by Emma Slate
“How are you on the beach? Poseidon said humans couldn’t—”
“I offered the sea my blood in exchange for safe passage.” He held up his palm, wrapped in a bloody bandage. “He let me come to you.”
If I asked him to press me to his chest so I could cry out my sorrow and grief, I knew he’d let me. At a great cost to himself, he’d let me.
But I wasn’t into torture, and so I took a step away from him toward the waiting boat that would take us back to the ship.
“It’s done then? You’re free?”
I nodded.
“Why don’t you look happier about that?” he asked. “You did the impossible. You bested Lucifer.”
At what price?
When I didn’t answer, he said, “Come on, let’s get you on board.” The ghost oars rowed us back to the ship. Meghan and Dorian were waiting with smiles and tankards of ale.
“Well, tell us everything that happened!” Meghan demanded, shoving a jug at me.
I took the cup and looked into it.
“Meghan,” Aloysius said, his tone warning.
“What? We’ve been here waiting for days and she comes back looking, well, not like herself. Literally. She’s changed.”
“She is standing right here,” I said tiredly. “And I look just like I used to look before your desert blistered my skin. And I’m not ready to talk—I’m going to go to my room.”
With my head down, I brushed past them, hearing Aloysius say something to them in a low voice. No doubt he was explaining how he’d found me on the beach. Completely out of control of my emotions.
I was exhausted from being on display, from having my expressions under the microscope. I didn’t want my life choices to be dissected, to be judged by others who didn’t understand what was in my head, or in my heart.
Was I partly evil?
I had to be, right? To love a monster? To love the fallen angel who brought darkness and pain to the world?
He hadn’t scared me in his monster physique. I hadn’t been shocked to see him in his most basic element. Lucifer was stunning. In all his forms.
I was twisted and sick because I wanted him in bed next to me to offer me comfort.
Comfort only he could give me.
I slept for three days and dreamed of him.
When I finally woke up, I was no closer to sorting out my feelings. My dreams hadn’t been an escape. Instead, I’d relived every conversation, every moment, every sex-drenched memory we’d had together.
When I sat down at the dining table, no one made a comment about the fact that I’d been unconscious for seventy-two hours. But they did look at me like I was a bomb ready to detonate.
“How are you feeling?” Dorian ventured to ask.
“Hungry.” I took an apple from the table and then bit into it, my eyes downcast. I had an emotional hangover I couldn’t shake.
Aloysius cleared his throat. “I think we’re getting close to Purgatory.”
I didn’t reply and I saw the three of them exchange a look out of the corner of my eye, but I chose to ignore it.
“Okay,” Meghan said, setting down her fork and staring at me. “It’s time you told us what went down.”
“Why?”
“Um, because I think we’ve been patient long enough. And you’ve been asleep? And my brother has been worried about you.”
“Meghan,” Aloysius interjected.
“What?” She glared at him. “You’ve been pacing the planks.”
Before I’d fallen face-first into bed, I’d taken off the belt and sheath. I had his knife in my room, and I needed to give it back.
I rubbed a hand across my face, but then I told them. Maybe if I had people to talk about it with, then I could process it. An hour later, I was finished with breakfast and the story of how I’d won my freedom. I told them not to ask about my appearance because I didn’t have an explanation for that. I didn’t have an explanation for a lot of things.
Pushing away from the table, I looked at Aloysius. “I have your blade. I’ll get it for you.”
“Later is fine.”
I nodded but left the table anyway. I headed up to the deck for some air. I was at the railing, staring into the sea when a voice asked, “Mind if I join you?”
Dorian’s eyes were full of compassion, and if he had any curiosity, he shelved it.
“Sure.”
“You know—”
“I really don’t want to talk,” I interrupted. “Is that okay?”
“Okay.”
We fell silent.
“You don’t seem like yourself,” he said.
I looked at him. “We’re doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Where I say I don’t want to talk, and you pretend to respect boundaries and then push past them?”
He smiled slightly. “Yeah, we’re doing this. You can walk away, you know. I can’t really hold you hostage.”
A grin teased at the corners of my mouth. “I’m afraid if I don’t stay and hear what you have to say, you’ll just follow me around. I won’t be able to get away from you.”
“There is that possibility. So? Will you let me say a few things, and then I won’t bring it up again?”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because you care so much about other people, Stella. Maybe you should let someone care about you.”
I inclined my head.
“You’re conflicted. About your love for him.”
“And the gold star goes to—”
“I fell in love with someone I wasn’t supposed to.”
“Was she a fallen angel who was the source of all of mankind’s problems?” I fired back. Numbness was finally giving way to blatant anger. Not anger. Rage. Unmitigated, unstoppable rage.
He cocked his head to one side. “Man has free will, does he not?”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“He ate the apple because of temptation.”
