Page 25 of Each Their Own Devil

“Yes. I am safe, but you, my darling, are not. Did you think I wouldn’t be able to tell that something about you has changed?I can’t enter your dreams anymore, and when I try, all I see is fire.”

Aleja winced. “I took the Second’s Trials. I’m the Dark Saint of Wrath now.”

Catalina sighed as if Aleja had just told her she had failed her precalculus exam. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

She pushed off the wall, unraveling her arms. “I honestly can’t tell whether or not that was meant to be an insult, abuela.”

“You are an adult, fully capable of making your own decisions. What you choose to do with the Second’s gifts will ultimately be up to you. Besides, it’s good to see you finally taking some initiative.”

It had definitely been a backhanded insult of the kind only a loving grandmother could make, but there were bigger issues at hand. “That’s not the only reason I came. It’s not just the Astraelis threatening war again. Some claim there is something else—something called the Avaddon that will end all existence as we know it. Something that no one knows if we can stop. I came here… I came here to tell you that I love you. Just in case it’s real.”

Catalina carefully set her needlepoint aside and gestured for Aleja to join her on the couch. There was a distance in her eyes, as if she had only been half paying attention to her granddaughter’s words. When Aleja sat next to her, she smelled of heavy perfume and petrichor. It made her want to lean in closer, so she did, dropping her head on Catalina’s shoulder as she had so many times as a scared girl back at the Miami estate.

“All things exist in cycles of creation and destruction, mija,” Catalina whispered into her hair. “The old animals must die so that the plants can feast on their bodies until spring.”

Aleja pulled back. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched her with such tenderness aside fromNicolas, and the affection made her feel at once warm and uncomfortable, as if her skin had tightened in response. “No. I don’t accept that. I’m an Otherlander now, and more, I’m a Ruiz. We do whatever we can to get what we want.”

Catalina pushed an errant dark red strand of hair away from Aleja’s forehead but then dropped her hand back to her embroidery. “That’s the spirit. Come visit me when you’re done with the apocalypse business, then. And perhaps, Paola. Your cousin dreams about you a lot.”

“I’ve already sent her a message. You can’t tell her where or what I am, but you can tell her I’m okay. Tell her she doesn’t have to worry.”

“From what you say, we all have to worry.”

“I’ll handle it, abuela,” Aleja said.

They lapsed into a long silence, but that in itself wasn’t unusual. In life, her grandmother had been a vivacious woman, except for when she was finally in the company of someone she felt comfortable around. They had spent many days quietly reading side by side on the porch in Miami, while a flock of monk parakeets chased each other from one palm to another, screaming joyfully. Aleja watched Catalina’s slender hands work the needle, and after what felt like a long time, she leaned in again and kissed her grandmother’s cheek.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Congratulations on your wedding.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t see my dreams?” Aleja asked.

“I don’t need to. I can feel the magic tying you to the Knowing One, like a shining thread of light and shadow. It’s a good thing, I think, to have the adoration of a monster; they will always protect what is theirs. Monsters are made for moments like this—for tearing down the world so that a new one can take its place.”

“But we’re not trying to tear down the world,” Aleja whispered. “We’re trying to do the opposite.”

“Hm,” Catalina said, but when Aleja tried to get her to say more, the vines closed around her so that her grandmother could continue her needlepoint in peace.

She carriedthe bone with her now. Like the Unholy Relic before it, Aleja felt strange and twitchy whenever she was away from it for too long. There was another meeting. Another conversation with Bonnie and then with Taddeas that left her feeling as if she had backed away into a corner of her mind and let her body go through the motions without her.

She was distracted enough, even if the damn bone hadn’t been gently whispering in Aleja’s pocket, making it known that there was another memory to be had in it.

If Violet had sent her another memory of their past, Aleja was going to reclaim the title of High General and demand an all-out strike against the Astraelis realm with one sole purpose: crushing the sick young influencer who had launched a thousand true crime podcasts in the human world.

Aleja palmed the bone. Slipping into the memory felt as easy as reciting the artists of paintings she had studied for years. She half expected to find herself back in the city, in her college dorm with Violet’s camera flashing in her face, but that was not the case.

This was the Violet that Aleja had seen on the battlefield—gaunt and yellowed, with her thinning blonde hair hanging limp around her face.

“We need to meet in person.As soon as possible. It’s about the Avaddon. Send a memory back with the time and place and I’ll be there. Aleja. Please.”

The memory cut out.

5

THE WIDOWER

“A good deceiver cloaks their lies in silence.” —The Book of Open Doors, Book III: The Whispers Beyond

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