Chapter 16
STELLA
Kiss me. The words lingered on my tongue as I laid in my bed, forever tattooed into my memory. Kiss me.
I groaned, rolling over to press my face against the pillow to drown out the images I couldn’t escape, no matter how hard I tried.
I was an idiot, plain and simple. The moment I’d seen Damien in the hallway, I knew he hadn’t been sober.
He’d been talking to himself, and I found myself curious.
But the moment we made eye contact, I realized what a stupid idea it’d been to investigate.
Something dangerous simmered in his gaze, like the blade of a knife I tiptoed along.
For a moment, it’d been nice to imagine Damien wanted me, too. That I wasn’t just crazy, making up feelings where there were none. Until I whispered those two words. Kiss. Me.
Apparently, I was good enough to damn. A decent target for teasing. But actually laying his lips on me? Too much. He wouldn’t stoop so low. I was only human, after all.
It’d been several weeks since that moment in the hallway, and whatever had passed between us, Damien obviously regretted.
He kept his distance from me, only making conversation when necessary, and avoiding me completely otherwise.
Our dinners were tense, only Agatha and I speaking over plates of the most delicious food I’d ever eaten. Beef wellington. Pistachio cheesecake.
Whatever. His loss, really. I’d been more than gracious giving him the chance to be friends, but if he didn’t want to be, well. No sweat off my back.
Or so I told myself as I laid awake at night, the memory of that moment in the hallway repeating itself over and over, a movie stuck on an endless loop I couldn’t turn off.
I hurt you, and still you crave me.
It wasn’t a lie. I did crave him. I couldn’t begin to understand why, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Maybe some small part of it was Stockholm Syndrome, but a bigger part of me wondered if it was because the first time I’d ever really felt seen was standing in Damien’s presence.
It was strangely lonely in the house, knowing Damien went out of his way not to interact with me.
I guessed it made sense. After all, he was the Devil, and I was a human captive.
We shouldn’t be friends. Or frenemies, for that matter.
I filled my days the best I could, reading everything I could get my hands on in the library.
On nice days, I spent time with Agatha in the garden, soaking up as much sun as I could, helping Agatha in her futile mission to tame the sprawling garden.
‘I didn’t expect it to be sunny here. I was picturing thunderstorms every day.’
‘The weather will turn on a dime. One day, it’ll be this, and the next, it could be frigid. Shoo!’ Agatha brushed her dirty hands off on worn jeans and scared off one of the two-headed ravens that were always following us around the garden.
‘Mmm.’ I watched a small caterpillar inch its way across a sun-drenched leaf, listening with one ear. Did the caterpillar realize how trapped it was? Or did the garden feel large enough that it never really saw it as a cage?
I would never see Grace again. I was trapped inside a beautiful prison, one with color and life, lush foods and a comfortable bed, but I would never see my sister again.
Most people I knew associated prisons with gray cinder blocks, chains and cells.
Here I was, with the sun shining above me, knowing I had no chance of parole, ever.
Probably didn’t help that I knew the sun was fake, the moon shining just as bright next to it.
I was lonely. Lost. Falling into the monotony of the life here.
As much as I would do anything for Grace, I woke up with sadness weighing on me.
Maybe this was all my life would ever be.
An endless series of days of helping in the garden, of silent dinners, of wondering if Grace was okay.
Day in and day out until my bones became dust, and my skin withered away to nothing, and maybe then, I wouldn’t be alone any more.
Because if Damien didn’t take my soul, then I had an end point.
One day, I would die, and if I was lucky, I would see Grace again.
‘I’m serious, Stella. The weather here is a fickle beast. She’ll switch up on you faster than you can blink. If you’re not with me, it’d be best if you stayed close to the house.’ She sat back on her heels, cocking her head to one side. ‘Are you even listening to me?’
‘Of course I’m listening to you. Don’t stray too far from the house without you.’ I refrained from rolling my eyes. I knew Agatha just wanted to help. ‘I don’t foresee a future where I’d want to be wandering the woods alone, so I don’t think it will be a problem.’
Agatha simply gave me a look, one I’d seen on my mother dozens of times as a stubborn teenager. A look that screamed, I don’t believe you, but I don’t have the energy to argue.
‘How about a change of scenery, hm?’ I whispered, taking pity on the caterpillar still inching its way through the lettuce. Letting it crawl up my finger, I deposited it in the bed filled with carrots. ‘There. A little bit of change to keep you from going crazy.’
