Page 110 of In Between Death and the Devil

Dressed only in my panties and breast band, I walked to the water’s edge.

“Maeve.” Fen’s voice had an urgency that made me turn. “I said you should run in the other direction, but that doesn’t mean I want you to. Please, be careful.” It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but after a moment he closed his mouth.

His plea warmed me a little, and I gave him a small smile and a nod. Then I turned and waded into the Pool.

The water was icy cold, making me shiver, but I kept going until it was up to my chest. Taking a deep breath, I ducked down until I was fully submerged. My eyes closed of their own volition.

* * *

“Maeve, bring the plates and forks, please.” I opened my eyes at my mother’s voice.

I was no longer underwater. Blinking, I took in the familiar sight of my parents’ drawing room. A fire crackled in the fireplace beneath the carved wooden mantle. My mother stood by a table in the corner with a fruit pie on it. My father and brother sat in their usual after-dinner spots on either side of a chess board setting up the pieces. Everything was where I remembered it—my mother’s embroidery basket next to the tufted velvet couch, the family portraits I’d painted one summer hanging on one wall and shelves full of books along another.

My eyes stung. How many times had I longed to be back here with them? It was like stepping into a hot bath after a long, hard day. My shoulders relaxed and my mind quieted, as if something that had gone missing was found, back in its proper place. I knew it was a memory, but I didn’t care. For the first time in years, I felt safe.

“Maeve?” My mother’s eyes were narrowed in concern.

“Sorry. Be right there.” My body moved automatically to a small sideboard where a stack of plates and forks sat next to the glass bottle of my father’s favorite whiskey. I half expected my hands to go straight through them, but they were solid, the gold edges of the plates smooth, the silver of the forks a little bit rough where they’d been scoured too many times.

As I brought them across the room to my mother, I felt a tug in her direction, almost as if I was being pulled along by an unseen force. As she cut the pie and distributed slices, my eyes traced the features of her face, lingering on the soft lines around her eyes. I’d forgotten she had those. I tried to imprint every detail of her in my memory so I wouldn’t lose any more of her.

“Hand these out and come back for yours,” she said, passing me two plates.

I felt the same tug; except this time, it pulled me to accept the plates and walk them over to my father and brother. It was like there was a predetermined path of what had happened before, which made sense since I was in a memory. I could drop into it and let it pull me along, but I could also resist it, at least a little bit, which left me with three questions. When was this memory from? How far could I deviate from it? And why was I in this memory for my first trial?

To answer the first, I looked around as I went back for my own piece and settled on the couch next to my mother. My brother looked much like I remembered him before he died, tall and broad. He’d shot up in height and had started to fill out the summer before and hadn’t yet adjusted. Gods, I’d missed his awkwardness. It had been especially funny since he’d always treated me as if he were the older sibling, regardless of his size. His appearance meant it was probably the same year, but how close to that fateful day were we?

“How are things in the warehouse, James?” my mother asked.

“They’re well. Having Colt join us has been a godsend. He’s working out well, Maeve. If things continue like they are, you may be able to marry him next year.” He gave me a warm smile that pierced me straight through.

I felt the memory version of me perk up, even as my heart sank. “Really, Papa?”

“Yes. It’s early so I can’t make any promises, but he’s quite bright. I’m pleasantly surprised.” He moved a piece on the board, causing my brother to groan. “You telegraph all your emotions which makes you so easy to beat.” He shook his head fondly.

“How do you know I’m not just doing it to throw you off?” my brother said.

As they bickered, my mind spun. I knew exactly when this was. The night before it all happened. I’d been so happy, excited for the future that Colt and I had planned together. He’d said he wanted to marry me, but he didn’t have the means, so I’d convinced my father to hire him. I didn’t know that what he wanted was access to my father’s safe so he could steal his merchant ring, motive as to why I’d supposedly murdered him, I guess.

“Maeve?” My mother grasped one of my hands. “Are you sure about him?” She looked at me with such love and concern.

“I’m sure.” I said, my tone cold. “He’s everything I want.” My heart broke as memory me yanked my hand from my mother’s grasp and stood to clear the empty plates to the sideboard.

She’d been suspicious of Colt from the start, but I’d thought she hated the idea of me leaving home and starting a life of my own. Both my parents had had reservations about me getting married, given my gift, but they didn’t want to keep me at home forever, and my father had come around once he’d met Colt. I should have listened to my mother, taken her doubts seriously. She’d done nothing but try to protect me my whole life, and all I’d done was fight her. Colt was probably stealing my father’s merchant ring at this very moment.

I froze, my hands holding the stack of plates. Was that the reason this memory had been chosen for my first trial, the last happiness I’d known before everything went wrong? Trust what has been. Except I didn’t understand. What was there to trust? I knew what happened next. I’d already relived the day they died multiple times with Fen’s help.

Unless there was something that I was meant to see that I hadn’t seen the first time.

The idea of checking my father’s safe to see if Colt had taken the ring yet seized me. It exerted a different kind of pull on me, one that was insistent. I’d been able to break from the memory in small ways. Would I be able to wander completely off track?

“I’m going to get a book from my room,” I said, giving into the impulse.

My mother waved at me from the couch without looking up.

With my heart in my throat, I slipped out the door. As I made my way down the hall to my father’s study for the key to his office, down the stairs, out the back door and across the lawn, I expected the memory to dissolve around me, but it didn’t. Everything stayed clear and solid and real right down to the dew on the grass. The gravel in front of the backdoor to my father’s office crunched under my slippers. I stopped with a wince. If Colt was inside, he might hear me. What would happen if our confrontation happened here instead of the next day?

The warehouse was dark. No light or flickering candle shone through the windows. There was no noise beyond the rustling of the trees. Everyone had left hours ago. I thought it most likely that Colt had stolen the ring at the end of his shift, that if I went to the safe, I’d find it already gone. I could go back to the house and forget about it, wait to see how things unfolded. It was the safe, smarter course of action, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something here I was meant to see.