The Devil's Duet Chapter 10: Coda

The final movement begins.

Previously in The Devil’s Duet…

In Chapter Nine, the final notes began to take shape. Raven’s world is unraveling, her choices narrowing as the weight of her deal presses down. The past lingers, the present fractures, and the future? That’s a song still waiting to be written.

Now, as the coda approaches, one thing is certain—some endings aren’t quiet.

Horizons, 3200 Serra Rd, Malibu, CA 2019

After a grueling recovery group meeting with the other patients, I prepared to excuse myself to the quad. The ocean air was particularly cold this morning so I opted to grab a styrofoam cup of the brown swill they dare to call “coffee” around here if only for the taste of a warm liquid to wash down a sappily sweet donut.

As I leaned in to the coffee machine to grab a cup, I caught a sight of myself in the reflection of the group room’s windows. As if a fog had been lifted, I saw myself, truly saw myself for the first time in a long time. I stood motionless for a moment as my hands traced the lines that grew across my face. I held the cup of coffee in my hand that became unsteady as I was rocked by the gnawing recognition of what I had become, I was becoming old, I was becoming frail.

But beside the realization I was old, I could feel the fame, the very essence of my youth and my life draining out of me how rain water recedes after a hurricane. All I saw in the hollow husk of my body was an empty vessel of songs, trapped souls and most of all, shame. I bore my own shame and the shame of those I had taken. Even here in the group room, I could hear the voices, so many voices calling out to me, Melissa, Reagan, Vanessa, Eddie, and eventually, Jefferson and so many more—all my constant companions—ghosts, specters and shadows I could not shake no matter how much I tried to escape their lingering voices. I had to wonder seeing myself now, had I become a shadow myself or was I someone else’s haunted shadow—something, or someone they couldn’t shake?

And even in all the years since I had been famous, all through the deepest depths of my addictions, and believe me, there were many, my only constant companion were their songs I could hear on endless repeat in my head—a haunting soundtrack to my shame that I could hear crystal clear — so clear I could almost taste them, the first drop of blood as they began to give themselves to me, their blood tasted of a potent blend of anticipation, fear and release.

As I stood there, tracing the shadows of who I once was in the glass, I wondered if this was what recovery was meant to be—an endless penance or a limbo of sort, where every step forward was weighted by the gravity of where I’d been. People in group talked about “moving on,” as though it were a destination, a clean slate, as though I could ever arrive somewhere beyond the echoes of my own sins. But for someone like me, someone who’d made a deal, who’d taken what could never be returned, moving on felt like an illusion. Could there even be absolution for someone who’d traded souls like currency, who’d feasted on the innocence of others just to stay young a little longer?

There was talk here of forgiving yourself, of finding peace within. But how do you forgive when the past still sings to you in a voice that’s part memory, part nightmare? How do you find peace when you know there are dark places in this world that peace can’t reach? I had seen the line between light and shadow, lived on both sides of it, and now, here I was, struggling just to stay afloat in the twilight of that in-between space.

Recovery, they said, was supposed to be about making amends, about facing your truths without flinching. But what if the truth is a wound that refuses to heal? What if every step towards peace is just a reminder of everything I’ve lost, everything I’ve taken? And maybe, in the end, that’s all recovery could ever be for me—not a cure, not redemption, but a reckoning with the weight of all I’ve become and all I’ll never be able to leave behind.

As I prepared to step out to the quad, I heard a familiar voice similarly harshed by time but still with a distinctive sing-songy quality, “Raven? Is that you?”

I turned to see a woman about my age but there was something off about her, where I was marked by lines, bags and wrinkles forming at the corners of my face, she was seemingly ageless. And yet even beyond the perfect skin, the long flowing but now grayed hair, the faint hint of once piercing blue eyes, and a captivating smile there was still something so distinctive. And then, as if a fog that had long hovered over me had been blown out to sea, a brilliant glowing aura seemed to explode over her head bathing her in radiant, glowing light reminding me of a sense that had long dulled.

Piercing through the veil of memory, I said, “Maeve?” Is that you?”

“Raven,” Maeve said taking my hand and wrapping it around her arm, “Walk with me,” she said as we walked out into the quad and down to the garden paths that wound up the beautiful Malibu hills and looked out towards the ocean. As we came to one of the benches looking out over the gardens and to the water, Maeve motioned for me to sit next to her.

“First of all, honey,” Maeve asked, “How did you get here?”

“Well,” I said broaching the subject, “I kind of lost myself back then,” I said with a comfortable shorthand.

“I know that feeling all too well,” Maeve reassured me.

