Page 1 of Hell Burns Between Us

Chapter

One

PERINE WILDER

The shrieks of pocket wyverns spiked through Peri as she barrelled away from them, winding through a maze of fir trees. A blast of flames spiralled closer, their infernal tongue searing her shoulder and upper arm. The force of it knocked her into a tree as the tiny wyverns drew steadily closer.

Honestly! This was an absurd overreaction on the wyverns’ part. She’d stolen only the tiniest curl of smoke from their sleeping hatchlings. Which would have been just fine, if the parents hadn’t returned early to catch her filling that last vial.

Next time they should just agree to bargain with her, then she wouldn’t have to resort to petty thievery.

She frantically used the tree to propel herself forward. Sprinting wildly. Ducking under branches. Jumping over bushes. Slipping on icy patches of snow. The heat of more wyvernflame shot dangerously close, and even though she was gasping for air, she dug inside herself and somehow raced even faster.

With a final burst of energy, Peri reached into her leather bag and pulled out palm-sized sacks of explosives she’d bought at the Moonflower Market last year. They were the last of her carefully hoarded stash and she’d been saving them for something more dangerous than pipsqueak wyverns.

As it was, however, she was nearly burnt through.

She turned as she ran, throwing them in the wyverns’ path. Seconds later they exploded into sparkling white smoke. Clouds laced with pure black pepper essence billowed into a wall, swallowing her from view. It would seriously scorch the noses of those fiery little beasts, which she did feel a twinge of guilt over.

Whatever worry stirred in her didn’t last. They’d been, after all, alarmingly enthusiastic about murdering her—all over a wisp of replenishable magic!

She slowed, bending to scoop handfuls of snow that she smeared through her still-smoking lavender curls, across her upper arm and shoulder. Could her horns catch fire? Probably not. Still, she coated them in snow just to be safe.

Minutes later, she tumbled into a mostly hidden clearing. Around her, heavily frosted trees pierced a sky sprinkled with the first rays of sunrise. The ground crunched underfoot, ice tangled with pine needles and dirt, as she crossed to her hellcat’s side. Zila rested beneath a tree where the snow was sparse, her great body peaceful, a dark inkblot against the pale ground. She stretched lazily, and her silken black fur shimmered pearlescent in the morning sun.

She pushed a thought to Zila.“Why didn’t you help when the wyverns attacked?”

A velvety, feminine voice sauntered into her mind. “I actually admire a little wrath from parents defending their offspring.” The hellcat gave her face a playful lick. “You deserved the scorching you got.”

Peri huffed a cloud of laughter into the crisp pine air and they made their way out of the forest.

Snowflakes fell like dusted magic in the early morning sunlight; three vials of smoke collected from the wyverns bounced in her satchel.

She should feel pleased with her success. Except now as the adrenaline ebbed, a familiar pain blazed through her wrists once more, reminding her—for the millionth time—of her ill-advised bargain.

If there was one rule that held true in all of Hell, it was that bargains were supposed to be uncomplicated things: each party agreed to their carefully worded condition and once those stipulations were met, that was supposed to be the end of it.

Yet here she was, with wrists in so much pain it made her want to cut them off and be done with it.

If only she were slightly less desperate—with more time to refine this absurdly complicated adrenaline potion and publish her findings like every other academic.

But as it was, she had but a single, dwindling year left to create a potion worthy of ink and acclaim, one that would finally bear her name as its creator. So, in her distress, she’d made a rash bargain with a powerful spirit; and if her inflamed wrists were to be believed, this spirit had somehow tricked her.

Her eagerness had burnt too bright, dooming her to bitemarks that seared just as radiantly. It was maddening. They were now festering to the point of almost constant pain.

Peri let out an aggravated sigh. “Let’s go to the meadow, I need a snowdrift to ice my wrists.”

“I thought getting the hatchling smoke would make those wounds go away,” Zila purred. “They actually look even worse now than before.”

“You know what? I think I’d rather go alone. And I’ll remember this the next time you need somebody to delouse you after taking care of your sister's cubs.”

She pushed away, tramping off into the meadow, trying very hard not to scratch her wrists until she was out of Zila’s sight.

Oleander Brightmore

With the Winter Solstice fast approaching, Oleander’s lectures at the Academy had come to a halt as the season gave way to its many ceremonies and celebrations.

Which meant he should have been indulging exclusively in long afternoons draped across sofas napping, followed by evenings spent flirting and dancing at as many decadent parties that he could manage.