Page 20 of Each Their Own Devil (Our Lady of Fire #3)

Something stirred in the darkness, but Aleja couldn’t have stepped back even if she wanted to. The figure that appeared was full-bodied and beautiful in the dim light. With one hand, she cradled a round stomach beneath her bare breasts. The First’s dark eyes flickered up and down Aleja’s kneeling form.

“You’ve chosen an interesting form. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your eyes before. I know how much you miss Nyra. I know how the thought of living in a world where her memory has disappeared from the universe—where the handprint she left in the drying cement outside her childhood home, the sundress now belonging to a young woman who bought it at a thrift shop, every photograph of her smiling face, and every joke she once made that you remember so deeply in your heart… I know that it is so frightening to live in a world where all of those things never existed. But you will not remember the pain of losing them, brother. Nor will I remember the pain of asking you to do so.”

Something inside Aleja felt resigned. The Third was considering his sister’s words.

No. Please. Aleja begged him silently, her thoughts burning—the only warmth left in her. You said you would convince her. You said you could help us.

“I can’t do it, sister,” came the words from her mouth, though they lacked the force they’d carried when the Third had taken control. “I can’t forget her. Her memory is all I have.”

Exactly , she screamed in her mind. It’s all we have. Memory, love, and hope. It doesn’t have to end.

“You’re in pain, brother,” the First said tenderly. “The Avaddon will ease that pain. That is the point. It is a gift given to us by the laws that govern the stars, the atoms, and everything in between. A resetting.”

No , Aleja screamed silently. It’s okay to feel pain. It’s okay to grieve. Living is frightening and dangerous, but that’s why it’s beautiful.

The stiletto blade in Aleja’s hand was so cold she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to drop it without tearing the skin from her palm, but her thoughts darted to the sickle that had hung by the Third’s cage. The sickle she had once used to kill Roland, the Dark Saint of Pride—because it was so full of death magic that a single swipe had been enough to end him. She was full of death magic now, wasn’t she? And only the Third was powerful enough to kill the First.

Aleja knew how to channel with Unholy Relics. If the Third noticed, he would surely snuff her life out, but she was dead either way. With a soft push, she redirected the cold in her chest to her hand and into the thin, shining blade that had felt like the first weapon to truly belong to her since coming to the Hiding Place.

The Third seemed to shift inside of her like a parasite that had taken root in her chest, but after a brief moment, his attention again returned to his sister. “I don’t—” he said with Aleja’s voice. “I think grief might be better than forgetting.”

That is what I’ve been telling you , Aleja screamed at him.

“You are bargaining now as you have seen a trillion creatures do before you, and yet, you have taken them anyway, because you knew that there is nothing to be afraid of in the darkness.”

The First spoke so sweetly that for a moment, Aleja doubted her ability to complete what she had come here to do. All things came in cycles of creation and destruction—the chalice filled, the chalice drained—and to defy this was to defy the natural order. But then again, Otherlanders had never been much for order. If they had, the Second would never have absconded to the Hiding Place with his band of rebels.

Don’t listen to her , Aleja pleaded to the Third one last time, a distraction as she channeled more of his magic into the blade.

“I have done something foolish,” the Third sighed through her. “When I was captured, the living were quite convincing. This body here belongs to the Dark Saint of Wrath. Forgive me, sister. I’m afraid I did not come here to talk, but with darker plans.”

The First touched her round stomach tenderly. Perhaps this was the new world, growing in her belly—a world Aleja would never know. “I understand. There was a time when I, too, loved my devotees with all my heart. I was a poor mother to them; because I could not stand the sight of my children suffering, I hid myself away. Perhaps in the next cycle, I shall not be so cowardly.”

It was as if she felt the Third slump with resignation inside of her.

Coward , she screamed in her head. You said you would help us!

My sister is right , came his tired voice. I cannot let my selfishness get in the way of this grand design. Rest now, Lady of Wrath. If it is your husband you fear for, know that he is a stubborn bastard. If nothing else, I trust he will find you in a few billion years, when cells turn into fish who turn into reptiles who turn into mammals who turn into apes who turn into humans who can dream up creatures like the Knowing One.

It was too late to worry about whether or not he could feel her channeling his power into the blade. She let it surge—let death flow through her without any thought to the consequences—let it fill her veins with cold, ultramarine blue.

What are you doing? came the Third’s voice from inside of her.

“Brother?” the First asked.

Maybe you can decide not to be selfish, but I can’t afford not to be , Aleja told him. She tried to place her free hand on the ground and push herself up, but a distant part of her understood that she would never stand again. If she died on her knees, then it would be in physical form only.

