Page 32

I t was Death’s emissary, Stella, who stared them down, lips moving ever so slightly as if speaking to a ghost, or maybe Death himself. Raphael's jaw dropped open at the sight.

She was dressed in all black, much like before, but of a much different variety. Gone was the sleek gothic number, replaced with sweat-slicked skin and clothes to spar in.

“What are you doing here?” Raphael mentally cursed the breathless quality of his voice and moved swiftly out of the Medici man's immobilized reach. He began to cross the distance between them, stopping when Stella leveled him with a knowing look.

The soulmark.

Raphael swallowed thickly and winced at the ache already developed along his windpipe.

Stella’s nose twitched and scrunched upward as she turned her gaze toward Dante and his flaming skull. Her form, a single outstretched arm with palm damningly open, didn’t waver at the gruesome sight. Raphael took a moment to study the scene she saw as well.

Layla was gradually coming back to herself—thank the Gods. The black leeched from her eyes as she tentatively examined the fresh runes upon her face. As for the vampyrés, Francesca stood frozen on perilous footing, with arms outstretched like the one who’d choked him. The male vampyré close behind her was curled in a ball on the floor, a vacant expression stuck on their face.

Raphael let his gaze rest last on Dante. Bile curdled in his stomach as the fire devoured him. He wondered if Stella would keep them all paralyzed until Dante was—

His attention whipped to Stella.

She was singing, and she only sang or screamed for those who...

A numbness, unlike anything Raphael had ever felt washed over his body. Nothing registered to him except defeat.

It’s over. Raphael closed his eyes as a shudder went through him. Who will protect Layla? What will happen to Stella?

Each thought dragged him further into despair. Slowly his eyes opened, and he chanced a glance at Layla, hoping she hadn’t seen his reaction. What he saw was far worse. Layla’s chest was rising and falling in rapid succession. Her gaze locked on Stella as tears ran rivulets down her cheeks with a subtle but sure shake to her head.

The world fell away.

A stillness overtook him as his heart sundered into a million pieces. I failed .

The realization was an anchor that sank him to the bottom of the ocean. Splinters of warmth tried to bring him back to reality. Raphael resisted, but they only redoubled their efforts to keep him afloat. It took him several seconds to see the warmth for what it was; a lifeline.

His gaze drew back to Stella as if magnetized, and her cool blue eyes were waiting for him. The warmth pulsed and reassurance filled their bond. A coarse laugh rushed out of him that ended just as abruptly as it came. It was Stella.

She was the warmth. She was his comfort.

Raphael couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Stella stopped singing, but the warm support she offered him continued to chase away the cold in his bones. She turned her gaze toward Layla and the others.

“I’m going to release you now. I strongly suggest you return to your home and say your goodbyes. There's no telling when the truth of my caoine will reveal itself.” Stella let her gaze travel meaningfully between all four vampyrés, even though none of them could return her stare. “If you dare try to harm me, or these two here, I will deliver the truth of the caoine myself and shred your minds with my other song.”

After a steadying breath, Stella lowered her arm. The vampyrés reactions were instantaneous and varied. Dante fled, smoke and flames clinging to him as he vanished from sight. The male on the ground leaped to his feet and glared at Layla.

“You’re sick,” he choked out, unable to disguise the quaver from his voice. “ Sick .”

Then he fled too.

The presence of the remaining male hovered somewhere behind Raphael and made him stiffen. Stella caught sight of the innocuous movement. Her gaze narrowed on the vampyré.

“Well?” she prompted as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

The gentleman cleared his throat and brushed past Raphael, only to stop a few paces ahead of him to bow briefly for Stella. “There’s no way to tell when…”

“For a nice sum, one of the Menvra clan’s seers might be inclined to look into your future, but you’d do well to take their pretty words with a grain of salt,” Stella provided.

Raphael’s male assailant straightened and ran a hand through his hair. He watched it tremble with little satisfaction. A mumbled farewell was all that scraped by Raphael’s hearing before the vampyré took off, his figure gone before Raphael could blink. Which left one.

Tense silence closed in around them as one by one, Raphael, Stella, and Layla turned their attention to Francesca. To Raphael’s eye, she was paler than usual, if that was even possible.

