Page 61 of Hell Burns Between Us

“We cannot let Starfall happen,” Uncle Elgar shot back. “If the Devil is to have a chance at returning, we must do everything in our power to stop this chain of events from beginning.”

Valus snorted. “If she’s mated, then Slang can’t mark her, correct? Let’s get the mating ceremony over with.”

A sneer crept into Uncle Elgar’s response. “I know you’re eager for her power, but there’s a chance she won’t be able to Ascend if the mating ceremony happens first. If she doesn’t Ascend you cannot syphon her immortality or extra magic for yourself.”

“How much of a chance?” Valus countered.

“Who cares?” Elgar drawled. “I’d much rather sacrifice her and be done with it, you can easily find another young demoness willing to put up with you.”

“That’s enough!” Her father’s growl cut through the room. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

Valus’s voice rang out again, sharp. “Alright, but none of this matters as long as that damned earring is hidden away? The one from the Lady of the Lake?”

“Yes,” her father sighed, sounding resigned. “Returning the earring is the only way to break the Divine Bargain.”

Tears slipped down her face, but she kept the bulk of her emotions inside so that she could still hear what was being said. Only now her heart was thudding so loudly, she couldn’t hear anything over the sound of it.

Why was everyone so obsessed with this bargain? It was confusing enough that it went by different names, shifting with the speaker—but none of the stolen volumes from Brightmore Manor, nor any other ancient text, would say what the bargain truly was. She tried to breathe, but the air had thickened into something viscous and cruel, each breath catching and breaking, a shallow stutter against the dark.

A demon whose voice Peri didn’t recognise chimed in, “Seems a bit silly to me. So much fuss over jewellery.”

A heated argument broke out, the voices rising in an unintelligible roar until her grandfather, Moloch, finally shouted over everyone, “It doesn’t matter! The Devil ordered us to protect it, so we’ll protect it! End of discussion!”

“Besides,” Takar added. “It’s impossible to steal. It’d be madness to even try.”

Everyone agreed with her father, and the conversation moved on to less pressing matters. A tingling numbness began to creep over Peri. How could they be so cavalier when discussing her life?

This was her family.

Every stray thought ricocheted inside of her. She slumped against the wall of her closet, rubbing her palm across her chest as if it could calm the agitation rising inside of her.

It made no sense. Peri had never found a puzzle that she couldn’t figure out, but now? Sure her father had protected her, fought for her in the mildest sense. It was truly the least he could do and yet she couldn’t help the well of emotion inside of her that he did in fact do the bare minimum for her. There was a time when he had been one of her favourite beings to go on walks with, trade books with… laugh with. And now here she was, trying very hard not to cry because he had asked that she not be murdered.

Was one murdered if they were sacrificed? She assumed so but, spirits alive, a new realisation crashed into her—what did she even know? She was bright and more than a little clever, well-read and curious. Yet here she was, finding herself the least knowledgeable being in the proverbial room.

Peri pushed the heavy hope chest to the side, revealing the almost imperceptible hatch to her hidden stash of forbidden objects. She yanked it open and sorted through charmed knives, a full collection of potions her parents disapproved of, enchanted clothing, and other odd magical items until she found the bottle of pixie wine that Brenn had once given her as a joke. She had taken it out of politeness then, with no real intention of drinking it. But now, in the midst of everything, she yanked the bottle from its hiding place.

Only half-listening to the demons’ conversation now, she tried to put all the random bits of information into a narrative that made logical sense. This proved impossible, as her mind was too overwhelmed by what she’d just learnt and there were too many facts to keep straight.

There was a time when she would have avoided dealing with uncomfortable truth… but no more. Taking a long pull of the wine she moved to pull out her gigantic stash of notebooks, hands shaking as she added to her notes on the Cursed Bargain.

She opened one notebook where she’d meticulously documented every strange thing that had occurred so far with her thoughts for what each thing meant. There had to be a connection to everything but she just couldn’t see it yet.

Her writing was barely legible and she took another long swig of the wine. Wasn’t this supposed to calm her? It seemed to only make her sweaty and less focused. Or perhaps the sweatiness was from the panic building inside of her. She took another swig of wine to quell it, reading through everything she’d written so far.

The stars will slip from the sky. The toads mentioning that she will help Oleander bring about Starfall.

With sweaty hands she added the new information to the growing list of things she didn’t understand. Her aunts scribbled notes: Starfall will be the Devil’s downfall. If the behemoth is sighted, Slang’s chosen must be stopped.

She wrote until there was nothing left to add, until the list had grown too long to comfort her. She sank back against the closet wall, eyes fluttering shut as she tried—and failed—to make sense of the storm inside her head.

Every new piece of information was overwhelming. She glanced back down at the list, trying to look at each fact with as little emotion as possible. This time when she drew in a breath she felt the air actually fill her lungs, fill her with a raw sort of hope. All she had to do was figure out a plan. Frustrated tears coated her face but instead of wiping them away, she clenched her fists and pressed them to her cheeks until it hurt.

Everything inside her trembled as she took heaving breaths in and out. With every ounce of control she had, she pulled her emotions in ever tighter—weaving them into a new, fragile sort of resolution. The only way she was going to have any control over her own life, was if she reached out with burning talons and snatched it back for herself.

Yet the moment she claimed her fate for herself, dread set its teeth into her; the fear of failure a shadow already reaching for her throat.

She needed a plan or there was no way she could even drag herself from this closet. A plan was a tangible thing that she could control. She was fantastic at making and executing plans. Brilliant even. When it came to researching, there was hardly any better.