“And I just never really found my way back,” I said truthfully. “I did do this before,” I said referring to recovery, “Twice, actually,” I said deadpan, “Figured third time might be the time that sticks.”

“Every time counts, Raven,” Maeve said with an air of weary wisdom that clearly conveyed she was no stranger to recovery either.

“Can I ask you a question, Maeve?” I asked tentatively.

“Of course, Raven,” she said smiling.

“Do you still feed? You know, on…?” I said knowing she knew all too well.

“Happy to declare myself a proud vegetarian,” Maeve announced as a badge of honor.

“Congratulations,” I said moving on to the real question, “What I would love to know is…having been on both sides of the line, what happens to us now that we no longer serve Lucian? Do we just sit around and wait to die and if so, how long do two women of our persuasion have?”

Maeve took a deep breath, her gaze drifting to the ocean stretching endlessly before us. “Ah, that’s the ultimate question, isn’t it? What happens to us now that we’re no longer his?” she mused, her voice softer than I remembered, like the worn edges of an old record.

Maeve looked at me, her once-piercing, deep eyes had become softened but still held the faintest glimmer of the Maeve I once knew. “For a long time, I worried about that too—what would happen if I stepped away, if I severed myself completely from him. I thought I’d crumble, turn to dust, or worse, be cast into some void where all his discarded puppets go.”

I felt a shiver run through me as her words mirrored my own fears, ones I had never dared to voice. Since leaving it all behind, my body aged, I became a frail shadow of the girl I once was, so full of vitality and life, and in the darkness of that shadow, the true price of the pact became known.” Maeve told me.

“Fame, the fame we gained and took from others had sustained me, us but now that we had fallen away from fame and the reckless taking of it from others, and in absence of taking on the fame of others our bodies seemed to rebel leaving us in a precipitous decline, our lives in a sort of free fall,” Maeve said as she leaned closer, her voice low and steady. “But, Raven, we’re still here. We’re sitting on this bench, feeling the ocean breeze, under our own power. We are no longer bound to him, and that has to mean something. Maybe it means we have a choice again—a choice to live out whatever time we have left without fear, without him controlling every breath.”

I nodded slowly, her words both comforting and unsettling. “But do you think it’s even possible? To live without feeling that… hunger?”

“For so long,” I said with a groaning sense of unease, “I was consumed by the hunger, I had to turn to the drugs and the alcohol to keep the pangs away but even today I feel like if I could feed one more time, it would be like being 25 again, it would be like coming home again and I might live forever, or whatever that even means,” I said feeling the weight of my confession drift in the breeze like willows by a river’s edge.

“But now, I want to know what it feels like to fade away naturally, to have journalists write teary missives about me, to know what it’s like to let go, to let it all go, don’t you?” I asked with a sense of yearning resolve.

Maeve squeezed my hand gently, her expression tender. “I won’t lie to you; the hunger is always there. It’s quieter now, easier to manage, but it’s never completely gone. Recovery, life beyond Lucian—it’s not a clean slate or an easy path. It’s more like…walking a tightrope between the person you once were and the person you’re trying to become. And maybe that’s all we get—a chance to balance, to stay upright for as long as we can.”

A faint smile played at her lips as she added, “But here’s the thing: we get to decide what that balance looks like. Not him. Not anymore.”

“But before we get there,” Maeve added, “We need to stage one last encore, one last song before the grand finale, I feel that pull too,” Maeve admitted, “And I think I know just the person to help us make that happen,” Maeve said with a glimmer of mischievous promise.

And for the first time in years, I felt a flicker of hope.

20699 Whitecap Way, Malibu, CA, 2019

Maeve and I drove down the Pacific Coast Highway on a balmy Sunday afternoon with a hint of a chill blowing in off the ocean, we were two old friends picking up where we left off, this time kissed by the warmth of the sun as opposed to draped by the oppressive blackness of the Cordoba Suite, it almost felt like freedom.

As we drove, Maeve told me about her past after being discharged by Lucian, Maeve wove her tales of longing and loss over the intervening decades and her revelation that she had devoted the years to studying dark magic as a means of one day using her honed skills to destroy Lucian once and for all.

Even more interesting was that Maeve’s grandmaster of all things magic was actually a figure from my own past.

From PCH, Maeve and I took a turn and drove up the long, winding driveway leading to Seraphina’s massive, looming mansion looking out at the Pacific in Malibu’s Big Rock Canyon, I felt myself being overtaken by a wave of awe as if the house itself were cresting over the cliff ready to crash on the shore of the beaches below. The house looked as if it were a glass flower coming into bloom, its petals opening to the midday sun, a collision of glass, steel and dramatically arcing lines that seemed to commune in a seeming peace with the surrounding nature of scrub brush and lichens.