You cannot ? —

Aleja didn’t give him a chance to stop her. It was a weak thrust, but neither the First nor the Third expected her to move. She did not aim for the First’s torso but her thigh—the soft inner skin of her naked legs where, in humans, a precious artery ran. It was the only place within reach.

As her stiletto sank into the First’s skin, the Third did his very best to kill Aleja.

She knew this with the last sparking neurons in her head—an ancient reptile instinct informing her that her nervous system was about to be no more. There was no gradual wave of cold. Aleja’s vision filled with light, brilliant and blinding, snuffed out before she could marvel at its beauty. When she tried to breathe, it was pointless. Her body no longer worked, and even as a Dark Saint, her mind would follow only seconds behind.

She tried to think of Nic. She tried to picture his silver eyes and the warm smile that had always been just for her, and their second marriage beneath the standing stones at the edge of their nameless kingdom by the sea. Aleja knew she was too far to connect with the marriage bond, but she reached out all the same with a wordless apology. If Nicolas caught even a hint of it, he would know she hadn’t been afraid at the end—that she had been happy to save him and everyone else she loved.

The ultramarine swallowed the last of her vision.

The Third’s voice, whispering through her own, said, “This is the problem with you Otherlanders. You never know when to stop fighting.”

“It’s not just the Otherlanders,” said someone else.

Aleja recognized the brutal vibrations that coursed through her; she had felt this sensation once before, when Val had helped his mother capture the Third. Back then, one of her molars had cracked open—healed only by her final Trial. Now it felt as though every bone in her body was about to pulverize. There was no chance she’d ever stand again. Not even a Dark Saint could regrow a skeleton.

The pain was so great, she longed for the peaceful death the Third had promised. But then, a massive head shoved itself under her arm. Cool and hard—topped with a helmet—and stinking like a wet dog.

“Get up, or I’ll never hear the end of it from the Knowing One,” Garm growled.

Even if Aleja wanted to, she couldn’t. The vibrations hadn’t stopped. She tried to open her eyes, but the world was a blur of brown, gray, and gold—the colors of the First’s chamber.

“Hold on, Lady of Wrath,” Val said. “I’ve almost got him out.”

She wanted to beg Val to stop. This hurt so much she would rather be dead. Aside from the vibrations, the only thing she could feel was the blood pouring down her chin.

And then, it stopped.

Her vision cleared.

In front of her stood an enormous man in a winged mask, not as intact as it had been when they descended into the First’s chamber. Though most of Val’s face remained covered, the feathers of one wing had been ripped away. She could see one of his soft hazel eyes, wide with alarm, staring at her.

“I think I did it,” he breathed, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

It was the last thing Aleja heard.

“Lady of Wrath, you have to wake up. They’ve been fighting overhead for hours now. I can’t go up there. I’m no soldier.”

“Hours?” Aleja whispered. She had yet to regain her vision and was almost certain she no longer had a spine. That was the only explanation for why she couldn’t feel pain in her arms or legs. “Where’s Garm?”

“He didn’t want to leave. He made me promise to watch over you until he returned, but I don’t think he’s coming back.”

“Do I still have a body?”

“Well…yes,” Val said cautiously.

“You said that suspiciously slowly.”

“The Third was not entirely happy with the course of events. I was able to extract much of his energy, but he was…reluctant to leave you.”

“The course of events,” Aleja murmured, focusing on that phrase rather than the implications of the latter half of Val’s statement. “Is the First… Did I?”

Val’s hazel eye briefly closed through the gap in his mask. It was a striking color—flecked with gold and green that shifted like a kaleidoscope. She must have been staring, unable to do anything else without feeling like her body might shatter. Val raised a hand to his face, covering the exposed skin.

“Look for yourself,” he said softly.

She managed to shift her shoulders enough to turn her head. It was a mistake. The wave of grief that followed was worse than all the pain she had endured. There lay the First, still cradling her large belly. The torrent of blood that must have spurted from her inner thigh had dried now, barely visible in the dim light. It was a mercy that the First’s face was turned away.

“Is she really dead?” Aleja whispered.

“I think so,” Val said. “We’ll know for sure if the world doesn’t end. But there are more immediate issues overhead?—”

“Fighting the Authorities for hours. I picked that up the first time. I’m getting up. Just tell me what it means that you weren’t able to get the Third out of me entirely.”

“It wasn’t something I anticipated, but he figured out how to hide from me. He’s not in the Throne anymore.”

Aleja managed to look over without the overwhelming urge to vomit, though it was a close call. The enormous, winged lion was still in the cage, but it looked…not quite dead. The only sign of life was the occasional movement of its eyes behind their lids, as if dreaming.

