Page 88 of Each Their Own Devil

She spun to face him. Despite her careful braids, a few stubborn hairs had fallen across her forehead.

“Tomorrow, Nic? There’s so much to do around here. And we should be looking for two Dark Saints to fill?—”

“There’s an entire council to make decisions for the Hiding Place now. And as long as Merit is here, Orla will be too. We will look for new Dark Saints—but first, we’ll look for them in Italy. If we visit a few museums and eat some pasta along the way, we could hardly be blamed. Besides, you have plenty of devotees there.

“It’s the humans who call out to us, pray to us, light candles in our name, who will help keep the wards strong. Their magic, combined with ours. So, I think we should kill our leader, come back, pack a few things, and leave. If you want, we can even bring Garm, although you know he’ll want to share the bed?—”

“We’rebringingour hellhound, Nic.”

“Fine. We’ll bring the dog. After Italy, we should really check Spain for new candidates. Then, maybe Greece, or?—”

“We’ll see,” Aleja said, unable to suppress her smile.

Now that thefear was tangible, Aleja didn’t expect to get close to the Second’s cave, despite the words he’d spoken to her before her punishment. Had she interpreted them correctly? Surely, the Second couldn’t have meant for her to kill him. This was foolish. He’d wipe them all out the moment he saw their motley band—Val and Violet, possibly the first human to don an Astraelis mask; Orla, Merit, Taddeas, and Bonnie, who walked close to Violet’s side; and finally, Aleja, Nicolas, and Garm, backin his Doberman form, whining softly as the cave mouth came into view.

No one else spoke. Aleja wondered if, like her, the others were starting to realize this was a bad idea.

“I can’t believe I let you fucking people talk me into this,” Orla muttered.

Aleja glanced at Val, who was fiddling with one of the luminariums he left scattered around the palace, like he was still in the habit of planting false information for his mother.

“You’re sure this is going to work, right?” she asked.

“Technically, nothing in my sciences is one hundred percent certain, but?—”

“Val, stop,” Nicolas interrupted. “I believe what my wife wants to know is whether we are more likely to survive than not. I ask this for your own good, Astraelis, because if she does not walk out of that cave safely, I will drag you in there myself as a sacrifice to the Second.”

Val’s hazel eye flinched, but the wings of his mask remained still. “I’m as certain as I can be. If you follow the steps I’ve outlined, the Second should be forced to appear before you. Are you sure you and the Lady of Wrath want to go in alone?”

They’d already discussed this so much that even Taddeas, normally the most patient of them all, huffed softly.

“Yes,” Nicolas said. “If this doesn’t work—if the Second kills us or the magic backfires—this world will need Dark Saints to survive long enough to appoint a new Knowing One. Orla will nominate herself. The Hiding Place has a chance to continue, as long as she can replace the rest of us in time.”

Val blinked slowly. Aleja briefly looked back at the others gathered at the ridge. Their goodbyes this morning had been tentative, not final, but clearly implied in the hugs and soft smiles. Even Orla had patted Aleja on the shoulder.

“Nicolas. Husband. Let’s kill the Second.”

“Nothing would make me happier, dove.”

The cave’s interior was cool and damp, the air heavy with moisture as if flowers could grow in it. Nicolas took her hand as they descended into the Second’s chamber, passing statues of satyrs and muses Aleja had grown familiar with during her Trials.

The ritual Val had taught them was simple and mostly completed by him already. With Merit’s help, Val had spent weeks tinkering with the luminariums until they could store magical energy. The one in Aleja’s pocket resembled the locked golden box she’d once been unable to open, the one that had kept the Unholy Relic from her own finger.

Reaching for it distracted her, and she didn’t realize Nicolas had stopped walking until his arm shot out, pressing against her chest.

They wouldn’t need to summon the Second. He was already there.

Four black horns spiraled from his head, but his face was indistinct except for his eyes, which flickered in shades of red and gold. His wings, vast enough to span the entire chamber, scraped against the stone, their clawed tips sending up clouds of dust with a painful screech. One of his clawed feet shifted, and Nicolas pressed harder against Aleja’s chest, as if to hold her back.

THERE IS NO NEED, KNOWING ONE, the Second said, his voice so deep it seemed to rise from the molten lava beneath the mountains.I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU BOTH.

Aleja felt the tremor through their marriage bond—a warning from Nicolas. This could be a trick. But if it was, why let them get this far? It would’ve been better to slaughter the traitors in front of the others, to remind the Hiding Place to fear its leader again.

At least, that was what Aleja would have done.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” she asked.

NO, the Second rumbled.FOR I SLEEP NEARLY ALWAYS. AND I DREAM. AND IN MY DREAMS, I KNOW THAT THE CHAINS ON YOU WERE PLACED THERE BY ME. MILLENNIA AGO, I TORE THE WORLD APART TO FREE THE OTHERLANDERS. I WILL NOT ALLOW MYSELF TO BECOME THAT WHICH SHACKLES THEM ANY LONGER.

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