Page 82 of The Devil and His Sparrow

His expression remained as stoic as ever. “So that should tell you what I think.”

Without another word, his body morphed and shrank until only a black snake remained. He slithered along the floor, heading for the kitchen cabinets.

“I should donate you to the fucking zoo,” I hissed under my breath.

With a heavy sigh, I left the kitchen and made my way upstairs. Iyla’s door was open, and I stopped at the edge of the doorway. She sat criss-crossed on the floor, staring at her closed textbooks that she’d spread out in front of her. Just the sight of her in my band t-shirt sent my heart soaring, and I knew right then there was something seriously wrong with me.

My sparrow had fucked me up somehow, but I didn’t understand what it was or what it meant.

All I knew was, I couldn’t breath past the swelling heat in my chest.

The first time I’d played an instrument was over a millennium ago, and I still remembered how it felt. It was the piano of all things, and when I moved my fingers over the keys and heard the twinkling and booming sounds, it was like opening my eyes for the first time.

Where there’d been nothing but darkness and emptiness before, there was suddenly blinding light, a kaleidoscope of colors that I’d never even dreamt could be real, and beauty unlike any other. Beauty in the world that I hadn’t realized existed outside of the darkness. Beauty in music and the way it could convey entire emotions and stories without uttering a single word. Playing music—and, eventually, writing my very own—was like finally understanding what it meant to be alive.

That same feeling hit me now as I watched Iyla’s slender hand tuck some hair behind her ear. The blinding euphoria corrupted my mind as she chewed her lip and scanned the various textbooks. The overwhelming sense of warmth barreled through me as her chestnut eyes rose to lock on mine, stealing all the air and any sense of reason from inside me.

This little human was music, was beauty, was life.

She was my sin, my temptation.

She was … everything.

“Are you okay?” she asked slowly, her eyes raking over me like she was searching for some sign as to why I stood silently in her doorway.

I cleared my throat and tried to keep my voice level and calm so as to not give away the absolute chaos happening inside me right now. “I’m good, yeah.” I went over to where she sat and sank to the floor across from her. “What are you doing?”

Her shoulders sagged a fraction as she looked back at the textbooks. “I brought these with me, but I realized, like almost everything else, that I didn’t pay for these. I tried calling Mom to see what to do about all my school stuff since she demanded everything back, but she won’t answer me.”

She hugged her knees to her chest, her eyes never leaving the books. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I have class tomorrow, but do I even go? Do I keep trying for this degree that was meant more for Mom than it was me? Part of me thinks I can still fix things with her if I keep trying, but I-I just don’t know.” Her eyes squeezed shut, and she held her head in her hands. “I don’t know what to do, Zagan.”

I knew what she should do. She should give that woman the middle finger and tell her to kiss her ass. But my reaction wasn’t Iyla. She didn’t need a suggestion from a selfish demon. She needed one from a friend.

“Iyla.” Her name left my lips gently, like the sound itself was made of glass and saying it too hard would make it shatter.

She looked up at me, despair and desperation clouding her eyes. Just seeing the desolate expression made my chest constrict with the need to bring some light back to her, to make her troubles disappear.

“Forget your mom,” I began. “Forget the expectations you’ve always had placed on you. Forget the money and the schooling. Hell, forget what I’ve said, too. What would you like to do if you were given the chance to do anything? Don’t think about how or the logistics of getting there. Just tell me. What is your dre—”

“To play piano,” she whispered, cutting me off. Her teary eyes held mine, and they seemed almost pleading as she admitted, “I want to play piano.”

I smiled at her honesty and gave her an encouraging nod. “Okay. What do you want to do with that? Teach piano? Be in a band? Work at hotels? Work with an orchestra?”

“I want to perform,” she answered immediately, like the answer had always been tucked away inside her, begging to be let free, and now that it was out, there was no stopping the rush of truth. “I want to be a pianist, traveling and performing classical pieces all over the world with different orchestras.”

I grabbed her hands and pulled her across the sea of textbooks to settle in my lap. She straddled me and wrapped her arms around my neck while I placed mine on her lower back.

Her eyes bore into mine as I answered, “Then that’s what you’ll do. I’ll make damn sure of it. You’re not living for anyone else from this moment on. Going forward, you’re going to reach for your goal. You’re going to be a pianist.”

Her brows plunged, and she shook her head. “But I don’t know how to get there. I’ve already spent three years studying—”

I lightly pressed a finger to her lips. “Excuses. Those are excuses to cover up the fact that you’re scared. And I get it. Figuring out how to get where you want to go can be scary. Starting over can be scary. But if anyone can do it, you can.” I squeezed her tighter to me and added with a teasing grin, “You won’t have to do it alone. I’ll be there with you, and having a demon at your disposal will definitely make things easier. I can literally do just about anything.”

She laughed, and the sound went straight to my heart like an arrow striking true. Her fingers mindlessly played with the hair at the back of my head as she smiled at me. “You are a demon, aren’t you? I forget sometimes.”

Her words reminded me of what she’d said the night before. I was more than a spawn of Hell. To her, I was Zagan. I wasn’t a sex demon, only good for one thing. I wasn’t some creature that existed solely to inspire sin in the world. I was more in her eyes, and I’d never realized how much I needed to be that until she came into my life and showed me.

“Thank you,” I said softly, looking deep into her eyes. I wanted her to see how much she’d helped me just by being herself.

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