Page 12 of Hell Burns Between Us

In an attempt to calm herself, she opened up her satchel and pulled out a soft towel. There was a relief in cleaning herself off, even as her body felt hollow and her limbs trembled with exhaustion.

Peri asked, “What was in that bowl… feeding on my sister?”

Zila was quiet for so long that eventually Peri glanced at the hellcat, brow furrowed. Never had Zila taken so long to respond. “I cannot fully say what is in that bowl. I can only say you are right to be wary of it.”

“Was it actually feeding off the Ascending or,” Peri’s throat threatened to close. Breathing grew difficult. “Everything happened so fast. Maybe I saw something wrong, I—”

“You can trust your eyes here, little hellion.”

“I knew my grandfather was cold, but—” A sob threatened to burst from her, but she shoved it back down. She needed to get off this roof.

Leaning heavily on Zila, she pulled out her own energy-replenishing elixir, tossing the cork to the side and tipped the vial back. She instantly felt much less like a mess as alertness pulsed through her, softening the raw edges of exhaustion.

She tried to make sense of the violence she’d just witnessed alongside Slang and Zila’s ominous words, but she was utterly lost.

Peri normally revelled in conundrums that required careful analysis and research. There was always a clear answer—always! Most beings were just too impatient to systematically piece all the facts together. But not her.

Brushing a shaky hand down her clothes, she resolved to turn the gory scene she’d just witnessed around in her mind until she’d collected every detail worth noting.

Then, shoving her emotions to the side, she focused on Slang’s warning, setting it alongside the brutality that was Ascension. Her practiced mind methodically tried to fit the pieces together until, like a puzzle finished, everything would become clear.

Only these puzzle pieces were like shards of glass. Every fact she grasped, snagged and sliced… until she was a mangled mess of fear and confusion.

After a moment, Zila’s voice quietly invaded her thoughts. “She’ll be alright. I promise.”

“How can you be sure? Maybe I’ll just slip down and go find her… only for a moment.”

“Oh, yes.” A wry exasperation lined Zila’s response. “That seems like a solid plan. Torn clothing and reeking of vomit. I’m sure your family won’t have any questions.”

For a moment she considered jumping onto Zila, dashing home, and cleaning up. She could pull on soft, clean clothes and stare at herself in the mirror until she’d shoved her panic and horror down into a black hole where they would stay for the rest of the night. Everything the Grand Dukes had done—what her grandfather had done could be eventually forgotten.

Only… she couldn’t stomach ever watching her grandfather hug Sia again. The thought was like slowly bending her fingernails backwards. Furthermore, while she could shove her emotions down with considerable ease, she had to admit that even the sight of her grandfather tonight would make her careful composure crumble.

No. There was no way she could face her family tonight. It wasn’t only her clothes that were too much of a mess for it.

By the time she was pulling herself back through her bedroom window, she told herself she felt marginally calmer. Everything was as she had left it—her carefully cultivated oasis. The shelves were lined with hundreds of worn books, bits of paper stuck in their pages to mark passages she wanted to return to.

On the walls hung still-life paintings made for her by Sia. Vases of wildflowers her father had gathered for her—their petals forever blooming thanks to magical enchantments—dotted the room in ornate vases given to her by other friends and family. Her sage-green ottoman still had the faded burgundy blanket tossed haphazardly over one arm from where she’d last sat there reading late into the night.

It should have been comforting.

Instead it felt tainted.

She wanted to smash every item she’d ever cherished, rip them apart with her bare hands until they were as shattered and broken as she was. She wasn’t even sure why this realisation was so infuriating, it just was. There was an uncertainty in her life that had perhaps always lurked in the back corners of her mind, only now it was forcing itself front and centre.

She crumpled slowly to the floor and simply lay there.

Paralysed.

Unable to even crawl into her bed—deadlocked by a grief that had no form or outlet.

A small black and red striped snake slipped around her ankle, slithering upwards until it lay upon her chest, staring at her. Slang’s voice wove its way into her thoughts. “I ssee you’ve witnessssed the corruption of the Grand Dukess.”

Peri’s head lolled to the side, her eyes catching on the snakebites, still swollen. At least they no longer burnt or itched in the all-consuming way she’d grown so used to.

“That ceremony iss merely one way that the Grand Dukess are keeping Hell unbalanced. The Curssed Bargain made with the magical creaturesss iss another.”

She heaved a sigh that rolled through her neck, her shoulders and down her back.“Is there anything else you could tell me about this, um, Cursed Bargain?”