Chapter 42
RHI
Death is far from painless.
An agonizing burn ricochets from the left side of my chest, radiating through my entire upper body.
“Fuck,” I groan, curling into myself. “That really fucking hurts.”
“Of course it does, dumbass. You stabbed yourself in the heart.”
My eyes shoot open, and I lift my head to find two of the Moirai standing above me. Their lavender and calm blue eyes reveal neither are Atropos, and I’m not sure if I should be relieved the Cutter isn’t here or wary her sisters appear without her.
“Ugh. I must be dead. This must be my own personal Hell if you two are here.”
“Funny.” Clotho, the lavender-eyed sister, elbows the blue-eyed Lachesis. “She’s funny, this one.”
Lachesis smiles softly. “Kind of makes you happy she has a long life ahead of her, doesn’t it?”
Clotho shrugs, clearly indifferent. “To be honest, her existence has been a pain in the ass more than anything. But I must admit, she’s a smart one. Picking apart her soulmate’s words to recognize that the blade he gifted could never harm her but would set her free all the same.”
I finally push myself to sit, the pain in my chest ebbing and flowing but not quite dissipating, and take in the rest of my very familiar surroundings.
The bedroom of my home.
I sit upon my lavender bedspread, my various stuffed animals perfectly arranged against my pillow, my stuffed Gandalf front and center.
My eyes scan the entirety of the room, and there isn’t a single detail out of place: my dresser against the opposite wall, the window Nick climbed through the night of my birthday, the bookshelf next to it.
Even the titles on the shelf are exactly the same.
“Am I…” I swallow down nerves. “Have I returned?”
Clotho releases an exasperated sigh, her moonlight hair spilling over her shoulders. “No. You are in a sort of stasis, which you need to wake from before your soulmate destroys Hell, thus creating a chain of events we have spent nearly a millennia hoping to prevent.”
My eyes shoot to my forehead, and I hastily jump from the bed, doubling over when the pain in my chest nearly blinds me.
“Well,” I say after a few deep breaths. “What are you waiting for? I need to go back.”
“Only you can do that, Rhiannon,” Lachesis offers.
“You need to wake up,” Clotho adds.
“How do I do that?”
They exchange bewildered looks.
“Shit,” I murmur. “How much time do I have?”
“Not long,” they say in unison.
I sit back down on the bed. “Where is the final member of your trio?”
“Atropos faces punishment,” Lachesis says, her jaw clenched.
“For meddling in affairs she should not have,” Clotho finishes.
Ugh. I’d forgotten the annoying habit that they take turns speaking. I raise a brow in question, the pain in my chest lessening with each breath I draw.
“She came to you without our permission and warned you of the time constraint within Hell,” Lachesis explains.
“And that is a problem because?”
Clotho rolls her eyes. “We do not interfere in mortal affairs. Our job is to observe and exact order where Chaos reigns.”
Both of my brows lift. “Then isn’t it a bit hypocritical for you both to be here right now?”
The sisters shake their heads.
“You carried out your Thread exactly as planned,” Lachesis says.
“But your Thread is tied to two others,” Clotho adds.
Two others? But who—
My heart thumps a bit faster, bringing with it a pain that is entirely different from the white hot agony of the blade that pierced my chest.
My son and my daughter.
I swallow. “You…you can see their Threads?”
The sisters nod.
“It is why you must return. They cannot exist without both of you, and they are of great importance to the future of the mortal realm.” Lachesis’ placid tone makes my children appear as though they are merely abstract data codes needed for corporate framework, not two living, breathing humans with a heart and a soul—two extensions of us.
Still, I meant what I said when I told Nick I wasn’t ready for children. Suddenly, the idea of possibly falling pregnant a short time from now has my heart beating erratically.
Clotho chuckles, as if reading my thoughts. “You have a long time yet before you are a mother, Rhiannon.”
“But you will not be one at all if you do not wake up now,” Lachesis warns.
Again, I swallow against a dry throat and nod. But I have no idea how to wake up from this, and the two terrifying sisters are of no help in that regard.
An idea forms, and I close my eyes, recalling the moments Nick and I shared in that private room of his when we were exploring our telepathic connection.
Once more, I dive deep within myself, reaching past my sleeping Scylla, searching through glimpses of inky darkness.
Find us, I hear Nick’s voice in my head, though I know I’m dredging it from memory.
It doesn’t take long this time to spot the scintillating twirl of our entwined Threads, mine gleaming gold and his a sparkling obsidian. But Nick’s crackles with destructive energy, jagged crimson streaks of lightning pulsing around it.
