"I hate all of you Shadowhunters."
"Yeah, sometimes I hate us too."
Raphael was rightfully angry, so much so he couldn't even focus on his telenovelas. He was sitting up against the headboard staring at the screen, but Eva knew he wasn't paying attention to the Mexican drama. Her body was still tingling from the very angry sex they had not too long ago—it was intense, and Eva surely didn't mind it, but it was strange coming from Raphael. He was normally so agonizingly slow and patient and loving, but she had to admit she welcomed his frustration. She was angry too, and it worked out in their favor.
"They always blame us," Raphael continued bitterly. "If the Silent Brothers had been drained of blood, they would've tacked that onto our list of crimes too."
Downworlder killings had everyone on edge. Each body had been drained completely of blood, which naturally pointed to the Night Children as the likely suspects. Raphael has projected himself into the Institute more times than he was comfortable with to speak to Maryse and Inquisitor Imogen Herondale—though these meetings were more interrogations than anything. The Inquisitor even subtly threatened him, reminding him what the Clave does to vampires who break the Law.
"Valentine is behind all this," Eva reached out to touch his arm in silent affection. His muscles were tense like tightly wound guitar strings. "He went into the Silent City to steal the Mortal Sword and had to kill them all to do it—Magnus says it's some conversion ritual."
"Well, they surely haven't gotten any solid proof," he said. "Your Inquisitor is still giving me grief over all this."
"I know, trust me," Eva rolled her eyes at the thought of that old hag—she's the reason behind her bitterness. "First, she throws Jace into the cells of the Silent City, then she interrogates us like we had anything to do with murdering the Silent Brothers when we were just answering their distress call, and now she has Jace under house arrest with Magnus."
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but God help him," Raphael said, making Eva laugh. Magnus didn't seem like an easy person to live with due to his extravagant tastes, but Jace wasn't exactly the friendliest roommate either. Raphael followed her with gentle eyes, watching her jump out of bed and start to dress herself. "Be careful with those Faeries, mi ángel. Nothing good ever comes out of that Seelie Queen."
"Izzy's dating one of her knights, so she's mediating," Eva buttoned up her jeans. "I have no idea what the Queen could want; Izzy just said she's requested an audience."
"Like I said, nothing good."
"That Meliorn is an asshole; I don't want to see you anywhere near him," Eva said. She sat cross-legged on Izzy's bed, watching as she emerged from the bathroom and crossed the room to sit at her vanity.
"You don't have to tell me twice," she scoffed. Venturing into the Seelie Court didn't go very well, and in typical Faerie fashion, the Queen managed to trick Clary into tasting the wine. A kiss from the person she wanted the most would release her, and said person happened to be Jace—her brother with whom she clearly had feelings for. The intense kiss upset Simon, who had gone down to the Seelie Court with them, and he stormed off before anyone could notice. Izzy suggested returning to the Institute first, seeing how it was deserted, for a much deserved shower and a change of clothes.
Everything went horribly but we're all fine.
Eva eyed the message she'd sent on her taxi ride to the Institute from Central Park. It was unlike Raphael not to text her back, even though she knew he'd respond something along the lines of I don't care about the rest of them, only you or just a simple Okay.
He hasn't responded. Considering the entire Conclave was down in the Silent City gathering clues and were still investigating the Downworlder murders, Eva could only assume Raphael was caught up in that whirlwind.
The sound of the Institute's doorbell had the parabatai pair frowning at each other in confusion. If the Conclave was returning, they wouldn't be ringing the doorbell—only mundanes and Downworlders needed permission to enter.
They arrived at the Institute's foyer along with Jace and Clary, and when they opened the door, the figure standing just outside the doors stepped through the threshold. It was Raphael, and in his arms he carried a very limp and quite dead-looking Simon Lewis. The mundane's throat and wrists were torn open and blood was splattered over his graphic T-shirt.
Raphael's expression was pinched in a frown as he set Simon down gently on the floor. Clary immediately threw herself onto her knees by his side. She was paler than usual. When Raphael raised his glance, he looked annoyed, as if this was an inconvenience. To Eva; however, she knew he was feeling an immense amount of guilt. It was floating around him like heavy smoke.
"He broke into the Dumort and was therefore fair game for my clan," Raphael said. "He was lucky that I arrived before they could drink him to death. I brought him here because I want no war with the Nephilim, especially not now."
"But he's dead," Clary choked on her words.
"Not dead yet," Raphael met Eva's eyes as he continued, "When he was a rat, he bit me at the Dumort. He ingested my blood, and that is how vampires pass on their powers—through the blood."
Simon had to be buried and rise as a vampire, or have his head cut off, staked, and burned. Clary made the final decision, and decided on the former. It was hard to know what Simon would have wanted in a situation like this. Clary insisted he be buried in a Jewish cemetery.
The emotions floating around Eva were choking her—it was a smog of grief, guilt, sadness, terror, despair. When they arrived at the Jewish cemetery in Queens, Raphael began digging a shallow grave at an inhuman pace. Simon's body was wrapped up in a blanket and was laid at Izzy's feet; Eva thought it looked as if Izzy were guarding him. Alec had arrived with Magnus, bringing with him a bag full of packets of blood like Jace had requested him to do.
"It's freezing," Clary said, her breath creating a white mist around her lips. Simon's body was already underground and Raphael, after tapping the earth with his shovel for good measure, had joined their little huddle near the makeshift grave. "It's the middle of summer; it shouldn't be this cold out."
"Fledglings draw strength from the living things in their surroundings and use that energy to rise." Raphael shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over Eva's shoulders. She was thankful he did so. "It's always cold at risings; it doesn't bother me at all considering I'm undead as it is."
