Raven of Water

Chapter 5: Surprisingly Sweet Banter

I scrubbed my injured hand for the third time, cringing as water nearly hot enough to scald me worked its way into the wound. Behind me, Clem pulled out antique china cups and placed them on the counter.

"You've cleaned it well enough, Lexi."

I sighed as I turned off the tap and watched the red-tinged suds slide down the drain.

"There's an actual demon relaxing in the sitting room."

"Yeah. And you're a witch. The world is a weird place."

I watched in my peripheral vision as she placed a teapot on a silver tray and arranged the tea cups next to it along with a tiny covered dish of sugar and a little pitcher for cream. Once she was done, she strode over to me. I ignored her and continued staring into the sink. Eventually, the woman huffed and grabbed my hand. Neither of us spoke as she gathered the first-aid kit from under the sink and began cleaning and dressing my wound from the ritualistic bloodletting.

Only once she was done did I frown and look at her.

"I don't like him."

Clem's lighthearted as ever laugh made me smirk in spite of myself. "He's a demon, Lexi. You're not supposed to like him. You're supposed to take him his tea, bow to him a couple times, and show him to the guest room so that he can rest. That's it."

I shrugged, ignoring the glint of sympathy in my cousin's eyes that contrasted with her sunny disposition.

"I'm just so tired, Clem. I hurt. My hand hurts. I just want to be home."

It was late, and I knew I was whining as Clem reached out and brushed some lint from my t-shirt, which I'd only just changed into. Then she just gave me a reassuring smile.

"At least tomorrow's Saturday. You can sleep in."

"How are you so chill about this?" I said, shrugging off her hand and striding over to the tray where I stared down at the two empty cups she'd placed onto the silver platter.

"I'm freaking the fuck out, but I'm trying to keep you calm."

I snorted as I grabbed the tray on either side, moaning faintly when I felt the injury in my hand, which had barely stopped bleeding, open back up and start oozing again. I'd cut it deeper than I'd intended.

"Ok. I guess I shouldn't keep our guest waiting."

"No," Clem smirked and shook her head, "Don't keep the devil waiting."

"He's not the devil." I rolled my eyes as I hefted the tray and walked out of the kitchen to begin winding my way through the hallways. When I neared the sitting room, I heard my grandfather speaking in hushed tones with Emilia. I couldn't make out their soft, fervid whispers. They seemed to be talking about something important, something they didn't want to be overheard. Yeah, I heard my grandfather's commanding tone and Emilia's dark, flat replies. What I didn't hear was the voice of the demon.

"You're not wearing white. I gather your grandfather was being rather untruthful about your penchant for white clothing."

I yelped and I whirled around, nearly dropping the heavy tray as I came face-to-face with the demon who was presently in the form of a handsome twenty-something man with deep dark skin and amber eyes that glinted as if they were illuminated from behind.

"I hate ceremonial white clothing. And the black vestments. In fact, I hate most of our clothing."

"But you like purple." The demon's smile and the way he gestured to the clothing I was currently wearing made my body flush and my hands tighten their grip on the tray. For a moment, we stared at each other, and my mouth went dry until the tight grip with which I held the tray made me hiss as it shifted my injured palm. My hand definitely needed to be stitched up or something considering the injury still hadn't fully clotted. Regardless, the pain led my grip to slip, and then the tray slid from my grasp.