Rapha
“What is that?”
The words leave my mouth like a snarl before I’ve even processed them.
Drusilla looks up from her plate, startled. “What is what?”
We’re in the garden, surrounded by blooms she’s coaxed into thriving, the air thick with the scent of herbs and lavender. It’s supposed to be peaceful here. Ibuiltthis for her. I built this for us.
After the way I touched her just hours ago, how she trembled for me, opened to me, I should feel whole . Sated. Content.
But something ugly twists in my chest, a wrongness rising in my blood like smoke from an unseen fire. This fury, this tightness in my jaw and fists… it isn’t natural. It feels like a foreign thing, like something has taken up residence inside me, whispering grievances I don’t remember collecting.
I rise, pacing toward the fluttering white linens pinned to a makeshift line between two trees.
“This,” I snap, yanking one end of the cloth like it’s betrayed me. “Why are these out here? Why aren’t you using the dryer in the house?”
She blinks at me, confused. “Because I prefer it this way. You know that.”
“But you don’t have to do these things anymore,” I grind out, the words coming faster, harsher.
“That’s the entire point, Drusilla. You don’t have to scrub or stitch or hang clothes in the wind like some peasant girl.
I gave you everything. Machines that can do this in half the time.
You could spend your hours reading, learning,creating, resting . ”
Her brows pull tight. “I like doing this. It centers me. And no, I don’t want your machines. I’ve told you that?—”
“You’re being silly, ” I bark, cutting across her. My hand tightens on the sheet as I rip it off the line and storm toward the house.
She’s behind me instantly. “Put those back, Rapha!”
Her voice is sharp now, filled with anger. Something about her defiance snaps something loose in me.
I whirl on her, the linen clenched in my fist, my breath coming too fast. “No.”
My voice is deeper than it should be. Rougher. Not mine. Not just mine.
She flinches but doesn’t back down. “You’re overreacting.”
Heat floods my veins. It’s not lust. It’s not hunger. It’s rage. A fire I can’t explain, can’t put out. A beast with my face and her name in its mouth.
I should feel peace after touching her. I should feel calm in her presence. But this fury coils through me like poison, something not entirely me . Something planted. Something fed.
“I don’t understand,” I say, but it comes out as a growl. “You act like I haven’t sacrificed everything for you. You think I didn’t bleed for you, suffer for you, kill for you?”
Her eyes flash with hurt and fury. “I didn’t ask for any of that, Rapha. I didn’t ask to be resurrected, or dragged through centuries, or trapped in this house with a demon who doesn’t even remember how to be human. ”
I stagger back like she’s driven a blade between my ribs.
She keeps coming. “You’re acting like every man who’s tried to control me. My father. The husband he picked for me. The men who said they loved me while putting me in cages. You swore you’d never become them.”
Her words gut me.
I open my mouth to speak, to apologize , but something cold slithers up my spine. That familiar pull.
Lucifer.
A soul.
My fists clench involuntarily. My breath shudders. Not now. Please, not now.
But the call won’t be ignored.
“We’ll settle this later,” I bite out. I can’t even meet her eyes.
And then I’m gone.
The Below swallows me.
The rage still claws at my insides, growing, growing, growing.
Even as I tear another soul from the body of a dying miser in a gold-threaded bed, I can still hear her voice, telling me I’m losing myself. That I’m becoming what she feared.
And the worst part?
She’s right.
I didn’t notice it at first. Not when I started making trades without hesitation. Not when the lines blurred between necessity and indulgence.
But now… I do.
Drusilla’s words echo in my skull like a curse: You swore you’d never become them.
I pace the obsidian hall, waiting for the next soul. The walls pulse faintly with bloodlight—veins of damned energy that feed the place like a living organism. My fists won’t unclench. I can still feel the linen in my hand, torn from the line like a trophy of my madness.
I didn’t just lose my temper. I lost control.
A succubus enters the room, eyes my expression warily, and wisely leaves. I must look like death incarnate. No. Worse. I feel worse.
The next soul is delivered to me like an offering.
I sit through the entire meeting, listening to a man in an overpriced suit ask me to destroy a father of four who dared to outpace him in their cutthroat little tech war. I wait for the usual rush, the sick, soaring high that comes with feeding Greed into the world like rot into a wound.
It comes. Of course it comes.
A dark thrill grips me as I seal the deal. The man signs, and power surges into me like bloodlust. I almost moan. Not from pleasure. From addiction.
That trade should end my night.
But I keep going.
I stay in the Below for days, trading, reaping, corrupting. Making deals not because I need to, but because I want to. I hit my quota within hours, but something deeper has awakened, something I can’t quiet. The more souls I claim, the darker I become and the less I care.
I blink out of the room to the Veiled Market—the shadowy marketplace that exists on the boundary between worlds. A crossroads between the mortal realm and the Below, where demons, fae, witches, cursed souls, and desperate mortals go to trade secrets, souls, magic, and forbidden goods .
Evening light dims the lantern-glow into gold-drenched shadows. All around me, fae and demons barter for cursed trinkets and dangerous promises. I must look particularly wretched as I pass a flock of winged fairies because they flit away from me in terror, hissing warnings.
I almost curse them to a realm where monsters eat fairy wings for breakfast. Almost. But I sense another soul to collect. A nun, of all people.
She’s waiting by a shadowed stall, her eyes darting as if afraid someone might see her. When she spots me, her fear wars with greed. Greed wins. It always does.
Her lips tremble as she sinks to her knees. Not for prayer. “I want Allison gone,” she says, fingers trembling as they twist the silver cross around her neck. “She’s spreading lies… Says I don’t belong in my position.”