“Because Lucifer put it in Eve’s path. Because he was the one who whispered in her ear—”
“Again. We’re talking about free will. And if you believe in free will, then you believe people have different levels of corruptible nature. Eve wanted the apple. She lusted for it. Lucifer didn’t shove it down her throat. At some point, people have to take responsibility for their actions. For their desires.” His stare pinned me in place. “You have to take responsibility for your desires.”
I looked back at the ocean. The waves splashed against the sides of the ship, and the air was cool at my cheeks. “I thought I’d find clarity.”
“You were asleep for three days, Stella. How did you expect to work through anything at all when you were shut down?”
He had a valid point.
“Tell me what to do,” I blurted out. “Tell me how I’m supposed to feel.”
He let out a chuckle. “It doesn’t work that way. Besides, do you really think I want to be responsible for your happiness? Or lack thereof?”
“And here I thought once I won my freedom, life would go back to normal.”
“You’re not normal Stella. You never were.” He paused. “Do you miss your life? You know, before you found out who you really were?”
I pondered his question for a moment and then shook my head. “No. I don’t miss my life. I never realized…”
“What?”
Looking him in the eye, I finally forced myself to be completely honest and transparent. “You could say I had a life, but I wasn’t really living.”
“And Lucifer…”
I swallowed. “Showed me what I was missing.”
Chapter 35
Two days later, the ship docked in Purgatory and I was no closer to figuring out how I felt about Lucifer.
In the near distance, I could see the gothic castle where I’d grown up. Beast statues guarded the entrance. Once I stepped off the ship and onto the beach, my feet would carry me to the fortress. To my parents.
To the people who loved me enough to let me go and live as a mortal.
“Guess this is it, then. The end of your quest,” Aloysius said, gazing at the castle.
“Thank you. For everything you have done for me,” I said. We looked at each other and then I was in his arms. “Make sure she really deserves you.”
“Who?”
“Whoever becomes your queen. Make sure she loves you—the man—first.”
He pulled back and held my cheeks in his hands. He kissed my forehead and sighed. “Be well, Stella. I’ll see you soon?”
I nodded and then pulled away. “Are you sure you don’t want to dock here and then travel through the forest on foot to get home?”
He shook his head. “No. Poseidon wants his ship returned exactly where we got it from.”
“Or what? He charges you a fee?”
“What?” he asked in confusion.
“Never mind.”
I said my goodbyes to Dorian and Meghan. Meghan was stoic, but even I could tell she didn’t like that we were parting ways. Her gruff exterior hid the tenderness of her true heart.
When the ghost rowboat reached the shore, I climbed out and looked to the ship. Three lone figures, which didn’t belong on the sea, stood tall and proud.
I called them friends, and for a woman who hadn’t let people close to her, it was a monumental shift in my essence. I needed friends, I realized. I didn’t like being alone. I thought I’d been protecting myself, but all I’d done was cut myself off from having deep, meaningful relationships.
Inhaling a shaky breath, I turned my back on the ship and began to walk. The path to the castle was clear and obvious. Birds chirped, waves lapped, and I could hear flower buds opening.
I passed by a tree and placed my hand on its bark. It shook its leaves, welcoming me home.
It was all so familiar, like I’d never been gone at all.
I rounded the bend and came to the wall of the castle. There was a wrought iron gate, but no guards stood watch. For a moment, I didn’t move. And then I took another breath and reached down to lift the gate myself.
I stepped into a courtyard. Green plants with flat leaves graced the perimeter. A fountain with a giant black spider adornment stood in the middle, water trickling down its legs and through its open mouth.
Movement out of the corner of my eye drew my attention. A woman was bent over the ground, facing away from me, a large straw-brimmed hat on her head.
Finally, she stood, dusting her hands off on a pair of old trousers.
She turned. Her green eyes sparkled like gemstones.
Green like mine.
My mother’s smile was wide, effortless. “I’ve been waiting for you, Stella.”
I studied her face. There were no lines on her skin, no markers from the passage of time. She looked the exact same as when I was a child. Her brown hair was plaited in a braid that trailed over her shoulder. Sunlight caught the lighter highlights and made them gleam.
“Mama,” I whispered and then I was running toward her, flinging myself into her arms. As we both covered each other in our tears, she touched my hair and face. Every now and again she pulled back so she could look at me before embracing me again.
I heard footsteps on stone and looked toward the sound. My father stood by, his gaze tender.
I gently detached from my mother so I could hug my father. Closing my eyes, I let his strong arms engulf me.
“Welcome home, honey. Let’s go inside.”
My father’s arms dropped from around me, but then he took my hand. My mother took the other, and we headed for castle door. We entered a long hall that was lit with torches of light. I looked around, studying the etched scrollwork in the walls. My childhood home was familiar with nostalgia. We came to the throne room. Two ornate thrones sat next to one another on a wooden platform. In the center of the floor was a spider overlaid in gold.
The walls were covered in a painted mural. I stepped closer to see it, seeing it with the eyes of an adult. I saw the scene where a woman raised a knife over a merrow.
Hunter.
It was so vivid.
