Page 66 of Hell Burns Between Us

But honestly, she might need it to sit through a class reminding her over and over again that her future was Valus.

She drank quickly and wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve, noticing that her face was wet as well. She’d been crying, it would seem. The calming draught slowly spread through her body, taking with it her sorrow, allowing her a few deep breaths before she made her way across the sprawling hills towards the next reminders of her family’s expectations.

Chapter

Twenty-One

OLEANDER BRIGHTMORE

The days grew thick with sunshine as Midsummer wove its way across the land. Lazy, sweltering afternoons stretched into only slightly cooler nights, yet there was no heat that could warm Oleander. Since the shadow had burrowed inside him, a bone-deep chill had settled there as well.

While magical beings, from demonkind to gargoyle, could be found lounging lazily near crisp lakes as mermaids sang their spells to the aquatic life below; Oleander burrowed under woollen blankets on the sofa or in bed.

Last night a flower moon had hung in the sky—with it came the expected pull to come back to oneself. A time to reflect on the past year’s deepest lessons and their meanings. Hemlock had reminded him that the days before and after a flower moon are the best times for reflection—if a thought surfaced during this time he shouldn’t rush to bury it again, but rather let himself think and feel what normally would stay buried.

A soft breeze blew in through his window, rich with a sweet, floral perfume. Oleander was in his old bedroom raiding his stash of yarn that he still kept here. It was best if nobody was ever aware of just how much yarn he possessed at any given time. He was sifting through the chest of grey-scale skeins, as he considered the absurd fact that he was now friends with Brennessel—the only friend Perine had ever truly had.

He wondered where Perine had been these last few weeks. Brennessel hadn’t any idea and when he’d asked their professors, they’d been cagey with their answers.

He’d written her dozens of letters, folding them carefully into birds and brushing them with enchanted powder to fly to Perine directly, wherever she was. They all flew dejectedly back home to him. Maybe she wasn’t all that keen to hear from him—that thought sat heavy in his gut.

Under normal circumstances, Oleander could deny his feelings as well as any demon. But that damned flower moon was forcing his thoughts into harsh frankness, trapping him in the disconcerting truth: he could not stop thinking about Perine.

She, on the other hand, clearly didn’t feel the same way. Yesterday, he’d found himself writing her a bitter, almost harsh letter demanding to know why she was ignoring him. He’d thought they were at least friends! They were research partners and she had left him high and dry; which was, frankly, unforgivable. He sort of, maybe, in a roundabout way, cared now!

Sometimes when his mind wandered during a lecture, he thought it didn’t really make sense for her to leave everything in such a deranged way. To not even say goodbye.

A niggling fear worried him that just maybe…she was trapped somehow. Unable to leave or contact anyone else, perhaps her Circle had a magical barrier keeping letters from other Circles out. With the Holy Circle this was entirely possible. He crumpled his angry letter and tossed it away.

Still, he wondered what could trap Perine Wilder against her will?

Even while dealing with the far more pressing issue of literally being possessed by a parasitic shadow he could not name, his mind still managed to fixate on her.

He wanted to see her again, desperately. Sometimes, he caught himself thinking of things he could casually say just to rile her up, just to see her eyes flash with that delicious urge to prove him wrong. Fucking hell, he must have lost his mind to actively want her to argue with him.

A shout from downstairs tore through his thoughts.

Was that Wisteria?

Oleander sighed, set the skeins in his hands aside. It was upsetting that he could not sort through his yarn in peace.

He crept from his old bedroom until he stood at the top of the stairs, halting, his fingers gripping the railing. Below, Wisteria stood seething in the foyer, surrounded by at least twenty demons.

Their father, Asmodeus, reached for her arm. A small, chartreuse snake coiled around her wrist struck—sinking its fangs deep into his flesh.

Asmodeus slumped to the ground. For a moment, silence hung in the air. Then the room erupted.

“He’s not dead!” Wisteria snapped, rolling her eyes at the panic. “Just frozen or something. I don’t know how it works, alright? But he’s fine.”

“His hand’s a bloody mess!” someone shouted. “It looks like some of his fingers are missing—”

“Brilliant observation.” Wisteria’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Have you noticed his skin is also the colour of dirty water? By all means, why don’t you continue describing my own father to me?”

The snake slithered across Asmodeus’s still body, disappearing into the shadows.

Oleander barely had time to process the situation before Wisteria suddenly turned, her hands moving in a furious blur. She was signing something to Hemlock, was it… >a sacrificeThe Devil’s power was waning, the Cursed Bargain could soon be broken. They want to sacrifice me to stop it and take my power in the process.<