Chapter 34 #2
He opened his eyes, frowning at the white ceiling above him for several seconds until it finally sank in where he was. He turned his head and confirmed it. Suyin’s bedroom. But how …?
It hit him in a rush. He’d been dead. He was dead.
Wait, was he dead?
He sat up, blankets falling to his waist, and looked around.
No, he couldn’t be dead. This was definitely Earth, and he was definitely alive.
He lifted his hands and stared at them. He saw the same familiar palms darkening to black fingertips and claws.
He held out his arms and studied them too.
They were the same. Familiar. Free of scars despite the countless times he had carved into them to draw his blood for magic.
Everything about his body was familiar—the weight of his horns atop his head, the feel of his hair loose against his bare back—and yet something about his body felt decidedly unfamiliar.
But then he realized it was because the mind that occupied his body was different.
His thoughts were quiet. Clear. When he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, everything else fell away, save for the sensation of his chest rising and falling.
He breathed in deeply, and suddenly, emotion tightened his throat.
The very act of drawing breath felt like a revelation. The silence was liberation.
His eyes popped open. He shifted to the edge of the bed, pulling the blankets off and taking a moment to feel the cool floorboards beneath his feet.
When was the last time he’d felt something like that? The screaming of tormented souls in his mind had blocked out all else, and his body had existed in a perpetually deadened state. He’d never felt much of anything … until she had come along.
He stroked a hand across the blankets, noticing the softness of the duvet cover and marveling that such a texture even existed. He thought of how the blankets had felt against his skin, the weight of them pressing down, trapping him against the mattress.
But it was a comforting weight. It didn’t feel like shackles or confinement. In fact, the memory of shackles felt distant and far away in the face of so much sensation. How could he focus on an ancient memory when he could feel so clearly that it was blankets and not manacles?
That was why he’d been able to fight the panic when he was with Suyin, he realized. Because she had brought him to the present moment. She had made him feel. How could he fixate on the distant, dark past when she was right there with him, bringing his body to life?
He stood. His legs shook beneath his weight, but it was a temporary weakness and it quickly passed.
He reached back and wound his hair into a long braid, tying it off with a convenient circular band he found on Suyin’s nightstand.
Then he crossed the room and eased open the door.
Stooping under the frame so his horns didn’t catch, he stepped into the hallway.
Instinct had him turning right, toward the living room, and he found her there. She was curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over her, fast asleep. She’d left him in her bed and come to sleep out here, by herself. Away from him.
He swallowed.
Crossing the room, he perched somewhat awkwardly on the arm of the couch. He didn’t know what he was going to say to her. Everything, he supposed. There was no point holding anything back now.
She awoke gently, her eyes shifting beneath her lids before they blinked open. When she saw him sitting above her, she didn’t startle, but he watched a certain hardness come over her features. She was closing herself off from him.
“You’re awake,” she said.
He nodded. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to begin.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better,” he said. “The hallucinations have passed.”
“Hallucinations?”
He shook his head. There was no need to tell her of the phantom images that had danced at the corners of his sight, making him believe he was trapped in the lowest level of the Nine Rings.
The silence in his head had added to his panic, but sleep had brought clarity. And understanding.
He had died. Which meant that every single soul in his army, bound to his command by an unbreakable bargain, had been set free. His mind was quiet, because for the first time in as long as he could remember, there was no one in his head but himself.
I’m still here, his inner voice whispered.
I’ll deal with you later, he told it.
Suyin shifted backward, away from him, and sat up. She clutched the blankets to her chest like they were a barrier against him.
“Thank you,” he said. “When I … did what I did, I didn’t expect you to—”
“But you left the note. The torn piece of paper.”
He lifted a shoulder. “It was a slim chance. The window was so short as the spell had to be performed before Belial carried out my favor, and I specifically stated that he could not hesitate. It’s a miracle you were able to complete it in time.”
“Belial opened the prison?” she asked.
He nodded and blew out a breath. “My work is complete.”
“The souls are free? My father …?”
“He is free to reunite with your mother, just as you wanted. They’re all free.”
Suyin swallowed thickly and nodded. There was silence as that sank in.
And then he knew it was time for him to face what he had done. “Suyin …”
“Don’t,” she said, stopping him before he could begin. “I can’t—I know why you did what you did, and I know you couldn’t follow through with it, but it still doesn’t change the fact that you betrayed me. And I can’t forgive that.”
He looked down at his hands. All the relief and gratitude he’d felt at his renewed existence faded away like it had never been. What was the point in a second chance if he lost the one thing he’d found worth living for?
