Page 157 of In Between Death and the Devil

Fen’s fear filled me, along with an urge to do something.

I coughed, trying to clear my head.

“You shouldn’t take it personally,” Death continued, walking towards me at a pace that signaled I wasn’t a threat. “No one is meant to take my place.”

“Then why am I here, in the In Between?” I ground out. There was only one move I could think of to make. An explosion of power great enough to not only free myself but knock her out. Except I’d need to delve deep into Fen’s power to use that much at once.

“Because I let you come,” she said.

I froze. “What?”

“Do you really think it’s the work of fate that you were the first Successor to arrive in the In Between in a hundred years?” She sounded amused. “The realms seek balance because that is what they were formed to do. There were plenty of possible Successors born over the years. I made sure none of them arrived. Until you.”

Fen had suspected as much, but the confirmation made my stomach turn. I felt so stupid for not seeing it sooner. I’d applied for the Ritual six times before I’d been selected. Every time, my name had been submitted with others to the In Between before the selection was made. I would bet anything Death had had a hand in who came and who didn’t.

I stopped struggling as she knelt next to me, pretending to be defeated while I opened my connection with Fen as wide as it would go.

“This is for the best, Maeve,” she said, her face serene as she reached for me.

Power poured into me. I didn’t have to draw anything. Fen gave it. It was like the time I’d breached his walls to discover how vast the power he carried really was. It filled every part of me, and with it came a flood of his memories.

“Easy, there. The knife isn’t necessary. Why don’t you put it away?” Fen let the gift he’d kept tucked away for years bleed into his voice. Letting it expand and stretch was a revelation. He had to suppress a pleasurable shiver.

The eyes of the man holding the knife clouded in confusion. His hand lowered a couple of inches.

The man against the wall let out a whimper, nearly breaking the spell.

“That’s it. Good man. Put the knife away and go home. What you want can’t be found here.”

The man with the knife nodded, giving in fully to Fen’s persuasion. As he wandered out of the alley, a wave of triumph washed over Fen.

Power. That’s what his gift really was. Power to help people. He’d never lock it away again.

One memory bled into another.

Fen watched as Maeve made her way through the throng of people in the Great Hall, guilt and fear curdling in his stomach. Seeing her for the first time had turned everything upside down.

He’d had a plan: get her alone and figure out what she wanted; find leverage to convince her to work with him so they could restore the balance of the In Between. She’d been taught he was wicked, like most people in the World of the Living, so he was expecting resistance. Someday, he hoped they’d be able to work together as partners. Platonic was fine, but now that he’d seen her, he wanted more than that. He wanted everything with her.

Terror rippled down his spine, making him shiver. For the first time in decades, he wanted to be known. For her to see the real him, not the Devil. He was a monster, though not for the reason most people thought. If she truly knew him, she’d hate him, but maybe he could give them both something real first. Something for them both to hold onto when things fell apart.

It wasn’t really for her—he couldn’t lie to himself—it was for him. It would be kinder to her to follow his original plan, but he was too selfish to not to try to make her love him.

Fen pushed more power into me, pressure building to an almost unbearable level. I knew from the myriad of emotions swirling in our bond that he saw everything I did, but he didn’t flinch from the memories. Underneath all of it was a steely determination to give me everything I needed, no matter the cost to him.

“Why won’t you let me in?” Esther asked. The desperation in her voice pierced him.

“I’ve told you, it’s for your own good.”

For the last three months, she’d tried to mend things between them, to cobble some semblance of a life together, even after the doctor told her she might never have a living child, but he couldn’t. Not when it had taken her six months of being a ghost to recover. As grateful as he was to have her back, he was terrified of something worse happening to her.

“How can an empty marriage be good for me?” She was close to tears. “I want my husband back.”

“I can’t give you that.” He needed to get away from her. He reached for his coat by the door.

“Then what do you suggest I do?”

“Maybe you should leave.” He didn’t look back as he hurried out the door.