“You won’t get away with this,” Francesca announced, voice hoarse.

“There’s nothing to get away with. Your fate was never in your hands. Go.”

Francesca leaned forward, eyes blazing with cold fury. “You’ll regret this.”

Stella said nothing for a beat, then cocked her head to the side. “It would be a pity if the Vranas were to learn what happened here today. Especially after what happened with Irina and the Veles clan.” Stella took a step forward and straightened. “Their leniency, however, has its limits.”

A tear crawled down Francesca’s face. Her entire body shook with repressed emotion, but she said no more before walking away. Raphael let out a sigh of relief only when she was out of sight, before making a beeline for Layla. She stood limp in the circle of his embrace.

“Are you all right?” he asked lowly. Layla made no response, her eyes drifting back to Stella, who watched their interaction with concern. “Layla?”

Raphael pulled back and placed a knuckle underneath her chin, tilting her face up. She stared straight through him.

“We’re going to die.” Her voice held no emotion. It was as if life had already left her a shell.

He cupped her cheek. “Hey, we’re going to be all right. Okay? We died once before and that didn’t stop us from surviving, did it?” Her glassy far-off stare didn't waver. Raphael patted her cheek lightly. “Come on, Layla. Snap out of this. It’s not over yet.”

Layla made a noise of displeasure in the back of her throat. Her eyes began to refocus, and she squirmed in his embrace until he released her. Immediately her hands dove into her hair.

“I never got my horns.” She gripped her hair and pulled. A grimace etched itself deep into her features as she backed away from him. “I failed.”

“You didn’t fail,” Raphael quickly reassured her. “You got new runes, didn't you? That's good news, Layla. Now, why don't you take some deep breaths for me?” She whimpered instead. Raphael's throat tightened inexplicitly. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You have me.”

Layla ignored the hand he held out to her, but her hands slipped from her hair.

Stella approached on near-silent feet. “It’s not what you think."

Raphael’s hand flopped back down to his side as he looked at Stella. Her expression was sympathetic. Raphael couldn’t keep up the eye contact and let his gaze drop. Despair rose within him, but Stella's signature warmth was right there to combat it.

“I’m sorry for the song, but it was the only thing I could think of to get them to leave once I released them.” His heartbeat picked up its pace as he glanced back up at her. She shuffled closer. “You’re not going to die.”

“But you—”

She shook her head, brushing back the strands of hair that clung to her face and neck with harried swipes. “I know, but it wasn’t real, Raphael. That wasn’t my true caoine. It was a means to an end to get them to leave. A trick, nothing more.” Raphael sucked in a sharp breath.

“We’re not going to die?”

A softer shake of her head. “No. You’re safe. I swear. My hold on them was weak in the first place. I’m surprised I could do it at all, if I’m honest. But I knew when I released them, I wouldn’t have enough energy to use my sonic voice properly. Not without hurting you or…”

“Layla,” Raphael filled in.

The corner of her mouth tipped up, and he saw the exhaustion written on her face. “I haven’t quite mastered all my gifts, let alone used them on so many people at once.” Her shoulders sagged down. “The next best thing I could think of was to sing louder and play it off as a real caoine. I tried to, er, communicate that with you but—”

“You lied?”

Stella’s gaze darted to Layla. “I did.”

His sister’s face screwed up in distrust. “ Why ?”

“Layla,” Raphael hissed in reprimand.

“What happens when they find out it was a lie?” Layla pressed with surprising passion.

“It won’t be a lie if they die,” Stella replied calmly.

Raphael blinked, stunned by Stella’s nonchalance about murdering the Medici. He didn’t think she was capable of such casual cruelty. Then again, she was proving all his assumptions wrong recently. As the silence between them grew, Raphael cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I don’t believe you two have been introduced. Layla, this is Stella. Stella, this is Layla, my sister.”

A smile, tired but genuine, flickered briefly onto Stella’s face. “Hi.”

When Layla didn't attempt to return the introduction, Raphael spoke again. “Thank you,” he said to Stella before leveling his sister with a meaningful look. “Do you have anything to say, Layla?”

