Chapter 44
XLIV.
The sun casts a warm, yellow glow across the rows of stone in front of me, but the blacks and grays of the cemetery remind me of home, and I shiver despite the ninety-degree weather.
They’ve already dug a hole for Nate’s empty urn in the grass. I kneel beside it, ignoring the morning dew that dampens my skirt.
I told my mom it was pointless, burying an urn containing nothing and pretending it’s Nate, but she said it was more about the closure that comes with the motions and not the actual burial.
Like any Earth custom could remove even a small part of the ache pulling apart my chest.
Mom’s hand clamps around my shoulder. “Take your time, honey.”
“I don’t know why we’re doing this,” I say, more to myself than to her. “We both know where he is, and it’s not in here. Thanks to me, he’s probably back in Lot Thirteen, being personally tortured by Father.”
My voice cracks on the last words. Tears break from the corners of my eyes and streak down my cheeks. They splatter the soil at my knees.
“Devica.” Mom kneels beside me and takes my hand. “This isn’t your fault. You didn’t send Nate back to Hell.”
“I didn’t save him from it, either.” I pull out of her grip and flatten my palm against the side of the urn. “If I’d been strong enough to kill Alex, Nate would still be here.”
I’ve spent the last few days reliving my time in Alex’s house, closing my eyes and making a different choice.
If I’d done that, Nate would be in my arms instead of back in Hell.
“You don’t know if it would’ve fixed this,” Mom says. “Killing Alex might have done nothing, and then you’d be without Nate and feel guilty about Alex, too. Even you admit that Nate wouldn’t have wanted you to sacrifice his foster brother for him.”
I sit back on my heels and grip my skirt with a tightened fist. “And what if I was wrong? What if Nate would’ve gladly given up Alex’s life to avoid going back to Hell?”
Mom wipes at her black pants. “We both know he wouldn’t have chosen himself. Not if he’s anything like the boy you haven’t stopped talking about all week. You did the right thing, Devica, even if it feels wrong in this moment.”
I nod, but my grip tightens around the urn.
None of this is right.
My insides curdle as I lower the urn into the hole. Mom hands me a rose from the bouquet she’s carrying and gestures for me to toss it in on top. She follows me with her own blood-red flower before laying the remainder of the bouquet beside the grave.
Mom stands and squeezes my shoulder again.
“I’ll give you a moment alone with him. Take all the time you need.
” Her flats crunch through the grass toward the parking lot and the sound dissipates until it’s only me and the dead.
It’s a feeling I should be used to, but the quiet of this space screams louder than the shadelings in the Welcome Hall.
Scanning the graveyard, I speak to the breeze that nudges the trees with its breath.
“I don’t know why humans insist on this stuff.
It’s pointless. You can’t hear me where you are, Nate, but Mom swore this would make me feel better.
” My voice cracks, and I wipe the tear that’s escaped down my cheek.
“So far, she’s wrong. Nothing fills this gaping hole you’ve left behind. ”
I push to my feet and brush the grass from my skirt before pacing next to the grave.
I’ve never been on this side of death before. Despite being told my mother was dead, I never knew her, so I didn’t grieve her as the person she was. I only grieved the absence of the person I needed.
This is different. I miss everything about Nate. His laugh, the comfort of his touch, and even his corny jokes.
Everything hurts without him, and even getting out of bed is harder. He’s the one person I know could make me feel better. Except that he’s no longer here to do that, and it sucks.
Death is so much easier to live with in Hell.
“I should be happy,” I continue. “Mom’s everything Father’s not. Kind and caring, warm, and gentle. But instead of leaning into her, I keep pushing her away because I don’t want her if I can’t also have you.”
Tears streak my face, and I swipe at them with the Kleenex Mom shoved into my hand in the car.
Heat blooms from my chest and down my arms as anger sears through my veins.
I gasp as the tissue catches fire and drop it to the ground before stomping on it.
Sobs blast through my chest, so violent I can’t control them.
I smash the burned tissue under my boot like I should have smashed Alex and wail.
It’s not fair. Give him back, universe. Give him back.
Arms find their way around me, and Mom’s pulling me into her, shushing me and holding me still. “It’s okay, honey. Let it out. I’m here.”
I squirm in her arms, but she only hugs me tighter. With a bellow over her shoulder, I stop struggling and sink into her embrace. She smooths my hair as I close my eyes and cry.
“It hurts,” I wail into her shoulder. “It hurts so much I can’t bear it.”
“I know.” She combs her fingers through my hair and rubs my back as my heartbeat slows. “Grief is a strange thing. It’s normal to be mad and to be sad and all the things in between.”
I bury my face into her shoulder, soaking her gray blouse with tears. “I hate this. I just want it to stop.”
“It’ll feel awful for a while. But the only way to heal your pain is to go through it. I know it seems impossible now, but there’s life after grief, and Nate wanted you to live it. It’ll just look different because he’s not there.”
She pulls another Kleenex out of her purse and hands it to me. “Let’s go home. I’ll make you something to eat, and you can change out of those damp clothes. It won’t fix everything, but you’ll feel a little better. I promise.”
