Chapter 12

  AN UNEXPECTED HELP

  Cristina’s mind was a whirlwind. She wandered aimlessly, as if she could outrun the memories that haunted her. She just wanted to disappear. She had ruined the little she had managed to rebuild since her coven vanished, swallowed months ago by that wicked fog that consumed everything.

  Though she struggled to project a sensible, strong fa?ade, inside her the wounds were still open, bleeding. The nightmares only made them fester, reminding her that there was no escape.

  —Damn it! —she shouted, kicking a trash can. Tears of rage streamed down her face as her fists trembled.

  Anger overtook her judgment, clouding any trace of reason. With a cold, piercing gaze glowing with a sharp bluish light, and without uttering a single word, she invaded the minds of a group of motorcyclists who approached, intending to help her. In the blink of an eye, their wills were hers.

  —Give me your money.

  With mechanical movements, the men obeyed, handing over bills without resistance. Cristina gathered the loot, stole one of their motorcycles, and sped off toward the horizon, trying to leave her thoughts behind. But no matter how fast she rode, the echo of her mistakes followed her relentlessly.

  Eventually, she stopped in front of a rundown bar. There, with her pockets full of stolen money, she drowned herself in alcohol, determined to erase her sins—at least for the night.

  —Hello, beautiful —said a deep voice laced with false seduction behind her.

  —Your mind is very loud —Cristina slurred without looking at him—. Go away. —With a clumsy gesture, she waved her hand as if shooing a fly.

  —Oh, come on, sweetheart. —The man sat beside her and signaled the bartender—. Two drinks. My treat.

  —I don’t need you to buy me anything. I have stolen money. —Cristina dropped her empty glass onto the bar. But when she searched for more bills, she realized there were none left. Resigned, she sighed—. Fine…

  She accepted reluctantly, eyeing the stranger with a mix of disdain and curiosity.

  —Why is such a pretty girl alone in a dive like this?

  —You’re terrible at this. —She mocked him openly—. Raían, if you want to feed, you should improve that sad performance.

  The man blinked, surprised.

  —How do you know wh—… You’re a witch. —The playful tone vanished instantly, replaced by something sharp and cold.

  —Relax. I’m not interested in your business as long as you stay out of mine. —Cristina drained her glass in one gulp; the smell of alcohol hung heavy in the air.

  —You must be having a rough time. You witches are always so… smug, but now you look… how should I put it? Broken. —Though his tone was cutting, there was something like compassion in his eyes.

  —Yeah, well, I’m facing the consequences of my actions. Cheers to that! —She raised her empty glass in a sarcastic toast.

  Raían studied her in silence before speaking again.

  —I know who you are. Cristina Collins, right?

  Cristina raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

  —How do you know me? Did I kill a friend of yours? —she asked, more tired than confrontational.

  —No. You helped my sister.

  Cristina narrowed her eyes, trying to remember.

  —And what was her name?

  —Elizabeth… —Raían hesitated, his voice thick with emotion.

  Cristina let the glass slip from her hand and stared at him.

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  —Elizabeth… Elizabeth! —Her tone shifted from disbelief to nostalgia—. She never mentioned having a brother, let alone one who was a demon.

  —Half demon —Raían corrected with mild disdain—. We haven’t spoken in a long time. It’s better for both of us to stay apart.

  Cristina sighed, memories of Elizabeth flashing sadly in her eyes.

  —I liked her. She was unique—the perfect blend of angel and demon. She always found hope in the middle of chaos. I miss her.

  —I miss her too…

  —Are you half angel?

  —No, no… same father, different mother —Raían clarified—. You helped my sister hide from our father. Now I want to return the favor. Come on, stop drinking. This won’t fix anything. —He extended a hand to her.

  —Let go! —Cristina slapped his hand away—. Who said I want to fix anything? I’m here waiting… waiting for alcohol to kill me or for me to choke on my own vomit. —She laughed, bitterly, her pain impossible to hide.

  Raían looked at her, trying to grasp the weight she carried.

  —I get it… Though I’d love to let a witch die, today you won’t.

  He turned toward a group of men watching from a corner.

  —Hello, boys. —His voice grew deep and melodic, a song that enchanted them instantly.

  His eyes began to glow faintly green, his pupils tinged with pink. One by one, he approached the men and briefly kissed each of them on the mouth.

