Page 43 of Saint, Sorrow, Sinner
Jehanne stepped forward, turning to meet Sophia’s gaze, and walked past her. Sophia followed, swiveling on her heels.
The dark expanse widened infinitely in every direction. Galaxies turned, planets spun, star nurseries gave birth to recycled matter, and Sophia wondered who she might be looking for. What life she could’ve possibly left.
Death rinsed her, wrung her out, made her new.
Sophia!The call echoed, muffled and grainy. When Sophia glanced backward, darkness tunneled inward, vacuuming out the nebulous.
Hooves, again. Closer. She remembered hearing them before, somewhere. Remembered the tail end of another life.
Sophia, where are you? Take my hand! Take my—
“Courage,” Jehanne repeated. Their voice coasted Sophia’s ear.
The ground shook. Before her, like a titan, a deity stood on equine feet. Her body presented itself under the guise of familiarity, as if God had opened a deer and spilled its skeleton, arranging beast and human bones interchangeably. Knees bent outward and hip bones concaved, jutting where curves should’ve smoothed spotted flesh. Above her misshapen ribcage, too narrow, too long, dark nipples flecked her small chest, and higher, slender throat met harsh jaw.
Sophia almost fell. Almost sent a scream barreling through the air.
But Lilith leaned over her, beautiful and monstrous, and wrapped her hand around Sophia’s neck, forcing her attention.
“The dead can’t be kept,” Lilith said. She spoke in a language Sophia didn’t know. Arabic, maybe. Or Aramaic. But she understood, nonetheless. “First daughter, first son, first of many. Do you recognize me, girl?”
Sophia stared, awestruck. Thick, curled horns sprouted from Lilith’s temples and her slender eyes reflected like black glass.
Sophia!
Lilith leaned closer. Sweet breath warmed Sophia’s face. “I have sired saints, I have whispered to warriors, I have stitched ambition into resilient women, and carved impunity out of forgettable men.” Her palm dwarfed Sophia’s face. When she tilted her head and smiled, Sophia prepared to be swallowed. But Lilith said, “Eden named me forsaken. You will call memother.”
Before Sophia could scream, or weep, or sayyes, mother, something, someonereached through the blackness and grasped her wrist, yanking her backward.
Lilith’s laughter echoed, growing louder, stronger.Enchantress.The goddess hummed appreciatively. Her voice faded.Fenrir is lucky to have you.
The darkness ruptured. Something strong and bright caught Sophia’s hand.
Tehlor. Witch.Magic.
Life—Sophia De’voreaux’s life—surged through her, filling all the peaceful, empty places death had hollowed out. The afterlife bent and split. Ghosts drove through the silence; purgatory punctured the deadscape. Sophia came back to Haven, to survival, to fear, to Judas Iscariot and the rot spreading through her abandoned body, to Colin’s compassion and Bishop’s honesty, to Lincoln’s power and Tehlor’s friendship, to fate, to an unforgiving world, to a gorgeous psychic named Juniper Castle, to everything.
I will not give up.
She inhaled a ragged breath and opened her mouth.
The spectral noise stopped in the center of her throat.
Amy De’voreaux appeared the same way sunlight passed through cloud cover.You’re different,Sophia thought. Her long hair, wild and wavy, hung around her face, and her soft, beige cheeks, bronzed by summer, dimpled for a soft smile. Younger. Gentler. Untouched by Haven, and Rose, and Daniel. She thumbed their father’s crucifix strung around Sophia’s neck and clucked her tongue.
“Take heart,” Amy said. Jehanne’s voice thundered around her sister’s, strengthening each word.
“I miss you,” Sophia choked out. “God, I miss you.”
Sophia!Juniper called, reached.
Amy took her hand. Somewhere nearby, hooves clopped the starless ground.
All the world will be your enemy.
Sophia inhaled, loosened her jaw, and screamed. The sound started low in her belly and shot through her, rattling the blackness. Amy’s unmaking happened slowly. Her ghost chipped away. Bits of her lifted and spun, then all at once, her body flurried apart. The spirits stampeding through Sophia’s corpse howled and screeched, but she was outside their hold, disengaged from their damage, and for the first time, she could use the little power she’d found without tasting blood. She sent righteousness into that scream. Deliverance, and vengeance, and apologies. She stitched everything Haven had done to her, everything Haven had stolen from her into the last push, buckling over like a madwoman, like a banshee.
A huge clawed hand rested on her back. Fingers—three bones too many—curled intimately around her shoulders and waist, and heat glowed hot in her chest. Fire licked the rippling dark. Sabatons bathed in flame stepped into view. Jehanne tucked their bent knuckle beneath Sophia’s chin and lifted her face.
