Chapter 27

Raphael

As the sunsinks below the horizon, I stride through the gilded doors of the DeLux, nerves thrumming with banked fury. The overpowering smells and pulsing music instantly grate on my senses, even muffled by the crowded club floors. The allure of sin no longer tempts me tonight. I am on a mission, driven by a sense of justice rather than indulgence, navigating through this den of iniquity with its false veneer of glamour that promises temporary respite from mundane routines or crushing loneliness.

I move confidently through the opulent entrance hall. Instantly, all eyes fix on me. Hushed murmurs rise from the crowd, and I pick up admiration and bemusement tangled in their voices. They recognize the powerful archangel that stalks fiercely into their den of debauchery, yet none dare challenge my presence.

The suited guard at the management access visibly swallows as I approach, but wisely refrains from pointless provocation. With practiced ease, I descend the unpretentious staircase. The muted throb of chaos upstairs fades into a deafening silence as I make my way through the basement halls, where questionable diversions cater to those with exotic tastes and deep pockets—all under the watchful eye of the club owner.

My composure wears thin as I approach the designated meeting spot, passing shadowy corners that hide unspeakable horrors for a price. My spine turns to ice as I remember my lover’s battered and broken body, left bleeding just floors above not long ago.

As I enter the small private lounge, my hands tremble with rage. The infamous lord of all vices awaits me, his perfectly tailored suit hiding the evil within. After years of fighting against darkness, witnessing the atrocities in the trauma ward has pushed my empathy to its limits. But I can’t show weakness now.

“Raphael, you came. Please, join me.” Lucifer gestures the offer with a swift hand wave.

His mild words fan my fury swiftly back into an inferno again. I halt short of violently sweeping aside the luxurious furnishings, barely restraining my dramatic urges. We stand at the crumbling edge of a chasm, held back only by our fraying determined control on both sides.

“Do you still enjoy whiskey like no other angel?” Lucifer asks, lifting a cut crystal glass nonchalantly in my direction.

I sharply shake my head in refusal. “Let’s skip the pretense of hospitality today. You know why I’m here.” I fix my gaze on his relaxed features, my fierce eyes unwavering.

One elegant black brow rises silently as Lucifer sips his liquor, completely unfazed by my tense demeanor. It’s just another one of his showmanship feats. I grit my teeth, eager for the diplomatic pleasantries to end so we can get down to the real reason for this meeting––confronting the embodiment of viciousness itself.

“As you wish,” Lucifer finally speaks, heavy scorn lacing his words.

I struggle to find calm; it eludes me as I try to focus on redirecting this disaster. This is not a declaration of war, I remind myself, merely an advocacy for what is right. The path of violence will only lead to more bloodshed, and the archdemons will continue their endless machinations––I know that. But at this moment, my soul screams out for justice, and I cannot deny its call. Here lies the chance for us to heal the wounds that have divided us for ages.

“You know all too well the recent tragedy that has befallen someone dear to us both, Lucifer. I have come seeking answers... and justice on behalf of Helena.” My voice rings with quiet steel as I sit down in the tight chamber across from his lounging indifference. “So... how is this gonna play out?”

The low hum of music and faint sounds of partying fill the air, breaking the tense silence. I can feel Lucifer’s piercing gaze on me, his maroon eyes locked onto mine through the ornate glass that separates us. He studies me with a curious intensity, as if I am some sort of strange specimen, and he’s unsure of what to make of me.

The tension mounts as I wait in unbearable silence for his response. My celestial resilience keeps my emotions carefully neutral, despite the intensity of his scrutiny.

Suddenly, Lucifer sets his drink down with an abrupt barking laugh that shatters the stillness. His ancient eyes gleam with wild mirth as he mocks me. “Justice and virtue? From one who longs for the carnal amenities within these walls?” He sneers, studying me sidelong. “How intriguing that your allegiance shifts so easily these days... Why is it that even pet archangels become territorial when their owner fails spectacularly? Tell me, what righteous fury stirs in you now, in this peculiar display of hypocrisy?”

Lucifer’s infernal eyes gleam wickedly as lightning shoots through my veins. I lurch upright, unable to restrain my thunderous response. “You pompous bastard!” I growl, my anger reaching towering heights as Lucifer’s smooth facade cracks at my scathing words.

Leaning closer to him, my voice drops to subzero temperatures. “Angels don’t turn a blind eye to those suffering in darkness, even if it goes against protocol.” My eyes blaze with righteous fury. “She’s lying there as we speak, balancing on the knife’s edge of mortality, as she defends your ungrateful hide. And you dare question why I wish to hold this demon accountable?” The weight of my words hangs heavy in the air, and I wait for his response with bated breath.

My chest heaves as I glare down at Lucifer, who remains deceptively relaxed. His voice is smooth and calculated as he speaks. “Your soul burns with the same age-old wildfire, Raphael...” The corner of his lips curls into a smug smirk as he nods in approval. “I’ve often thought this day would come. The day when you would realize your mistake and join my side once again.” A pause. “Oh, the things we can accomplish together...”