Her response was instant. “I hate you.”

Stella gasped and Raphael’s head whipped back to watch her stagger back a step. It was a dramatic response, but when he watched the color leach from her face, and tears gather in her eyes, he swore and stepped between the pair.

“What the hell are you doing?” He demanded from Layla. “That’s not how you thank people for saving your life.”

“We were doing fine without her help,” Layla countered, sounding more hurt than mad.

“Sure didn’t look like it,” Stella muttered from behind him.

Raphael bit back a groan. “You’re not helping,” he told Stella.

Layla’s bottom lip quivered but she otherwise kept her emotions reined in. “I’m leaving, Raphael. Are you coming? There’s another new stairwell up ahead. It will take us to where we belong.”

A lump formed in Raphael’s throat. “How about I catch up with you in a few minutes?”

Layla looked as if he’d slapped her. “Don’t bother. I no longer need your help,” she told him, slipping back one step and then another before turning and trudging away.

“Layla, don’t be like that.” She kept walking. “Stay alert,” he called after her, “and keep to the shadows!”

She paused to look over her shoulder. The disappointment she wore cut Raphael down to two inches tall. “I know what to do,” Layla said with unmasked heat. She made her way far down the hall, before worming her way under a tapestry and disappearing.

Raphael dragged a hand over his face. He felt exhausted… or maybe that was Stella. With the bond now so clearly open between them, he wasn’t quite sure he could make out the difference between who was feeling what. A pulse of pity traveled through the bond as he turned back to Stella. She chewed on her bottom lip as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Sorry about that,” she offered, gaze traveling over his shoulder to where Layla had disappeared. He scowled as the pity grew, a sudden swell of anger filling him.

“Sorry about what?” he barked.

Stella jerked in surprise. He hadn’t meant to take that kind of sniping tone, but what did she expect when she was making him feel—

“For… You know what? Never mind.” Stella held up both hands in quick surrender. She distanced herself from him and wore a brief look of concentration before Raphael felt their bond begin to quiet. “You’re not dead, which means I’m not dead. I’m sure you can still catch up with your sister if you want.”

She spun on her heel without another word and Raphael was overtaken by the urge to have her stay courtesy of his soulmark. “Don’t,” he called after her quick retreat. Raphael bit his tongue for the desperate note that infused his demand.

His eyes narrowed as she picked up her pace and a surge of spiteful adrenaline filled his veins. He wanted a fight. No, he needed a fight he could win after the catastrophe he just went through.

“Running away?” Stella came to an immediate halt. “Afraid you’ll end up with your hands all over me if we’re left alone?”

Stella turned to face him, her expression far from amused.

“No,” she replied. “And for the record, nothing like that will be happening between us again. It will only... complicate things.”

“It’s already complicated,” he shot back as he closed some of the space between them. “Is it because I’m not your—how did you phrase it?—your first choice?” His jaw ticked in annoyance as she glanced furtively away from him. “Or is it because I’m a big, bad demon?”

Stella scoffed at his clear attempt at baiting, but it didn’t stop her cheeks from turning pink. “I didn’t realize big, bad demons look out for each other like that.”

“She’s my sister,” Raphael snapped, feeling his face warm too. “Of course, I’m going to look out for her.”

Her color heightened, and her leash on the bond loosened some for him to feel her shame amongst her ire and annoyance. Still, she didn’t back down.

“I didn’t realize demons had the capacity to—”

“Love?” Raphael took a large step forward, reveling in the way Stella tensed but stood her ground. “We feel every emotion, just like anyone else. Maybe even more so.”

Stella broke eye contact, choosing instead to stare at an oversized portrait of some 18th-century milkmaid. He watched the minute changes in her facial expression intently. Raphael couldn’t quite discern the emotions flitting over her face given her profile, but he felt them through their bond. Her embarrassment. Her annoyance. Her animosity.

“Regardless of all that, I still don’t want to pursue anything sexual or romantic with you,” Stella finally said, returning her gaze to him once more the definition of cool and collected. “It’s not wise.”

Raphael took his turn to scoff, the sound far more divisive than Stella’s previous one. “Wise? Since when have you or I been known for our wisdom? Who are you trying to fool? Me, or you?”

