Page 87 of Hell Burns Between Us

Slowly, Peri’s fingers slipped down, falling limply at her side. “Alright.”

They stood awkwardly across from each other, the shooting silver light of the falling stars illuminating their faces; a crushing silence enveloping them. Finally, Apphia patted Peri’s arm. “I’ll fetch some tea. You set the cards out for a round of Calypso?”

“Sure.” Peri swallowed all her rancid emotions, and gave the best smile she could manage. “That sounds nice.”

And just like that, the subject was dropped. Peri let herself be led into the living room, smoothing her expression until not a trace of doubt remained. Starfall had finally happened, which meant her time for retrieving the earring was running out.

Days later, the Crimson Cathedral loomed over Peri, its carmine stone walls demanding devotion above all else. A cold draft coiled around her, whispering that she didn’t belong. That she was impure.

Still, she clung to the remnants of her faith like a gryphon with it’s claws sunk into its prey, reminding herself that once—long ago—she had found joy here.

With a shiver, she stepped deeper into the sea of voices, where demonkind from every Circle had gathered. One of the four required great religious gatherings, this was a rare time when all of Hell’s inhabitants stood together in worship. While everyone was required to attend, each Circle tended to bunch together. Demonkind were separated into specific services that happened in different cathedrals and at different times throughout the day. Sia and Peri—young demonesses preparing for mating and motherhood—attended the late service here at the Crimson Cathedral.

Peri drifted toward the cluster of Holy Circle demonesses, though her steps felt weighted. The familiar faces, the warmth of old acquaintances greeting her with exuberant hugs and bubbling laughter, should have been comforting… if only this whole service wasn’t dedicated to training the young demonesses to best serve their mates.

When Sia finally found her, she fussed over Peri with a frantic cheerfulness, smoothing her hair, adjusting her robes. For a fleeting moment, Peri let herself pretend. Pretend nothing had changed. Pretend they hadn’t just had an enormous fight—as if Sia hadn’t just betrayed her by looking for Slang’s Bite.

The nausea subsided but only for an instant. Then, she caught the way Sia watched her when she thought Peri wasn’t looking. Vega sat on Sia’s other side, her hand resting gently on her sister’s thigh in what seemed like comfort.

Peri glanced away, hugging herself. As if burying her wrists under her armpits could take back everything that had happened. By the time the service began, whatever fragile comfort had bloomed inside her had withered, leaving her more hollow than before. Mechanically, she pulled her Silver Book into her lap as the hum of conversation faded into expectant silence.

She turned to the day’s verse, tracing the words with her finger.

“Mothers are to teach what is good, and so train young demonesses to love their mates and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, meek and submissive to their mates.” —Silver Book, Ch. 10, vv. 5

A slow, prickling unease crept over her skin, as if a swarm of bees had been trapped beneath it.

She had read this passage a thousand times. It was written by the Devil himself. A favourite of her Circle, recited and reinforced at every gathering.

And yet, the verses that she had always gravitated toward—the ones that spoke of compassion, of kindness, of mercy—were never the ones read aloud. Never the ones woven into sermons.

Their importance was always waylaid. Replaced by submission. By control.

It was madness to live in a world where love was hailed as the most powerful force—only for certain kinds of love to be condemned. If kissing someone who wanted to be kissed was the root of evil, then evil itself became meaningless. Tenderness did not breed hatred. Empathy could not foster resentment. Her thoughts spiralled, her heart hammering in her chest.

Somewhere in the haze of her thoughts, the congregation began to sing. Her lips moved automatically, forming the words, but her mind remained distant.

She had always loved the act of communal singing.

Now, even that was tainted. The things she once cherished were being infected, poisoned by truths she could no longer ignore.

She wanted to know how both things could exist. She wanted to ask.

Needed to know she wasn’t alone in recognising the insanity of it all.

Brenn had questioned things.

A memory surfaced unbidden.

Brenn had asked, “What was so wrong with a demoness who had a life she was passionate about? Couldn’t both parents have a role in raising a family if they wanted one?”

Peri could still remember wiping her sweaty palms on her trousers as she stumbled over an answer she didn’t quite believe in. She wanted to believe it, though. It wasn’t the only time Brenn had brought the topic up and every time it made Peri conscious that she had been desperately waiting for it all to make sense. For the rightness of subservience to settle over her, firm and unshakable.

She hated admitting when it didn’t.

And she hated feeling stupid in front of Brenn.

Eventually, sensing Peri’s discomfort, Brenn would shift the subject. She would make some offhand remark—about the fire-eating mollusk, perhaps, and how its mucus might be fire-retardant. Then they would scribble their notes, and the conversation would end.