"I won't tell anyone you're a Daylighter!"
"Why don't you say it louder so all of New York can hear? Scream it to the Heavens so the Angels can hear it too."
Eva nudged Raphael, silently asking him to calm down. His tone was sharp and dry as usual, but he was a mess underneath—a mess of fear and anger. Fear for the havoc that vampires may cause if they were to find out Shadowhunter blood creates Daylighters, and anger due to Simon being incredibly unreasonable.
"Everyone saw me already," Simon said again. "And I won't say anything. We've kept your secret until now."
"Surprisingly," Raphael scoffed. They all stood in the Sanctuary of the Institute, windowless and massive with pillars that towered over their heads. When Raphael arrived, he was brought up to speed with everything that occurred in the last 24 hours: Hodge and Marigold's story, the new rune that will forever be etched into Eva's forearm and what it does, Brothers Zachariah and Enoch being under an oath to keep her safe, and Valentine supposedly wanting to kill her if he caught a glimpse of her. They explained Simon drank from Jace, but despite having drunk more blood, he could not step on hallowed ground without writhing in excruciating pain. They'd even placed a Star of David in his hands and his skin burned as if he was holding a scolding rod of iron.
"You have no idea the chaos you will cause for being what you are," Raphael said. "You will not say you drank from a Shadowhunter by any means necessary, am I clear?"
"I won't!" Simon sighed heavily. "What have I been saying for the past hour and a half?"
"Will there be vampires hunting Simon down?" Clary asked.
"My vampires have been ordered to stay away from him," Raphael glared at Simon, who shrunk under his intense gaze. "But I cannot speak for vampires outside of my jurisdiction, and I assure you, news of his abilities will spread quickly."
"Can't the clan protect him?" Eva asked. "You can give the order, Rapha."
Raphael shook his head. "I can, but he refuses to join the clan. By vampire Law, he is rogue and can therefore be hunted down and killed. The only reason he is still alive—and I say that very loosely—is because the clan is aware he's connected to the Nephilim of this Institute."
"Just keep your mouth shut," Jace summarized nicely. "Don't say you drank my exquisite blood or throw Raphael under the bus, and just watch out for any vampires that don't talk like your average New Yorker."
"If you join my clan, I can offer you protection," Raphael offered. His hands were in his pockets and Eva could feel a wave of awkwardness from him. "We will not let anyone touch you."
"You just want to lock me away and control me," Simon scoffed. "And I'm not leaving my family."
Eva knew the family card was a particular soft spot for Raphael, and it worked like a charm. No one would know, as his expression was still a cross between annoyance and contempt, but Eva knew Raphael was recalling his memories of his family, of his mother and his little brothers and everyone he cared about before he outlived them all.
"You can't say I didn't offer," Raphael said aloofly. "Don't come begging for my protection when the world's vampires come to you demanding an explanation."
Simon nodded. "I'll make sure to lie."
"And keep me out of it," Raphael reminded him.
Eva walked him out of the Sanctuary and after kissing her goodbye, he revved up his motorcycle and flew off into the night sky of New York City. He never tired of the city's glittering lights; they only ever seemed to get brighter as the decades passed. He parked his bike on the roof of the Dumort, tossed a tarp over it to protect it from sun damage, and ventured down into the hotel.
When he walked into his suite, he pulled off his leather jacket and after meticulously hanging it on a wooden hanger and putting it away into his closet, he stepped into the sitting area of his suite. He poured himself a snifter of blood from a decanter he kept on a tea trolley and plopped himself down on the couch. He was nearly done with the glass when his phone began to ring. At first he thought it was Eva, but the name on his caller ID wasn't all too surprising either. He flipped it open and answered.
"I heard what happened on the East River last night with Valentine Morgenstern. I take it your girlfriend is fine?"
"She's fine," Raphael smiled. Ragnor Fell, his longtime friend, was appalled when Raphael told him he was dating a Shadowhunter. They'd made a promise decades ago that neither of them would ever fraternize with the Nephilim, and quite frankly, Raphael didn't think he'd be the one to break that rule until he met Eva. As expected, Ragnor was skeptical of the relationship at first, but since Raphael has been with her for nearly a year, he's come to accept that the Shadowhunter was here to stay. "I'll make sure to tell her you were worried."
"Don't you dare."
"When will you be in New York? She wants to meet you even though I advise her against it."
