Page 27 of Realm of the Wicked

Loneliness clawed its way inside my heart, taking root. Damien called humanity a snow globe, but wasn’t this just as bad? We were well and truly alone out here, the three of us. Being told I was in the Fringe hadn’t hit me as hard as looking around and seeing nothing other than the decaying bones of Damien’s mansion, and the plants desperate to reclaim their world.

‘When I left home, it was fall. It’s summer here.’ I shook my head. ‘It’s hard to wrap my head around.’

‘Being outside of time means there are no seasons. Have you seen that yet?’ Agatha sat back on her heels and pointed toward the sky where both the sun and moon sat. The sky was endlessly blue and bright. ‘They’re fake. An illusion, like so much of this place. The Fringe does what it wants. Makes its own time, its own seasons. It might be the only thing Damien can’t completely control, try as he might. And to answer your question, Damien is a lot more unpredictable than you realize. He hasn’t been human in a long time. I don’t think he’d hurt you though, no.’

You. So violence wasn’t out of the question. Just for me, for some reason.

A small basket of carrots sat next to her.

‘It’s a vegetable garden!’

She smiled. ‘Well, of course it is.’

‘I guess I just…’ I looked around at the mess and shook my head. ‘I guess I didn’t see a point in you weeding. Seems like an impossible task.’

‘Maybe it is.’ Agatha laughed, looking at the bed in front of her. ‘But then again, we all have to start somewhere, don’t we? There’s still good soil underneath the weeds. This garden used to be beautiful. A few weeds shouldn’t stop me from seeing what it used to be.’ She grabbed her basket of carrots and held her hand out to me. ‘Help me up. I’ll show you around.’

Agatha and I walked in the bright sun and moon as she pointed out her small accomplishments in reclaiming the massive grounds. There were several vegetable beds, and a small patch of strawberries, the ripe red fruit hiding beneath another nest of trailing ivy. The ivy seemed to be everywhere, taking root in the cracked stone of the house. The back of the massive stone house held the rose trellises Damien told me not to touch, countless bushes stretching tall over their wire constraints, blooms of red and white and pink. They seemed to be the only thing on the estate that wasn’t falling apart or covered in weeds.

‘He told me not to mess with his roses,’ I mused, reaching a hand out to touch one of the largest blooms, petals nearly the size of my palm. Strangely, none of them seemed to have thorns.

‘They were his mother’s favorite,’ Agatha said softly. I turned to look at her in surprise, and her expression held a note of someone who didn’t mean to say what they did. ‘I think, I mean. He doesn’t speak about his previous life very often.’

‘Did he ever tell you what he did to become… this? He just told me he made a choice.’

‘That’s Damien’s story. Not mine.’ Agatha was quiet for a moment, and then shook her head. ‘I don’t think this life was ever meant for him, though.’

We stood in silence, admiring the flowers. I wondered how much of Damien’s story involved saving someone else. I wondered if he’d ever tell me.

Eventually, we left and carried on our walk. The pond housed a family of ducks, the fuzzy ducklings racing out into the water as we approached.

As we watched them float, bobbing around, carefree, I sorted through the jumble of my words, trying to find the right question to ask Agatha. ‘Does Damien even want me here? Sometimes, it seems like he does, like he almost wants to be friends. Then five seconds later, he’s cold and distant. I can’t get a good read on him.’

Agatha sighed and turned back toward the house, expecting me to follow. ‘Damien’s been here for a long time. Alone for most of it. He’s done what he had to do to survive, and I’m not sure anyone else will ever understand that. I’ve been here for a long time, and I still struggle with the idea of it all. Being the Devil’s housekeeper.’ She laughed, the sound echoing beneath the shaded porch. ‘Sounds kind of ridiculous when you put it like that, doesn’t it?’

It’s different, he’d said. She didn’t want her soul.

But I couldn’t imagine a reason why the light-hearted woman walking ahead of me, who could make jokes about being the Devil’s right-hand woman, wouldn’t want her soul. Was he just trying to convince himself he’d done the right thing?

We arrived at the massive double doors, carved from a solid, singular piece of wood, and Agatha paused with her hand resting on the handle. ‘Don’t let the weeds stop you from seeing what it used to be.’

I laughed. ‘The garden? The house? Damien?’

Giving me a quiet look over her shoulder, Agatha threw a sad smile in my direction. ‘All of it, maybe.’

Silently, I followed her through the doorway, unsure of what even to say in response. Despite Damien saying he was made, I struggled to see how he could’ve ever been good. After all, there had to be a reason he was chosen. Knowing what little I’d seen of Clarissa, I doubted the Council just waltzed onto Earth and picked up the first fresh-cheeked do-gooder they found.

Agatha would probably know more. ‘Agatha, what do you know about the Council of Hell?’

She huffed. ‘For the most part, they keep to themselves. Damien is good at what he does, and doesn’t need to be micromanaged. He brings the souls. Keeps the ledgers. Causes no problems, for the most part. But when they decide to stick their noses in our business, they’re nothing but pains in the ass, really.’ Her nostrils flared, and she gave a quick shake of her head. ‘I shouldn’t even be saying that aloud. They put him in the worst mood, though. Clarissa especially. I’m surprised Damien brought them up willingly in conversation.’

We wandered into the kitchen, and once more, the feeling of home overtook me, warm and comforting.

Agatha hung up her hat on a hook just inside the door, setting the carrots down on the countertop, and immediately turned to fill the kettle with water. ‘Tea?’

I hadn’t realized quite how thirsty I was. ‘Please. And Damien didn’t bring them up. The Council, I mean. They showed up while I was in his office.’

‘They did what?’ Agatha abandoned the kettle, quickly overflowing from the tap. ‘I didn’t even hear them arrive. Oh, for the love of— Damien’s got to be positively fuming.’