Beneath Her Wings

The world only ever hurt Cathy—until a she-devil fell hopelessly in love with her. Rain had a way of making the city look honest, washing the alleys silver and the neon lights into trembling rivers of color, but Cathy knew better than to trust appearances, because the city only became crueler after midnight, when drunken men leaned from tavern doors with greedy smiles and carriage drivers slowed to stare too long at a woman walking alone, especially a woman as painfully beautiful as Cathy, whose soft dark curls, pale skin, and large uncertain eyes had brought her nothing but trouble her entire life. She hurried through the narrow street with her thin coat clutched around her shoulders while thunder rolled somewhere far beyond the rooftops, and behind her she heard boots scraping wet stone. “Hey sweetheart,” a voice called, low and mocking, “where you rushing off to?” She did not turn. Three men emerged from the shadows anyway. One grabbed her wrist. Another smiled with yellow teeth. “You never answer polite conversation?” Cathy jerked back violently. “Let go of me.” The tallest one laughed. “Or what?” And then the air changed. The rain stopped touching the ground. The street lanterns flickered crimson. A smell like smoke and roses drifted through the alley. The men noticed it too. One muttered nervously, “What the hell—” Something moved atop the rooftops. Not something. Someone. A woman stood there silhouetted against the storm, impossibly tall and elegant, black hair streaming like silk in the wind, crimson eyes glowing faintly beneath curling obsidian horns, enormous shadowed wings folding slowly behind her. The men froze. Cathy forgot how to breathe. The woman smiled. Not kindly. “Touch her again,” she said softly, her voice somehow everywhere at once, “and I will peel your souls from your bones.” The tallest man stumbled backward so hard he fell into the mud. Another screamed. Within seconds all three fled into the storm. Cathy remained rooted in place. The horned woman looked down at her with an expression that was almost unbearably tender. Then she vanished. For days afterward Cathy convinced herself she had imagined it, because women like her did not get rescued by supernatural creatures from old legends, and besides, life returned to normal quickly enough, with cruel employers underpaying her and wealthy customers at the flower stall brushing their hands against her waist while pretending it was accidental. But strange things began happening. When a wagon nearly overturned toward her in the market square, its wheel suddenly snapped off before reaching her. When a drunken noble tried cornering her beside the river, he slipped on nothing and crashed headfirst into a barrel. When she lost her last coins gambling on bread for the week, she found an abandoned velvet purse filled with gold beneath her chair moments later. Luck followed her like a devoted shadow. And so did something else. Because every night, unseen by Cathy, the she-devil watched. From rooftops. From church spires. From dark corners where firelight could not reach. She watched Cathy laugh softly at stray cats, watched her cry alone in her tiny apartment, watched her curl beneath thin blankets trying not to shiver from winter cold. And every single night the demon loved her more. One evening Cathy crossed a narrow bridge over the canal just as shouting erupted nearby. A horse had broken loose. Its eyes rolled white with panic as it thundered toward her. People screamed and scattered. Cathy froze. The horse reared violently only inches away— —and something enormous slammed into it from the darkness. Black wings exploded open. The she-devil landed between Cathy and the raging animal with terrifying grace, one clawed hand gripping the horse’s bridle hard enough to stop it completely. The creature trembled beneath her stare before collapsing to its knees. Cathy stared up at the demon woman in shock. “You again,” she whispered. The she-devil released the horse slowly and turned toward her. Up close she was even more beautiful than memory allowed, with skin like warm ivory touched faintly by ember-red markings, long black hair cascading over elegant shoulders, and eyes so luminous they seemed almost heartbreaking. “Yes,” the demon said quietly. “Why do you keep helping me?” For a moment the she-devil looked almost shy. “That is… difficult to explain.” “Well try.” A faint smile touched crimson lips. “You are precious to me.” After that Cathy began noticing glimpses everywhere. A pair of glowing eyes atop distant rooftops. A tall silhouette vanishing around corners. Black feathers where no birds should be. And somehow instead of fear, she felt comfort. One night while returning home she found food left outside her apartment door. The next morning a sack of coal appeared beside her stove. A week later her cruel landlord abruptly informed her the rent had already been paid for months. “By who?” Cathy demanded. The landlord only shrugged nervously. “Tall woman. Frightening eyes. Told me if I bothered you again she'd hang me from the chimney.” Cathy burst into helpless laughter for the first time in years. Winter deepened. And Cathy slowly stopped feeling alone. Sometimes she even spoke aloud at night knowing the unseen demon might be nearby. “You know,” she murmured once while staring out her frosted window, “most people buy flowers before stalking a woman.” A low amused voice emerged from the darkness behind her. “I considered flowers.” Cathy jumped so hard she nearly dropped her tea. The she-devil stood inside the room