"Please keep doing so. I greatly appreciate it."
"You're in Idris?"
"London, actually—I miss my old stomping grounds," he said. "You're in the Dumort?"
When Raphael confirmed he was, the line went dead and the shimmer of a projection began forming the shape of Ragnor Fell dressed in a casual tweed suit, sitting on what looked like an ornate lawn chair. The green tone of his skin always looked paler when he projected.
"Is it true?" Ragnor asked. "I heard there's a Daylighter in New York."
Raphael knew word would get out fast. "Yes, it's true."
"One of yours?"
"No. He's technically rogue."
Ragnor narrowed his eyes dubiously and Raphael, already exhausted with the topic, slammed the rest of the blood in his snifter. "He's friends with the Shadowhunters of the Institute."
"Why am I not surprised?"
"I've made it clear I can't protect him," Raphael said, and his words caught in his throat. He's never told Ragnor he was a Daylighter himself—it was bad enough everyone in the Institute knew and even though they'd sworn not to say a word, he never found the courage to tell Ragnor. Franky, it never came up during their monthly phone calls which mostly consisted of them gossiping about Magnus Banes' antics, and since Ragnor has never implied he knew, Raphael took it as a sign that his secret was safe. Unlike Simon's.
"I warned you about this," Ragnor said carefully. "The Nephilim are prone to pick favorites."
"Eva's not like that."
"Please," Ragnor scoffed. "She's Nephilim."
Raphael pushed himself off the couch to pour himself some more blood. As he did so, Ragnor added, "It doesn't surprise me they're protecting him, though. He must be incredibly well-connected."
Raphael let out a laugh very uncharacteristic of him. It genuinely amused him to hear such a thing. "He hasn't been a vampire for more than a month! He didn't have the Sight as a mundane."
When Raphael turned around to look at Ragnor, his friend was very confused. "Are you sure?"
Raphael swished the blood in his snifter, purposefully avoiding Ragnor's gaze. "I was the one who Turned him."
"Raphael!"
"It was an accident and a very long story I don't care to repeat."
"What else aren't you telling me?"
Oh, if you knew, Raphael thought, guilt rumbling in his chest. Thankfully, Ragnor didn't question it further and shrugged his shoulders, reaching out to something beyond what he was projecting to Raphael. When he withdrew his arm, it was a cup of steaming tea. "Well, I suggest you start asking around about who his connections are."
"Why?"
Ragnor raised his eyebrows as he took a sip of tea. "He had to get angel blood from somewhere, and that's not something anyone just happens to have on hand."
Raphael scoffed. "He probably drank from some idiot Shadowhunter."
"The Nephilim claim to be the children of Raziel with his blood running through their veins, but in actuality, they're nothing but watered down angels," Ragnor said in an odd blend of annoyance and amusement. "They have enough angelic blood in them to withstand the power of runes, but not enough to create a Daylighter. You'd need pure angel ichor straight from the source."
The blood Raphael just drank turned in his stomach as if it were rotten. If he were still alive, he was sure his skin would've been coated with a thin layer of cold sweat. His voice was thankfully steady, "Pure angel blood makes Daylighters?"
"An entire study was dedicated to this back in the 19th century—I was still High Warlock of London at the time," Ragnor looked up in thought. "The Spiral Labyrinth has had a supply of angel blood for centuries and since it never goes bad, they'd never figured out what to do with it until a good friend of mine—I think you've met her before; her name's Catarina Loss—she petitioned the Council to let her conduct a medical trial to study the effects of angel ichor on vampires.
"She gathered a few willing vampires, placed them under an oath to keep the trials a secret, and gave them all a bit of angel ichor—some drank watered down blood while others drank it pure. The results were incredible: drinking it in its purest state gave you a full range of abilities, but regardless of the blood's purity, they all could walk in the sun. That's where the term Daylighter came from."
Raphael had to place his snifter on the coffee table in front of him; he feared he'd drop it. He had to bunch his hands up into fists to prevent them from shaking. He felt a lump forming in his throat as Ragnor continued, "I think the ones that drank the watered down blood only received a fraction of the abilities—I remember Catarina telling me it all depended on quality, not quantity. I don't remember much, though. It was a very long time ago, and those blasted automatons were annoying me to hell and back at the time."
"Could I speak to Catarina?" Raphael asked. "Is she available?"
