I'm The Devil

Chapter 378: Old Enemies

The room was old stone and older silence. Candles flickered in iron sconces along the walls, their light catching the edges of faces that had seen centuries pass like seasons. A long oak table dominated the center, scarred by decades of use and the occasional argument that had turned physical. Around it sat figures that would have made mortal men weep with terror.

Cain sat at the head. His eyes were closed. He looked tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with existence itself. The crimson in his gaze was dimmed, banked like coals that had burned too long and too hot.

The others watched him. They had been watching him for an hour now, waiting for him to speak. But he didn’t. He just sat there, breathing slow and even, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.

Alaric broke first. He always did.

"We need to talk about the werewolves."

Cain’s eyes didn’t open. "What about them?"

"They’re gathering. Packing in from all over. Kaelen’s been moving his people into the cities, consolidating territory. They’re preparing for something."

"They’re always preparing for something." Cain’s voice was flat. Disinterested. "So are we."

"This is different." Alaric leaned forward. His massive hands pressed flat against the table. "They’re not just preparing. They’re mobilizing. Seth is calling in every oath and blood debt he’s ever collected. That’s hundreds of packs. Thousands of wolves."

"Let him call."

"You’re not listening to me." Alaric’s voice rose. "They’re going to attack. Not defend. Attack. And when they do, we’ll have to respond. And when we respond, the old war starts again."

Cain opened his eyes. The crimson flared once, briefly, before settling back to that dim banked glow. "And what do you propose I do about it?"

"Hit them first. Before they’re ready. Before Seth can gather everyone he needs. We strike now, we end this before it starts."

"End it?" Cain’s voice carried no inflection. "You want to end a war that’s been going since before you were turned. Before any of you were turned. You think a preemptive strike ends that?"

Isolde spoke from her place halfway down the table. Her voice was silk over steel. "He’s not suggesting we wipe them out. He’s suggesting we remind them of their place. A show of force. A demonstration that we haven’t grown soft."

Cain looked at her. She met his gaze without flinching. She had always been able to do that. It was one of the reasons he had chosen her.

"A demonstration," he repeated. "You want me to kill a few wolves to remind the rest of them that I’m still here."

"I want you to show the world that you’re still willing to do what needs to be done." Isolde’s eyes flickered. "You’ve been absent. Distracted. The other factions are noticing. The wolves aren’t the only ones talking."

"Who else is talking?"

"Everyone." Dorian spoke from the shadows near the far wall. He hadn’t taken a seat. He never did. "The witches. The fae. The hunters who somehow still exist despite everything we’ve done to wipe them out. They’re all watching. They all see you sitting in this mountain doing nothing while the world spins itself into chaos."

Cain’s jaw tightened. Just slightly. Almost imperceptibly. But they all saw it.

"The world has been spinning itself into chaos since before any of you were born," he said. "It will keep spinning after you’re gone. Your urgency is wasted."

"Our urgency is because we serve you." Balthazar’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. His eyes glowed with that unholy crimson light. "We are your children. Your legacy. Your mark is on us. And when you withdraw, when you sit back and watch, you make us look weak by extension."

Cain turned his gaze to the sorcerer. Balthazar didn’t flinch. He had been practicing magic when most of the others were still mortal. He knew how to face power without breaking.

"Let me tell you about weak," Cain said. "Weak is an empire that builds itself on fear alone. Weak is a king who kills his enemies and then finds he has no allies left. Weak is a father who destroys his own children because they asked too many questions." He leaned forward. "I have done all of that. I have been weak in ways you cannot imagine. And I will not do it again."

Thalia spoke softly from her seat. "We aren’t asking you to destroy them. We’re asking you to lead. To show them that you still have teeth."

"I still have teeth." Cain smiled. It was not a pleasant expression. "I just don’t feel the need to show them every time someone tells me to."

Lysandra’s eyes were distant. Focused on something none of the others could see. Her voice came out thin and strained.

"There’s something else."

The room went quiet. They had learned to respect Lysandra’s visions. Even when they didn’t want to hear what she had to say.

"The wolves aren’t the real threat," she said. "They’re just the smoke. The fire is coming from somewhere else."

"Where?" Alaric demanded.

Lysandra blinked. Her eyes cleared. She looked around the table like she was seeing them for the first time.

"The court," she said. "The celestial court. They’re back."

Mabel’s hand froze halfway to her glass.

The name hit the room like a physical weight. For a long moment, no one spoke. Even the candles seemed to dim.

"The celestial court," Dorian repeated. His voice was careful. Measured. "The nephilim. The ones who walked away from the world after the flood."

"The same," Lysandra said. "They’ve been in their secret realm. Hiding. Waiting. And now they’ve come out."

Alaric’s face had gone pale. "Why? Why now?"

"They want Cain." Lysandra’s voice dropped. "And Seth. They want to settle old scores. Things that were left unfinished before the flood. Before the curse. Before any of us existed."

Cain’s expression hadn’t changed. But something in his posture had shifted. A tension that hadn’t been there before.