Just as I had done in that room, I reach forward, gripping both Threads, biting back a wince when sharp shocks zap through my body.
I’m coming, baby.
I drift into darkness.
Terrified screams jolt me awake.
I open my eyes, finding myself in the same position I had been as my heart stopped beating.
Chaos erupts around me.
The ground trembles, the floor cracking in intermittent spaces.
Mortar falls from the ceiling as the walls tremble.
The room is about to collapse, and though I haven’t seen what is happening outside of it, it is likely this entire realm is on its way to crumbling.
My friends pound their fists on the Throne room doors, desperately trying to escape.
Lucifer, Baal, and Belial surround an orb of darkness, that same crimson, jagged lightning creating an impenetrable barrier around the force trapped inside.
Nick.
I rise to my feet, glancing down at the small stain of scarlet above my heart. Caressing it lightly, I take a step toward him, but heated fingers grip my shoulder. I glance down at the charred hand before lifting my gaze to Azrael, who settles beside me.
“I knew it,” he says, breathless and wide-eyed, those ever-changing eyes a luminous gold—
though they won’t ever compare to my husband’s eyes. “I tried to tell him I couldn’t feel your soul, so you could not have perished. But his wrath is too great.” His black eyes flick to the swirling orb of chaos in front of us. “His love for you is too destructive.”
Ignoring the Angel of Death, I shrug his charred hand from my shoulder and continue forward before he snags my wrist to pull me back again.
“You cannot cross that barrier! That will kill you. I am indestructible, and even I was maimed by his rage.” Azrael holds up his blacked, shriveled hand as evidence.
“No part of Nick will ever harm me,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes. “Not touch nor blade nor power,” I repeat Nick’s words, shrug him off for the final time, and head towards my husband.
The three Demons attempting to break the barrier stare wide-eyed at my re-emergence, and Lucifer actually attempts to stop me by pulling at my arm before I step through.
“You can’t—”
“I can and I will,” I growl. Lucifer blinks once, nods, and releases me.
The onyx orb swirls with ink-black clouds and lightning storms of scarlet. The room continues to quake, my friends’ screams of terror reaching decibels of devastation. I know I only have minutes left.
I step through the barrier.
For all the chaos that exists outside this dark bubble, a strange sense of peace thrives within it. There is no sound, not even that of our breathing or our coalescent heartbeats.
Nick stands preternaturally still, his golden eyes glazed and unseeing. I approach him with caution, though fear does not take residence between us.
“Nick,” I coax, gently taking his face within my hands. “Nick, I need you to hear me. Come back to me, baby.”
His mouth parts, but his eyes remain unseeing, unaware I stand before him.
I press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Nick,” I whisper again. “I’m here. I’m with you.”
“They took you from me.” His voice is unsettling, a tinge of something otherworldly, not quite his own.
“No.” I press another kiss to his lips, a small amount of joy taking root when his eyes fall to my face. “I came back to you.”
“No. They took you from me,” he argues. Though his gaze finally rests on me, it seems to pass right through my body. “First, they took the memory of you. Then, they took your touch and your breath. Your love and your laughter. For that, they have to pay.”
“Who is ‘they’?”
His gaze hardens, and his hands settle on my waist. “Everyone.”
A chill shudders down my spine as I realize The Devil he has become is not differentiating between those who wronged him and the innocent, like his sister and the girls, Baal and his uncle.
“No,” I argue, sweeping my thumbs across his cheekbones. “There are those who are innocent of the crimes against you. Don’t punish them too. Your sister, Nick. Your sister is in this room.”
Nick squeezes my waist. “Lies. You are another fabrication, another lie meant to placate me.”
“I am not.” Tears well within my eyes and start streaming down my face. I pull him into a kiss, his lips cold and unmoving. “Please, Nick. Don’t do this to me again. I need you to wake up, to remember. If not, you will destroy everything, including us.”
Finally, a crack in the armor. Nick frowns, dragging me closer as he leans down to whisper in my ear. “There is no ‘us.’ Only her. And she is gone.”
Nick pushes me away, and a flood of despair washes through me like a rogue storm.
In one final attempt, I rush back to him, again taking his face within my hands.
“I’ve seen them. Our son and daughter. Our son has your hair and my eyes, but he belongs to you.
His nose, his lips, his smile. They are yours. ”
Nick’s mouth twitches, and finally, finally, he blinks. I keep going.