Lucille
Chapter
Fifty
After a long day of research that led somewhere only to circle us right back to nothing, and enduring Ronen’s fear through our bond, I called it. I dismissed our group and told MJ to find Ronen and relay what we’d learned while I checked on Oliver and Sam.
Only to discover Sam had figured out immunity and needed a lot more of my blood.
He put me under while he took it and gave me the shot during that time too.
Oliver telling Sam about the Severance Rune had been risky, but now we stood a chance against Melanie’s army. Sam even said if we could figure out how to remove Aspen’s Severance Rune, we could win this.
I only knew of one place to get that information.
I spent most of the afternoon in my room attempting to dream-walk to Miriam—or anyone—who had answers about the Severance Rune, but it never worked. Every time I asked the question, how do I release Aspen from the Severance Rune? it dragged me back to the same moment Miriam placed it on him.
Every. Damned. Time.
I tried framing the question differently. Approaching it from every angle I could think of.
Nothing.
Fed up, I dream-walked to Anya, knowing she’d been waiting for me.
This time, the park Anya dreamed of budded with pink flowers, their fragrant scent perfuming the air. She stood from a bench and walked over to me, her face as grim as the feeling in my stomach.
“She’s coming with her infected souls in days, and we still have too many unknowns.
Sam found a way to give us immunity to the infection, but unless I can figure out how to release Aspen from the Severance Rune, we don’t stand a chance against her numbers.
We don’t even know how many souls those Spinewalkers are holding. ”
“Thousands.”
The certainty in her voice and the gravity in her gaze crushed what little hope I’d been clinging to. Even if I released Aspen, even if he became as powerful as everyone believed, could we survive against numbers like that?
“I think I know how to help, though,” Anya said.
“How?”
At this point, I’d take anything.
“Melanie controls the Spinewalkers. We were always taught they were voids—once something went in, nothing came out. She has to be using powerful blood magic to open them. And blood magic is tied to the caster.”
I frowned. “So if we kill Melanie…”
“The Spinewalkers can’t release the souls,” Anya finished. “But there’s something else.”
Of course there was. I waited.
“When the Spinewalkers assault one end, she’ll have Lilith’s demons from the Tenebrous Kingdom waiting on the other side of Hell’s gates.”
Another answer. Another shift in perception. “That’s why Lucifer wanted Tsal-mawet.” Not to save my mother’s soul, but to add to their numbers. “She knows how to open them, doesn’t she?”
Anya’s expression darkened. “I think so. And I think the answer is you.”
“Me?”
The Doors of Moirai had clearly depicted Lucifer and the dagger.
“You opened Portal Lake. You don’t think you’ll be a part of opening the gates?”
“Even if I was, I…” Wouldn’t?
My mom’s existence relied on the gates opening. Along with many other souls in Hell. No. I would. But in a way that’d benefit us and hurt Melanie.
I didn’t know how much Anya knew about my mother or our situation, but understanding flickered across her face, and a cunning grin twisted her lips. She looked like Lilith. “If she thinks you’re the key to opening them, then use it against her.”
“Lead her into a trap,” I murmured, liking the idea. “But how? Wouldn’t she see it coming?”
“Yes. That’s why every action you perform, everything you say, needs to make her believe you found a way to stop her.”
“But then stop her in a different way.”
She nodded.
“How?”
“That one I don’t know.”
Heavenly Hell.
“Fine. Do you know what this is?” I materialized a piece of paper with the same six-pointed star we found under her bed and that the doors had shown.
“It’s our Siphoning Rite.” She started at the first rune.
“Unbinding—we unbind ourselves from their morals.” Then moved through the rest. “We destroy the restraints of this world. We forsake any who would stop us. We overtake them—body, will, and power. We sacrifice in blood. We remake ourselves with what we take.”
I frowned. “Remake? Doesn’t it mean unmake?”
“No. The purpose of this rite is to steal the power and life of another, then remake ourselves with it. This is what Lilith used on the angels she killed.”
Why would Cato say unmake then? Unless he knew what I had read. He’d seen me in his dream. Did the Unmaking Ceremony play a part in this?
“Would it work to kill her?” I asked.
“No. Rites can only be used by blood-witches.”
Then what purpose did it serve? The doors showed it to me for a reason.
“Heavenly Hell,” I muttered again.
“You can do this,” Anya said in a semi-gentle tone. “There really isn’t any other option.”
“Thanks. I think. And what will you be doing?”
