Page 116 of The Devil and His Sparrow

The reflection of a girl who’d broken free of her cage and found herself because a demon saw her for who she really was and what she was worth.

And that demon needed me now.

Another slit marked my back. My face scrunched in pain, but I saw more than the agony in my reflection now. I saw resilience, and I saw lingering hope.

“Eden,” I breathed out. “Can you turn the music off so the piano can play over the speakers?”

She stared at me like she was trying to understand what I had planned, but she nodded and started to walk away. “Sure.”

“And,” I said, making her stop to look back at me, “when you’re done, try to find Zagan in the other rooms again. Tell him where I am in case this doesn’t work.”

She gave a final nod and darted off to complete her tasks. I’d have to thank her later, because there would be a later to talk to her. I was sure of it.

I faced the piano again, raising the keylid to expose the black-and-white keys. I couldn’t go over a speaker to tell Zagan where I was since there weren’t any mics to project my voice, and I couldn’t keep running around to find him since my legs weren’t working.

But the thing about me and Zagan … we didn’t need words. Not when we had music.

The pop song overhead nearly drowned out the sound of the piano as I practiced keys to get familiar with the song. I’d never played it, and I’d only heard it once. So while Eden worked to shut off the current music, I played around with the keys to make sure I got the notes right.

Two more cuts to my skin tried to stop me, but I held onto my determination.

Nineteen minutes left.

The music overhead suddenly stopped mid-song. Only the voices of the crowd filled the room now. With my heat soaring, I gingerly played a C on the piano. The sound flared to life, not just from the instrument on stage but through the whole room over a speaker. The crowd turned to look at me, clearly confused about the abrupt change in their party music. I gave a small, breathy laugh as true hope filtered back into me, almost making me forget the pain at my back.

Zagan, I thought with a deep breath. Please hear me.

I hovered my fingers over the keys, and I blocked out everything else. I blocked out the room of annoyed demons. I blocked out the pain coursing through my body. I blocked out the fear of failure. When that was silent, all that remained was Zagan.

My hands moved, bringing Zagan’s song to life. There were so many pieces I could’ve chosen to play, but only one would speak our secret language. Only one would get the message across to him—the song he’d written for me. It was a challenge since I’d only heard him play it in its entirety the one time today. But even with a couple of stumbles, the song was distinct. The melody was precise. The message was clear.

My love for Zagan.

It was what made all of this worth it. Chasing him to Hell in order to bring him home was the only answer for me. He’d left everything behind for me—money, a home, the means to a career. I would’ve had a comfortable life, and I’d have my sister to live it with. But a life without Zagan wasn’t one I wanted.

So I played, telling him I was here. All he had to do was come find me.

I finished the song with three new marks to remind me of the lack of time. There was still no sign of Zagan, and the crowd had seemingly thinned, maybe choosing to leave in pursuit of somewhere with different music, but some remained and watched me expectantly. With sixteen minutes left, I started all over.

I worked through Zagan’s song, pouring the same amount of emotion into it that he had. I thought of everything he’d done for me—studying with me, showing up for me, listening to me. I thought of how he looked with Gemma, the two of them gushing over dragons. I thought of the stolen glances between us, the slow kisses, and his hands on my body. I thought of how he taught me to step out of my cage and fly. I thought of the party at Bloomings and the trip to New York. I thought of the sacrifice he’d made for me.

Tears filled my eyes, and this time, it had nothing to do with the physical torment.

I cried for the future I desperately wanted for my demon.

I cried, because I’d been too afraid to admit what I felt.

I cried, because my fingers were growing weak with the fifty-seventh slash now carving into my back, bringing me closer to the end of our story.

I’d finished another play through of the song, and I nearly fell backward off the stool as blood pooled on the bench and the floor beneath it. My lips had dried, and my hands shook as dark spots webbed across my eyes. Still, I restarted the song, playing slowly. The song no longer sounded smooth, lilting, and beautiful but choppy and jumbled. Extra notes crowded the correct ones as my hands slipped or lost strength and fell onto neighboring keys.

Another cut, and I lost control of my arms. They slipped off the piano and hung limply at my sides. I fell forward, slumping against the instrument. An eruption of random notes sounded overhead as my body fell against the keys. My energy had been zapped, and no amount of fighting seemed to be bringing it back.

It was over.

“Zagan,” I whispered into the air.

Tears slowly rolled down my cheeks. My eyes slipped closed with the fifty-ninth slash, and I prepared myself for the darkness I’d soon face. I sent a silent apology to Zagan for failing him.

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