripped herself free and spun to face her attacker. They wore the same garish mask as the other.

And they'll meet the same fate too.

Stella's sonic scream built inside her like wildfire. But once more they seemed a step ahead. Their hand shot out, not to strike, but to throw something at Stella's face.

Her breath caught as the foreign object hit her square in the mouth and stuck. Stella's eyes widened in alarm, her hands rushing to pull the strange material from her mouth, but to no avail. It tightened, forcing her jaw shut.

Nostrils flaring with panicked breath, Stella backpedaled.

"Where do you think you're going?" they mocked.

Stella tripped over her own feet as she changed her trajectory, moving sideways instead of back. Electricity now radiated palpably from the watery ward's boundaries, and not a second later, a bolt of magic seared her right shoulder blade as she edged too close. Stella bit her tongue in pain and copper filled her mouth.

"Poor baby banshee." Her assailant stalked closer. "Whatever will you do without your precious voice to help you? You're all alone, defenseless, and very naked."

She couldn't tell if her assailant was a man or woman—their voice stifled by the mask and body dressed too ambiguously—but the clear innuendo left its mark regardless. A hollowness systematically ate up Stella's insides at the underlying implication that her assailant could… that they would …

She swallowed thickly and became acutely aware of their small enclosure.

Of how the muffled noises from outside made the wards shimmer and shake. Yet every breath they took, and every noise they made, echoed back at them.

Of how the wards were beautifully opalescent. Yet filled with fiendish lightning.

Of how the familiar scent of eucalyptus that perfumed the locker room was gone, replaced by noxious charred flesh. Her flesh.

Stella's jaw clenched as pain resonated through her body. Her jaw hurt . The cursed plaster over her mouth continued to tighten and tighten, grinding her teeth together. As for her shoulder—

The masked assailant drew out a knife. Stella stilled. It was smaller than their friend's, but no less sharp or menacing.

For a moment, fear engulfed her anew. They'd been right before… but only to an extent. She was alone and naked. But defenseless?

"Nobody sees you as a threat, Stella."

She frowned at Nova. "I know. That's why I'm here night after night with you training."

Nova laughed gently at her friend's frustration. She placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. "Don't you see? It's your greatest advantage. Let them underestimate you, and when you hit back? They'll never see it coming."

The memory dashed through Stella's mind driving the fear from her veins. Let them underestimate me…

Stella feigned growing distress as they continued to circle one another and raised her hands defensively. She made them tremble, though for her injured shoulder, it wasn't much of a ploy.

"I would make it last, but—" They flipped the knife with a flick of their wrist, catching it expertly by the handle as it descended "—I don't really have the time to waste. Pity. I could play with you for hours ."

They struck like a viper. One minute, feet away, and the next, in her space, and knife thrusting forward. They were fast. Fast enough Stella wondered for a split-second if her assailant was a shifter and not a sorcerer with their plaster magic trick.

But she was ready for them.

Grab wrist. Use momentum. Twist down with arc. Guide back around, and up—

A garbled noise issued from her attacker as they stabbed themself with the help of Stella's seamless defensive maneuvering. Vindication blazed through her as the sound reverberated throughout the domed space.

She wanted to see their face. Wanted to luxuriate in their astonishment and disbelief.

Who says I can't be a courtier like the rest?

Bloodlust on the rise to an inordinate degree, Stella reached for her assailant's mask only for them to slip out of reach. Or rather, stumble. Shock triggered her standstill as they careened toward the high-voltage wall.

She glanced dumbly at her hand. She'd let go of their wrist after finishing the move. That's how she'd always practiced it with Nova and Deval. Attack. Counterattack. Release. Again. And now they would get away.

Her assailant sank against the ward, but no lightning struck out at them. It merely absorbed them as they slanted out of the warded dome. Stella stared at the spot they vanished through and groaned.

