Page 107 of The Devil and His Sparrow

She got up and slowly went back to the bed. I waved my hand at the piano, making it disappear. When I looked back at Iyla, she had her lips pressed to Gemma’s forehead and her hands clutching Gemma’s slender fingers.

“I love you,” Iyla whispered against Gemma’s temple. “So, so much.”

I wanted to take Iyla’s pain away. I wanted her endless stream of tears to vanish. I wanted to give her what she wanted and save her sister for her.

I could never truly understand what she was feeling. I didn’t have siblings, and I viewed death as a necessary part of life for humans. I’d seen thousands of deaths over the millenia I’d been here, and none of them had fazed me. I’d even go so far as to say that I’d always found it annoying when humans made such a big deal over a very natural thing that they knew had to happen.

This was different.

Seeing Iyla cling to her sister. Hearing the sobs still spew from her lips as we drove home. Practically tasting the heartache in the air around her.

Nothing else seemed to matter. The only thing that did was taking Iyla’s anguish away, no matter what it took or what it meant.

The moment we stepped through the front door of our house, Iyla ran a shaky hand through her hair and looked at me. “There’s got to be something I can do. I-I can’t let this happen. It’s all my fault that she’s like this.”

“Iyla, slow down,” I soothed, holding my hands out to her. “You didn’t cause this.”

“I did,” she sobbed. “The blood. It was my idea. I—”

There was no convincing her otherwise when she was so distraught, so I snapped my fingers. In the same instant, her eyes rolled back into her head, and her body went limp. I caught her in my arms and stared down at her sleeping face.

“Just rest,” I whispered to her. “I’ll make this right. You won’t lose your sister.”

I carried her up the stairs to her bedroom and tucked her in. She would be out for a while, so after shutting her door behind me, I trudged downstairs to my music studio. I dropped onto the couch and stared at the finished song I’d left there that morning—the song I’d written for her.

Every line and every note was crafted with Iyla in mind, and it had easily been my best song yet. But what did I expect when writing a song for the girl who made my existence mean something?

I leaned my head against the back of the couch and stared blankly at the ceiling as I called out, “Dante.”

I waited in silence as the call traveled to wherever Dante was. It was roughly a minute before the demon appeared in a plume of shadows.

“This better be important,” Dante grumbled, holding a naked hardback book in his hand. He shook it at me and hissed, “I was just about to find out who the killer is.”

I smirked, despite knowing the rather bleak conversation we were about to have. “Sorry to interrupt.”

He flopped down on the couch cushion adjacent to mine and dropped the book next to him. He stared at me for a second like he was trying to solve his own mystery of why I’d randomly called him here through shadow speak. We didn’t really call out to each other like that anymore, not since phones were invented. We only did it when it was about something urgent, which no doubt left him puzzled now.

“What’s up?” Dante asked with only a hint of caution to his voice.

“Starting today, I’ll need you to take Coldin with you.”

Alarm furrowed his brow. “Why? He stays with the leader of the group, which is you. I don’t know if I want the responsibility of making sure he stays under control.”

I didn’t answer right away. I pressed my lips together as I mulled over what I wanted to say. Talking, especially about feelings, was fucking weird for us. Not only did we not really have a variety of them, but we didn’t get deep like that. Just the thought of opening up to others made my skin scrawl.

So, I finally decided on, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever done anything for the sake of someone else. Even when I did things that others perceived as kindness or as selflessness, I always had my own motives. I always saw it as benefiting me, one way or another.”

Dante frowned, clearly confused by my sudden change in topic. “Glad to hear it.”

I chuckled and looked down at my tattooed hands, running my thumb along the design. “Iyla changed that. I’ve grown to … like doing things. Not for me, but for her. And not even for my own satisfaction but because I actually want to see her happy.”

“Are you trying to make me puke?” Dante asked with a roll of his eyes. “I can’t believe you called me here just to spew your delusional nonsense.”

I sucked one of my lip piercings into my mouth, toying with the ring in an effort to brace myself for my next words. “Iyla’s sister is dying. My blood didn’t work.”

Dante shrugged his large shoulders. “Big deal. Humans die every day. What do we care?”

“It’s Iyla’s sister.”

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