somehow, elegant wings folded carefully behind her to fit the tiny apartment. “You can just appear whenever you want?” “Yes.” “That’s unsettling.” “I can leave.” “No,” Cathy said far too quickly. Silence followed. Warm silence. The demon’s expression softened. “My name is Seraphine.” Cathy repeated it quietly. “Seraphine…” The name felt beautiful in her mouth. Weeks passed after that. Seraphine visited often now, though never for long, sitting by Cathy’s window while they talked for hours about ridiculous things and serious things and painful things. Cathy learned demons did not sleep much. Seraphine learned Cathy secretly loved terrible poetry. And slowly Cathy realized something terrifying. She waited for those visits. Craved them. One evening Cathy asked quietly, “Why me?” Seraphine looked away. “Because you are kind.” Cathy laughed sadly. “I’m poor and exhausted and half the city thinks I’m worthless.” “And all of them are fools.” “No,” Cathy whispered, “they’re realistic.” Seraphine suddenly crossed the room. Heat radiated from her body like a living flame as she knelt before Cathy’s chair. “You survived cruelty without becoming cruel yourself,” she said fiercely. “Do you know how rare that is? You still smile at strangers. You still feed starving animals. You still believe people can love honestly despite everything done to you.” Cathy’s eyes burned with tears. Nobody had ever spoken about her like that before. Nobody had ever looked at her like she mattered. Yet even with all her strange newfound luck, Cathy still believed love itself was impossible for her. Men desired her body. Nobody desired her heart. And Seraphine… Well. Surely creatures like Seraphine did not truly fall in love with human women. So one night, after too much wine and too many lonely thoughts, Cathy sat beside her open window watching moonlight spill across the rooftops. “I wish,” she whispered bitterly into the night, “that just once someone would love me completely. Someone I could love back.” Silence answered. Then flames bloomed softly in the darkness. Seraphine stepped from them. Not frightening this time. Nervous. Actually nervous. “You already have someone,” she said quietly. Cathy stared. Seraphine’s crimson eyes lowered. “I love you.” The world seemed to stop moving. “What?” “I tried not to,” Seraphine admitted softly, “but every time you smiled, every time you kept surviving, every time you remained gentle despite everything… I loved you more.” Cathy’s voice trembled. “You’re serious.” “Yes.” “You’re a literal demon.” Seraphine gave a tiny helpless laugh. “Unfortunately.” “And you love me?” “With everything I am.” Cathy crossed the room before fear could stop her. Then she kissed her. Seraphine made a startled sound against her lips before pulling Cathy closer with desperate tenderness, wings unfurling around them like darkness wrapping safely around a flame. The kiss deepened slowly, lovingly, full of months of longing neither woman had known how to speak aloud. Later they lay tangled together beneath blankets while rain tapped softly against the windows. Seraphine traced gentle circles across Cathy’s bare shoulder. “You are surprisingly warm,” Cathy murmured sleepily. “I am technically made of fire.” “That explains a lot.” Seraphine laughed softly. The sound was beautiful. Cathy turned toward her. “No one’s ever held me like this before.” Something ancient and sad flickered briefly across Seraphine’s face. “Then they were blind.” Morning sunlight painted gold across Seraphine’s dark wings as Cathy woke beside her. For several long moments she simply stared in wonder. “You stayed.” Seraphine looked almost offended. “Of course I stayed.” “I thought maybe demons disappeared dramatically at dawn.” “I can if you prefer.” “I absolutely do not prefer.” Seraphine smiled so brightly the entire room seemed warmer. Cathy reached up slowly, touching one curved black horn with fascination. “So how exactly do we make this work?” “We could start with dinner.” “You eat?” “Not technically.” “Then that’s a terrible date plan.” “Ah,” Seraphine said solemnly, “you see the challenge now.” Cathy laughed until tears filled her eyes. And somehow they did make it work. Seraphine visited nearly every night. Sometimes they walked together across moonlit rooftops while the city slept below them. Sometimes Cathy braided flowers into Seraphine’s black hair while the demon pretended not to adore it. Sometimes they simply held each other in silence. The city remained cruel. But Cathy no longer faced it alone. One evening while they stood overlooking the skyline, Cathy asked softly, “Did you really watch over me all that time?” Seraphine looked slightly embarrassed. “Yes.” “How long?” “…Months.” “That is incredibly romantic and also slightly insane.” “I am a demon, Cathy.” “Fair point.” Years later people would whisper strange stories about the beautiful woman who walked unharmed through the worst parts of the city, always accompanied by a tall dark-haired stranger with burning red eyes and a possessive hand resting gently at her waist. Some claimed the stranger was death itself. Others claimed she was a guardian angel fallen from heaven. Cathy knew the truth was simpler. She was merely a woman hopelessly in love. And deeply loved in return. One rainy night Seraphine wrapped her wings around Cathy while they stood together beneath the glowing city lights. “Still lucky?” the demon teased softly. Cathy smiled against her lips. “No,” she whispered. “Now I’m happy.” Beneath Her Wings (Cathy's Ode to Seraphine) DON'T TOUCH MY GIRL (Seraphine's Song)