The Devil's Duet Chapter 9: Lore

Fame comes at a cost. And the debt is due.

Previously in The Devil’s Duet…

In Chapter Eight, the stakes climbed higher as Raven’s choices pulled her deeper into the world she swore she could control. Fame is no longer a dream—it’s a gilded cage, with Lucian holding the key. But with every performance, every whisper in the dark, Raven feels the walls closing in.

Now, as the final act looms, the cracks in her world are widening. Old ghosts resurface. New temptations arise. And the road ahead may not lead to escape—but to something even more dangerous.

El Dorado Hotel, 8800 Sunset Blvd, West Hollywood, CA 1981

In the ballroom of the El Dorado, I heard the nervous anticipation of the crowd of industry luminaries fall into an expectant hush as I began to ready myself to take the stage. Tonight was the Lore album release party and my chance to show off a project I had become immensely proud of.

I peaked out at the audience behind the velvet curtain to survey the ballroom. I had been in this room countless times but it never failed to strike me with its grand, timeless quality, a chaotic but poetic blend of opulence with a hint of faded glamour. Its high, vaulted ceilings were adorned with intricate plasterwork in Art Deco motifs flecked by gilded, tarnished gold, catching dim, amber-toned light from a series of large, vintage chandeliers that bathed the room in amber.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Bayou Girl you Can’t Forget, this is Raven St. Clair,” the announcer said as the thunderous roar of the audience rose to meet my voice as the mournful opening notes of “Lore” began to play from the band behind me as my hand clutched the cool metal of the microphone and brought it closer to my mouth as my voice sailed over the lyrics.

Raven St. Clair - Lore

A whisper in the shadows, a tale in the wind,

Calling me deeper, where stories begin.

There’s an old myth told beneath the stars,

Of a place hidden close, yet so very far.

Where the moonlight fades and secrets lie,

In the heart of the forest, under darkened skies.

Lore of the night, in whispers it flows,

Through the trees and the rivers, where the wild things go.

Lost in the echoes of tales long gone,

The voice of the shadows, a faraway song.

There’s a legend of love, of loss and grace,

Of footsteps left in an untamed place.

Where dreams wander like leaves on the breeze,

Bound to the mystery, fading with ease.

Lore of the night, in whispers it flows,

Through the trees and the rivers, where the wild things go.

Lost in the echoes of tales long gone,

The voice of the shadows, a faraway song.

In the quiet I hear it, a faint lullaby,

A tale of forever, of how and why,

The lines of the story, woven with care,

A timeless legend, lost in the air.

In the shadows it lingers, a story unknown,

A whisper of lore, calling me home.

As the final chords of Lore faded into the dimly lit ballroom, I felt an electric thrill ripple through me, almost as if the song had cast its own quiet spell over the crowd. When I set out to create Lore, my goal for the album was to create something that was not static but rather alive, flowing and evolving like a force of nature. Lore was more than an album, it was my rebellion, my freedom, my liberation spreading its wings and getting ready to soar. But I was not ready to soar just yet.

In the crowd, I saw Lucian’s grin, unmistakably devilish, his gaze fixed on me with something that could have been pride—or ownership. And I felt it—a strange satisfaction, twisted and complicated, knowing I had earned his “respect” in some way. But in that satisfaction, there was an equal measure of bitterness and resentment, a reminder that, even in moments like these, he would always believe he held a piece of me. The applause thundered, but in the shadows, his eyes seemed to claim each note as if they were his. But the secret of Lore? These notes were mine, I was building my future, my escape and my rebellion one note, one lyric at a time.

As the lights came up the host announced, “Now please welcome Seraphina Jones, fresh off her hit album, Unnatural Tendencies,”

Lucian’s gaze shifted to Seraphina then, and I caught a flash of something I couldn’t quite place—was it curiosity, or something darker? He watched her with an almost clinical, piercing interest, a calculation that made my skin prickle. It was as though he sensed something about her that he couldn’t touch, couldn’t control, and in Lucian’s world, what couldn’t be controlled was usually destroyed.

Seraphina and I very naturally slid into our hit duet, “Here to Stay” with the ease of pulling on a favorite old t-shirt, comfortable and seamless. And as expected, the crowd ate it up, watching the bewitching newcomer pop darling cutting it up with the elder stateswoman. And truth be told, I was glad to be showing Seraphina the ropes in a sense, I taught her what I could and in turn, she taught me more about her, her magic and her purpose. And our friendship had become both empowering and dangerous.