Clary went mute after that. Jace tried to comfort her, but she was inconsolable. Izzy stood alongside Alec and Magnus, who seemed both fascinated and horrified by what was to occur before them. Eva was about to join her parabatai but Raphael suddenly took her hand and pulled her out of earshot from the rest. Before she could open her mouth to speak, he said, "I never beg, and I hate the thought of it, but I'm begging you to leave."
His touch was feeding her his emotions and they were making her eyes sting. He avoided her glance as he continued, "I don't want you to see this. It's not pleasant to see a vampire rise: it's messy and inhuman and—"
"You don't want me to imagine that's how you looked when you rose from your grave," Eva finished for him. His big brown eyes widened in shock and horror. She squeezed his hand. "I've been feeling your guilt ever since you brought Simon to the Institute, but it wasn't your fault he ingested your blood. I didn't even think he had; he bit you so quickly."
"The blood should've left his system by now, but it didn't," he said bitterly. "I feel bad for the mundane—no one deserves this life."
"You have a good heart in you, Rapha," Eva wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him in for a tight hug. He buried his face into her neck and returned her embrace; his tense muscles relaxed bit by bit as she held him. "I love you, and I will never stop loving you even if you looked like a monster coming out of your grave."
"That's very reassuring," he said lightly, parting from her enough to touch her new pendant of his grave dirt on her throat. "You've become quite good at the backhanded compliments."
"I learned from the best," she said and kissed his cold cheek.
They returned just in time to see Simon's grave rumble like an earthquake. Like a stereotypical zombie from those strange mundane comics Max likes to read, Simon clawed himself out of the dirt. He wore no glasses and his brown eyes were wide with confusion and frenzy, his skinny arms smeared with dirt and blood. He was hunched over the ground after having fallen; it was like watching a baby giraffe taking its first steps.
Despite Raphael trying to hold Clary back, the girl broke free from his grasp and tried to talk to Simon. The moment she reached for him; however, Simon turned on her. He pushed her onto the ground savagely, holding her down by the shoulders. The girl was kicking him in terror, but Simon's newfound vampire strength kept her anchored underneath him. If it wasn't for Raphael grabbing Simon's collar and tossing him across the graveyard like a ragdoll, Eva knew Simon was more than capable of sucking Clary dry of blood.
"I told you to stay away from him," Raphael said. He briefly caught Eva's glance, searching her face for what she assumed was disgust or horror. It was hard not to think of fledgling Raphael doubling over like Simon was, hissing like a rabid and starving cat. She managed to keep her expression neutral, perhaps even a bit shocked. Raphael looked back at Clary as he added, "He knows you, but he doesn't care. He's starving and he needs blood as soon as possible."
When Jace, who looked like he'd seen a ghost, handed him the plastic bag of blood packets, Raphael began tearing them open. One by one, he handed them to Simon who took each one eagerly and drained them quickly. He was desperate for the blood, and in his desperation would spill some of it over his chin and over his chest, making it soak into his shirt and stain it.
Clary hurried down the hill with Jace chasing after her. Eva faintly heard the sound of her retching in the distance. She focused on watching Simon drinking blood bag after blood bag, with Raphael cautioning him to slow down or he'd feel sick. Izzy took her hand and squeezed it in silent horror, Alec tried to keep himself from emptying his stomach like Clary, and Magnus' expression was a cross between fascination and disgust.
Simon's bloodlust calmed significantly after his seventh or eighth packet of blood and he was able to think straight. Raphael explained what happened to him as nicely as he could and when Clary returned, she apologized profusely, but Simon didn't respond. Eva could feel he was too shocked to speak, perhaps even in denial despite the empty packets that were scattered around him, despite the taste of blood in his mouth. He was silent when they led him out of the cemetery, and Eva could only assume he was silent the rest of his way home with Clary.
"Are you okay?" Eva reached for Raphael's hand, but he pulled away. He was rumbling with guilt and self-loathing and he was doing nothing to hide the fact he was avoiding her eyes.
"You don't have to pretend it didn't disgust you," he said bitterly. "That's how vampires are made, and mine was much worse than that. I killed people—"
"I don't care what you did; it wasn't your fault," Eva forcefully took his hand. He tried to pull away again, but she didn't let him. Deep down, he didn't want to reject her touch; it soothed him and made him feel human and loved. Through their touch, his despair was amplified and with a sigh, Eva pressed her forehead against his shoulder, his muscles hard with stress. She closed her eyes. I love you, Rapha.
Raphael jumped under her and when she raised her head, his eyes were wide and his lips were trying to form words despite his shock. "How did you do that?"
"The Silent Brothers speak with thoughts," Eva said with a crooked smile. "Apparently I can speak with emotions; maybe it's the same thing and they're just not telling us."
"That makes absolutely no sense."
I don't know, but I think I'm figuring it out.
"Stop doing that!"
Eva laughed and laced her fingers with his, projecting every string in her heart dedicated to loving his grumpy self, conveying to him that nothing will ever stop her from loving him. In return, she received his unknowing response of gratefulness, of affection, even a tad of inferiority.
"Why do you feel like you don't deserve me?" she asked against his cheek.
"Isn't it obvious?" Raphael took a deep breath, something he never does. "You're the purest thing in my life, and I'm damned. I don't deserve your love."
"Stop acting like such a pendejo," she teased him. He smiled; whether his amusement stemmed from her horrible accent or her unexpected use of Spanish, she'll never know. All she knew was that she lightened his spirits and cleared any doubt from his mind.
