Raum stood in his half demon form, his leathery skin covered in black scales. He carried a nondescript sack at one side. His scaled chest appeared to be covered in blood, which was vaguely interesting. Glossy wings folded behind him, and his bright golden eyes peered at Murmur with obvious distrust.
Murmur didn’t blame him for that. It was only natural to be wary after being trussed up like a turkey and injected with venom. If Raum hadn’t wanted that, though, he shouldn’t have trespassed in the first place.
“Have you come for another dose?” Murmur mocked, flicking his tail in Raum’s direction. “I’m told my venom can be quite the party drug.”
Raum’s upper lip curled off his fangs. “I brought a peace offering,” he said flatly, hefting the bag in his hand.
Murmur peered at it. It looked heavy, and…was that blood staining the fabric? He transferred his gaze back to Raum, frowning. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Knowing you, probably.”
Murmur waited for an explanation.
Raum’s jaw shifted like whatever he was about to say already grated at his pride, and Murmur felt his mood improving.
“I know you had a deal with Bel, and I fucked it up by trespassing on your territory.”
“And trying to steal from me,” Murmur reminded him.
Raum nodded with a sour look. “My brothers and I…” He ground his teeth before continuing. “We hope to continue our agreement.”
“Even after you violated it and tried to steal from me.”
“Hence the peace offering.”
“A head in a bag?” Murmur looked at the sack. “Not the worst gift I’ve received, but its worth depends on whose head it is.”
Raum tossed the bag, and it rolled lopsidedly to Murmur’s feet.
Eyeing Raum suspiciously, Murmur crouched. With careful claws, he parted the drawstring on the bag and peered inside. He saw curly blond hair stained with blood, and a light-skinned face, contorted in a grotesque expression.
He stood again. “Who is that?”
“Raphael.”
Murmur stared at Raum. Then he stared at the head in the bag. Then he stared at Raum again. “Raphael. As in…”
“As in the archangel Raphael.”
Murmur didn’t even try to hide his shock. His eyes bugged and his mouth dropped open. “How did you get the archangel Raphael’s head in a bag?”
“Sunshine chopped it off.”
“Sunshine…?” Understanding dawned. “The angel who busted your ass out of my dungeons.”
Raum nodded, his brow lifting. His intent was clear. He wanted Murmur aware of what this angel was capable of so he’d think twice about going after her.Interesting.
“Raphael is going to regenerate from that head,” Raum said. “Trust me, it’s the largest piece left of him. When he does, you can keep him contained and drain his blood. You’ll have an unlimited, renewable source of angel blood to do whatever you want with. You can sell it, use it on your enemies, use it in necromancy, whatever. That head is a potentially never-ending source of wealth and power.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why Raphael? What’d he do to you?”
Raum’s lip curled again. “What hasn’t he done?”
“I want to hear how he’s personally slighted you, so I understand what you gain from this.”