How am I supposed to get out? Will Raphael leave me here? Did he go for help—

A distinct chill wafted over Stella's bare feet. It wound around her ankles, and up her legs before enveloping her upper half. She shivered violently and hugged herself, eyes skirting over the magical enclosure for a way out.

There has to be a way—

Stella's lungs seized as a growl erupted from behind her and the world careened sideways somehow. She blinked rapidly as lightheadedness struck her with sudden intensity. Another growl issued. Stella flinched as it rumbled through the air and over her skin like coarse sandpaper.

It can't be. It can't be. Stella squeezed her eyes shut as she fought not to hyperventilate. It's not real.

She peeked one eye open and then the next as the wards began to slowly collapse before her. Relief made a brief appearance, releasing her lungs from panic's ironclad grip, only to clamp down harder when the growl sounded a third time. Stella whimpered and looked over her shoulder.

The devilish dog from her nightmare was forcing its way through the diminishing ward. Its muzzle was already halfway through with canines proudly displayed. She blinked, and it was gone, but then back again just as quickly—only this time, it was further through. Stella whimpered as she locked eyes with its inky black ones. The living nightmare stilled and then lunged with its jaw wide open.

Stella tried to scream but it was pointless.

She dropped to her knees instead, arms flinging themselves over her head as the world tilted on its axis again. Her heart banged against her chest waiting for the inevitable impact.

For teeth to sink into soft flesh.

For claws to raze her down to the bones.

Instead, there was softness.

Stella jerked halfway up like a startled lamb. The lights above still flickered, but Raphael's silhouette blocked most of it from her line of sight.

"It's okay. You're okay. They're both gone." Raphael told her. "It's only your towel. I'm just going to—" He adjusted the towel over Stella's shoulders, allowing her to arrange it tightly around herself. "Are you all right?"

Stella snatched his hand and brought it frantically to the obstruction over her mouth. He frowned and ran his fingers around the edges speculatively before giving an experimental tug to one corner. It lifted—but not without taking what felt like three layers of skin. Tears pricked Stella's eyes.

"Hold on, love. I've got you."

Over the course of the next few minutes, Raphael worked silently and diligently to coax the plaster from her mouth. When he finished, she gulped down several lungfuls of air and watched as the plaster crumbled to dust in his gloved hands.

"Much better." Raphael gently tilted her chin this way and that. "Your mouth certainly looks red and sore. But there are no obvious cuts."

Stella found that hard to believe. Her lips felt raw and the skin around it blistered. She lifted a trembling hand to inspect the area herself, but Raphael stopped her with a small shake of his head.

"Best to leave it alone, don't you think?"

Her hand fell uselessly to her side, and a strange, yet comfortable silence cocooned them as Raphael pulled back to give Stella some space. She appreciated the gesture, even if she found it to be out of character for him. Not that she knew him well enough to say.

Not that she wanted to.

Get out of your head Stella , she scolded herself. Y ou're in shock. Pull yourself together.

Stella closed her eyes and let the warmth of the room settle upon her like a thick duvet and chased away the abrasive cold. Her whole body sighed in relief, and as the crisp scent of eucalyptus hit her nose, she calmed further.

It wasn't the first time she'd been the target of an attack, or an attempt had been made on her life. Granted, she'd been fortunate enough in the past for someone to intervene. Then River and Bailey had entered the picture, and everything had changed for the better. A swell of emotion bubbled up in Stella.

Bailey would have been proud to see her fight tonight—to not give up. So would Nova and Deval, though surely Deval would have piped in with a critique or two. She was proud of herself.

She'd won .

The same dark thrill ignited through Stella's body. It coursed through her along with a lightness she attributed to a deep-seated appreciation that air still filled her lungs. Her smile tried to hitch higher, but a shot of pain quickly nixed the act.

Too bad winning still hurts .

A throbbing like no other plagued the side of her head, exasperated by the soreness of her jaw and abraded mouth. And then there was the blistering torment on her shoulder blade, which refused to be ignored. Stella's lashes fluttered open as she twisted in an attempt to see the damage, but a faint yet consistent humming noise gave her pause.

