“As long as you are by my side, I’m up for anything.” He kissed me again, and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid of the future. I had my sisters, I had my parents, and I had a demon who would love me with every shred of his soul for the rest of my existence.
EPILOGUE
CINDER
The smell of old parchment and expensive espresso hit me the second I pushed open the heavy oak doors of the Holland Witchery. It was a far cry from the scents of sulfur and existential dread that had defined the previous year.
I adjusted the silver circlet resting on my brow, a heavy, constant reminder that I was now the High Priestess of the Salem Coven. It was a job that involved far more paperwork and diplomacy than I’d ever anticipated. Apparently, when you saved the world and channeled a goddess, people expected you to have the answers for everything, including zoning permits for ritual bonfires and whose familiar kept pooping in the communal herb garden.
“Good morning, Cinder.” Patrice offered a hesitant smile from behind the sales counter. She’d been demoted from healer to shop clerk and had accepted her punishment without complaint, which said a lot about her character. I could only imagine the grief Shade would’ve given us if he’d screwed up as royally as she had. He’d never let us hear the end of it.
Then again, he’d been a changed man ever since he cozied up with Miles, so who knew?
“Morning,” I said, slipping past the counter and heading to the back rooms.
Ash sat at a gleaming mahogany desk in the center of the newly renovated library. The charred shelves and smoke-stained walls were a thing of the past. Now, the room was a sanctuary of knowledge, with thousands of volumes organized in a system that only a demon of disorder or a meticulously dedicated archivist could appreciate.
“You’re late,” she said without looking up from a massive, leather-bound grimoire.
Chaos stood behind her, his large hand resting protectively on her shoulder. He had a pen tucked behind his ear and an ink stain on his sleeve, making him look less like a Prince of Hell and more like the world’s most intimidating research assistant.
“The gathering ran long.” I dropped my leather satchel onto a chair. “Agatha is still convinced we should ban telepathic communication during coven meetings because it leads to ‘unauthorized snickering.’ I told her she was just mad because she couldn’t hear the jokes.”
Ash finally looked up, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips. The hollow, haunted look she’d carried after the curse was long gone. Her hazel eyes were bright, fueled by the steady, eternal hum of her bond with Chaos.
“She is only upset because the joke was about her new hairpiece,” Chaos said. “It did look remarkably like a nesting pigeon.”
I snorted. “It really did. How’s the archive coming along?”
“We’ve cataloged three hundred of the salvaged texts from the Boston library.” Ash gestured to the stacks of books waiting for her attention. “Chaos found a series of journals from the seventeenth century that detail the early veil-keeping rituals. It’s been enlightening.”
“He’s a natural.” I winked at the demon. “Who knew a Prince of Hell would be so good at alphabetizing?”
“Order is its own form of power,” Chaos said, though the way he looked at Ash suggested he found her far more interesting than the Dewey Decimal System.
The back door opened, and a gust of cold October air swept into the library. I didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. The vibration of restless energy and the scent of gunpowder and cinnamon always heralded the arrival of my middle sister.
Ember marched in, looking sharp and terrifying in her Salem Police Department cadet uniform. Her purple hair was pulled back into a low, sensible bun, though a few rebellious strands escaped to frame her face. Behind her, Mayhem followed, looking equally absurd and intimidating in his own uniform.
A demon of mischief and violence in law enforcement. If that wasn't the definition of irony, I didn't know what was.
“Don’t say a word.” Ember pointed a finger at me. “Not one word about the hat.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything about the hat,” I lied, biting my lip to keep from laughing. “I was going to say something about the shoes. Are those regulation?”
Ember looked down at her polished black boots. “They’re close enough. I had to enchant them so I didn't break an ankle during the foot pursuit training today. Some idiot tried to outrun us after shoplifting a gallon of cider and a decorative pumpkin.”
“He didn’t get far,” Mayhem said, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. “I found the concept of ‘Mirandizing’ someone to be quite therapeutic. Although, my instructor said I should probably stop telling suspects that their souls belong to the state.”
“Baby steps,” I said, patting Mayhem on his arm. “How’s the training going, Em? Really?”
Ember sighed, leaning against the counter and pulling off her cap. “It’s exhausting. But it’s good. Chief Higgins is still a grump, but he knows we’re the only ones who can handle the ‘weird’ calls. We spent two hours today tracking a group of rogue imps through the sewers. Mayhem was in his element.”
“I do enjoy a good pest control mission,” he said.
“We’re a good team.” Ember’s gaze softened as she looked at her demon. “The department gets our muscle and the magic, and we get a legitimate reason to kick ass.”
“Speaking of ass-kicking…or the lack of opportunities.” Ash closed her book. “The sensors in the clearing are stable. The veil is thicker than it’s been in centuries. Whatever we did with Hecate, it held.”