Her chin jutted up in defiance. “I’m not doing this with you.”

“Doing what?”

Raphael caught her fists clenching at her side and her knuckles turning white. She rolled her eyes before saying with exasperation. “ This . This toxic back and forth that always leads to nowhere. I have better things to do with my time.”

“Since when?” he mocked. Stella flinched, and Raphael felt the sting of his barb reverberate through the bond. Yet he couldn’t seem to curb his tongue. He was on edge, his emotions somehow not his own. Moreover, the urge to fight fueled him still. “Don’t tell me you’ve miraculously overcome your shyness and grown a backbone? Just because you made a little scene at the Lunar Court, doesn’t mean you’ve mastered the game, love.”

The hall simmered with tension in the following silence. Stella’s eyes grew glossy, but no tears shed at Raphael’s dressing down.

“You’re right.”

Raphael’s heart stopped as the glossy visage left her eyes, replaced with steel.

“I haven’t overcome my shyness, and my backbone is nothing compared to the majority of people at court. But at least I understand now what it really takes to do more than survive here, and it doesn’t involve some bullshit mechanics like keeping secrets and embracing the darkness.” Her chest rose and fell faster with each sentence.

“Oh, and what does it take?”

“Accepting yourself, flaws and all. No one here will respect you if you don’t respect yourself. If you don’t know your value.”

Raphael’s jaw dropped open, and then a deep chuckle escaped. “Love, if you think—”

“I don’t think. I know .”

Her passion—her righteous anger—stirred something in him, and it didn’t feel good. Not when she was practically staring down her nose at him as if she were better than him. “So, what, you’ve found yourself then? Is that it?"

Stella snapped the bond shut between them tight and Raphael couldn’t stop the hiss that escaped him at the sudden loss. “Something like that," she condescended. "Who knows, maybe one day you’ll find yourself too.”

“I know myself,” Raphael seethed.

She shrugged. “But do you like who you see in the mirror?”

Raphael said nothing. There was a jumble of words and emotions lodged at the back of his throat so thick he almost gagged on them.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll see you around and contact you when I have the book.”

Stella didn’t wait for him to reply. She walked away with measured steps, taking the first corner that would take her away from him.

Raphael wasn’t sure how long he stood there. The indignation ignited from Stella's little lecture scored through him long after she was gone. He couldn’t get his emotions under control, no matter how hard he tried to. Letting out a frustrated yell, he took a fist and banged it against the side of his head.

“You fucking wanker ,” he cursed himself.

That was when he felt it, a lick of something other tracing itself along the back of his neck. He whirled around only to catch a glimpse of smoke fading from the air and the tail-end of feminine laughter that sounded all too familiar.

The steady anger that fueled him dissipated, but Raphael still let out a furious curse at the now empty hall. “Fuck!”

Kat.

She’d meddled and magnificently so. Gods, had he mentioned anything about their soulmark aloud? Had Stella? He quickly rehashed their conversation and sighed in relief as he realized they hadn’t.

Too close. That had been far too close. He should have been paying more attention. When had she even snuck up on him? What shadows had been dark enough for her to hide in?

He studied the hall suspiciously, keeping his supernatural senses on high alert for any other of his kind. None made themselves aware. Still, his hands balled into fists. He wanted to hit something. Destroy something.

Preferably Kat.

He let the hot wash of anger for the demoness rage a moment longer, and then another. Nothing was going to plan. Raphael could feel the walls closing in around him. He needed help. He needed Jax.

Raphael studied the hall again trying to pinpoint his location on the fourth subfloor. If he found his way to Jax's laboratory he could—Raphael stopped his study. Jax had informed him late the other night by way of messenger he wasn’t to be disturbed. He’d cracked onto something and needed all his attention on testing.

With effort, he uncurled his fists and took in a deep breath.

Tomorrow night he would seek out Jax.

As for the remainder of his night...

Raphael stared down at his naked hands. He’d almost performed magic tonight. If Raphael couldn’t get guidance from Jax, he would have to help himself. Which meant reading the book Jax had given him, if only to get one thing in his life back under control.