Panting hard, I stand towering before him. “I’m not here to switch teams,” I reply, my voice laced with warning.

Lucifer doesn’t bother to conceal his surprise. “Then tell me, Rafa, why are you really here?” he asks, arching a brow. “Is it for angelic revenge? Or is there a greater force at play?”

I meet Lucifer’s gaze head on. “I love Helena with all that I am,” I confess without hesitation, my voice brash and bold. “And let me make one thing clear. While I may pretend to be a pediatrician, my true calling is hunting demons—and it’s what I do best.”

He stands up from the chair, his feet shuffling eagerly in anticipation of a fiery combat between good and evil. The clash seems inevitable, unless a graceful intervention can somehow prevent it.

Approaching footsteps resound beyond the door, left discreetly ajar. My muscles tense with apprehension as a foreign presence draws near, threatening to shatter the delicate truce between us. But instead of aggression, I sense annoyance and vague menace radiating from the intruder as they slip into the room with slick ease.

In a swift motion, I pivot towards them, my battle instincts alert and ready. My senses shift from global eradication to basic situational awareness as I’m caught off guard by this unexpected visitor.

Lucifer’s molten eyes widen subtly before his usual practiced indifference conceals all tells expertly. He waves a casual greeting, beckoning the slinking newcomer to come closer. “Draven, there you are,” he says with a sardonic edge to his words. “It seems punctuality is not your only failing duty lately, I’m afraid.”

Lucifer lets the weighted words sink in a moment, as Draven halts his approach.

Just who the hell is this guy? My eyes narrow sharply, assessing the figure emerging from the gloom by the closed door. The flickering firelight casts eerie shadows on his panther-like movements, hinting at a coiled power that is barely restrained beneath his thin veneer of civility.

“But no matter,” Lucifer breezes on, a smirk playing about his sharp features. “I’m certain your attentions towards my niece can be... redirected appropriately, now that the occasion calls for it.”

He gestures languidly for Draven to join us, the verbal dagger sheathed cleanly by diplomacy, thinly veiling the accusation and threat both contained in his not-so-subtle remarks.

So this is Helena’s fiancé.My eyes flicker towards Draven, taking in his chiseled features and broad shoulders. My mind can’t help but replay Helena’s words: “He’s seen me naked.” The thought lingers, causing my blood to run hot. But then I shake it off, trying to focus on the present and the bizarre situation Lucifer has called us into. What is he planning with this awkward meeting?

“My apologies for keeping you gentlemen waiting,” Draven says in velvet tones as he enters the room, smoothly observing social formalities, like a deadly cobra swaying to a charmer’s tune. “I was unfortunately detained by my affairs abroad. But I have come swiftly as the message commanded, as soon as I managed the appropriate arrangements.”

Lucifer acknowledges the polished report with a humorless smile, sharp as a knife, showing he understands the unspoken insinuations. “Yes. I’m sure your sudden departure caused quite a stir. However, broadening your security reach beyond borders will be highly beneficial.”

If I spend one more second in this room, the vortex of evil might sweep me in its grasp. But I must, if I wish to take down the beast that harmed my beloved Helena.

“Why am I here precisely, Lucifer?” I bark, my fingernails digging into the armchair’s leather. “We both know your kingdom stands unmoved by empathy or protective instinct. Why are you summoning me now, if not to gloat as your rogue monster decimates my beloved Helena for daring to expose your inner circle’s clandestine corruptions?”

Before Lucifer can retort, Draven’s fierce gaze cuts sharply in my direction, green eyes bright with irritation. I can tell the demon’s dying to lash out at me with a thousand words. But he’s smarter than that, and he quietly challenges me, marking the critical moment that will determine the course of this meeting. It all depends on how the King of Hell answers.

Rather than rise to my bait, Lucifer remains utterly relaxed, swirling the liquor hypnotically behind cut crystal. A slow, dreadful smile breaks across Lucifer’s harsh planes, throwing his chiseled features into diabolical relief. He slips into the chair and leans back, utterly relaxed as he watches recognition dawn on me.

“Why, for solidarity’s sake, of course. We understand allyship thrives through mutual disclosure and respect between parties, yes?” His unhurried drawl slices through my core like an icy winter wind, chilling me to the bone.

Lucifer’s voice slices through the tense air, demanding our undivided attention. “You underestimate the depths of my ruthlessness, Raphael,” he sneers, his tone oozing with malicious intent. “First and foremost, I adore my beautiful niece, although not as fervently as any of you may.” His gaze flickers between Draven and me, glittering with twisted amusement.

“Secondly, if there is one thing I do not forgive, it is treason.” His piercing stare fixates on me now, a clear reference to our past dispute in heaven.

I hold his gaze steadfastly, unaffected by his silent provocation.

“But before we can devise a plan against Kane,” Lucifer drawls, topping off his drink with a devious smirk, “the three of us must have a little chat.”

We hold our breath, waiting for him to unveil his scheme.