Page 19 of In Between Death and the Devil

“Best for you.” I put as much poison into my tone as I could, but it wasn’t satisfying to watch my mother recoil. Unable to face her any longer, I ran to my room and slammed the door.

I gasped, the testing room swimming back into focus. My muscles tensed. I wanted to run away, to hide from the memory of my eight-year-old self yelling at my mother because my curse had made it impossible for me to do anything outside the walls of our estate, but I resisted. This is what I’d come to the In Between to do. To atone.

There were plenty of memories like this one, where I lashed out at my parents, even though all they were trying to do was keep me safe. It was a good place to start.

The soul piece came loose with a light touch. I placed it on the scale and turned back to search for another.

The next two were just as intense.

“I can’t, Zach.” I shook my head at my brother. “Please. I have to get out of here.”

“Maeve—” He tried to grab me, but I slipped through his grasp, desperate to escape, forgetting I still held a scarf I’d picked up to try on.

“Where are you going? You have to pay for that.” The merchant at the stand yelled after me as I turned and ran through the market. “Stop. Thief.”

I winced. I’d been thirteen. Tired of being cooped up, I’d snuck out to go to the market. My brother had followed me, tried to convince me that I couldn’t handle a square full of strangers, but I’d been too desperate for stimulation, too determined to face the effects of my curse to listen. Too selfish to think about the consequences. We’d almost been arrested.

“Don’t make me do this,” I begged my father.

“I’m not. This is your choice.” His expression was pained. “You can look each of my men in the face, and come and work for me, or you can stay confined to the house and grounds.”

I felt backed into a corner. I loved the idea of working for my father, but I was afraid of the cost.

“One look at each of them,” he said. “You see their death once and then you can be around them.”

It wasn’t that simple, I had to live with the knowledge of how they would die, but it was how I’d adjusted to the servants in our household.

“I don’t have to look at them. I can avoid them and still work for you.”

“We can’t risk another incident.”

I flinched at the steel in his voice.

“Choose, Maeve.”

I wanted to scream at him, to rage, but I knew it wouldn’t change anything. The threat of discovery was too great. I clenched my jaw. “Fine. Bring them in.”

What an ungrateful daughter I had been. My father had wanted to expand my world, and all I could think about was me and my curse. It was all I’d ever thought about. Not the people who cared for me, kept me safe, and loved me no matter what.

I swallowed and placed the soul pieces on the scale. That was three. I needed at least one more. There was a deep green one at the bottom.

“I never expected you to be this gullible and naive, Maeve. You thought someone like me could be interested in someone like you.” Colt’s eyes raked over my curves like he’d never run his hands over them in appreciation. “Your father’s merchant ring was the only thing I wanted.”

Humiliation burned through me, followed by a rage so intense I could barely speak. I wanted to lash out, but I clenched my hands at my sides. Part of me didn’t believe him. “You weren’t faking it when you were inside me, or every time you came back for more. You were quite eager.”

He shrugged and took a swig from his flask. “I had to find something to keep me going for as long as it took. There’s nothing wrong with your cunt, Maeve, but that’s all you were. A willing amusement to help pass the time.”

“You bastard.” My control snapped, and I pulled my arm back to punch him. I didn’t get far before he grabbed his chest with a gasping groan. My heart seized, and we both hunched forward.

I sucked in a breath as the memory dissolved, my skin tight. The rage and lack of control I’d felt still echoed in my chest. Colt’s taunts had been cruel, but that loss of control had cost those I loved best dearly. If I’d handled it better, they’d still be alive. My eyes stung. It was my biggest regret.

I teased it out and set it on the metal dish which sank nearly to the table. My hands and knees trembled. I hadn’t expected it to sink quite that far. I felt drenched in shame yet resolved. My soul was wretched. I had so much to atone for. I’d face this as many times as I had to. I’d never forget.

“Good,” Death said. “Now, select weights corresponding to the sentence you believe you should have received, and we’ll see how the scales balance.”

I moved to the leather box. The silver weights were lined up neatly in tiered trays. They looked like chess pieces in varying sizes, in a variety of different shapes—a house, a heart, a crown, a feather, etc. I picked up one of the feathers to examine it.

A whisper of comfort and love flowed through me. I looked closer. The feather sat atop a cylindrical base into which words had been etched: the comfort of true love.