Rayne

The incident in the forest hung between storm, dampening the rest of the day. Skyler avoided me, her presence reduced to a shadow that flitted about the cabin without so much as a glance in my direction. The massacre of the wasps had cut her deeply, more than I'd anticipated, and every moment of her silence was another nail in the coffin of our tenuous bond.

The worst part? She was steeling herself against me, strengthening her resolve to sever the connection that kept me tethered to her world.

I sat in her cramped, rustic kitchen, its walls lined with herbs, jars, and drying flowers. It was quaint, earthy—the kind of place that suited her perfectly but made me feel entirely out of place. My power, once potent and endless in Hell, was ebbing away here. In the mortal realm, I relied on her energy to sustain me, but she wouldn't even let me near her.

She worked at the counter, grinding spices and mixing poultices for an order, her movements steady and deliberate. Her red hair caught the sunlight filtering through the window, turning it into a cascade of fire, but she was as cold as winter. No matter how many attempts I made to start a conversation, she answered in clipped, one-word responses that led nowhere.

"Busy day?" I ventured, forcing some levity into my tone.

"Yes."

I waited for more, but the silence that followed was deafening.

My chest tightened, a strange sensation I didn't particularly enjoy. The void between us was growing, and I hated it more than I cared to admit. I had been overconfident, assuming I could charm her with ease, but every move I made seemed to push her further away.

I needed her to like me before she could love me. But she wasn't giving me the chance.

She belonged here, in this world of leaves and soil and bird song. The forest embraced her in a way I never could. It was her domain, her sanctuary, and I was an intruder—a disruption to the delicate balance she cherished so much.

In town, it had been different. Crowds, noise, the chaos of humanity—it wasn't her element. There, she had needed me. I'd been her shield, her saviour. But here, she was utterly at home, and I was the one stumbling to find my footing.

I drummed my fingers on the wooden table, trying to suppress the gnawing frustration inside me. This wasn't going according to plan. She was supposed to see me as an ally, someone she could lean on. Instead, I'd become a nuisance—a reminder of everything unnatural and unwelcome in her world.

My eyes trailed to her hands, deft and sure as they worked the mortar and pestle. She didn't look at me, didn't acknowledge my presence. It was infuriating and... unsettling. For the first time in a long while, I found myself at a loss.

How was I supposed to fix this?

Skyler's mistrust of demons, her wariness forming a wall I couldn't seem to breach. But then, like divine intervention—if demons believed in such nonsense—a lifeline was thrown my way.

Grandma waddled into the room, her arms laden with a tray of tinctures and pouches. "We've had an emergency order from Marge," she announced, unceremoniously dropping the tray onto the table. "I need you to take these to her."

Skyler's eyes widened, realisation flickering across her face. She needed a driver.

A slow smile crept across my lips as I reached for the car keys of the death wagon. "I can drive, Skyler," I said smoothly, picking up the tray with practiced ease that made Grandma beam.

"Thank you, Rayne, such a nice young man," Grandma said warmly, her tone dripping with approval.

Skyler said nothing, her expression guarded as she finished corking a potion. Her green eyes darted to me, suspicion flickering in their depths. Good. Let her be wary. Let her think she was in control.

She followed me out to the car, her steps reluctant and measured, the death trap of a vehicle waiting for us like an ill-tempered steed.

I made a grand gesture, pulling the passenger door open with an exaggerated bow. "After you, my lady," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Skyler rolled her eyes but climbed into the car. I closed the door gently behind her, ensuring she was safely inside before leaning casually against the car.

Sliding my phone from my pocket, I quickly composed a message to Illya, my ever-reliable herald.

Send a Brainsplitter to this location.

I hit send and tucked the phone away, allowing myself a brief moment of satisfaction. A Brainsplitter was a minor demon, a creature of chaos that thrived on fear and confusion. Just the right amount of danger to remind Skyler why she needed me, without pushing her over the edge.

I circled the car and climbed into the driver's seat. The engine sputtered like an elderly goat before reluctantly roaring to life. Skyler clutched the pouch of herbs tightly in her lap, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, tension radiating from her.

Perfect.

The drive was a quiet one, the world outside stark in its isolation. No cars passed us, no signs of life beyond the endless stretch of road cutting through the dense wilderness. The silence was oppressive, almost eerie—a perfect setting for the chaos I was about to unleash.

Skyler stared straight ahead, her fingers clutching the herb-filled tray as though it might anchor her. I chose not to force conversation, letting her stew in her thoughts while mine churned with precise calculations. Every step of my plan had to be flawless.

When we reached the town, I pulled into an empty parking spot and killed the engine. The car let out a sputtering groan, a sound that might have been amusing under different circumstances.

I stepped out quickly, circling the vehicle to open Skyler's door with a practiced flourish. The tray balanced easily in my hands as I handed it over, expecting at least a flicker of gratitude for my efforts. Instead, I was met with a cool, detached "Thank you."

She took the tray without a word, her guarded expression like a fortress I couldn't breach. "Stay here," she said simply, not bothering to meet my eyes before she turned and walked toward Marge's shop.

I leaned back against the car, watching her retreating figure. She disappeared inside without a backward glance.

The distance between us gnawed at me, her aloofness like a blade drawn across my pride. Fine, I thought. Let her think I was some idle chauffeur. Let her pretend she didn't need me.

Sliding my hand into my pocket, I pulled out my phone. My thumb hovered over the screen as I dialed the number I knew would answer.

"Brainsplitter," I said smoothly when the line connected. The demon's guttural grunt echoed back at me. "She's coming your way. I want you to scare her, but—and I cannot stress this enough—you are not to lay a single finger on her. Do you understand?"

Another grunt. That better have been agreement.

"I'll join you in due course to make the rescue. But, Brainsplitter," I added, my voice dropping into a deadly calm, "if I find so much as a scratch on her, you'll learn firsthand what it feels like to beg for the sweet release of Hell. Do you understand?"

The line went dead, Brainsplitter's crude manners doing nothing to temper my irritation. But the plan was set.

Now, all I had to do was wait. The trap was baited, and soon enough, I would swoop in to save her. Again. She'd have no choice but to see me as her protector.

And, perhaps, she'd begin to see me as more.