Raven St. Clair & Seraphina Jones - Here to Stay

But for now, he seemed content to observe, letting her shine by my side as if he could somehow turn it to his advantage. And in that moment, standing next to her, I realized the strange power she held—not just over him, but over me as well.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that she saw everything, the layers of darkness, the hunger I barely kept in check, even the glimpses of doubt that haunted me. It was a comfort and a threat wrapped into one, knowing that if Lucian ever turned against me, she might be the only one who could truly understand why.

As the last notes faded and the applause surged around us, I felt Seraphina’s hand brush mine, a fleeting gesture but one that felt like an unspoken promise. I looked at her, meeting her gaze for a split second before she turned back to the audience, her expression unreadable but her grip steady. In that brief touch, I felt a strange bond cemented—a pact that felt as powerful as the one I’d made with Lucian, yet infinitely more dangerous.

As I stepped off the stage into the backstage area of the ballroom, I felt a familiar warmth approach me. A familiar but distant hand tapped my shoulder and I turned on my heel to come face to face with Jefferson. His usual shimmering aura looked faded and dulled some and his face looked drawn with heavy lines telling stories of hardship etched across the canvas of his face.

“Jefferson,” I said without knowing much what to say, “How are you, what are you doing here?”

“I came to support you and see how you were doing,” he said with a tone that belied some sort of hidden agenda percolating below the surface.

“I’m really good, thank you,” I said in a disarming tone. In my peripheral, I could see Seraphina bounding over to me happily.

“That was an awesome show, Raven,” she exclaimed, “Let’s go hit the party.”

Turning to notice Jefferson, Seraphina introduced herself, “I’m Seraphina,” she said.

“Jefferson, old friend of Raven’s” he said with such a harsh generalization of our relationship that it felt like toweling off with a sheet of sandpaper.

“Lovely to meet you,” she said as she planted her palm in his and shook his hand while gazing deeply into his eyes. Seraphina’s gaze locked on Jefferson’s as they shook hands, her usual poise faltering. I watched as her bright expression faded, and for a split second, I saw something in her eyes—a flash of unease, perhaps even fear. Her hand slipped from his as if burned, and she took a step back, glancing over her shoulder with a look I hadn’t seen from her before. She knew. Somehow, in that brief moment of contact, she’d sensed the pull of a dark influence coiling around him.

“So sorry I forgot I need to go meet my manager, it was great to meet you Jefferson,” she said over her shoulder as she flitted away.

Jefferson and I stood bathed in a stage light surrounded by the darkness of the backstage area and we stood looking into each other like two mirrors facing each other reflecting ourselves back onto each other. Out of the surrounding blackness, Lucian’s profile emerged as he approached Jefferson wrapping his hand around Jefferson’s waist with an uncomfortable sense of familiarity, “There you are,” he said with the sense of eerie closeness, "Didn’t our little songbird sing so sweetly tonight?” Lucian asked, reaching out to stroke my face as if I were his property sitting on a perch in his birdcage as if existing only to be fawned over and looked at.

“She’s always been immensely talented,” Jefferson said.

“Indeed,” Lucian intoned menacingly, “She doesn’t know how good she has it sometimes.”

Looking at Jefferson and then back at Lucian again, I asked Lucian with a surge of defiance, “What do you want with Jefferson, Lucian?”

Looking supremely displeased, Lucian’s eyes became narrowed and filled with righteous fire as he spat, “I’ve taken Jefferson under my wing, I’m helping him get his solo career off the ground and helping him to realize his true potential.”

“You mean as one of your servants?” I asked bullishly.

“Raven, please,” Jefferson said in a futile attempt to intercede.

“No, please nothing, Jefferson,” I said, “You dont know what you’re getting into, what you have to give,” I said the words tumbling out of my mouth like vomit.

“Silence that tongue, child,” Lucian instructed, “Or I will silence you, permanently.”

“I’m not afraid of you anymore, Lucian,” I said throwing my words like daggers, “And if that means taking all this away from me, take it, I don’t want it, I don’t want you, I don’t want to be a part of serving any thing like you,” I said denouncing his poison.

Lucian’s smile faltered, just for a heartbeat. It was a subtle slip, so slight that someone less attuned to him might have missed it. His hand tightened almost imperceptibly around Jefferson’s waist, his fingers digging in with a possessive force, as though reminding us both of his power. Then, just as quickly, he recovered, letting out a quiet, mocking chuckle as if amused by a child’s tantrum.

