Chapter 9 #4
His chest expanded as he dragged in a deep breath. “I’m saying I wish I could remember the way you do, but I think…I think if you could help me understand, really understand all of it…I’d be okay with that.”
“Okay with that?” Meaning what? “Hold on.” Her heart raced, thudding against her rib cage, a rush of blood roaring inside her ears. “Are you saying if I…if I do that, you’ll do it? You’ll renounce your—the vows?”
He stared down at her, a deep notch between his brows, his eyes searching her face. Whatever he was looking for, he must’ve found it, because he nodded. But that wasn’t good enough. She needed more than that.
“Swear it.” She swallowed over the growing lump in her throat. “Give me your word.”
She held her breath for one heartbeat, for two, for ten, all while Finn stared at her, expression stoic, unreadable.
“If that’s what you want me to do,” he said slowly, as if he was choosing his words carefully. “I’ll do it.”
Her shoulders slumped, her breath escaping in a hard rush.
Finally Finn was cooperating. What a relief.
Effie frowned. Absent was the weightless feeling she expected, the feeling of a burden being lifted from her shoulders.
Whatever relief she felt was tainted, muddled with the stomach-sinking dread that in order to hold up her end of the bargain, she was going to have to talk.
About her life. About Finn. About loving him.
About how close she’d come to having everything she’d ever wanted and how, in the end, close didn’t count.
No ifs, ands, or buts about it, this was going to hurt like a motherfucker.
Effie straightened and pressed her lips into a grim line.
But—and god above, she could not believe she was thinking this—maybe it didn’t have to be a bad thing.
Not all bad, anyway. Since running from her grief hadn’t made it disappear, maybe it was time to give a different method a whirl, to try confronting her grief instead.
Like resetting a bone so it could finally heal, maybe sitting with her grief, as agonizing as it would be in the moment, would promote the same healing.
With one stone she could kill two birds.
Finn could hear about the past he didn’t remember, and she could do what she’d never given herself permission to do before—eulogize Fionnlagh MacDonald, her one true love.
She’d exhume the parts of him she carried inside herself like shrapnel, grieve him and the life they should’ve had, and when all was said and done, their vows renounced and their souls unbound, she’d bury him for good.
“Fine,” she murmured, her hands cold, her chest, too. She crossed her arms, tucking her trembling hands underneath her armpits, praying Finn hadn’t noticed. He was watching her closely, eyes sharp, so with her luck, he probably had. “I’ll tell you all about your past.”
“Our past.”
“Sure.” Her jaw ticked. “That.”
“Good.” Finn relaxed, his shoulders dropping, some of the tension leaving his face. “I’ll do it. On one condition.”
She swallowed a growl of frustration. So close. “Name it.”
“I want a chance.”
Her heart lurched, rattling against her ribs. “A chance to what?”
“Before I go off half-cocked renouncing these vows, I want a shot, a real shot, at remembering first. Maybe something you say will, you know…” He gestured to his head. “Trigger something. I know it might be a long shot, but I want the chance.”
His words sent a cold shot of fear through her.
He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t. She didn’t want him to. As much as being alone in this sucked, it paled in comparison to how it would feel, knowing that he knew what she had done.
But what could she do? She couldn’t leave, not while they were still bound to each other.
He deserved better than to be trapped in an endless cycle of reincarnation, his soul never finding rest, eternally shackled to a demon.
And she couldn’t marry Belphegor, but she couldn’t back out, either, word of their engagement having already spread.
If she told him she liked things the way they were now, he’d want to know why she’d changed her mind, and how was she supposed to explain that she couldn’t get married, that she already was married?
Everyone would talk, and eventually word would reach Lucifer.
He could not find out about this. Not about Finn or the fact that they were still married or even that she’d been here.
If he thought for even a second that Effie had any intention of forsaking him for a human, he’d lose his mind.
She didn’t want to think about what he’d do, how he’d punish her.
It would be cruel and it would be unusual, and he’d aim to hit her where he’d know it would hurt the most. He wouldn’t come for her.
Not right away. First, he’d come for Finn.
Who needed to renounce his vows. But, of course, he wouldn’t until she told him about their past, and she couldn’t, not yet. Not until she extracted one more promise from him, one final promise.
“Listen.” She swallowed down the acid burning in her throat and took a deep breath.
“If you remember and you—you hate me for what I did, and make no mistake, if you do remember, you’re going to hate me, please just…
don’t tell me.” Hell would be heaven compared to the unspeakable torture of hearing him say it.
Knowing without a shadow of a doubt. It would end her.
“I have no right to ask for mercy, but I’ll do it anyway.
Feel however you’d like, you don’t need my permission for that, but please.
Don’t say it.” Her eyes stung, nose burning.
She blinked fast, vision blurring, and gritted her teeth.
“I’ll get down on my knees if I have to, but—”
“Stop.” His voice was firm. His eyes held hers, wide and searching. She couldn’t have looked away if she’d tried. “I won’t. I won’t say it. I promise.”
Her lashes beat against her cheeks with each rapid blink. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“That’s not something you need to thank me for.”
“Well, I did,” she croaked. “Just say you’re welcome so we can move on.”
“You’re welcome,” he repeated dutifully.
Effie sniffed hard, tucking away her feelings so that she could focus on the task at hand. The time to unpack all her complicated emotions and feel her feelings would come later. Plan first, process later.
“One week,” she said. “I’ll give you one week to remember. If at midnight on the seventh day you don’t, you renounce your vows.”
“One month.”
A month? “I can’t stay topside for that long. The wrong people will start asking questions. And trust me—neither of us want that.”
“The end of the month, then. That’s just under two weeks,” he countered. “Come on. Maybe it won’t even take that long.”
October 31, the day when the veil between the worlds was at its thinnest. There was a certain poetry to the date that she couldn’t deny. And she could throw Harbinger off her tail for two weeks, couldn’t she?
“Fine. But we should get started as soon as possible. Are you working today?”
“No, but today’s no good,” he said, shaking his head. “Tomorrow? I’ll be at the bar around ten.”
“Ten it is.” She gave him a curt nod and turned, heading for the house. She was in desperate need of a shower, food, and sleep. Preferably in that order.
“Hey, Effie?”
She paused without turning.
“That was a nice thing you did. For Martha.”
“I’m evil,” she said, hating how her hand trembled as she reached for the door. “But I’m not a fucking monster.”