Page 82 of Realm of the Wicked

‘Thanks so much.’ I stepped away from her, needing something at my back. Although I doubted that would do much. This was her turf, after all. ‘So what are you planning on doing with me then?’

‘Simple.’ She shrugged. ‘We’re owed a soul. I would’ve been happy keeping it in stasis, but Damien pulled some strings and thought I wouldn’t notice. So now I won’t just be keeping it, but destroying it completely.’ She spoke as if we were discussing the weather, not the matter of the destruction of my soul. ‘Men. Honestly. I always notice when they try anything.’

Anxiety crept in, and I did my best to keep it at bay. Damien pulled some strings. What did that even mean? There was no point in asking Clarissa. She was already talking again. Maybe I could keep her talking long enough to get out of here. She did enjoy hearing herself talk… but how I would get out of Hell was a different story.

‘…I don’t know where he gets off. Anyway. I’m owed your soul. But once I destroy it, I won’t get to toy with you any more, and that’s so much less fun. So I’ll take my time until the Council meets. Besides, maybe he’ll learn his place this way.’

‘His place?’ I couldn’t help the question.

‘Of course.’ She was bored, and I was nothing but a bug under her heel.

‘Isn’t he… the Devil? Isn’t that his place?’

‘Oh, sweet human child.’ Clarissa smiled and there was nothing sweet in it. ‘The Devil is merely just a title. A placeholder. A scapegoat if you will. A figurehead to point fingers at if something goes wrong. A point Damien seems to forget from time to time.’

I tried to place this new information into a logical order. ‘Are you sure?’

Clarissa’s smile soured. ‘Of course I’m sure. And you’re the perfect way to punish him.’

I crossed my arms, sitting back on the bed. ‘I think you’re misunderstanding the situation. I don’t mean anything to Damien. A bit of fun, maybe.’

‘Mmm.’ She clacked her too-long nails along her arm. ‘That’s why he’s here wanting to see you, right?’

‘Damien’s here?’ I sat upright, suddenly desperate to see him. Had it been days or years? Merely minutes?

‘Yes. And he hates coming down here unless he really has to. So I’m doubting your story.’ She paused the tapping of her fingers, giving me a weird look. Her hair switched from blonde to black so quickly, I thought I might have imagined it.

‘Are you…’ I hesitated, not wanting to seem desperate, even though I could feel it written all over my face. ‘Are you going to let him in?’

I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

‘Yes.’

I narrowed my eyes. ‘Yes?’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

Because you’re the worst person I’ve ever met with a resentful streak a mile wide.

‘Why wouldn’t I let him in?’ she repeated, the smile back on her face. ‘It’ll make breaking you both so much sweeter.’

I stood, but before I could say anything, she was gone, the smell of decay lingering behind her. Damien walked in through the doors.

‘Damien!’ I rushed into his arms, tears nearly spilling over.

His fingers tangled in my hair and he pulled me close, crushing me to his chest. He smelled of the Fringe, like the moss and ivy when it rained. Like smoke. Like home.

‘Damien, Clarissa says she doesn’t just want to keep my soul. She wants to destroy it.’

‘I know,’ he muttered. ‘She’s been trying to get me back for centuries. I’m sorry. I’ve tried so hard to protect you from it, from all of it. I did my best not to take you.’

I shook my head. ‘Don’t start that now. That won’t get us anywhere.’

He smiled. ‘Good to see Hell hasn’t taken the fight out of you yet.’

I dropped my voice. ‘I won’t let her know how much she gets to me.’ I paused. ‘I take it you can’t get me out of here with a snap of your fingers.’

‘Not without destroying your cellular make-up. I checked you for her tracking magic when I got here, in hopes she’d been overconfident, but Clarissa was thorough. If you survived the transport, she’d be able to find you in seconds.’