Page 67 of Hell Burns Between Us
She turned slightly, blocking the rest of her signs from his view.
From the far side of the foyer, Belial and the other Grand Dukes watched, their expressions tight with impatience. “Would you care to enlighten the rest of us to what you’re… pantomiming to your brother?”
Wisteria let out a sharp, humourless laugh. “No.”
“You’re being dramatic,” Moloch chimed in from the shadows. “This is for the good of all of us.”
Oleander’s grip on the railing tightened until his knuckles ached. He wasn’t sure which unsettled him more—the way Wisteria held her ground, or the fact that, for once, she actually looked afraid.
“After everything I’ve done for you?” she seethed. “Every fucking soul I’ve dragged from the mortal realm to sacrifice to that sludge? No.” Wisteria turned sharply to face Moloch, her glare lethal. “If you ever speak to me again, I will drag you to the floor and shit on your face.”
She gripped her hair, fists tightening as a raw scream ripped from her throat. “I am the best soul reaper you have! I’ve reaped every single soul you’ve ever demanded of me.” Furious tears streaked down her face. “That was the agreement, right? I do whatever vile thing you need me to do, and then you find somebody else to sacrifice.”
“There is nobody else!” Samael whined. “Slang hasn’t chosen anyone but you.”
“They have!” Wisteria spun toward him, her body thrumming with rage. “I know of at least one other but—No! I just—” She jabbed a trembling finger at her own chest. “This is my life! And you fucks don’t get to take that from me.”
She turned her wrath on the Grand Dukes, pointing at them like a curse. “So, leave before I gouge your eyes out.”
“This isn’t your home, Wisteria,” Asmodeus’s voice cut through the tension, rasping but firm. He had woken, though he still lay slumped where he’d fallen. “You don’t have the authority to send these demons away. You weren’t even supposed to overhear that meeting.”
Wisteria let out a sharp, cold laugh. “You think I won’t gouge your eyes out because you’re my father?”
Silence. Asmodeus lobbed his head to look at his bloody hand. “Spirits alive, are you the one who did this to me?”
She glanced at him, shrugging. But around her, the other Grand Dukes began closing in and Wisteria stood alone.
Only Hemlock was moving to stand by her, but he couldn’t command these demons to leave. Oleander’s gaze swept the room, mind racing. Then—
A pull.
A whisper.
From behind the obsidian walls protecting his mind, something stirred. He cracked them open just slightly, and shadows poured in like a tide, wrapping around him, offering power. Power to save his sister. Power to destroy his father.
The shadow curled through his veins, promising, coaxing—
Oh, fuck.
Oleander slammed the walls shut with a resounding crack, shoving the dark tendrils back into the abyss. The whispering stopped. The promises vanished. He was himself again. His head throbbed, but he pushed past it.
Wisteria needed him.
She didn’t deserve to be standing there alone. And he would not stand by once more watching a demoness's soul be sacrificed by the Grand Dukes who were supposed to be protecting demonkind.
Stepping from the shadows, he took a steadying breath. “It may not be her home anymore,” he said, unwavering. “But she’s got more of a claim to it than you do.”
Wisteria’s gaze snapped up to him, wild and glassy-eyed. It was all the Grand Dukes against her. He didn’t know how the five souls sacrificed to the shadow had been taken but as he stared at Wisteria he imagined it was much like the scene in front of him.
His gaze locked with hers as he gave her the briefest nod.
To the Grand Dukes he gave a half-hearted shrug. “So yeah… get out of our home.”
Nobody moved.
Oleander exhaled. “Alright then.”
His thumb pressed against the stone of one of his rings—a relic he’d bargained for years ago. The runes thrummed against his skin, power stirring in his blood. His voice rumbled, infused with magic as he growled:
