Chapter Text
Rook dropped from the zipline, letting the trolley handles slip through their fingers. They landed on the rooftop wordlessly, save for a buoyant whoop! under their breath as they cut through the air.
Damn, it felt good to escape the prying eyes at the Diamond. While Lucanis had disclosed very little about his demonic possession, Rook knew first-hand how Spite grew more petulant in the presence of an audience. Letting the demon out in a casino full of assassins would have gone exquisitely sideways.
If it had come to that, at least Rook and Lucanis had done everyone the favor of already planning a funeral. With Caterina’s arrangements finally settled and Teia promising to handle any remaining details, perhaps they could even get back to saving the world – as long as Spite didn’t get them all killed first.
At the edge of the rooftop, Rook threw a quick glance over their shoulder.
Their assassin stood as still as the iron crows that decorated the surrounding spires. Lucanis breathed in the cool night air. His relief was palpable.
“Lucanis!” Rook called back, hands cupped into a makeshift horn. “Ready to get out of here?”
Maker, he was ready to go. And had been so for hours.
That night, Spite had seemed determined to grind Lucanis’ resolve down until he hit bedrock. The Cantori Diamond was a veritable palace of delights for the demon and every inch of it had offered him new temptations. Spite had sampled it all, blind-drunk on unspoken house grudges and petty personal resentments and contempt for the Antaam. Thankfully, the demon seemed to have finally worn himself out.
“ Lucanis? ” A hint of concern in Rook’s voice pulled him back to the present.
He trotted along the narrow ridge of the roof, picking up the pace. “Sorry. You were saying?”
Rook gestured to the lower streets with the point of their chin. “Ready to head back to the Lighthouse?”
“Almost.” It was quite nearly an apology. “I had plans for one last stop.”
Let me guess . . . Coffee?
It's late.