Page 1 of Each Their Own Devil

PART I

THE BOOK OF OPEN DOORS

1

THE HOUNDS OF HELL

“TheBook of Open Doorsbegins as it closes: with a betrayal.” —The Book of Open Doors, Part I: The First Gate

“I don’t carethat you were my best friend; if you make a sudden move, I’ll kill you.”

The sound of fighting had faded as Aleja and Violet moved deeper into the forest, the trees muffling the thunder of enormous wingbeats. Violet stepped back, her empty hands raised. Fragmented feathers clung to the blood on her palms. “If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t have stopped the Authority, Al,” she said.

Aleja didn’t have an argument for that. After her meeting with the Messenger, she’d been alone on the battlefield, the Otherlander armies too distant to assist her. Aleja may have taken on an Authority by herself once, but it had been weak, barely alive.

“If you were smart, you’d have waited a week to betray us. You were only one Trial away from becoming a Dark Saint. Now, you have thirty seconds to explain what you’re up to.”

The sight of Violet was disarming. After the first two Trials, she’d looked steadier on her feet, the fullness returning to her face reminding Aleja of selfies from Violet’s pre-diagnosis travel blogs. But now her collarbones were too prominent again, her jaw sharp beneath a thin layer of clammy skin.

“There wasn’t time,” Violet said.

“Don’t assume I care whether you live or die. This is a war. A war your side started?—”

“They’re notmyside,” Violet cut in. “Just let me say what I need to before your Knowing One finds me and sends his shadows down my throat.” She took a shaky step forward.

Aleja didn’t make good on her promise to kill her, but her palms warmed with magic as a raven cackled overhead. More had gathered, drawn by the battle, their glossy blue-black wings streaking the trees like oil.

“Speak,” Aleja said flatly.

“The Authorities think the Messenger is up to something. Her armies have had plenty of opportunities to crush the Hiding Place, but she’s made excuses every time. They’re getting restless—bloodthirsty.”

Aleja, who could confirm the Messenger had been colluding with an Otherlander (her), didn’t mention it. “What does this have to do with you running off with the enemy? Hurry, Violet. If you think Nicolas’s shadows are the worst an Otherlander can do to you, I’d love the chance to prove otherwise.”

“I saw into the Authorities’ minds. There was something else… It’s difficult to put into words.”

“Try.”

“The Messenger thinks the Authorities are completely under her control, but she’s wrong. Something else is happening in their realm—something she’s trying to keep secret. But the Authorities can sense it, like they’re…” Violet paused, her eyes darting as she searched for the right words. Her irises werefaintly ringed with yellow. “Imagine standing on a beach, and the ocean starts receding out of nowhere…like a tidal wave is coming.”

The Avaddon, Aleja thought. Val had described it as a supernova, but the meaning was clear all the same. She wet her lips before speaking. “Either tell me why it’s so important or get on your knees so I can take you as a prisoner of war.”

“Whatever this tidal wave is, the Authoritieswantit to happen.”

Aleja still wasn’t used to her new body as a Dark Saint. It felt like her heart wanted to race, but a firm fist locked it into a slow, steady beat. The Messenger had claimed she couldn’t let her armies know what she was doing; perhaps this was why.

Violet went on, oblivious to Aleja’s inner crisis. “The Messenger could’ve killed you twice already. If she’s trying to stop this…wave, then maybe she’s on the right side.”

Aleja’s heart broke free of its vise, giving a shuddering beat. “What do you propose I do about that, Violet? Call a time-out on the war?”

Violet reached into her pocket and pulled out a bloody chunk of bone, its edges jagged as if gnawed off a carcass.

“Here. This is from an Authority’s corpse.”

“And it’s not even my birthday,” Aleja said, raising an eyebrow. “Next time, I’d love a Panera gift card.”

Violet ignored her. “I took two pieces of bone. The basic principles of making an Unholy Relic weren’t hard to figure out. I linked them with one of Agnes Flanders’s binding spells. We’ll be able to share memories—including recent ones.

“The Messenger knows the Authorities are on the verge of rebelling. She thinks I can quell them. It’s probably the only reason I’m still alive.”

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