Another prison. A little bit bigger, maybe, but imprisonment all the same. If he was lucky, he’d never know the world he missed out on, everything he’d left behind by being in the carrots instead of the lettuce. All for a chance.
Agatha sighed. ‘It won’t always be this way.’
I kept my gaze trained on my caterpillar, refusing to look her way.
‘Eventually, the hurt will ease. You won’t think of your loved ones with the same kind of ache as you do now. The days here will feel like you’ve always been here. Like you were always supposed to be here.’
Unable to help myself, I looked over to Agatha, where she sat, watching me cautiously under that massive, pink sunhat. ‘Do you still remember your life before?’
She nodded. ‘My memories are different now, though. Like an old shirt that’s been through the wash one too many times. Soft and faded. It’s a favorite, but not one that’s comfortable to wear any more.’
‘I don’t want to forget Grace,’ I murmured, the tears already pooling in my eyes. ‘I don’t want to forget her smile, or her laugh. I want to remember how she looked when I surprised her, or the way she hated anything with spinach on it.’
‘Oh, Stella.’ Agatha’s voice was quiet and broken, her eyes saying all the words she couldn’t say out loud. After all, we were the only two people in a unique situation. ‘You won’t, honey. I promise, you won’t forget the important parts.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ I struggled to my feet, my legs numb from being folded up on the ground for too long.
‘Every day I’m here, I think I remember a little less of her.
It’s harder to picture the exact color of her hair.
I’m scared that soon, there will be nothing left of her, and that terrifies me, Agatha. ’
I swiped at my eyes with the back of my hand, pushing back the tears threatening to fall.
Agatha watched me quietly. I couldn’t be here.
I didn’t want to be here, in my brightly colored prison, because at the end of the day, I was still alone.
Agatha and Damien belonged here. But me…
the Fringe didn’t fit quite right. Maybe it would fit better once Damien gave my soul to Hell. Maybe it never would.
I didn’t look back at Agatha as I turned and ran toward the house, and she let me go. The tears dripped freely now, pouring down my face as I remembered the last time I saw Grace. Surely, that couldn’t be the last time.
I wiped away the tears, stumbling up the stairs. If there was a way I could see her sooner, I’d take it. Unless…
Stella… we can help…
The Nihil had offered me a chance to see Grace.
Damien seemed to think it was a terrible idea, but I had nothing to lose except a lifetime of loneliness and emptiness.
Agatha would look after Archie if anything went wrong.
The tears fell as I looked over to the corner where I’d seen the shadows before.
I hadn’t noticed them since then, but I hadn’t been looking either.
If they offered me a chance… I would be stupid not to take it.
I took a step closer, and could’ve sworn I heard a whisper.
Another step, and the whispering grew louder.
‘Stella? What are you doing?’
I whipped my head around to see Damien at the top of the stairs, giving me a curious look. Faltering, I sniffled and stumbled over my explanation. ‘I was… I was just…’
‘Are you crying?’ He left the stairs, closing the distance between us. ‘What happened? Are you hurt?’
I struggled to process his cold tone with his gentle words, and the way his hand reached out, almost of its own volition to swipe the moisture from my eye.
‘I’m not hurt.’
‘Why are you up here crying then? I heard you running through the halls. I thought something was wrong.’ Damien’s dark eyes were hard, almost worried. I didn’t know what to do with his emotions. Why would he be worried about me?
The images from the last time we were alone in the hall together came flooding back. The way he’d held me, as if I was something to be cherished and he had to hold himself back. His knee between my thighs, the exquisite pressure he gave me, telling me to use him.
And then my embarrassment. Kiss me.
Kiss me. As if he wasn’t wicked, and I wasn’t his captor. As if there was a universe in which we made sense.
My cheeks flushed. I would’ve kissed him without a second thought.
I still would.
‘Stella?’ Damien repeated, his cool voice shaking me from my reverie. ‘Tell me what’s wrong. Did something in the house hurt you? Tell me so I can fix it.’
I wasn’t sure he could fix me.
I shook my head, the words spilling out on a sob. ‘I’m fine. I’m just being stupid. I just… I miss Grace. I’m lonely. And I guess I just couldn’t push past the feeling that this was all my life was ever going to be now, and I didn’t know what to do with myself.’
Damien frowned. ‘I see.’
‘Do you?’