There was still the matter of my father trapped in Hell, of mending the veil…and of what would happen to our demons when we did.
14
CINDER
“Her body requires rest,” Chaos said, not asking for permission as he carried Ash toward the stairs. “I will tend to her.”
“I’m coming too.” Mom followed after them, pausing on the second step to look at me.
“Cinder…?”
“Go ahead. We’ve got some cleaning up to do,” I said. “I’ll handle… We’ll handle the rest.”
I squeezed Discord’s hand, knowing the cleaning up was going to involve a lot more than soot and broken glass.
Chaos carried Ash upstairs as if she were made of spun sugar instead of a witch who had spent the last hour trying to incinerate us all. Mom followed close behind, her shoulders slumped with a weariness that went deeper than bone. I could only imagine her fatigue after literally being the only thing holding the veil together.
The rest of us stayed in the library, and for a moment, I just watched the dust motes dance in the glow of the overhead lights. The house was quiet. Too quiet. After the screaming, the explosions of glass, and the literal shredding of reality, the silence felt heavy, almost suffocating…like a wet wool blanket pressed against my face.
“She’s free,” Discord finally whispered.
“She’s free,” I echoed. My voice sounded small, even to my own ears. I looked at the ceiling where the black shadow of the curse had finally evaporated. We had won. So why did it feel like we were standing in the middle of a graveyard?
Then I remembered. Chrys. Ginger. Dad.
The sorrow hit me like a physical blow to my chest, stealing the air from my lungs. I sank onto the edge of the desk, the same desk where we’d spent countless nights planning rituals and complaining about tourists. Back when our lives were normal.
Now, Chrys was gone, and I didn’t have time to grieve her. Mourning the loss of my best friend had turned into a tomorrow problem because the world was ending, but her death had torn a hole in my life that would never be filled.
I sniffled, and Discord pulled me into the protective circle of his arms, letting me sob against his chest. His body was hard, solid muscle, but his embrace felt as soft as a fluffy blanket just pulled from the dryer. He smelled like the Underworld waterfall and the sharp, clean scent of fading magic, and I leaned into him, letting him shoulder some of the weight.
“I know,” he murmured into my hair, rubbing slow circles on my back. “I know, Cinder.”
“Chrys was a murderer,” I choked out, the words tasting like bile. “I can’t believe she killed Ginger. That she tried to take over the coven.”
“I know it’s hard to accept,” Ember said. “But it’s true. I lived it.”
“The amulet is a cruel master,” Discord said softly. “The broken shard didn’t just grant power. In its attempt to become whole, it fed on the bleakest corners of her soul. It didn't make her into a monster—it simply took the darkness she already carried and twisted it until she couldn't see the light.”
I pulled back, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “And Patrice? She doesn’t have a wicked bone in her body, but she’s the one who gave it to her.”
We turned as one toward the doorway. Patrice sat on a wooden chair, her head bowed, her shoulders trembling with her sobs. Shade and Miles leaned against the counter, watching her with a mixture of suspicion and pity.
“What should we do with her?” I asked, my thoughts still spiraling.
Ember pursed her lips, her eyes calculating. “Good question.”
“I suggest we take her upstairs,” Mayhem said. “Everyone could use a comfortable place to sit after today’s events.”
“I’m not sure I want her in our house.” My sister crossed her arms and gave Patrice the classic Ember side eye.
“She is the reason your sister is alive,” Discord said. “That fact should not be dismissed so easily.”
Ember narrowed her eyes, cutting her gaze between the demons. “Fine. After you.” She gestured to the stairs, and Miles and Shade led Patrice up.
We followed, and as we walked into the kitchen, the atmosphere was stifling. Mom stood at the stove, her hands shaking as she moved a teakettle around. She looked even older than she had an hour ago, her eyes weary, the silver in her hair catching the overhead light.
“Is Ash okay?” I rested a hand on her back.