My grin is too wide, too sharp. “She’s right, though, isn’t she, Mary Grace?” The way she cringes made my teeth itch with pleasure.
“I just want what’s best for my community,” she lies.
“Of course you do, deary.”
The words taste like sulfur on my tongue. I sound like him. And yet… it thrills me.
I handed her the tools—the blood-dagger, the parchment, the black quill. She doesn’t hesitate. Another name, another soul.
I continue through the market, high on power, my skin buzzing with it. I’ve exceeded my quota by months, and still I hunt more.
Until something snags.
Not outside me. Inside.
A gap. A hollow. Something I’ve forgotten.
Her.
Drusilla.
My footsteps falter, and for the first time in days—weeks?—the rush ebbs. Panic slithers in to take its place. I can’t remember the last time I saw her. Touched her. Two weeks ago? Three? My pulse kicks hard, dread scratching at the back of my throat like claws on stone.
I turn sharply, ready to blink to the manor I built for her, only to collide with a presence far colder.
Lucifer.
He stands in front of me, wearing a grin too wide for his face.
“What have you done?” I growl, refusing to bow. I never bow to him. I never will .
“Oh, nothing dramatic,” he purrs, circling me like a predator in velvet. “You’re doing brilliantly, Rapha. Better than Mammon, honestly. He fell apart the moment he fell in love with Priscilla.”
“Penelope,” I correct, though Gods know why I bother.
Lucifer waves a dismissive hand. “But you, Rapha? You’ve embraced your purpose.” He bats his lashes, coy and cruel. “You’ve almost forgotten about her.”
His words burn worse than holy fire.
“I haven’t?—”
“Oh?” He tilts his head. “Then why haven’t you visited her? Held her? Touched her?” A cruel smile blooms. “You were going to ruin her. You wanted to. But now… you crave the ruin itself. She’s just a memory, isn't she?”
A figure materializes behind him, and I stagger.
Cassian.
Her father.
The man who drove a stake through her heart.
“What did you do?” My question is a snarl.
Lucifer giggles, waving a lazy hand. “He had such a tragic little story, didn’t he? I figured we’d let him tell it himself. Maybe she wasn’t the innocent you made her out to be?”
He snaps his fingers, and we’re instantly transported to a decadent villa overlooking the sea. The pool glows with soft magic. Lucifer drapes himself across a sun lounger like a serpent sunning itself.
Cassian steps into the light, his armor ancient, his face hard and haggard, but it’s his aura that makes me flinch. He isn’t human anymore. He’s a revenant, reborn with cursed magic and infernal hunger.
“She betrayed our bloodline,” Cassian spits. “Laid with a vampire. Became a creature of darkness. I cleansed her.”
“She loved me,” I growl.
“She shamed us!” he bellows. “She died a disgrace!”
I lunge for him, teeth bared.
Lucifer flicks a hand, and I slam into the marble tiles. “Ah-ah. Not yet,” he says, almost bored. “We’re not done playing.”
He flicks his wrist again, and I’m yanked to my knees like a puppet with cut strings. The tiles grind into my bones. My power thrums inside me, burning to be unleashed, but I can’t move. Not yet.
“Now, now,” Lucifer purrs, toying with a blackened grape from a silver bowl beside him. “Let’s not make this about old grudges, Rapha. This is a test. A bit of sport. Your precious little beauty is still tucked away in that lovely manor you made for her. So charming. So vulnerable. ”
My stomach clenches. My pulse surges.
“What are you saying?” I snarl.
Cassian steps forward, the weight of his presence like a rot spreading through the air. “She’s mine to reclaim. You stole her. Defiled her. I’m taking back what was promised.”
“You have no claim on her,” I snarl. “She chose her life. She chose me. ”
Lucifer smiles wide enough to show his black-stained gums. “And now she gets to choose again. Or not. Depends how quickly you get there.”
My magic surges, but still I can’t move. I feel Drusilla. She’s close… but veiled. Something’s muffling the bond.
“She’s not defenseless,” I grit out.
“Oh, I’m counting on that,” Lucifer croons. “I know you warded the manor with magic to protect her. She’s bound to the manor now, did you know? The longer she stays, the more the magic becomes a part of her. Sweet little thing might even surprise Daddy.”
His voice hardens, losing its lazy cadence. “But let’s be honest, Rapha. You’ve been too busy bathing in mortal corruption to notice the bond fraying. And now? You’ve waited too long.”
I roar, fighting his hold with everything I am, sparks of flame crackling along my arms.
Lucifer smiles. “You’d better hurry if you want to save your precious Drusilla.”
He lifts his thumb and middle finger. Snaps.
Cassian vanishes.
The spell breaks.
I stagger to my feet, but I feel it in my bones.
Cassian’s already there.
I try to blink to the manor. To her.
Nothing.
Lucifer's laughter echoes in my skull as I sprint through the streets of Screaming Woods, terror mounting. I burst through the manor’s front door, calling her name.
“Drusilla!”
No answer.
I search every room, every door, even the ones sealed by ancient magic. She’sgone.
When I finally stumble into the back garden, the sight before me stops me cold.
A message, carved into the stone wall in massive, deliberate strokes.
Fuit numquam tuum ut.
She was never yours to keep.
I drop to my knees, breath stolen from my lungs.
The truth settles in like ash on my tongue.
Lucifer didn’t just allow Cassian to take her.
He made me forget her . No, I did that all on my own.
Then I hear her scream…