127. Rafe
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Seven
Rafe
I t all happens so fast. I know battles rage in the blink of an eye, that you survive on instinct, training, and luck.
The moment the sword of hellfire forms in my hand, I fall back into the lessons my father hammered into me, his instructions echoing through my head with each swing.
But they are ready for us, ready for Summer, ready for Alice.
It is a trap made to divide, and we fall for it.
Make a deal, and I’ll save your sisters and your mate. I only ask?.?.?.
This time, the voice in my head isn’t the demon but Uncle Lu himself. Most demons would be horrified to hear the king, but I feel only relief.
My fingers barely shake when I draw the Infernal runes to call him, so sure that this is the only way to victory, the only path forward.
Uncle Lu’s presence descends like a veil over the throne room, and vampires scramble to get out of his range.
He smirks and snaps his fingers, and their bodies explode, painting the room in blood and viscera.
Uncle Lu doesn’t kill like the stranger, who leaves only ash and dust. He kills to send a message, and he does so with a single snap of his fingers. He wants to leave remains and proof of the carnage he so enjoys. The devil is in the details, as he so often said to me.
“I’ll see you soon, sweet boy,” Uncle Lu says, brushing a lock of my hair back and giving me a small smile. For a moment his eyes seem almost sad, but I blink and the expression is gone. Only those close to him are allowed to see that side of him.
Hellfire leaves a ring of Infernal runes on the floor as he vanishes, leaving us surrounded by the carnage of the battle. The blood of the slain vampires is already encroaching on the Infernal runes, covering the markings. It doesn’t matter. The deal is made, and there is no going back now.
I struggle to my feet, my body aching. “M-Mira?”
Her screams still echo through my head. I knew those sounds.
I’d heard them often enough in Hell when I used to fight in the pits.
It was right above the torture chamber of the depraved, where Lilithim devour the sins of those condemned.
It was a scream of death. I shouldn’t have asked her to come with me to Dr?culea.
This is all my fault. I limp to her and drop to my knees at her side, pulling her head into my lap.
They’d torn into her with claws, rending her flesh from her right shoulder, across her chest to the dip of her waist. She is soaked in blood, her breathing labored and shallow.
“Hey, I’m here. I got you, Mira.”
They knew exactly where to strike each of us.
They summoned the dark fae for Summer, not only to distract her but Alice as well.
Her innate protectiveness of her best friend hadn’t gone unnoticed.
They divided me from my mate and made her scream so the demon would make me careless.
I couldn’t get to her, no matter how I tried.
If the stranger hadn’t appeared to handle the dark fae, and Uncle Lu to take care of the remaining vamps, we wouldn’t have left this room alive.
Worse, that power I felt Summer summoning when the dark fae appeared could have been unleashed.
The demon wanted it and was eager to revel in the darkness she would sweep over the realm, over every realm.
I scan Mira’s injuries, letting out a howl at the severity of her wounds.
The slash across her chest was the biggest one, but she had countless others.
I hear Summer call my name and run toward me.
My hands tremble as I grab the obsidian dagger and cut into my arm.
Dipping my fingers into the blood, I start to draw Infernal runes on Mira.
They are the only runes that will work for me, but I don’t know if they will work on Mira.
Maybe Infernal only heals demons? Fuck, why didn’t I study more about it?
The only thing I really know about Infernal is what I’ve learned from watching Summer.
Summer kneels next to me and gently slides her finger over one of my wounds. Gathering my blood, she sketches much more complex runes onto Mira’s pale skin. I want to thank her, but my throat is clogged with emotion. Mira can’t die.
“Rafe. Summer,” the stranger calls, his voice sounding far away. “I can heal her. ”
I snarl at him, continuing to focus on the Infernal runes, but my rune work is sloppy, and the runes are not sitting right. Even when I’m mimicking Summer’s sharp lines perfectly, it doesn’t work for me.
“Rafael,” Summer says, covering one of my hands. “Let him help.”
I stare at my sister beseechingly, struggling not to give in to my panic.
The stranger kneels next to Summer and slices his finger.
Even through the avatar, the movement is clear and defined.
The spell he uses to conceal his identity is clearly perfected.
I watch as he draws a Pyrrhosese rune so complex that I can’t even hope to understand the sharp angles and swooping circles.
I can’t even heal her.
Brushing Mira’s hair back, I lean down and press my forehead to hers, trying to let her know that I’m here, and that I’m sorry.
“Lucifer never does something for nothing,” the stranger says, still working on Mira. Their eyes are on me, sitting on my skin, knowing that I’ve done something and trying to guess at the details of the bargain I might have made.
Mira’s breath is less labored, and a tear slides down her cheek, streaking through the blood and ash.
“Can you take her back to Avalon?” Summer asks the stranger, still kneeling next to me. “Alice and I need to take care of a few things with Rafe.”
I hold Mira tighter, even knowing Summer is right. My sisters need me, and I can’t do anything more for Mira, but I still don’t want her out of my sight, out of my arms.
“You will be careful,” he says, and it is nothing less than an order, his tone offering no quarter. “There are bound to be more dark fae lurking.”
Summer nods, confident in her power. The stranger gently pulls Mira from my resisting hold and stands with her held against his chest. His power flares, and he vanishes completely. My stomach rolls, but I am forced to trust him.
I make the mistake of looking up and catching Summer’s murderous glare. “We need to safeguard the crown,” she snarls at me and turns toward Alice.
Alice’s eyes are bright red, and she’s still amped from the fight. She looks every bit the Mistress of Bloodshed, gore decorating her throat and hair, her dress damp with the viscera of her slain enemies.
“I’ll need to take the throne and make a speech,” she says, impatiently holding her hand out to me. I stand and engulf her tiny hand in mine.
“We are at your side,” Summer says, taking my other hand.