Page 94 of Hell Burns Between Us

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“And our father?”

“Great suggestion,” he said between big gulping breaths of air. “If you’re as miserable as you claim, then might I suggest we continue our swim in silence?”

“Oh, fuck off,” she said with a laugh. “You’re just upset that I’m in better shape than you. I hear you panting like you’re dying over there.”

He splashed her again. “Only when it comes to swimming!”

“How did you even talk me into this?” She sighed dramatically. “I was just feeling sentimental, I guess.”

“You were in the middle of dissecting a bog spirit!” Oleander’s tone danced between amusement and exasperation. “Also, you told me that you thought undoing all my shit bargains was the first honourable thing I’ve done in my life.”

“I wouldn’t have complimented you if I’d known that it would result in me being wet and freezing.” Wisteria swam even faster with effortless grace, speeding quickly to the rocky cliffs ahead.

With every stroke, the runic spiders’ cave loomed closer, its dark entrance widening before them as silver threads glinted in the moonlight like a web woven from stars. They pulled themselves onto the wide ledge in front of the entrance, water dripping in small puddles around them. Oleander fumbled through a satchel he’d enchanted to be waterproof, pulling out thick, soft towels and dry robes for them to slip on.

Luminescent algae lit the room in soft yellows, casting a warm, welcoming glow. The air was rich with the scent of vanilla and bergamot.

“This place is way too cute,” Wisteria said, her gaze wandering as a crease formed between her brows. “Where are the creepy arachnids I was promised?”

Oleander grinned as he pulled out the tin of lemon verbena tea from his satchel.

Pearl-white spiders, round and fluffy with delicate spindly legs, began to drop down from hidden crevices in the cave ceiling, their movements fluid and quick.

Oleander bowed. “I bring an offering of peace, along with my sister, here to witness a renegotiation of our bargain. I’d like to absolve it, if possible.”

The spiders responded with indignant squeaks. It had taken Oleander years to learn how to translate their peculiar language, and even still it was a considerable challenge. However, their unrestrained dislike of him was not at all difficult to understand.

“What did they say?” Wisteria bumped his shoulder.

“A lot of profane insults and doubts about my ability to do anything good.”

She snorted. “I like them.”

“They’re incredibly likeable but also annoyingly mistrustful of my intentions.”

Wisteria glanced at him sidelong. “I have no idea why they’d be hesitant to trust you.”

The dig landed and guilt twisted inside him. They shouldn’t trust him. Nobody should. And yet he was desperate to show that he’d changed. He wanted so badly for others to believe that, yes, he had once been downright horrible, but he had learnt the error of his ways. That he was trying—truly trying—to be a better demon. A repentant one. But words were so terribly easy, especially from someone like him. No apology could undo all the narcissistic bargains he’d made, and no promise could make anyone trust that he wouldn’t become that demon again.

So he would have to prove it. Again and again, for as long as it took. He would have to keep choosing to be better, even when no one believed he had changed, even when they had every reason not to. Perhaps, eventually, if he was patient enough and honourable enough, his past might finally become what he so desperately wanted it to be: something that belonged behind him, rather than something forever waiting to drag him back.

To his sister however, he’d simply rolled his eyes and handed her a robe.

They pulled on their robes as more fluffy spiders crawled from their tiny holes in the walls, filling the cave with a cacophony of angry squeaking. The spiders wasted no time brewing themselves tea in tiny pots—then with irritated squeaks, they gathered in groups to push pinky-sized cups toward Oleander and Wisteria, demanding that he prepare two more cups of tea for himself and his guest.

Then, as abruptly as they had flooded the cave, the runic spiders scuttled away, vanishing into the shadows to debate his offer. Their squeaks dwindled into the dark, until only the faintest sounds could be heard.

Oleander couldn’t stop the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as they scurried off, tea clutched in one of their eight limbs. “It’ll be a while before they’ll meet with us, I think. Tea?”

Wisteria raised a brow. “Since when have you drank lemon verbena tea? Your favourite was always that one with cacao shells, chilli and a bunch of other spices.”

“I can change my taste in tea,” Oleander said quickly.

Wisteria gave him a knowing hum, observing him quietly. But if she had any other thoughts, she kept them to herself.

A comfortable silence settled between them as Oleander found a large—large for runic spiders anyway—teapot and set about preparing tea while they waited. The moon hung lower in the sky by the time that he’d poured them both tiny cups of tea. They moved to the edge of the cave and sat with their feet dangling over the water as they sipped in quiet contemplation, each lost in their own thoughts.