I nod and follow her to the car, glancing behind me as Nate disappears from view for one last time.
I can’t bring myself to say goodbye. The word tangles in my throat and catches on my tongue.
Not that it matters. He can’t hear it, anyway.
When we return to Mom’s place, I make my daily call to the hospital that’s caring for Alex, posing as his “sister.” He still hasn’t woken from the coma he’s been in since they admitted him. The nurse tells me that his vitals aren’t great today, but for now he’s stable.
Flopping onto my bed, I bury my face in the pillow and scream at whatever kind of being thinks it’s fine to keep Alex alive while Nate’s most likely being punished—again—for crimes he never committed.
I try to distract myself by changing out of my funeral clothes, but as I stare into the mirror, my glamour fades and the black-and-gold wings appear behind my shoulders. They flap around me, ruffling my hair, and a familiar anger clenches my jaw.
This is all her fault. My mother and her angel blood. If I wasn’t part angel, I wouldn’t have cared about saving Alex. I would’ve made sure to send him to Hell where he belongs. These wings are reminders of the parts of me I didn’t ask for. The things I don’t want.
Father is stronger without his wings.
Maybe I’ll be, too.
I dart into the hall and grab my sword from beside the front door, my chest heaving.
“Devica?” Mom calls out from the kitchen, but I ignore her and march back to my room. She’s quick to follow. “What’s going o—”
I slam the door in her worried face and stand in front of the mirror, sword raised behind my back. Gritting my teeth, I close my eyes and brace for the pain.
Do it, Devica. It will only hurt for a moment, and it can’t be worse than how you feel inside.
My door flies open, and Mom barrels through. “Devica, no!”
“The wings have to go,” I shout. “If I get rid of them, I’ll be strong enough to finish Alex off like I should’ve in the first place.”
My mother steps between me and the mirror, tears in her eyes. “Devica, those wings don’t make you who you are. It’s your heart that chose to help Nate and allowed Alex to live. You can’t cut that out.”
I tilt my head and furrow my brow. “Think about it, though. Losing his wings made Father fall, and you lost yours when you had me. Which means if I get rid of them, I’ll no longer be part angel, and I’ll finally be the demon Nate needs to save him.
Now get out of my way. I need to see what I’m doing. ”
Her eyes widen. “Don’t do it, Devica. Those wings are a part of you.”
“And what if I don’t want to be me anymore?
” I peer over her shoulders at my reflection.
The girl scowling back resembles the one from the mirrors in Lot Eleven—hard and frenzied.
No wonder Nate was terrified of her on that bridge.
I should be afraid of her, too. But she’s stronger than me, and able to do what I can’t.
“Let’s talk about this,” Mom says. “Maybe we can figure out something that doesn’t involve disfiguring yourself.”
“All we do is talk.” My legs tremble, my stomach muscles clenched as tight as my jaw. “And it’s accomplished nothing.”
I raise the sword and smash it down. She grabs my arm, stopping me before the blade touches my feathers. Screaming, I shove her off me. She flies into the mirror with a cry, shards raining around her. Then she slumps to the floor.
The smash of the glass breaks me into the present. I drop the sword and fall to my knees, my breath wheezing from my chest. “Mom, are you okay?”
She moans and grabs her face. Blood runs from a gash on her forehead and streams through her fingers and down her cheeks.
The same shade of glittering blue as mine.
Angel blood. I reach for her, but she backs into the mirror, her eyes wide with fright.
She holds up her blood-splattered palm. “Get away from me. You’ve done enough. ”
“I’m sorry,” I say through the lump in my throat. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. I don’t know what came over me.”
“I know exactly what came over you.” She clutches at her cheek. “You’re afraid of your angel side, but it’s your father’s genes that did this. You didn’t have to cut off your wings to become the devil. It’s part of who you are.”
Her words rip through me like a whip through human flesh, and I flinch.
No, I’m nothing like him. He chooses to cause pain. This was an accident.
“Don’t say that,” I whimper.
She backs farther into the mirror, not meeting my eyes.
“I know you’re in pain, and I’ve done everything I could to help, but instead of thanking me, you hurt me.
I knew I was taking in a teenager when I let you live with me, but I forgot how much of him is in you.
He taught you well, Devica. You both know how to hurt people in the deepest way possible. ”
The sting of her anger and fear cuts deeper than the shards of broken mirror digging into my knees. I clutch my chest with a tightened fist. “If that’s how you feel, maybe I should go home.”
Mom raises her head. Above the still-bleeding cut, her eyes are a deep amber, eerily dark against her bright skin. “Maybe you should.”
My throat closes, and I back away from her, wincing as glass crunches beneath my boots.
She doesn’t want me, either.
I thought she left me behind all those years ago because she was afraid of what I am. But it turns out that she wasn’t afraid at all—until she met me.
My body deflates against the wall in her hallway, and I bite back tears. I finally understand how lost Nate felt when he realized what I’d brought him home to.
I can’t stay here, and I can’t go back to Father. I don’t belong anywhere.
The sunlight glints off Mom’s car keys sitting on the kitchen table, and I stare at them before grabbing them and rushing out the door.
I don’t know where I’ll go.
Anywhere but here.