Stella's gaze traveled upward. The flickering lights above had settled.

"Any idea of who you pissed off?"

It took a moment for Raphael's words to process, but when they did, Stella frowned pensively. "No."

"So, you have no idea who those people were?"

"No."

"None at all—"

"I said no," Stella interrupted peevishly. "They had masks on, you saw yourself."

Raphael regarded her with skepticism. "You're not upset."

"…what?"

Raphael's gaze narrowed. "You're. Not. Upset. An attempt was just made on your life , and a few minutes of silent meditation sets you right?"

Stella shrugged.

She wasn't just death's herald; she was its companion. They walked together every night as it glutted itself on courtiers with no qualms of supernatural breed, status, or deeds done. What chipped away at her so relentlessly was witnessing the disbelief and anguish of those who heard her cry. Stella's heart constricted at the reminder of its most recent victim. The crack in Nova's voice still sounded vibrantly clear in her head.

Yet, somehow, through it all, she managed to separate herself from the horror when death's gaze grazed her .

She supposed it was a clever trick of her mind and heart. A survival technique of sorts. They worked in concert to protect that last bit of herself. There's a method to my madness . The thought brought about a sudden burst of hysteria that caught Stella unawares. She quickly averted her eyes as she choked down the maniacal laugh that pressed up her windpipe.

"You're sure you're all right?"

Stella met Raphael's still skeptical regard. Her hair, crimped from her previous braids and tousled from the fight, dropped into her line of sight. Stella's jaw clenched out of habit and a pronounced ache scored the tender area. He stared at her as if she was crazy.

With a breath, she tilted up her chin, and said, "Yes, I'm sure."

The corners of his mouth twitched upward tellingly as amusement took hold of his eyes. Stella scoffed and prepared to stand, adjusting the towel so it was secured tight and—

The lights flickered above.

Then a phantom finger seemed to drag its nail down the length of her spine. Stella's stomach bottomed out in one fell swoop, but before she could take flight or prepare to fight, Raphael scooped her up into his arms.

"What are you doing?" The question came out as a strangled gasp as she stared at his profile mere inches from her own.

"Getting us out of here. Now."

The lights flickered again, and Stella caught the sound of voices nearby. Her heart jumped a beat. More assassins?

"In my towel?" Stella squeaked.

Raphael spared her a withering glance, taking her out of the locker room by way of the fighting pits. She squirmed uncomfortably in his arms as he marched determinedly to one of the arena's less ostentatious side entrances near the furthest pit.

"Scared for your virtue?" Blood rushed to Stella's face. "You and I both know my power holds no sway over you. Besides that, I have my gloves on," he whispered harshly.

Stella fought the urge to curl up into his chest as they entered the hall where voices sounded. Thankfully, Raphael made a beeline for one of the less favored halls. She kept her eyes glued to the column of his neck, watching as color climbed up it with each step.

"I thought you said you didn't want to be seen with me. This kind of defeats the purpose of that, don't you think?" She gestured to their closeness and her state of mostly undress. A flicker of surprise crossed his face. Stella wasn't sure if it was because he agreed with her, or the underlying caustic edge to her words.

His mouth thinned briefly. "We're taking back passages."

Raphael turned the next corner sharply and increased his pace. The movement brought on a wave of dizziness that made Stella's eyes cross. Breathing deeply through her nose, she admitted to herself that it was nice to be carried after all.

"What are you glaring at?" Stella asked as they moved deeper into the hall. Raphael was eyeing every dark corner with suspicion. When he didn't answer she wriggled in his arms. Her blistered shoulder protested. "I think you should put me down."

"Why?" His gaze whipped to her. Raphael shifted her in his arms, and a grunt fell from his lips. Stella adjusted her towel.

"Because this isn't necessary anymore. We're past the danger—"

"We're in the Dark Court, love. Danger is everywhere."

"Then that's reason enough for you to Put. Me. Down ."

