Page 30 of The Daughter of the Devil

“I haven’t decided what to do with you yet,” I state to him, pondering with a finger to my chin.

“Please,” he barely manages to whisper. “We’ve tried for years to kill Alistair. We’ve never succeeded. We didn’t even expect you this time.”

“And yet it was still an attempt you made, an attempt that did in fact succeed.”

“He was just one servant. I’m happy and willing to take his place.” The mere statement sends my teeth on edge. Turning swiftly, I kick him in the face and let him drop to the ground with a grunt.

“Alistair was irreplaceable,” I scream, feeling the hate from the tears dripping down my face. “I will not forgive the ones that took him from me. I just haven’t decided that now, without your brother, if I should kill you as well. Or to watch you longer. You’ve taken something from me that I can’t have back.”

“Please, Princess, anything, I’ll do anything,” he pleads.

“Can you bring back a demon that had no soul?” I don’t want this boy to live. Demons aren’t meant to enjoy the torture they put on humans, and yet I know for a fact these ones do. I’ve already removed one brother from the picture. I suppose I don’t have to remove both of them. That wouldn’t be very fair to their father. With a flick of the wrist, I send him away in flames. I don’t know exactly where in Hell he’ll end up, but he will be alive.

Turning around, I look at the limp body on the floor. My whole chest is shaking as I approach him. Kneeling down towards his side, I close his eyes, which no longer possess any color. I don’t know what to do with him right now, but he can’t be seen like this. As I give him one last kiss on his cold lips, I let his body encase itself in flames before disappearing altogether in ash.

It’s time to go home.

29

Relief

Morgana

The knocking on my door is persistent and very annoying, but since under who is on the other side, I can only be gracious that he's even here.

“Yeah, Dad?” I say, acknowledging that he can enter. As my father enters the room, he takes a grim look around before taking his seat next to me on the bed.

“My dear, you haven't moved in over a week.”

“So? I have my powers back. I can do whatever I want again.”

“Do you not realize what has happened to you?” Here he goes again, being utterly nothing but cryptic and annoying. I don't want to talk. It hurts. “Morgana, when you lost your powers, you were lost. Alistair accompanied you up into the other world so that you wouldn't be so alone. He wanted to be there for you and you alone. What happened to him was an unfortunate incident, it wasn't planned.”

“It was planned by the twins.”

“But it wasn't planned by me.” I blink a couple times at my father and it finally makes sense.

“You sent Alastor to attack me at the cemetery. He's the only one that could have been strong enough for me not to sense. And of course, Alistair was too used to his father to have sensed him either.”

“Yes, I did.” He takes a long breath before continuing. “Believe me, I had no idea what the twins were planning. If I knew I never would have-”

“Stop. I understand what you did was for me. You couldn't have known what they were going to do. I just wish Alistair didn't come with me. If he hadn't, he'd still be here and alive. He wouldn't have died so stupidly.” I turned my head away and glanced at the wall. When I came back home, I took the scythe with me. Under no circumstances will I allow any demon to have it again. I let out a sigh, the weight of his words pressing down on me. My room, now dimly lit by the flickering light of the soul crystals, feels suffocating. The memories of Alistair, his unwavering loyalty, and his tragic end haunt every corner. The heavy drapes are drawn, casting long shadows on the walls. The only source of light is the blue glow from the crystals, their cold light reflecting my inner turmoil. My father’s presence is a stark contrast to the gloom, his figure imposing yet comforting. “Dad, I just... I can’t stop thinking about him. Every time I close my eyes, I see his face, lifeless and cold. It’s my fault he’s gone.”

“Morgana,” he says softly, placing a hand on my shoulder, “Alistair’s choice to accompany you was his own. He loved you, and he would have done anything to protect you. You must honor his memory by living, not by succumbing to guilt.” So, father knew of Alistair's feelings.

Tears well up in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. “I don’t know if I can, Dad. Everything feels so empty without him.”

“You can, and you will,” he assures me. “You are stronger than you realize. Alistair believed in you, and so do I.”

I take a deep, shaky breath, trying to find some semblance of strength. “What do I do now?”

“You should go and see your friend Morgana. I have it on good word that she is still planning your party to go ahead tonight.”

“I don't feel like celebrating.”

“It may be the case. But after everything she did to help you, don't you feel that she deserves a goodbye?”

I hate it when my father is right. Yes, Sierra definitely deserves a goodbye. After gritting my teeth together, I get dressed and decide to head back up to the surface. I know approximately where the party is, and after a few blocks, I locate the loud bundle of people. Once Sierra announced the party in front of the entire cafeteria lunchroom, it was clear that this was the place to be. Surrounded by hundreds of high school students, the abandoned asylum is well lit. Alistair and my father must have given her a lot to work with.

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