Page 46 of In Between Death and the Devil

“How do we do this?” I asked.

“Take my hands,” he said, reaching for me.

The skin of his palms was rough against my own, the sensation sending a pleasant frisson through me. I ignored it, looking at him expectantly. I wanted to get this over with before I lost my nerve.

“Call on your power.”

I gritted my teeth. “I can’t. I don’t know how.”

“Try.” He made it sound so simple.

Every instinct I had resisted, but I closed my eyes and searched for the hole in the center of my chest, which I was starting to think of as a well. I had no trouble finding it this time, but no matter how much I coaxed or demanded or tried to grab something from it, nothing responded. He might as well have told me to turn myself to stone. A noise of frustration escaped me.

“I can help you, if you’ll let me.”

“Fine.” My relief was potent, and ridiculous. How quickly I had gone from not wanting anything to do with him, to this.

Shadows wreathed our hands, and I felt him reach out through our thread of connection, calling to the power within me. It stirred in my chest, as if it were a cat looking up lazily from a nap. After a moment, it unfurled, stretching and warming before flowing through my limbs. I jolted when it touched his shadows.

Something snapped into place as light spilled from me. Shadows poured from him, and our powers arced over us, twining around each other, like his and Death’s had on the bridge. I felt his shadows through my light, as if it was an extension of me. They felt like cords wrapped in velvet, soft and seductive, concealing a center strong enough to pierce my soul. The contact was captivating. And addictive. I never wanted to let go.

My fascination lulled me into a daze, until I felt something stab me in the chest. Or try to. It bounced off only to wrap itself around me and try to burrow beneath my skin. I tensed, and my concentration faltered.

The Devil jerked with a hiss, his grip on my hands tightening. “It’s the Death Chord. You need to let it in. Try to relax.” He said the last word on a grunt.

“Sure. I’ll just relax while the realm tries to skewer me.” I grimaced.

His eyes narrowed in a way that clearly said Brat and I felt the urge to laugh. Instead, I rolled my lips inward and tried to do as he said.

Inhaling deeply, I held still, my eyes screwed up tight, and stopped resisting. The Death Chord slid in smoothly, hooking into my chest. I gasped. It felt just like it had the first time, like something was squeezing my heart, trying to rip it from my chest, except the pressure eased after a moment. The sense of the Devil I’d gotten from our deal sharpened, clarifying. He was beneath my pulse, like a second heartbeat. His power was palpable. For a moment, it was as if I were standing on the edge of a vast, churning ocean of it, before it faded to a faint echo in the background. Then, something snaked through me, up from my heart into my head.

“Fen.” I said his name without thinking, not bothering to try to hide the panic in my voice.

“It’s okay. The bond will allow us to communicate, but we need to let it into our minds.”

“You didn’t mention that part.” My voice was high-pitched.

“Maeve.” A wave of irritation hit me, hot and spiked—his, I realized. Then, he sighed and the irritation turned to soothing reassurance. “I know you’re frightened, but I need you to trust me. You don’t need to let the Death Chord take over your mind. All it needs is a foothold.”

I shivered. The In Between needed this, but it felt unbearably intimate.

“Create an antechamber in your mind for me, something separate. You get to control what you put in there, what I can see and feel. I won’t have access to any of the rest of you. Not without your consent. I’m doing the same for you.”

I opened my eyes to search his, but they were completely black. Sincerity, conviction, and a hint of desperation flowed through our bond, so I did what he asked. I imagined a room made of solid stone, as if it were carved from a mountain. No cracks or crevices for him to slip through. No door. I left a small opening for the Death Chord to slither through, and once it had, I sealed it inside.

The Devil rushed in, occupying the space I’d created. I tensed, worrying it wouldn’t hold, but it did. He didn’t breach the walls, staying confined just as he’d promised. Relief, bright and clear, washed over me. Mine or his, I couldn’t tell.

I felt the Death Chord form, stringing out between us, flickering until it became a steady thrum of connection with a low hum that resonated in my chest. It settled over the thread of our deal, encompassing and replacing it, until it dissolved.

And then, I was in a meadow filled with irises under a darkened sky. I could feel the Devil’s presence, like he was there even though I couldn’t see him. I turned, confused as to how I’d arrived. A blink later I was back in the Great Hall.

Light and shadows faded, the power in my chest coiling back up. Except this time, it didn’t disappear. I felt it there, dormant but waiting.

The bond between us, our Death Chord, was silent but undeniable. Its presence felt more potent than our deal had, as did the Devil. It was somehow disorienting and steadying at the same time. As if the ground on which I stood was more solid than before. It felt… right. It wasn’t that I’d found a piece I hadn’t realized was missing. It was more like something that augmented who I already was, which made me shiver.

“Is it done?” I asked, breathless.

“Yes.”