She crossed her arms over her green blouse. “Staying hidden in case you fail and die, and I need to guide someone else on how to eliminate my sister.”
“I take back my thanks.”
She lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t need it. I only want this nightmare to end.”
“Me too.”
I woke in the middle of the night and immediately froze; someone was in my bed. Their warm body pressed against mine. Then I heard the snore and relaxed. I peered over my shoulder.
He still wore yesterday’s clothes and lay on the covers with his injured foot. It appeared less club-like now, and a soft brace replaced the bandages.
I wondered if Sam knew he escaped again or if he’d healed him enough to let him leave.
Sitting up, unable to help myself, I smoothed his long bangs away from his face. His eyes fluttered open sleepily.
“Is it morning already?” Oliver grumbled. “I’m going to need coffee.”
“It’s not. But since when do you drink coffee?”
He turned over to face me, still hugging his pillow. “Since Sam.”
My expression softened. “He’s good for you.”
“Because he’s given me a caffeine addiction?”
I rolled my eyes.
Oliver smiled, snuggling deeper into bed. “He is. Just like Ronen’s good for you.”
I sighed, resting my head against the headboard. “I knew you had a favorite.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “You.”
“I love you, Oli.”
He made a noise, then started snoring again. Something I should be doing. The sleeping part, not the snoring. But my mind wouldn’t let me. And based on the emotions flowing into me from Ronen, he couldn’t either.
I changed out of my sleepwear and into something casual and comfortable, then picked up his letter. Rereading his words sent another spear of frustration through me.
I made my way to his door. For the longest moment, I stared at it. Hoping he was in there. Hoping he wasn’t. Crinkling his letter in my fist, my heartbeat picked up as my hand hovered inches from the wood. One deep breath, then I knocked.
Scratching and snuffling answered from the other side. Rune whimpered, trying to get to me. She didn’t have to wait long.
Ronen opened the door—shirtless. His hair still glistened as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. Beads of water traced slow paths down his inked abs and disappeared into the waistband of his sweats.
“Lucille?” His tone was composed. Polite. A lie in the face of his spiraling emotions.
Rune bumped into my leg, immediately seeking out my touch.
“Is something wrong?”
I supposed my irritation and nerves gave him that impression.
“Can I come in?” I asked a little too forcefully.
He stepped aside and gestured for me to enter. He followed my every step with his gaze, never taking it off me until he shut the door.
“Is this about the other night?” There was no waver in his voice, no expression on his face, but inside him sat a heavy dread.
“No.” I tried to keep the bite out of my words, but his emotions frustrated me to no end. I pulled his letter from my pocket and held it up. “It’s about this.”
“I only wanted to explain myself and apologize again. I’m sorry—”
“Stop!” I threw out my hands. “Stop apologizing!
“I understand you’re mad.”
“You’re right.” I approached him and smacked the letter against his bare chest, keeping my skin from touching his. “I am.”
“I—”
“No. It’s my turn to explain myself.”
His addictive clove scent wrapped around me, seducing me to come closer. I backed away. His letter fell between us onto the plush gold rug.
“Of course I wish you had told me, when it actually mattered, about my mom.” He flinched.
I continued. “Of course I want her here with me right now. Of course I wish she weren’t a disembodied soul floating around Hell, waiting to dissolve into nothingness without any hope of an afterlife!
” I yelled at him. “But that’s not why I’m mad at you! ”
Confusion tugged at his face and lightened his unending fear, lessening the desire to stop my tirade and run into his arms.
I jabbed my finger at the letter on the ornate rug. “Do you honestly believe I think your life is worthless?”
His expression tightened.
“Because you must. Otherwise, I have no idea why you’d think I’d hate you after you told me the truth.”
Ronen crossed his arms, his forearms flexing as he squeezed his fists. “What I did was unforgivable.”
I took one step forward. “No. What you did was protect yourself.” Another step. “My father threatened your life, and you were put in an impossible situation.”
“But your mother died because—”
“Because she chose to save us.” From the very beginning, it was her choice. Ronen and I both played a part in it—me more so than him—but in the end, it didn’t matter. My mom willingly gave her life so we’d live another day.
“If I—”
“Stop arguing with me!” I snapped.
He closed his mouth, lifting a brow. I took another step, placing myself two feet in front of him. So close. But not close enough.
“Do you know what frustrates me even more than you thinking I hate you?” I asked, my voice lowering as I crept forward.
He dropped his arms, his throat bobbing. “No.”