Page 96 of In Between Death and the Devil

By the time we got back to our room, I would ache for his touch, but he’d leave me with a distant look on his face, disappearing for the rest of the night, no matter how long I stayed awake waiting for him. The only way I knew he was sleeping in the room at all was the different placements of the neatly folded blanket and pillow on the couch each morning. He’d greet me with a smile the next morning over breakfast, pulling out my chair and brushing a hand lightly over my back.

It felt like he was edging me, and it made me cranky.

“Too much tension isn’t good for you, Maeve.” Titus said one morning when I plopped down in my seat with a scowl, pointedly not looking at Fen. “You look like you need some relief. Do you need a hand? I’m happy to help.” The fork in his hand dissolved into smoke, sending the eggs and bacon he had loaded on it into his lap.

We all looked at Fen, who was calmly eating his breakfast, but when he looked at Titus his grip on his silverware tightened.

Titus simply raised one eyebrow as he brushed food off his lap, as if to say well, someone should put her out of her misery if you’re not going to.

“That’s a sweet offer, Titus,” I said, pretending to think about it. Turnabout was fair play.

My bond with Fen went taut with his anger.

“Maybe another time. For now, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” I sent a mental image of myself on Fen’s bed doing just that through our connection before slamming it shut. The problem was I had been taking care of myself. It wasn’t helping. My own hand was not what I craved.

It made no difference. Fen’s self-control remained infuriatingly intact.

* * *

A few days later, I was getting dressed for the day when I felt a stab of pain in my chest. Gasping, I pressed my hand to my skin above the throbbing pain. Instinctively, I reached for my bond with Fen. It was quiet except for a general sense of frustration. So it wasn’t that. Then I felt something tugging at my mind. Something big.

It was the In Between. Something was wrong. It tightened and pulled at its seams, but that was all. I couldn’t pinpoint the problem until a half hour later when Daphne walked in to breakfast late, her face a thundercloud. “That bitch.”

All of us straightened. She was nearly trembling with rage.

“Death cut off our access to her castle. And the Library.” Daphne thrust a piece of paper at Fen, then pulled out a chair, sat down and put her face in her hands.

Titus and Fen looked solemn while Marcus reached over to rub her back.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means we can’t access the Soul Record Room to figure out what the souls in our care need,” Marcus said.

“Or assess the newly dead souls in the Well before they’re sentenced,” Titus said, throwing his napkin on the table.

“We have no way of influencing their sentences,” Daphne said, anguish plain on her face. “We can’t even be present.”

“Don’t you need to be present to send them to the Dungeon if…” I asked Fen.

He frowned down at the paper in his hand. “Death has banned Tempters from her castle, but she can’t ban me.”

“When you say ban—” I said.

“She’s put up a barrier at the entrance from the bridge,” Daphne said through her teeth. “And blocked the portal to the Library. I checked on my way here.”

“What does that mean for the In Between?” I turned to Fen.

“It doesn’t sever the link between our castles, but it weakens it.” He tossed the note on the table in disgust. “Our bond is the main thing keeping things stable now.”

That explained what I’d felt earlier.

“Will you retaliate?” Titus asked.

“No. I’m not shutting the Judge trainees out. I don’t want to disrupt their training. Neither they nor the souls who pass through the In Between deserve that. Plus, this way Bea can still come and go.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead.

I stiffened at the sound of her name. I hadn’t seen her since we’d assessed my powers. Either she’d gotten the message that I didn’t want to, or the others were keeping her away from me. I didn’t care which, I was just grateful for the space.

“We’re running out of time,” Marcus said. His words were quiet, but his gaze was heavy when it met mine.