Page 102 of Hell Burns Between Us

Peri frowned, her mind racing for an explanation. She opened her mouth to ask what these knives had to do with her outfit, but before she could, the daggers began to shake.

They jerked violently, loosening from each other as if drawn by some unseen force. Then they sprang into the air, beelining toward her with unnerving precision.

She stumbled back, her heart racing as she tried to escape, crawling behind the nearest furniture to put as much distance between herself and the flying weapons. The first dagger found her, and she screamed, raising her arms to protect herself, expecting to feel the sharp sting of the blade. But instead of stabbing her, it attached itself to her body.

She stared, confused, as the knife bent and morphed, becoming pliable, its once rigid form now fluid and flexible.

The other daggers followed suit, one by one, as they found their way to her body, attaching themselves with an eerie precision. She stood warily, watching as the weapons adhered to her—long swords, small daggers, knives both straight and curved—each glinting ominously against her skin.

Her left arm, her right leg, her back, her torso—everywhere the daggers touched, they lost their sharp edges, replaced with a strange, smooth translucence. Between the weapons, onyx fabric shimmered, woven with an ethereal glow.

The tiniest daggers flew from the box, clinking as they landed on her ears. Then, with a low hum, a jagged crown of daggers formed and settled gently between her horns, as though it had always belonged there.

She stood, now covered in gleaming blades, looking less like someone who might get her hair singed by tiny wyverns and much more like a ferocious demoness from the depths of Hell.

Moe, standing quietly, smiled and cocked her head. “You can even take the knives off when you need them—very practical, and, if I do say so, quite lovely.”

She blew out a long breath and stood, nervously moving to the gigantic mirror, taking in the sight of her new jumpsuit of blades. She felt like a fraud.

Moe circled Peri slowly, her eyes moving attentively up and down the outfit. “Do you mind if I adjust a few things?”

“Um. No. I mean, as long as the knives don’t poke me.”

Moe’s laughter was melodic, soft, almost ethereal. “They can’t poke you when they’re on your body! What a thought.” She shook her head and carefully adjusted a few of the blades. “These knives will come in handy when you’re fighting whatever guards the earring of the Lady of the Lake.”

Peri stilled. “Do you know what’s guarding the earring?”

Moe paused, her gaze soft but inscrutable. “Well, it was being guarded at least… or is it that it will be guarded?”

“Currently. It’s currently being guarded,” Peri said. “But do you know what is guarding it?”

“It’s a Mor—” Moe’s voice cut off. Her snakes hissed helpfully once more, apparently the geas did not affect them in the same way it did the others. Moe pet them lovingly. “Hush, my darlings. You know she cannot understand a word you’re saying.” She stepped back to examine Peri. “Well, you’ll find out what’s guarding it soon enough.” Then with a satisfied nod she said, “You look vicious.”

Anxiety about the unknown pulsed through Peri. Something about wearing almost thirty knives made her quest to find the earring all the more real, even if she had no idea what she’d be up against. In theory she’d known it could be dangerous but she’d pushed that thought away each time it’d surfaced. Now though?

Now she could only hope that her training sessions with Zila had prepared her to face whatever the gorgons believed required a bodysuit full of knives to defeat.

Behind her, Oriane gave her an approving nod. “You look like you could terrify demons.”

She shifted her hands nervously. “Is that… a good thing?”

Alsu signed something, and the others in the room nodded their approval.

Oriane’s lips curled into a wicked smile as she replied, “Yes, Peri. It’s a very good thing indeed.”

Chapter

Thirty-One

PERINE WILDER

Dusty lavender clouds blanketed the sky outside Peri’s bedroom window, the sunset’s rays cutting through them until their edges burned as bright as wildfire. It was the day of Wisteria’s party and her hands trembled with apprehension, making it difficult to slip Oleander’s ring onto her finger.

The moment she managed to shove it on, the violet hue of her skin shifted to a rich brown. Her curls lost their lavender sheen, turning moonlight silver, and her eyes became a bright amber brown.

Doubts raged through her like a maelstrom. Knowing what she needed to do did not make her confident that she could, in fact, do it. She’d never done anything this reckless in her life; and the weight of everything that could go wrong made her want to abandon the endeavour entirely.

She was too nervous to eat, but she forced herself to swallow thin slices of the sharpest cheese she could find. There was no telling what would happen when she went to Thistle Cottage. Maybe nothing. Maybe something very unpleasant. Either way, it would not do to face it on an empty stomach.