“Big words from a small creature,” he murmured, his voice silkier, more dangerous, each word laced with a taunting edge in an effort to make me feel punishingly small. “You think you can sever yourself from what binds you to me? Think again, little songbird.” His gaze flicked to Jefferson, tightening his grip even further as though to reinforce his control over both of us. The way he held Jefferson was disturbingly intimate, a claim as much as a taunt.

“I know what you are, believe me,” I said, “You are pure evil though and through.”

“Be careful what you ask for, Raven,” he added softly, almost tenderly, his hand brushing my cheek with a touch so cold it burned. “I might just take everything, and you’ll find yourself back here… craving every scrap I throw you.”

Seeing Jefferson here, wrapped in Lucian’s hold, stirred something deeper than anger—something raw and aching. Memories surged—a torrent of quiet moments backstage on the Born from Night tour, stealing kisses under neon lights, nights dipping fries in ketchup, drinks that first night on the rich mahogany bar and whispered dreams of a life we might have had, a life untainted by Lucian’s shadow.

Whenever I fed, I always had the ability to see my victim’s memories, the ones they kept sacred and in this case, I wasn’t feeding on Jefferson but I could feel our memories of each other, the good ones merging like two streams in a wood.

Jefferson had been the one who made me feel seen, even when I barely understood myself. He was freedom, the kind of freedom I’d lost, or maybe abandoned before I even met him, back on that fateful night when I made my pact.

Now, looking at him, dulled and drained, under Lucian’s influence, it felt like watching the last fragile piece of myself being dragged into Lucian’s darkness. He deserved better. We both did. And yet, the way Lucian held him, a hand wrapped possessively around his waist, was as much a reminder as a warning—that no matter what I wanted, Lucian could twist it into his own.

I knew Jefferson could never truly understand what he’d agreed to, what Lucian would take from him. But seeing him here, under Lucian’s sway, felt like betrayal—a betrayal not just of him but of the person I’d been before Lucian, a version of myself I might never reclaim.

El Sol, El Dorado Hotel, 8800 Sunset Blvd, 1981

Rattled from my encounter with Jefferson and Lucian, I entered the party as the belle of the ball but felt as if I were shouldering a heavy burden. I slid up to the bar and ordered my usual seven and seven and began pounding the drinks back as little rivulets of icy vodka began to run down my cheeks. I was clearly trying to drink as much as I could to wash away the hurt, the fear, the shame. I was no stranger to this game.

Seraphina saw me at the bar and made her way over, “Kinda fucked up, huh? Seeing your old boyfriend getting courted by the demon that owns your soul?” She asked in a way that sounded unlike any girl talk I had ever taken part in before. I guess when you live on both sides of the line, these kinds of pitfalls go with the territory, no?

“I mean,” Seraphina said trying to interject some humor, “I’ve had some exes that were real monsters but this…is just something else entirely,” Seraphina said with a macabre chuckle.

“No, shit, Raven St. Clair?” I heard a voice ask. I turned and came face to face with a beautifully exotic face of a man with a shock of platinum-blond hair styled in a feathered mullet and streaked with neon green. His eyes are ringed with heavy eyeliner that gives his gaze an otherworldly allure, accentuating his high cheekbones and almost feline features.

“Eddie Navarro,” he said introducing himself with a comfortable ease, “But my friends call me ‘Jet.’”

“Nice to meet you, Jet,” Seraphina said extending out her hand. “Seraphina Jones?” He asked knowingly to which Seraphina returned a kind smile.

“I can’t believe I’m here with the two of you,” he said in a breathless fervor. Eddie seemed to be magnetic and slightly manic, with an unfiltered mouth and a streak of charm that bordered on dangerous — that’s to say he was just my type.

“Hey,” Eddie added, “My buddy has the Valencia suite upstairs and is hosting the party,” he said thumbing his nose. “You ladies wouldn’t want to join would you?”

“Why not?” I said eager to latch on to any opportunity to scrub this night off of my braincells.

In the Valencia suite, we were greeted by flickering red candles which bathed the room in crimson. But even in the red light, I could still see a large silver serving platter waiting for us on the coffee table with what looked like a scale replica of the Andes mountain range recreated in cocaine surrounded by razor blades and metal straws carelessly rolling around the platter.

I sat on a bench in front of the suite’s immense bed and craned my neck feeling a knot forming in the base of my neck. Eddie held up a mirror and a straw in front of me and I leaned forward and did a line. As I cleared my nose, I rose my head up to look him in the eyes.

“You’re hurting?” He asked in a way that was heartbreakingly honest and sincere.

