What Crawls Below

10 § A Throne to Fill

Raziel stayed outside long enough that when Nevaeh emerged from their bedroom, Cyrus was still alone and had come back out to sit at the island again. His mind had been a clusterfuck, replaying that morning's conversation; as soon as the woman came out, though, Cyrus was focused on the present once more.

He was careful to conceal what he was thinking this time, how he didn't particularly enjoy the confidence exuding from every fluid movement as Nevaeh strutted down the hall. In a very gruesome thought, he realized she was basically the female version of Raziel. It was unsettling, to say the least.

"Well, hello again," she greeted brightly, and Cyrus couldn't help but stare. She'd ditched the casual clothing he met her in and traded that in for a blue collared shirt, a nametag pinned over her heart. Nevaeh followed his gaze and laughed, the sound light and seemingly genuine, but something about it all refused to rub Cyrus right.

"How did you think we afford this place?" Nevaeh asked, gesturing to the room. "Demons gotta work too."

Acheron hadn't. Then again, he probably stole all the money he could ever need. Cyrus couldn't quite meet her eyes, but didn't want to clue her in on what he was feeling. He fumbled for the words for a moment before inquiring quietly, "And Raziel...?"

"Oh, he tends bar at a restaurant uptown a few nights a week."

Yet another image Cyrus couldn't quite picture, although at the same time it didn't exactly surprise him. Raziel was nothing if not charismatic, in the way best suited for slaving away to other people's whims in order to win them over and hustle some tips.

"Of course, he isn't exactly the breadwinner," Nevaeh continued, flashing a perfect set of gleaming teeth. "But answering a prayer here and there, well...grateful people seem to be eager to empty their pockets."

She gave him one last smile, eyes tracing up and down Cyrus's body before finally turning away and leaving. He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself.

The balcony door slid open then, letting in a gust of chilly air. Raziel stalked inside, pausing at the intersection of the hall and living room and glancing at his open bedroom door. "She left already? Didn't think she was working today," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. He sighed, returning to the island to pour himself a third cup of coffee. Judging by how he couldn't keep his hands still--they kept rising to twist in his hair or rub the back of his neck--Cyrus thought the last thing Raziel needed was more caffeine.

He also knew better than to voice that assumption.

The coffee machine sputtered as it made the drink, but the sound was not enough to cover the sudden rumbling coming from Cyrus's stomach. Raziel glanced back over his shoulder, letting out an even deeper sigh. "Right, I suppose I'll have to feed you. I'll remember that the next time Vay whines about wanting children, as if I needed another reason to turn that down."

With the talk about demon hybrid offspring earlier, Cyrus was surprised he hadn't thought about what a demon-demon pairing could possibly create. Since Nevaeh had left, he'd let down his mental wall once again; it took too much effort holding up those days, what with all the other concerns he had to deal with. As Raziel dug through the nearly empty pantry, he said with his back still turned, "Demons aren't compatible together. We don't have the actual human sense of a life in us to make a new one, not alone, so don't worry about that."

He gave up on his search of the cupboards and opened the refrigerator to reveal the only contents: a few white cardboard boxes of takeout. "Well, kid, this'll have to do for now. I'll have Nevaeh pick some groceries up on her way back," Raziel said, plunking one of the boxes down in front of Cyrus.