"The court is led by someone named Seraphina," Lysandra continued. "She’s the strongest of them. The one who survived the flood and came out changed. She’s been preparing for this for centuries. Gathering power. Waiting for the right moment."

Mabel’s hand was trembling now. She lowered it to her lap. Her face was carefully blank.

"She’s been waiting for a long time," Mabel said. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "She’s been waiting to settle a debt."

Cain turned to look at her. His eyes softened. Just slightly. Just enough.

"She blames you for what happened," he said. "Not me. You."

"She blames me for everything." Mabel’s laugh was hollow. "And she’s not entirely wrong."

Isolde looked between them. "Is there something we should know?"

Mabel’s jaw tightened. She stared at the table. "Seraphina and I were friends. Before. In the time before the flood. We grew up together. Learned together. She was the closest thing I had to a sister."

"And?" Dorian prompted.

"And I betrayed her." Mabel’s voice was flat. Empty. "I loved Cain. I chose him. And she couldn’t understand that. She couldn’t understand how a human could ever love a monster."

"Wait," Alaric interrupted. "You were friends with a nephilim? One of the perfect ones? The children of the watchers?"

"Yes."

"That’s impossible. They saw us as animals. Less than animals. They wouldn’t lower themselves to befriend a human."

"She wasn’t like that." Mabel’s eyes flickered. "Not at first. She believed in something different. She believed that mortals could be elevated. That love could cross any boundary." Her voice cracked. "And then I proved her wrong. I proved that love was just selfishness wearing a prettier face."

Cain reached across the table. His hand covered hers. She flinched. Then she turned her palm up and gripped his fingers.

"The court voted against our relationship," Mabel continued. "They said it was beneath her. That she was squandering her potential. They demanded she cut all ties with me. And she refused. She stood with me. And then I left her anyway. I chose Cain. I walked away from everything she had sacrificed."

"And now she wants your head," Balthazar said.

"She wants my head. She wants Cain’s head. She wants to burn everything we’ve built to the ground." Mabel’s voice hardened. "And she wants me to watch."

The room fell silent again. The weight of Mabel’s confession hung in the air like smoke.

"Is she the one behind the wolves?" Thalia asked. "Is she the reason Seth is mobilizing?"

Lysandra shook her head. "I don’t think so. But she’s taking advantage of it. She’s watching the chaos build. And when it peaks, she’ll strike."

Cain released Mabel’s hand. He stood. His chair scraped against the stone floor.

"Then we need to prepare," he said. "The wolves are a problem. But they’re a problem we can handle. The celestial court is something else."

"We’ve faced them before," Isolde said. "You fought them. You survived the flood."

"I survived the flood because I ran." Cain’s voice was bitter. "I didn’t face them. I hid. I watched them destroy everything I had built and I ran into the shadows. And now they’re back to remind me of that."

Alaric stood. His fists clenched at his sides. "Then we don’t give them the chance. We gather everyone. We hit them before they can organize. We show them that the first vampire isn’t a relic of the past. He’s still the deadliest thing walking the earth."

"Strength without strategy is just violence," Cain said. "And violence without purpose is just noise. I’ve spent centuries learning that. I’ve made mistakes that cost me everything. And I will not make them again."

He looked around the table. His gaze lingered on each of his progeny.

"The celestial court isn’t our only problem. It’s not even our biggest problem. Our biggest problem is that we’ve let ourselves be distracted. We’ve been fighting the same war for so long that we forgot what we were fighting for."

"And what were we fighting for?" Balthazar asked.

"Survival. That’s all we’ve ever been fighting for. Survival and legacy. The right to exist without being hunted. The right to build something that lasts." Cain’s voice hardened. "And I will not let the nephilim take that from us. I will not let Seraphina take that from us. She wants a war? She’ll get one. But it will be on our terms. Not hers."

Mabel watched him. Her expression was unreadable.

"What do you need?" she asked.

Cain looked at her. For a moment, the hardness in his eyes flickered. Behind the ancient anger and the weight of centuries, something softer surfaced.

"Time," he said. "I need time to think. Time to plan. Time to make sure that when we move, we move with purpose."

"Time is not something we have in abundance," Dorian observed.

"Then we make time." Cain turned to the window. The night stretched out beyond the glass, dark and endless. Somewhere out there, the wolves were gathering. Somewhere out there, Seraphina was watching. And somewhere out there, Seth was calling in his debts.

"We’ll meet again in three days," Cain said. "I’ll have answers then. And we’ll decide what comes next."

His progeny rose. One by one, they filed out of the room. Mabel lingered. She stood at the door, her hand on the frame.

"Cain."

He didn’t turn. "Yes?"

"Seraphina won’t negotiate. She won’t compromise. She’s been waiting for this for too long."

"I know."

"When this ends, one of us will be dead. Maybe more than one. Are you ready for that?"

Cain turned. His eyes met hers. The crimson blazed bright and terrible.

"I’ve been ready for that since the day I was cursed," he said. "The only question is whether I’ll be the one doing the killing or the one being killed. And I don’t intend to lose."