“I dont know what I am, honestly” I said.

“Well that’s okay,” Eddie said as he kneeled on the bed behind me. Eddie reached out his hands and pressed them to my neck, his hands had a soft but worn quality giving off a sense of softness but with an edge that told of hardship. Eddie delicately applied pressure to my neck as I happily moaned and put my hands over his leading them across my shoulders. His fingers ventured under the straps of my dress. I turned to face him and pressed him back down on to the bed as I slipped the straps off of my dress letting the dress fall over my breasts.

“You’re gorgeous,” Eddie said as he leaned forward to kiss my chest and I pulled his head in closer to my chest as he cupped my breast with his hands and his mouth.

“Do you mind if my friend joins?” I asked slyly with just enough of a touch of sexiness that ensured he’d say yes.

Surprisingly, he grinned like he had won the lottery, “Of course.”

I beckoned for Seraphina to come join us on the bed. She did a line off the table and then came to the bed. Shimmying out of her dress, Seraphina climbed on the bed, pushing my hair out of my face, Seraphina pressed her mouth to mine as I ran my hands over her body. I could tell Eddie was loving every second of this.

After kissing Seraphina, I laid down on the bed next to Eddie and put my hand on Seraphina’s head leading her head down between my legs, I let out a moan as Eddie turned over to look at me and enjoy our delicate dance.

“Ever been with two girls?” I asked, my voice laced with titilation.

“Never,” he said with a hopeful air that almost made me feel bad knowing what we were about to do to him.

As I lay there feeling Seraphina’s tongue tracing a slow, electric line between my legs, a darker thrill surged through me, as if something ancient and wild stirred just beneath the surface.

My fingers slid into Eddie’s hair, and he looked over at me, blissfully unaware that he was on the cusp of something far deeper, far hungrier, than he could ever imagine.

Seraphina and I moved around him with an ease born of something almost instinctual, like shadows circling a flame, each of us drawn in by the magnetic warmth he radiated. I felt my pulse sync with his, heard the rapid beat of his heart as if it were my own, thrumming in my ears like a drum pulling me into a heady, almost tribal rhythm. Our bodies wrapped around him, close, closer still, each touch a whisper of something primal, something that could devour and be devoured. We were like the spirits from Seraphina’s tale of her mother being overcome by spirits escaping the underworld surrounding and overtaking his body.

Just as our swirling seduction reached its pinnacle, a cold and familiar darkness overtook the room. One of the suite room doors opened and a figure entered and I felt it come close to the bed as we continued to dance in decadence. “Raven?” I heard a voice call out from the dark.

As the figure approached the bed, and stepped into the pyramid of light being projected upwards by the flickering candles, I saw Jefferson standing by the bed. He looked down as Seraphina and I took turns kissing at Eddie’s face.

I couldn’t tell if he were watching us out of a sick sense of possession or titilation or even less how or why he was here but his presence was deeply unsettling. Without asking, Jefferson unbuttoned his shirt and slid off his pants and got onto the already crowded bed. Jefferson put one hand on Seraphina and then as if touching a hot stove, he removed it even more quickly.

“I missed you,” he said, reaching over to kiss me but then I realized he was not coming in for a kiss he was actually moving me out of the way.

Jefferson’s voice cut through the dimly lit haze of the room, low and raw, like it was being pulled from somewhere deep and primal. “I’m so hungry,” he murmured, the words barely audible but weighted enough to make my stomach drop.

I froze. The way he said it—half growl, half plea—sent a chill rippling down my spine. His hands trembled as he reached for Eddie, his fingers twitching like he was trying to stop himself but couldn’t. His eyes locked on Eddie’s neck, wide and glassy, and I could feel it radiating off him—the hunger. A hunger I knew all too well.

I wanted to stop him, to scream at him to back away, to tell him that this wasn’t him. But I couldn’t move. My throat tightened as the memory of my own first feed crashed against me. That same hollow, clawing ache. That same wild desperation. I saw it in him now, like a mirror held up to the ugliest part of myself.

“Jefferson…” I whispered, my voice barely holding steady. “Don’t.”

For a second, I thought he heard me. He looked up, and in his eyes, I saw something—pleading, or maybe regret, like some faint part of him knew this wasn’t who he was. But it was buried, drowned out by the same thing that had taken over me when I first fell under Lucian’s sway. And just like that, he gave in.

