Chapter 47
XLVII.
Two men barrel toward each other. One of them lunges off the ground, a single leg outstretched. His foot connects with the skull of the other man, sending him crashing to the floor with a shout.
I turn from the TV and gape at Nate. “I still can’t believe this is what you thought you were doing when we fought the souldiers.”
We’re on my mom’s couch—a position we’ve taken many nights in the last month, watching shows on some application Nate calls Netflix.
Like most days, we spent all afternoon at the beach, and granules of sand still cling to my hair and between my toes, despite wiping myself down before Mom would allow me in the house.
While I adore the watching the ocean, I don’t agree with Nate about the sand.
If I ever do go back home, I’m taking some of this with me. It can provide hours of torture.
The thought of home draws my eyes to the ring on my finger, now so dark it’s almost the color of coal.
Since the day Nate returned, it’s grown darker and heavier on my hand.
I tried to remove it this morning so that I could shove it into a drawer and out of my brain, but it wouldn’t come off.
It’s attached itself to me: a constant reminder that there’s somewhere else I should be.
A warning these blissful moments aren’t permanent.
Nate grins at me, his cheeks still pink from hours in the sun. His smile pries the dark thoughts from my head in this magic way only he seems to possess. “It’s kung fu.”
I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. “I hate to break it to you, but this isn’t what you were doing. This may be kung fu, but you were just flailing around.”
He squeezes my hand. “You said I was impressive.”
I lean my head on his shoulder, a smile tilting the corners of my lips. “It was impressive how you managed to land any blows at all.”
Mom laughs from the upholstered chair in the corner where she’s shortening a skirt I bought yesterday.
It’s perfect for me, but less perfect for the Los Angeles heat.
“As your mom and caretaker, I feel like I’m supposed to warn you about getting too serious at your age.
But as an impartial observer, I ship it. ”
“Ship it?” I ask. “What does any of this have to do with boats?”
“It means she thinks we’re adorable. Which we are.” Nate kisses my knuckles. He scrolls through Netflix, images flying across the screen. I wiggle deeper into the blanket on my lap and close my eyes. It took me a while to acclimate to the silence of the house.
No screams or alarms wake me in the middle of the night. No one cries or pleads with me during the day. Mr. Bellum isn’t harping on at me because I set his hair on fire again.
Most nights, I battle nightmares in my sleep, visions of being drowned in a lake of fire by unseen hands. I wake up gasping for breath, my ring finger stinging like a burn.
I haven’t told my mom or Nate about the dreams or the ring. They’d wonder if it means more, and I’d rather not discuss breaking up this little family we’ve created.
Mom’s adamant we attend college in the New Year, but she hasn’t yet figured out how to get a former Underworld resident and current dead guy into the system. She’s persistent, though, so I’m sure she’ll make it happen somehow.
I’m both terrified and excited at the possibility. College seems like such a normal human experience. I doubt they have instruments of torture hanging on the walls. And if they do, at least I’ll fit in.
Outside, a rare California storm blasts across the sky. Rain tinkles against the windows, and thunder shakes the house. I jump, burying my face in Nate’s neck.
He chuckles, his chest vibrating against my shoulder. “You’re not afraid of a storm, are you? Not after where you grew up.”
“I’m not afraid.” Another peal of thunder rattles the windows, and I pull the blanket to my chin. “I just don’t like it.”
Nate settles on a movie called Constantine after telling me he thinks I’ll like it, and hits play. The doorbell rings at the same moment, and we all stare at the door.
“Who could that be?” Mom asks.
I shake my head, my heart still racing from the thunderclaps. “Don’t look at me. Everyone I know is here.”
“Maybe they have the wrong house,” Nate offers. “Or are one day early for Halloween?”
The bell chimes again, and I fling the blanket off my lap with a groan. “I’ll get it.”
Mom and Nate protest, but I ignore them. I grab my sword, in case, and hold it behind my back as I inch the door open.
I almost drop the blade when a bolt of lightning streaks across the sky and illuminates the familiar blue mane in the doorway. My eyes widen as I take him in. “Attero?”
He gives a half smile as rain drips from his hair onto the souldier uniform. “Hey, Devica.”
I don’t return his smile. The last time I saw him, he was standing on the Ignis River bridge, watching me carry Nate to freedom. He didn’t join Ferus in attacking me, but he didn’t stop him, either.
Gripping the doorframe, I narrow my eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Thunder shatters around us, and we jump in unison. “Can I come in?”
“That depends.” I tighten my fingers around the hilt of my sword. “Are you alone?”
“Yes. I’m not here to hurt or capture you.” He gestures to the lack of weapons on his belt. “I promise.”
“Who is it?” Mom calls from the living room.
Attero peers over my shoulder, his eyes wide. “Is that your mother?”
“Yeah.” I lean against the door, not moving out of his way. “She’s alive. She’s been living on Earth this entire time. But maybe you knew that? You and every other demon who lied to me?”
Sadness etches lines around his mouth, and he holds up his palms. “I know now, but I swear I had no idea until a few days ago, when I broke into your father’s office.
I found letters to her that he must never’ve sent.
Hundreds of them, written over all the years of your life.
I know everything about them. About how they fell in love and had you and who you really are.
Those letters are how I tracked you down. He addressed them to her.”
I frown, trying to picture my father hunched over a desk, writing love letters to the woman in the living room, then not having the strength to send them. And here I thought nothing unsettled Father. Apparently, the only thing that can is my mother.
I shiver as the rain ricochets off the concrete and lands on my bare toes. “Father didn’t catch you in his office? It’s pretty brave of you to search it.”
“That’s just it, Dev.” Attero wipes his damp face. “Your dad’s not in Hell anymore. He took off.”
My entire body goes numb, and I clutch the doorframe. “He what?”
“He’s gone. I’m pretty sure it’s for good. He left Ferus in charge.”
“What the home could he be thinking? He can’t do that.” I step behind the door and hold it open. “You’d better come in.”