“Just here,” Maeve said motioning to a driveway that came up so fast out amongst the dusty hillside it seemed as if it appeared out of nowhere. I quickly turned and the car jolted up the driveway winding to the house’s circular driveway.

In the middle of the circular driveway was an old knotted tree growing up out of the Earth, its branches reaching skyward as if it were a spirit trying to free itself of the shackles of the earth and return itself to the heavens.

Ahead, there were two massive doors guarding the house and two statues of wolves standing sentinel flanking the doors. As we pulled to a stop, the doors creaked open and a tall, willowy figure with silver-streaked dark hair pulled back neatly approached.

“Gabriel,” Maeve said extending her hand with a delicate but flowing flick of her hand imbued with grace and familiarity, “So good to see you, my darling,” she said as Gabriel smiled.

“Ms. Raven,” Gabriel said extending his hand towards me helping me out of the car. It was then I noticed him more fully, his features sharp and angular, softened only by an understated, genuine smile.

He wore a crisp, tailored suit in a dark shade, with subtle hints of sophistication—I eyed an iridescent tie pin, immaculately shined shoes, and smelled a hint of expensive cologne.

His demeanor was calm and precise as he lead us into the house, I saw him watching us closely with eyes that seemed to assess everything around him with a quiet, almost meditative focus.

The house inside was just as awe inspiring as it was outside, the swirl of glass and steel made this house look like a temple, a sanctum communing with the surrounding nature as if it had sprouted up out of nowhere.

“Anything, ma’am?” Gabriel asked softly to Maeve as she sat in a chair by the expansive view. “Oh,” Maeve responded almost delicately, her voice sounding as delicate as a teacup, “Just a sparkling water would be wonderful.”

“Ma’am?” Gabriel asked me as I said simply, “Sparkling water is fine with me, too.”

Gabriel returned with a glass carafe of sparkling water and two glasses which he placed on a glass table between us.

“The Mistress will be with you shortly,” Gabriel said as he poured the water into our glasses.

Maeve and I sat drinking quietly as my eyes scanned the house and I noticed that Seraphina had none of her memorabilia on display anywhere which if I recall her house in Beachwood was always something she took great pride in putting on display, her many gold records hung for all to see.

As we waited, the energy of the room seemed to shift, what felt crisp and minimal at first suddenly felt thick and oppressive, I could only compare it to the way a swampy Louisiana day feels like on the skin. Outside the massive windows, the sunny day began to become drawn as the clouds turned gray and eventually dark as the sun became blotted out. Suddenly, I felt a chill creeping up the back of my arms. I looked at my forearm and saw the hairs on my arms stand up. I also felt static electricity crackle against my skin and in my hair, like rubbing a sweater from the dryer against my skin.

I began lifting the glass of sparkling water to my lips and before I took a sip, I felt a tremble like the beginning jolts of an earthquake, I looked over to Maeve who looked as if she had resigned herself to the feeling, she barely moved, her gaze locked straight ahead, lost somewhere in thought.

As I prepared to brace myself, I let the glass touch my lips, and as I tipped the glass to my mouth, instead of tasting the prickly tang of sparkling water, I suddenly found my mouth overtaken by the icy chill of vodka.

I held the glass away from my mouth as I watched it fill with bubbles. My eyes darted to Maeve and I noticed her glass of sparkling water was now filled with red wine the deep color of blood.

The gentle trembling intensified as I heard the faint snarl of a guitar riff and a familiar melody fill the space like the scent of an expensive perfume permeating the space, I could hear a voice as if calling out to us,

Out of the night, we take control,

The city’s ours, heart and soul.

We’re running wild, two queens in flight,

Chasing our dreams in the neon light.

I hear the whispers, I see the signs,

We’ve been living on borrowed time.

“Hello, Raven,” I heard a voice call out from the darkness, “Welcome to The Aerie,” Seraphina said in her familiar voice as she seemed to materialize out of nothing behind us. I stood to face her and as I did, the dark clouds disappeared as quickly as they formed and the sunlight bathed the living room in warm light, Seraphina stood before me, aged some, but still looking ageless. As I looked upon her, I saw in the corners of the living room gold and platinum records appear on the wall as if they had been hiding in plain sight all along when we entered.

“Sorry for the..theatrical entrance,” Seraphina said with her disarming tone, “The Aerie is protected with a veil of magic that acts like a security system, I had to ‘arm’ the system you could say just to ensure you were still the girls I knew and not some sort of interloper,” Seraphina said as I tried to keep up.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Seraphina said, adding, “It will all make sense to you more soon, we have a lot of work to do.”

