Page 112 of The Road to Hell

Two versions of me, tangled together, trying to fit into the same skin.

I inhaled slowly, trying to steady myself as I processed the obvious: I had all my memories back. I had asked for this—fought for this—but now that they were here, crowding every inch of my mind, I wasn’t sure how to hold them all at once.

A breath hitched near me.

“Lily?”

Eliza’s voice. Soft, uncertain, like she wasn’t sure if she was imagining things. I turned my head just enough to see her sitting a few feet away, her eyes locked on to me with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming relief. She had her knees drawn up, arms resting over them, but the tension in her frame, the way she stared at me like she hadn’t dared to hope. Yeah, they’d all been waiting.

“Hey,” I rasped. My voice barely sounded like mine, raw and wrecked from whatever I’d just clawed my way back from.

For half a second, Eliza didn’t move. Then she surged forward so fast she nearly tripped over herself, sliding onto her knees beside me. “You’re awake.” Her voice cracked. “You—” She pressed her hands to her face before dragging them down. “You scared the shit out of us.”

I blinked, my brain sluggishly catching up. I wanted to say something reassuring, something to smooth over whatever I’d put them through, but my throat ached too much. My head pounded like a hellspawn had stomped on it, and I still wasn’t sure how much time had passed.

“How long was I out?” I managed.

Eliza hesitated. “A while.”

Vague. Not a good sign.

Still, my body felt stiff, my limbs sluggish in a way that told me I’d been out for more than just a couple of hours. I swallowed and winced as my throat protested the movement.

“It hasn’t been easy,” Eliza said, her voice a bit quieter now. “You wouldn’t wake up, and Rathiel got pissed, and Calyx couldn’t tell us how long it would take for you to get better—because, well, he didn’t know, and?—”

“Eliza,” I said, “you’re rambling.”

A chuckle slipped past her lips. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s been an exhausting few days.”

Days. Whoa.

I gave a slight nod, then started to sit up. The movement sent a dizzying pulse through my skull, and I paused, bracing my weight on my elbows while I waited for the world to stop spinning.

I must have made a sound because Eliza shot to her feet. “Calyx!”

Calyx? Not Rathiel?

I slowly scanned the area—careful not to upset my brain any more than it already was—and took in our surroundings. No broad-shouldered silhouette standing guard, no crystalline blue eyes watching me. I looked to the edges of a familiar valley, expecting—hoping—to find him striding across the grounds to me.

Nothing.

Disappointment swelled in my chest. With my memories in place, I wanted to see him. Talk to him. Punch him.

But before I could ask where he was—and wherewewere—a slow, lazy voice rose behind Eliza.

“Do my ears deceive me?”

Footsteps approached, unhurried, deliberate.

I turned my attention toward the fallen angel and the tiny, grey imp perched smugly on his shoulder.

Calyx grinned, all amusement and arrogance, while Vol sat like some kind of deranged parrot, claws hooked into the fabric of his shirt. His beady black eyes locked onto me, wide at first, before his usual mischief slid back into place.

“Ah,” Calyx drawled. “Sleeping Beauty has finally deigned to grace us with her presence.”

“About time,” Vol muttered.

But before I could respond, Vol launched himself off Calyx’s shoulder without warning. He darted down the fallen angel’s arm, his claws barely scraping fabric before he hit the ground in a blur of movement.

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