Raphael by R. A. MacAvoy Read Free Book Online

brought me here, I will not permit you to harm Saara of the Saami. I will oppose you in any way I can.
    â€œIf, on the other hand, you want to bargain—then explain your terms.”
    Lucifer stifled a laugh. “Well spoken, Raphael. You have condensed what might have been a half hour’s stimulating conversation into a scrap of dull prose.
    â€œAnd I will answer in the same terms.
    â€œDear brother, you cannot prevent me from harming this mortal. Perhaps once you might have, though I doubt it. But when you might have had the power, you certainly wouldn’t have had the interest to do so. Now you can’t.
    â€œLet me list for you the reasons why: First, you answered the summons of a mortal and, not content with that indelicacy, you stayed to talk to him. And you returned to him, again and again. You taught him a style of music and of morals he had no right to know, and in the end he was unfit for the place and time in which he had been born. And if he was not what he had been…” The Devil paused and glanced at his brother from under an exquisite eyebrow.
    â€œâ€¦ neither were you.”
    Lucifer took another step forward, as though to prove to himself that his retreat had been an accident. “Secondly, in the wretched village of Sous Pont Saint Martin, you stood for some seconds on a dimple in the snow. Below that dimple was an uncovered well, and a mortal man was forced to walk around you and miss the drop. It was a quick and smoothly handled bit of prestidigitation on your part, and I’m sure you thought that since the mortal never noticed you had saved his skin, perhaps no one else would. You were wrong.
    â€œThirdly, in the almost equally wretched village of San Gabriele, and at the instigation of an unaesthetic and inconsequential little dog shade, you opened a locked door and cheated the hangman of his employment.”
    Another small step. He was almost in touching distance of Raphael now. Saara shouted a warning.
    â€œFourthly, you cut a man’s hair and tied his horse’s harness in neat little bows. Very decorative, but not your destined work, I think.
    â€œFifthly—if there is such a word as fifthly—you committed what even among mortals is a crime. You hid a dying man from sight for an entire day, preventing anyone who might have saved his life from discovering him.
    â€œAnd last of all, the decisive moment came here not three minutes ago, Raphael, as you announced quite baldly that you intended to squabble with me over my little prize.
    â€œCould you not feel yourself shrivel as you spoke, brother? And each time you dirtied your hands in this mortal muck, weren’t you aware of your light dimming? You have diminished till you are little more than a length of black wick lying in a puddle of wax.”
    Lucifer’s tone was soft, sorrowful, almost caressing, and as he finished speaking he reached out into that clear brightness which surrounded Raphael. He put his hand toward his brother’s face.
    It stopped, or was stopped by something: some quality of the light or of the shining smooth cheek itself, and the hand clenched empty air as Raphael answered.
    â€œMy size and form are whatever they are. I have done nothing to cause our Father pain.”
    â€œHE IS NOT MY…” The Devil’s skin went from red to purple. Both of his hands leaped out at Raphael’s throat, but it was as though a wall of glass came between them.
    Luficer swung angrily toward the table. Though Raphael’s wing concealed the witch from his sight, the intricate dollhouse sat there, vulnerable. He raised his fist above it.
    From the far corner came a squeal of despair, and Kadjebeen hid his face in his hands.
    In the middle of his rage Lucifer smiled, hearing the music he loved best. He allowed his fist to unclose and once more turned to Raphael. “You are quite right, Raphael. I do want something of you —something very easily in your power