I smiled and tipped my gaze towards the ‘drinks’ but Seraphina merely laughed confessing, “Seven and Seven, and a Pinot Noir, still your drinks of choice, right ladies?”

I smiled knowingly but confessed a bit of my own truth, “I’m in recovery, I can’t have any, I’m sorry,” I said handing the drink back towards her.

“Don’t sweat it,” Seraphina said looking at the glass with an intense stare. The clear drink became an amber fizzly drink. I took a sip and smiled, “Cherry Coke, wow, how did you know?” I gasped.

“You were thinking about it, weren't you?” Seraphina asked clearly looking into my soul.

“Okay ladies,” Seraphina said changing her focus, “if we’re going to take down Lucian once and for all, we have to get you up to speed on magic.”

“Welcome to bootcamp, ladies,” Seraphina said.

Big Rock Beach, Malibu, CA, 2019

The next morning, Gabriel took Maeve and I in the Jeep down to the beach. “Mistress will join you shortly,” Gabriel told us as he deposited us on the sand that was already slicked by the early morning waves. The houses butting up to the beach were just starting to come to life as lights flickered on and residents began venturing on their decks perched over the morning waves, their coffee mugs steaming in the early morning breeze.

“So,” I asked broaching the early morning calm as I pulled the shawl I was wearing up around my shoulders, “Are you a witch now?”

“Not a full witch,” Maeve said, “I’m still only a hedge,” she clarified, “it’s like a baby witch.”

“I have studied enough to be dangerous,” she said keenly.

“After I was turned away by Lucian,” Maeve said, her voice harshed by pain, “I was taken in by a powerful coven of witches. They discovered I was on both sides of the line which automatically makes people like us more magic capable than your average mortal.”

“What’s the deal with this coven?” I asked intrigued.

“Oh you wouldn’t believe how many people in Hollywood are in it,” Maeve said weaving a sense of mystery.

“In my training, I’ve encountered plenty of demons,” Maeve said casually, “I’ve sent my fair share of demons back to hell and I’m eagerly looking forward to hopefully sending one more.”

Seraphina joined us on the beach a few minutes later as I found myself lost in thought starting out across the water.

“First lesson,” Seraphina said snapping me out of my gaze, “When it comes to fighting a demon,” she began, “a witch’s greatest power is illusion, demons are easily distracted and disoriented,” Seraphina said as she draped her arms over my shoulders.

“Look,” Seraphina said motioning to the waves as they rolled into the shore rippling beneath our feet, “Watch how the water unfurls as it approaches you, look at it, but not with your eyes,” she intoned as I closed my eyes and she whispered “shhhh,” in my ear and began rubbing my temples. Placing her palm on the back of my head, she incanted, “Mother Earth let this youngling see you fully,” she said as a warm feeling began to overtake me. “Now look at the waves,” Seraphina instructed. I tried to open my eyes but Seraphina covered my eyes with her hand. “Look at them with your mind. Reach out to them and bend them to your will,” she instructed.

I reached with my mind, feeling something fragile and electric stir within me. I sensed the waves as if they were an extension of my own heartbeat, each swell echoing the rhythm in my chest. A rush of exhilaration swept over me, chased quickly by a spark of fear. What if I couldn’t hold it? What if I let it slip? Doubt crept in, cold and unnerving, like a crack spidering through glass.

Then, as quickly as I had felt it, the connection wavered, slipping through my mind like water through my fingers. I clenched my fists, frustration simmering beneath my skin as I struggled to hold onto the feeling.

“Open your eyes,” Seraphina instructed. I blinked and stared in disbelief—the waves had paused, mid-motion, as if the ocean itself had taken a breath and was waiting. The water hung suspended, rolling backward toward the horizon as though retreating from the shore.

A mix of awe and fear surged within me. Had I done this? Was I responsible for this unnatural stillness? My gaze darted to Seraphina, panic flashing across my face.

“Not to worry,” she said with a light chuckle, flicking her hand casually toward the sea. Instantly, the waves resumed their usual rhythm, rolling onto the shore as though nothing had happened. “A momentary illusion,” she said, her voice tinged with amusement. “The ocean remembers its course well, but a witch can always make it pause for a moment.”

I swallowed, still shaken. She made it look so easy, like she could simply reach out and twist reality with a flick of her wrist. Meanwhile, I felt like I’d just been shown something vast and untamable—something that could so easily slip away.

“Power is like the waves,” Seraphina murmured, catching my expression. Her gaze drifted out toward the water, contemplative. “It flows and retreats, rushes and pauses. If you try to grab it all at once, it will overwhelm you. But if you work with it, learn its rhythm, it can carry you farther than you ever imagined.”