But suddenly, I wanted to experience it for myself. I wanted to live their history through my own eyes.
So I pressed my hand to the enchanted mural. And suddenly, I was no longer in the throne room, but on the bank of a river, holding my mother’s dead body.
He bowed his head and wept against her mud-caked skin. His tears cleaned her, but unlike in the fairy tales of old, they did not possess magic to make her see, to bring her back to life.
He felt her slipping away from him. Perhaps she was already gone.
Howling like a dying beast, he begged the gods to give her life. She’d given him hope, she’d given him her love, and now she carried their child.
A child that would die with her.
Without her, his future would be hopeless and empty. He’d have nothing. A purpose, yes, for he was Guardian of the Bridge, but he would be alone.
He’d been alone before, until she’d come.
Until she’d freed him.
But there would not be another. He would only love once like he loved her in his very long lifetime.
He kissed her brow and rocked her like he wished he could’ve rocked their children. Her skin grew colder, her severed leg was no longer gushing blood, the wound from her stomach grotesque, her organs—
She’d become immortal. She should’ve been able to survive. But she’d been felled by a magical sword. With no thought to herself, she’d jumped in front of him to save his life and put herself in front of it.
He begged again, promising anything and everything that was his to give, if only breath would stir in her lungs.
“You wish to have her back?” a voice called.
He lifted his head from his beloved’s cheek. The fallen angel was terrifying in his devil form. Hideous and sickening to look upon. His eyes were yellow flames, and his voice sounded like a snake’s rattle.
“Yes,” he whispered. “I want her back.”
“No matter the cost?” the Prince of Darkness inquired.
“No matter the cost.”
“So be it,” Lucifer stated. He lifted his hand to his mouth and breathed out demon fire. He walked over to her dead form and opened his hand. Flames rained down, sprinkling her body before disappearing.
Satan vanished in a cloud of gray smoke.
The Guardian felt her chest rise and then fall. It was a long time before she opened her eyes—her body had needed to knit back together.
“You’re alive,” he whispered in disbelief. “I didn’t think it would work.”
“Didn’t think what would work?”
His smile was slow and crooked, filled with relief and tenderness. He hugged her tighter as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Begging.”
“Who did you beg? God?”
He lifted his head to look at her. “You, Poppy. I begged you not to leave me. And you listened.”
I was back in my own body. My hand fell from the mural. I’d just witnessed an intensely private moment between my mother and father, a moment that explained how much he’d loved her, even back then when they’d just found one another.
“Did you know?” I asked. My voice sounded like it was echoing through my head, through the throne room, through all the emotions we hadn’t yet navigated.
“Know?” my father asked.
“That he would want me?”
“No,” he said immediately. “I thought he’d demand my life in payment. To be taken at a time when I was at my happiest.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?” my mother asked.
“For giving me a chance at freedom. For allowing me to live before he… Anyway, I know how hard it was for you both to let me go.”
My parents looked at each other and smiled. “We’ve missed you, Stella,” Mom said.
“This way,” my father said, leading us to a door. He pushed it open to re
veal one of their favorite rooms, an old-style salon complete with comfortable chairs and couches. A fire roared in the fireplace, and a tea service was already waiting for us. There was also a bottle of amber liquid and tumblers.
“Sit,” my father said, gesturing to a chair by the fire.
I sat and watched as my mother took her own seat on the couch across from me. She leaned back. Her shirt got trapped against her body and she quickly made a move to pull it away.
But she wasn’t fast enough—and I saw her rounded belly.
“Thane,” she said softly, her eyes darting from me to him.
My father was pouring tea and kept his gaze on his task. “Hmm?”
“Thane.”
Something in her tone had him pausing to look at her and then to me. He sighed and set down the teapot. He lifted the bottle of amber liquid and poured two splashes into two tumblers and handed me one.
I sniffed the liquid and took a cautious sip. Liquid honey. I downed it fast.
My mother was pregnant.
“I’m gonna have a sibling?” I asked, my voice quivering.
“Yes,” Mom said quickly. “Stella, listen, we didn’t mean for this to happen this way. We don’t want you to think we were trying to replace you—”
Before she could say anything more, I was out of the chair and hugging her. A laugh bubbled out of me. “I’m going to have a brother or sister. I’m going to have a family again.”
My parents looked at one another and smiled tenderly at one another.
“Stella? Will you come home?” Dad asked. “We’ve missed so much time and now with the new baby coming… We want you with us. We want you to come home.”
Chapter 36
I inhaled the smell of Manhattan. Grease, oil, Chinese food. It smelled like home. The weather was cooler and the leaves on the trees had turned. It was late fall. A New York Post in a city garbage can told me the date.
I’d been gone three mortal months.
I was still dressed in my trousers, boots, and white shirt, yet no one paid me any attention as I walked down Canal Street. This was Manhattan. Fashion choices were carefully chosen expressions. Even if it looked like I’d just stepped off a theater set of Pirates of Penzance, it didn’t matter.