"She lives in New York, actually. She's a nurse in some mundane hospital," Ragnor shuddered at the thought. "I can contact her and tell her I sent you. I'm sure she's heard about this Daylighter by now and is as curious as I am."
Raphael nodded slowly. Too many thoughts were running through his head—absurd, ridiculous thoughts—and he almost didn't hear Ragnor clear his throat. "Now, you and I both know I wasn't born yesterday, nor in the last three centuries."
Raphael looked up to meet his eyes. Ragnor was his friend, but was also like his father. He knew when something was up, especially when Raphael looked as if he was going to empty his stomach all over the carpet. Raphael couldn't keep his secret anymore. "I'm a Daylighter too."
Ragnor frowned. Thankfully, he didn't seem upset that Raphael had kept this secret from him. He most likely understood, and that's why Raphael admired him so much. He didn't have to say much for Ragnor to know why he did the things he did, or what the consequences of his abilities would mean for the vampire community, for the vampires under his watch. Ragnor spoke calmly, "Where did you get the angel blood, Raphael?"
"I drank from Eva."
"I told you—"
"I drank from Eva because she was poisoned by a Greater Demon and she was dying—my saliva neutralized the poison enough to save her," Raphael said, choking at the memory of Eva's gushing wound, her fluttering eyelids as death beckoned her to sleep. "And the Silent Brothers that healed her came to me that same night and told me what hurt me would hurt me no longer—I assumed it was Shadowhunter blood, but they knew the truth—"
"The Brotherhood is aware of how Daylighters are truly made," Ragnor said. "The Labyrinth has a centuries old agreement with them that any discovery angelic in nature must be reported to the Silent City."
"But those same two Silent Brothers are under an oath to protect Eva from Valentine Morgentern—an oath someone else put on them," Raphael said. The puzzle pieces were beginning to fall into place, but so many were still missing. The complete image still couldn't be seen. "They can't say anything about what Eva is, or how she came to be. They personally told her this."
"Did the other Daylighter drink from her too?"
"No, he drank from Valentine's son."
A moment of silence wafted between them until Ragnor spoke, "I don't think these are all coincidences, Raphael."
"I don't believe in coincidences."
"Neither do I," Ragnor said firmly. "How can I help?"
"Contact Catarina Loss and tell her I want to see her tonight," Raphael stood from the couch. "Valentine experimented on his children and somehow Eva is involved, and knowing that Starkweather was loyal to Valentine—"
"Starkweather?"
"Hodge Starkweather was their tutor and he betrayed them to Valentine; I mentioned this to you."
"Yes, but what does he have to do with anything?"
"Apparently, Eva looks exactly like his late wife Marigold. She died in a fire with their son back before the Uprising." Raphael began walking towards his closet to look for his jacket. Ragnor's projection followed him like a transparent ghost. "Eva thinks she might be related to Marigold's family, but she'd Ascended and Eva was Nephilim when she was found by the Brothers so it doesn't make any sense."
Ragnor was silent as Raphael threw his jacket on hastily. When he straightened his collar and turned around, the warlock was deep in thought and looking much paler than the projection made him seem. Raphael raised his eyebrows. "Ragnor?"
"That fire." Ragnor spoke slowly, his voice tight with what Raphael could only describe as horror. "Did it shoot up into the sky like a vortex?"
Raphael nodded, remembering Eva saying Maryse Lightwood described it as such. Ragnor continued, "I remember that fire; I saw it from my house in Idris, but I didn't know it was the Starkweather manor nor did I care to find out whose house it was. I left for London that same day because I didn't want the Clave to even think of approaching me to help them with their investigation."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Raphael scoffed in mild amusement. Ragnor was adamant to stay out of Nephilim affairs, even if they paid him. It was a shock he even agreed to teach at the Shadowhunter Academy while it was still open or even bought a house on their land.
"No, you don't understand," Ragnor said gravely. His eyes were wide and spooked. "I didn't want to get involved because I thought some idiot was trying to be the next Jonathan Shadowhunter and I wasn't about to get caught up in that mess."
Raphael's eyes widened. He immediately understood what Ragnor was implying, but he couldn't fathom it. "Are you sure?"
"Only a very pissed off angel could've made that spectacle," Ragnor said. "What burned down that manor and shot up into the sky was heavenly fire."