Her words settled over me, the rhythm of the waves mirroring the rhythm of my own heartbeat. I felt a surge of longing—longing to master this, to harness the quiet strength I’d glimpsed in myself for just a moment.

But there was something else lurking beneath that desire: a trace of fear. The waves were beautiful, powerful, but they could shift in an instant, just like the fame I’d once clung to. Lucian had promised me immortality, and I had taken it without question, never realizing that with every gift came a hidden tide, something that could sweep away everything if I wasn’t careful.

Seraphina’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Power will come, Raven,” she said, her tone softening. “But you must respect it, or it will consume you.” She paused, her gaze shifting to the waves again. “In the end, it’s not about taking control. It’s about knowing when to let go.”

For the first time, I felt the weight of what was ahead—a journey that would demand more than tricks or illusions, a journey into the depths of power, fear, and everything I had yet to discover about myself.

The Aerie, Malibu, CA, 2019

Back at the Aerie following my first lesson with Seraphina, Maeve and I sat on the balcony off our room, I sat curled up with a blanket draped over my shoulders as I communed with my thoughts. I realized how lucky I was to be communing with Seraphina and Maeve and how fortunate I was to be accepted into this little coven of feminine power who would and could finally hold Lucian responsible for his terror.

I also found it fitting that Maeve and I, both once discarded tools for helping Lucian harvest souls would be the ones who would return him to hell aided by the one witch in Hollywood who he tried to keep me apart from all those decades ago. Lucian would rue the day he suggested we “team up” for our duet on “Here to Stay,” which in reality was just a convenient cover to try and destroy Seraphina before she could become too powerful for him to control. He would regret sending me in for the job for a powerful alliance and friendship and sisterhood was born on that day and it was time for that bond to come due.

“Hey,” Maeve whispered as she approached me with a mug clutched in her hands. “Lovely here, isn't it?” Maeve asked motioning to the view.

Handing the mug to me I delicately took it from her hands. Cupping her hand around the mug I saw Maeve’s lips moving and a moment later the mug became warm to the touch. I could detect a familiar scent wafting from the mug that smelled like home, like my grandmother’s kitchen in The Garden District—I could almost smell the magnolias and azaleas drifting into her kitchen window. I lifted the mug to my nose and caught a whiff of warm herbs mixing with each other. I took a tentative sip and felt the distinct velvety texture hit my tongue, “Mmm,” I said, “Chicory tea?”

“You were thinking about it, weren't you?” Maeve asked knowingly.

“I was just thinking of how my life always seems to be intertwined with magic of some kind,” I confessed as I sipped, “From birth all the way up until I met Lucian, even as dark as he is, being famous for all it cost, it was actually…magic. Or at least it felt that way,” I said becoming choked up.

“I know, Raven,” Maeve said, trying to reassure me. “But like Seraphina said, illusions and magic can be very powerful, they can distract, distort and disorient.” I realized what Maeve was saying and that she was right so now I would use magic to free ourselves from Lucian’s grip so that we could face the world come what may.

The next day Maeve and I met Seraphina in the sanctum of the Aerie after breakfast. The sanctum was a room buried deep in the heart of the house with walls that seemed to rattle and hum with energy.

“Join with me,” Seraphina said greeting us as we entered the room, “Come Maeve,” she said reaching out her hand, “Let us bring Raven into a binding spell.”

Maeve and Seraphina began humming a low rhythmic hum that seemed to buzz in my head and in my soul, they began gently swaying as their voices pierced the cold air of the room, their voices gently swirling together and swelling as they chanted an ancient but driving melody. As they continued to harmonize, Maeve motioned to me to join in and I added my voice to the swirling fray.

By the light of moon, by the fires we spark,

We three rise from shadow, bound by dark.

Across time and tides, our power grows,

In whispers and secrets, our purpose flows.

We are three shadows, bound as one,

A spell unwinding, a fight begun.

With voices raised, our vow takes hold,

To shatter chains, both fierce and bold.

By blood once spilled, by hearts entwined,

We banish his power, strike him blind.

Our wills combined, our voices soar,

Lucian’s reign will be no more.

We are three shadows, bound as one,

A spell unwinding, a fight begun.

With voices raised, our vow takes hold,

To shatter chains, both fierce and bold.

Through lives he stole, through years we paid,

Our vengeance waits, in darkness laid.

No more shall fear our spirits bind,

For together, our voices intertwine.

We are three shadows, bound as one,

The end of night, the rising sun.

With voices fierce, our vow shall be,

Bound to end his tyranny.