Raphael stopped. A terrible scowl developed on his face as he looked down at her, made all the more fearsome by the deep red horns curling back from his head.

"I'm escorting you home," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm being nice ."

"It looks to me like you're being an ass ."

Stella and Raphael startled at the newcomer's voice. It was Jasmine. The vampyré emerged from a passage behind a portrait and was glaring at them. Or rather, at Raphael.

Using her vampyric speed to meet them, she demanded, "Is he bothering you? Did he do that to you?" Her gaze briefly traveled to the side of Stella's head. There must be a bruise.

"No, he didn't," Stella rushed to say as Jasmine's eyes bled red. "He was just helping me to my room."

Jasmine didn't look convinced, and after a quick glance at Raphael, she understood why. He hadn't stopped scowling. Stella knocked her elbow into him.

"Be. Nice."

The tension grew between the pair to an almost unbearable degree with Stella stuck, quite literally, in the middle. She squeezed her eyes shut. Please don't let this come to blows .

Then her eyes snapped open, boldly meeting Jasmine's as an idea sprung itself on her. Maybe it should come to blows . Her pulse quickened, and Stella could tell by the minute tilt of Jasmine's head that she could hear it. Here was an opportunity. Jasmine could get a quick bite to eat, and Stella could get a sample of Raphael's blood by soaking it up with her towel.

Two birds. One stone.

"I can be nice."

Stella inhaled sharply at the warm caress of Raphael's breath against her face. She hadn't noticed him leaning closer, and her surprise left her nose-to-nose with him. Stella gulped.

"Who did that to you then? Is something going down that I should know about?"

"Oh, umm." Stella struggled to right her thoughts, but she was fighting a losing battle. Her throbbing head was becoming a serious detriment along with the growing awareness of being in Raphael's warm and capable arms. "There was a... dog," she said slowly.

Jasmine raised an eyebrow. "A dog ? You mean a shifter?"

Stella looked up at Raphael for confirmation, but he seemed just as confused as Jasmine. Cursing her overstimulated mind, she did the only rational thing she could come up with. Doubling down on her crazy. Adopting a slightly frenzied expression, Stella nodded vigorously—throbbing head immediately punishing her for the act—and leaned into Raphael.

"It came from the wards! It had eyes like black holes, and teeth made to dine on bones. But Raphael saved me." Stella allowed her voice to take up a breathless quality as she turned her attention back to Raphael. "He shielded me from death's snare."

"… uh huh." Jasmine took a step back, her eyes returning to light amber. "Well, you should go and get cleaned up. This little scene—" she flapped a hand at them, "—doesn't exactly paint the picture you might think it does."

"We were just on our way to do so," Raphael tipped his head toward her and took a step to the side. The look Jasmine threw him didn't say much for her trust in him.

"If I don't see her alive and breathing tomorrow night, I will eat you for dinner. Understood?"

"Loud and clear," Raphael replied sardonically before Jasmine zipped off. "Dogs with black holes for eyes?" Raphael let out a low whistle as he set Stella down on her feet. "That was quite the story you came up with. You didn't want to tell her the truth?"

Stella's mouth opened to explain that it was the truth, but there was no teasing to his words or sign that he'd seen what she did. The wards had no doubt distorted his view of what happened inside the dome, just as it had her view of the outside.

Instead, she sighed and forced a painful grin onto her lips. "I was trying to put one of your rules into practice." Both of Raphael's eyebrows raised. "Leveraging power," Stella explained. "Or rather, leveraging perception. When people think you're crazy they generally try to steer clear of you."

He eyed her thoughtfully for several long beats. Stella found the scrutiny made her skin itch.

"That's not a good long-term plan. Crazy can very easily be turned against you. If people think you've become unhinged, they'll cut you down sooner rather than later," Raphael told her sincerely.

"Noted," Stella responded thickly.

"Shall we?" He offered his arm to her, and Stella nodded tiredly as she took it, more from need than want.