Deep down, I know that, if he did, it would only be to keep an eye on Espi. His absence makes one thing clear: The devil himself wants nothing to do with me.
Three months later
“It’s one of the premier musical conservatories in the country,” Espi explains, gesturing to the brochure in front of me. “Basically...this place is heaven on earth. You can look, Pyro Girl, but I bet you won’t find a better school.”
I shift beside him on the couch and peer closer at the glossy cover. The bold font spanning the front of it supports his claim.The faculty contains some of the greatest minds in the classical arts, with a division even devoted solely to the cello.
“The auditions should be a piece of cake,” Espi claims as he turns the page to a breathtaking photo spread of a lush, green campus. “I’ll help you through it. As for tuition, they offer financial aid, and if you need more help, I can help cover the rest of it...”
I don’t interrupt him to ask just how he’ll get the money or why he cares. I nod. I smile. I watch him enthusiastically flip through the rest of the brochure, and I try my best to seem as excited as he is. Hopeful. Content.
It’s an act I’ve performed expertly for the past three months. Poor Espi still hasn’t seen through it—but the cold, nearly identical gaze watching me from across the room isn’t as oblivious.
“I’m so excited,” I say, forcing a grin. “I guess this means I’ll have to practice more now. I can’t wait...” When my voice finally trails off, I doubt I’ve convinced anyone else in this room of thatbutEspi.
It’s a bitter victory. Grinning widely, he’s the epitome of optimism, and I feel even worse for letting him down.
“Well, I think I’m gonna call it a night,” he says, rising to his feet, though he makes sure to slip the pamphlet onto my lap with a wink. “We’ll go over the application stuff tomorrow, all right?”
“All right.” I watch him head for the stairs.
Without seeming to realize it, he starts to fiddle with his right hand, and my worn smile slips. The black glove he wears contains prosthetic replacements for his thumb, his index finger, and his pinkie, but after only a month, he hasn’t regained much use of the limb yet. I know he’s frustrated by the lack of progress, though he does his best to pretend otherwise. The disability hasn’t hampered his art, at least.“I can still wield a spray can with my left hand. Score one for being ambidextrous, eh, Pyro?”
“You know, Pyro,” he calls back, “we might even be able to score a tour this week if we...” Following my gaze, Espi frownsand tucks his hand behind his back. I’ve been staring for too long. Seconds later, he’s already mounted the staircase before I can even choke an apology out. “Night,” he calls from the top of them.
“Night,” I say in return, but my voice alone isn’t enough to drown his weary sigh out.
The house is so small that the faintest sound carries. Sandwiched between two others, it sits on a small street in a suburb about an hour outside the city. The location is near where Espi plans to start school next semester, so I assume that’s why he chose it—though I’m not sure how he manages to pay for it. Money from Arno?
Maybe. But I don’t dare ask.
Dante’s old friend isn’t mentioned much anymore—he’s become one of the many topics that are tread over eggshells lately. Vinny is another. He may live inside my head, but I still can’t voice his name out loud.
It’s much easier to pretend—like I do now. Bad things only dwell in the city. The shadows don’t exist if you don’t acknowledge them. Some nights, I almost succeed in fooling myself...
If only the devil were as easy to ignore.
His eyes follow me when I stand and cross the small living room, skirting the simple furniture that came with the listing: a couch, an armchair, and a coffee table. The moment I mount the stairs, I know he’s right on my heels. Like always, he waits until I’ve crested the top of the staircase, where he watches me enter the room at the end, which I’ve claimed as my own. When I wrestle the door shut behind me, I don’t hear any more footsteps—he’ll remain in that spot all night, keeping watch.
I have no choice but to wait him out. Feeling my way through the darkness, I find the small bed tucked underneath the one window and perch myself on the edge of the mattress. My only other belongings are a secondhand cello propped against the corner, beside a duffel bag of clothing Espi found for me, and a pink mirror he hung on the wall to make this room “more girly.”From my position, I can just make out my reflection in the moonlight, though I barely recognize the person staring back. Her hair is shorter than it has ever been, barely ghosting her shoulders. There’s a scar on her chin and a healing patch of flesh over her right ear. At first glance, she could almost pass for human if it weren’t for her eyes. They’re too dark. Lifeless.
Her soul has fallen way too far to be of use to anyone now. All she can do now is wait.
It feels like an eternity before the house finally quiets. Espi’s snoring trickles down the hallway, and I use the sound as cover when I creep over to the duffel and tug on the zipper. There isn’t much inside. Just a few sweaters and a couple of pairs of jeans, but I take the time to fold each garment before carefully packing them back away. It’s not long after midnight when I hear someone lumber into the bathroom, and I crack my bedroom door to find that the devil has finally left his post.
I don’t stop to feel sorry for myself as I throw my bag over one shoulder and cross the threshold. I’ve overstayed my welcome in hell. Even the devil himself seems tired of watching me burn. All I have to do is make it to the damn door. One foot in front of the other...
“Going somewhere?”
A heavy hand falls over my shoulder, throwing me off-balance. My foot slips and I have to catch myself against the wall, but the resounding thud echoes like a gunshot. Holding my breath, I look over at Espi’s room. Seconds tick by, but his door doesn’t budge...
Thank God.
With my heart still racing, I recall the question.Going somewhere?“Yes.” I take two more steps forward, shrugging off the imposing figure who crept up behind me. I can see the top of the stairs now...
But one shove from behind and I go flying toward them. The scream building in my throat doesn’t even have the chance toleave it before I find myself being hauled down the steps after an imposing figure. After dragging me near the cusp of the kitchen, Lucifer comes to a stop, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. The shadows bathe him. In the light coming in through the sliding glass door overlooking the backyard, I swear I see them flicker...like wings. I blink, and they disappear, but the fire in his gaze doesn’t diminish one damn bit.
“Going somewhere?” he repeats now that we’re out of earshot of Espi.