His mouth found Eddie’s neck, and the sound—the wet, visceral tearing of flesh actually for once made my stomach churn. I stumbled back, my heart racing as I watched him feed. I had never seen it from this angle before, never been on the outside looking in. Seeing Jefferson like this… it was like watching myself from a distance. Like staring into the ugliest, darkest truth about what I had become.

The guilt hit me first, sharp and searing. This was my fault. I had brought him into this world, let Lucian sink his claws into him. I had let him get too close to the shadow that had consumed so many others, and now, it was consuming him too. He didn’t even understand what he’d agreed to, what he was giving up. But I did. I knew exactly what came next.

Seraphina saw Jefferson feeding and locked eyes with me. I knew what usually followed a feed like this, so I mouthed “Lucian.” Seraphina nodded and rolled over to put her finger into the hot red wax of the flickering candles. I then saw her walk naked to the door of the suite and smear the red wax in the shape of an X across the door.

As she returned to the bed, she told me, “Sealing spell, he can’t enter until we leave.”

“What about Jefferson?” She asked.

“He’s just feeding,” I said, “We should leave him.”

We both gathered our clothes as we began to slink out of the suite.

As we approached the elevator, Seraphina turned to me and said, “Okay I know I was kind of joking early, but this is some weird shit, first you, now Jefferson? That could not have been easy to deal with I’m sure,” she told me with a refreshing disarming honesty.

“And by the way,” Seraphina added, “You’re staying at my house tonight,” she said as I smiled.

A moment later, the elevator opened and Lucian emerged. “Raven,” he said dismissively acknowledging my presence. “Seraphina,” he said nodding his head towards her.

Then, as if smelling a sour stench in the hallway, Lucian turned towards us, “What have you done to my seeker?”

Seraphina bullishly announced to Lucian as she proudly and confidently marched away from him, “I sealed the room he’s in,” she said proudly, “You can’t go in.”

Lucian pressed his face up close to Seraphina as his eyes looked like he was trying to crush her with his mind.

“Stay out of my way, witch,” he snarled.

“Do not threaten me, Demon,” Seraphina hissed. “Or I will return you to the fires of Hell.”

“Stay out of my way, and leave my seeker to me,” Lucian shouted looking at me.

“You will no longer see Raven or I will destroy you,” he said.

“I believe you are mistaken, Lucian,” Seraphina corrected him, “For it is I who will destroy you.”

Lucian’s eyes narrowed into dark slits as his lip curled into a sneer. “A mage bitch like you,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom, “clinging to scraps of ancient magic and borrowed power. Do you really think your little spells can hold back a force like me? You’re nothing more than a spark in the dark, girl. A flicker of defiance that I’ll snuff out with a whisper.”

He stepped closer, his tone softening but losing none of its menace. “Do you know what happens to hedge witches like you? You burn out. Always. Your kind crumbles under the weight of the power you’re so desperate to wield. You’ll tire, you’ll falter—and when you do, I’ll be there, waiting to drag you and your pathetic little fortress of spells into the darkness where you belong.”

He tilted his head, his smirk sharpening as his eyes flicked to me. “And you think protecting her makes you strong? You’re only delaying the inevitable. She’s mine, little witch, and no amount of red wax, whispered words or threats will ever change that.”

“I was not threatening you, Demon,” Seraphina said with equal rage and a sharp urgency, “I was promising you your end.”

2736 Hollyridge Dr, Hollywood, CA 1981

Back at Seraphina’s house, we cracked open bottles of wine, continued doing line after line and smoking enough cigarettes to make the Marlboro Man blush.

In spite of tonight’s darkness, we somehow found a way to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “I guess you and I were just not meant to have ‘regular’ lives, were we? I tell you,” Seraphina said laughing, “Do you think suburban moms ever have to deal with Demons or magic pacts or drain their husband’s blood to survive?”

“Heh…Maybe not,” I laughed, “But I just don’t think you and I were cut out for such a boring life. Do you?” I asked as Seraphina laughed.

In between bottles of wine, somewhere in the comfortable chaos, the plan began taking shape, it was a daring plan and we didn’t have all the pieces in place yet to make it happen but we knew we had to take down Lucian and that night the seed was planted and over the coming years and decades we would continue to tend to the seedling grown that night.

And over the years our little sapling of defiance would continue to grow as we continued to revisit, revise and wait for the moment when our plan would come screaming to life.

That night I decided that I would no longer be a willing participant in the Devil’s Duet. I realized I was powerful, I was capable and even if Lucian took all my fame, I had the strength to hold on long enough to see this song through to its eventual end.

For it was me who would determine when the music would stop and it was me who would decide to have the last dance.