Page 59 of In Between Death and the Devil

Titus straightened from where he’d been leaning against the wall. “If you weren’t such a moody bastard, you wouldn’t need one.”

The Devil lowered all the fingers on his left hand except for the middle one. His shadows didn’t falter.

Titus chuckled as he passed me. “He’s all yours.”

It was both a relief and not to be alone with the Devil. Part of me had missed him. Maybe it was that I didn’t have to pretend around him. As nice as it had been to talk to Bea, I’d been too paranoid to give her many details. He, for better or worse, was the only one who knew what I’d been through. But I could feel the turmoil and shame in him through the Death Chord. It made me want to lower my guard, to forgive him, which I couldn’t afford to do. Not without proof that I could trust him.

My eyes darted to the fissure in the wall. I could feel the In Between knitting together like an itch, but it was so slow. The wound still throbbed at the center, so much so that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t felt it before. Proximity had to be important, given the pain I’d felt on the bridge when it started to crack.

The memory of it surfaced again, the way he and Death had combined their powers to heal the bridge, light and dark twining together. The bridge had healed almost instantaneously, unlike now. Presumably, he and I could do the same here. I was torn between wanting to help, to make the injury better faster, and needing to keep my distance. If I pulled power from him to help, I’d be immersed in him, rather than standing on the sidelines watching. So, instead, I focused on why I’d come.

“I need to⁠—”

“I owe you⁠—”

We both stopped.

“I’d normally let you go first,” he said, “but I need to make sure I say this. I owe you an apology and an explanation for what happened, Maeve.” His voice was full of gravel, like he hadn’t slept.

My refusal died on my tongue at his admission. I hadn’t expected the desperation that filtered through our bond. Suspicious though I was, I was also curious how he’d justify his behavior. If I asked him about Colt now, I might never find out. On the off chance Death was wrong, it seemed foolish not to let him talk. At least that’s what I told myself. I would just have to keep my wits about me. “I’m listening.”

“I’d like to say it to your face. Can you come over here?”

A reasonable request, but it took me a few beats to work up the courage to move.

He had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it.

I crossed my arms. “Well?”

“I’m so sorry, Maeve. I promised to help you. You had a big breakthrough, and I… pushed you away.”

“You were cruel.” I wasn’t about to let him minimize what had happened.

“I was. And I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.” His sincerity was clear through our bond.

I didn’t alter my stance. “Why?”

He sighed and closed his eyes for a minute. I had no doubt that if his hands had been free, he’d have scrubbed them over his face, but the crack was still closing slowly. About a quarter of the wall had filled in so far.

“You reminded me of someone I used to know. Her name was Esther. She was my wife.”

My eyebrows shot up and I felt a stab of possessiveness. He’d been married?

“You’ve given me a piece of your past. You deserve one of mine in return. I told you that I had a ‘gift’ in my last life, and that like you I came to the In Between hoping to get rid of it. It was a talent for persuasion. I could convince anyone to do anything. It manifested young. I was six when I persuaded my older brother to jump from our bedroom window on the second floor for a childish dare. He ended up with a broken arm and leg. My parents were terrified, not just of what I could do, but that people would find out—the kind of people who would want to force me to use my talent for their own gain.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. It was a familiar story.

“I didn’t want to hurt people, but I couldn’t understand why I had such a gift if I wasn’t meant to use it. Surely there was a way to help people with it, but my parents wouldn’t hear of it. They drilled into me that it was too dangerous. I could mute it so that people barely felt it, but it was like cutting off a part of myself. I never felt whole. Until I met Esther.

“She was beautiful and kind, and soft. She had an innate sense of people, what they were feeling and needed. We married quickly, and our relationship was everything I’d ever wanted.” His smile was gentle, an expression I’d never seen on him before. It made him look utterly human.

Something acidic coiled in my stomach. “Soft” was not a word anyone had ever used to describe me.

“I’d taken over my parents’ general store by then. Esther and I worked in the shop and lived above it. We were eager to start a family, but we tried for over a year without any luck. Once, we thought she’d gotten pregnant, but it wasn’t to be. She lost the baby almost immediately. Two more years went by. We tried everything, saw every midwife and practitioner who might be able to help. Every time she bled, she seemed to curl inwards, away from me and the outside world. I’d never felt so helpless.” His sorrow was sharp in our bond, like it had happened recently instead of over a hundred years ago.

“One night, she insisted I go out for a drink with friends. I didn’t want to leave her, but she said it did no good for us to both sit at home moping, so I went. On the way home, I stumbled across a man holding someone at knife point demanding money. I remember being so angry at how unfair the world was. The only thing Esther wanted was a child and I couldn’t give that to her, but this I could do something about. I used my gift to persuade the attacker to let his quarry go.

“I returned home feeling elated and whole for the first time since Esther’s miscarriage. I’d done something good with something I’d been taught to fear. Maybe I wasn’t as worthless as I thought.”