  —Could you please help me carry this woman to my car? —he asked with a warm smile. The men, spellbound, obeyed without hesitation, driven by an irrational affection for him.

  On the verge of unconsciousness, Cristina muttered weakly:

  —Damn incubus…

  Raían watched as she passed out. In his gaze there was a mix of pity and resignation. The woman his sister had described years ago—strong, brave, kind—was now only a shadow of herself. A broken witch, weighed down by wounds she tried to drown in alcohol.

  Sunlight streaming through the window irritated Cristina immensely, forcing her to roll over and cover her face with the pillow. Soon, however, she realized something unsettling: she had no idea where she was. Her heart began to race as she scanned the room for clues. The only thing she remembered from the previous day was entering a bar. After that, nothing—just emptiness.

  She sat up slowly, noticing she wasn’t wearing her shoes. Fortunately, she still had on yesterday’s clothes, albeit slightly disheveled. She slipped on her shoes quickly and walked cautiously toward the door, ready to face whatever awaited her.

  When she opened it, the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee and toast flooded her senses. Relief mixed with strangeness as she took in the immaculate apartment before her, decorated in minimalist, monochrome tones. The calm of the place clashed sharply with the chaos in her mind.

  In the kitchen, someone was preparing breakfast. Hearing her steps, a deep, gentle, vaguely familiar voice broke the silence.

  —Did I wake you?

  Cristina blinked, trying to focus on the man before her.

  —Raían? —she asked as fragments of the previous night began to fall into place.

  —Yes, it’s me. Want some breakfast? —he replied, gesturing to a chair at the table—. I’m guessing you have a hangover. Take this; it’ll help with the headache.

  Cristina eyed the painkiller suspiciously, but after a brief use of her gift to confirm he wasn’t lying, she took it.

  —Did we have sex? —she blurted out, squinting nervously.

  Raían smiled, clearly amused.

  —No, relax. You’re my guest, not my meal. —His tone was playful—. Besides, my abilities didn’t work on you. If they don’t work, I can’t feed on your sexual energy. —He paused dramatically—. A shame, really.

  Cristina ignored the joke and changed the subject.

  —Are you going to eat too? —she asked, recalling that incubi didn’t usually consume human food.

  —Of course. I need to eat like humans, though every so often I do need to feed as an incubus. —Raían grabbed a slice of toast and spread strawberry jam on it, giving her a mischievous smile and a soft laugh.

  —Why did you help me? —Cristina took a sip of coffee, studying him.

  —Because when my sister returns, she’ll be furious if she finds out I let the person she respects most die. —Raían bit into his toast calmly.

  Cristina frowned, confused.

  —Returns? —she asked, a knot forming in her stomach. She knew Elizabeth could never return, yet the hopeful gleam in Raían’s eyes reminded her of her—of that spark she missed so much.

  —I know it won’t be soon, but I’m sure that someday things will calm down with our father, and she’ll be able to come back. I know it. —The certainty in his voice was unsettling. Seeing hope in a demon was something Cristina had never witnessed, and for a moment, it almost moved her.

  —Well… —Raían said, changing the subject as he checked his watch—. Now tell me, what happened?

  Still somewhat uncomfortable, Cristina began to explain everything as she ate: the mistakes she had made, the damage she had caused, and how her life had turned into a mess.

  Raían listened attentively, and when she finished, he let out a light laugh.

  —You celestial beings are so dramatic… —he said, shaking his head in disbelief—. Among demons, we understand that actions driven by affection for someone can cloud judgment. Blaming yourself for trying to recover your coven is understandable, but they shouldn’t be hypocrites. If they were in your place, they would have done the same.

  Cristina watched him in silence as his words echoed in her mind.

  —You need to talk calmly. From what you say, they sound like sensible people; they just need time to process things. —Raían stood, pulled a card from his pocket, and handed it to her—. Leave whenever you want. And if you ever need to talk, call me.

  Cristina took the card, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes.

  —Thank you… —she said, still surprised by the unexpected kindness.

  —Goodbye. —Raían grabbed his backpack and headed for the door.

  Once alone, Cristina sank back into her chair, feeling the weight of her emotions press against her chest. She reflected on what Raían had said, realizing that wallowing in regret would accomplish nothing. If she wanted to fix her mistake, she would have to face her friends and seek a solution.

  It was the only path she had left.