“I understand,” he said, because it wasn’t fair to burden her with his expectations. He deserved every bit of her distrust.
“You were going to kill me, Murmur.” To his dismay, her voice shook slightly. “I just can’t believe that you would—After everything we went through …”
“I know.” His own voice felt tight. “I tricked myself into thinking I felt nothing. I’d gotten so good at sealing parts of myself away, I didn’t even realize what I was doing anymore. I’ve never cared about anything before. I suppose I didn’t recognize the feeling until it was too late.”
And that was the truth, he realized. He straightened and stared at her, and the realization hit him in the most painful, obvious way.
She was the most important thing in his life.
She was more important than any spell, any foreseen future.
She mattered more than the fate of all Hell.
He would give up anything for her, would do anything to have her, to make her happy, to make her want to stay with him.
She was the greatest thing to ever happen to him, in all his immeasurably long life.
But the terrible irony was that he hadn’t realized any of that until he’d committed the unforgivable. The thought of what he’d almost done made him feel sick now. He was appalled he’d even considered it.
But he hadn’t just considered it—he’d tried to do it. Some part of his conscience he’d been blocking out had resisted, but that didn’t excuse his actions.
He’d once wondered how it was possible that he had evolved a soul when he’d maintained his selfish, apathetic existence, but he understood now.
The part of him that excelled at compartmentalizing his own mind had simply taken that newfound conscience and sealed it in a vault.
It had been there all along—it was the very reason he’d developed feelings for Suyin in the first place—but he hadn’t been aware of it because he’d closed himself off from it.
But now, with his head free of the screams, his mind quiet for the first time, he sensed it there, waiting, existing silently. He couldn’t ignore it any longer. He wouldn’t be able to ignore it ever again. And that was more than a little troubling when he contemplated the life he had to go back to.
“Suyin, I need you to understand,” he began. “I feel everything now. I can’t hide from myself, and I know that I lo—”
“It doesn’t matter,” she cut in. “I get why you did what you did. I’m angry, but I get it. But I don’t trust you anymore. I can’t ever trust you again. And there’s nothing you can say that will change that.”
“I’ll swear a vow. I’ll vow on my blood never to harm you, never to lie or withhold—”
“Stop.” She lowered the blanket and held up a hand.
“It doesn’t matter if you swear a thousand vows because that’s not how trust works.
You shouldn’t need an unbreakable blood contract to trust someone.
The very nature of needing one proves you don’t.
And besides, I don’t trust you not to find some hidden loophole and exploit it the moment it conveniences you.
“Maybe, if you’d just lied to me or done something else … I could have let it go. But you were going to kill me, and I can’t—” She shook her head. “That’s just not something I can forget.”
“Suyin …” He understood her perfectly. He didn’t blame her in the least. And yet he felt like his entire world was crumbling, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
“Besides, you and me?” Her lips curved briefly, but her eyes remained sad.
“We were never going to work out. You’re a demon with a whole-ass kingdom in Hell.
And I may be half demon, but my life is on Earth.
You hate even thinking about shifting to human form.
There’s no place for us in each other’s worlds. ”
He wanted to tell her that he would shift to human form and never shift back if it meant she would forgive him, but he didn’t. Because pathetic though his understanding of emotion was, even he knew that it wouldn’t be enough to regain her trust.
In fact, as someone who’d never trusted another in all his life, he understood very well why she couldn’t trust him again. And he understood why she couldn’t let him near her.
Before, she had allowed it because of their bargain. She’d believed herself safe from him, she’d trusted in the vow to protect her. Now, that illusion had been shattered, and no matter how much she might have enjoyed his company, she would never believe herself safe with him again.
And that was his fault. His burden to bear.
He wished she’d left him dead. Coming back to life, being given a second chance, only to find this reality, was a form of Hell all to its own.
He opened his mouth to tell her he was sorry, that he would spend the rest of his immortal life regretting what he’d done, but a banging on the door snagged both their attentions.
“Are you expecting anyone?” Murmur asked, a tingle of foreboding racing down his spine.
“No,” Suyin replied, and another round of furious pounding rattled the door on its hinges.
Murmur rose slowly. His gaze caught on a sharpened dagger, on a table across the room, obviously used in the resurrection spell that was still inscribed on the floor. He grabbed it and approached the door.
He didn’t even make it to the entranceway before it exploded inward, revealing a very tall, very furious blond man with hellfire in his eyes.
“Surprise, motherfucker,” he said, and then he charged.