“If he’s still in me, shouldn’t I be dead?” Aleja whispered.

“I don’t know,” Val admitted, lowering his hands. When he did, the hazel eye visible through his tattered mask was closed. “This is far beyond anything I’ve studied. But if the First is truly gone, then…”

“There’s still a chance for the others,” Aleja finished. “Help me up. I need to get out there. Stay here until the fighting stops. Count to a thousand after it’s quiet, then run back to the wards of the Hiding Place.”

“But if— There are too many Authorities out there?—”

“Thank you, Val. If anyone survives this battle, it will be because of you.”

Aleja reached out to touch his remaining hand. His skin was warm and soft beneath her fingertips as Val’s visible eye snapped open. She wondered if she had violated some unwritten Astraelis etiquette, but Aleja no longer cared.

“Lady of Wrath, if some of the Third is still in you?—”

“If he kills me, then at least I’ll go down fighting.” Her legs didn’t entirely feel like they would hold her, even as Val hauled her up, but she only swayed once before steadying herself. She didn’t bother trying to form a plan. If they had been fighting overhead for as long as Val claimed, the only thing left to do was try to take out at least one or two Authorities before she herself was killed.

Aleja hesitated, almost too frightened to reach out through the marriage bond. If she felt nothing on the other side, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to move. But finally, she forced herself to try and was met with distant static. She didn’t attempt to make contact. Up above, even a moment’s distraction was death.

She didn’t look back as she climbed out of the chamber—not because she didn’t want to see Val or the Third, near-lifeless in his cage, but because she didn’t want to see the First. The drying blood on her thighs. The stiff hand still cradling her stomach. The First had spoken so tenderly, staring into Aleja’s eyes, that for a moment Aleja had almost understood the Astraelis. The First had made her feel like she was coming home.

“You don’t have to feel guilty,” Val whispered after her, as if he knew where her mind had drifted. “I’ll bear it for both of us. If there is any justice, then in a thousand years, the world will still know that Our Lady of Wrath destroyed our mother in order to save her children.”

Aleja didn’t know what to say to that.

She swallowed.

She stepped back into war.

A part of her had hoped that the sound of fighting overhead was an illusion, amplified by the echoing hallway into the First’s chamber. But the first thing Aleja saw as she stumbled out was the scorched body of an Authority. Without hesitation, she darted toward it, tucking herself between its enormous wings for cover.

The creature had been dead for some time; its myriad eyes were closed, and any residual heat emanating from it was due to Otherlander magic—Taddeas’s, specifically. He must have expended an incredible amount of energy to bring this Authority down.

Aleja steeled herself and peered over the massive body. The moment she was spotted, she would become a primary target, but the field below was a chaotic ocean of wings, their beats disjointed and erratic. Aleja couldn’t swallow. She could barely breathe.

Val said hours, hadn’t he? Hours.

She left the shelter of the Authority’s wings and ran. Every joint ached, every bone felt like it might crack from the sudden movement, but she gritted her teeth and ignored it.

It took both too long and too little time to reach the fight. A wall of Authorities loomed before her, separating her from whatever horrible truth lay on the other side. Somehow, she knew—they were too focused on the battle in front of them to notice a small, fast-moving figure weaving between their hulking forms. Aleja pushed herself forward, using all her willpower to keep fire from her hands. She couldn’t afford to waste magic now. With the Third lingering inside her, she might only get one chance to bring another Authority down.

The Authorities paid her little attention until she broke through the front line, where the remnants of the Otherlander and Astraelis armies came into view. The sight hollowed her.

They had marched into battle with a few hundred soldiers. Now, there were fewer than two dozen. Even if she could have counted, the number wouldn’t matter. Most were bruised, limping, or slumped halfway over their Umbramares or elks, their faces masks of exhaustion and pain.

The Otherlanders and Astraelis had been forced downhill, a retreat that at least worked in Aleja’s favor. A shadow rose behind her, granting her fleeting cover as she kept running.

Please tell me that was you , she finally sent through the marriage bond.

Yes , came the weak reply . Run, dove. Get back to the Hiding Place. Our wards will stop the worst of the assault from crossing the border.

If you think I would actually do that, then you don’t know me at all , Aleja shot back.

It was worth a shot , Nicolas answered . The First ? —?

The question was implicit in Nicolas’s thoughts, but before Aleja could respond, something slammed into her back, and she tumbled to the ground. The mutineer—a Principality—had snuck up on her, hidden among the shadows. She barely had time to register her fall before the Principality drove his blade into his own chest.

“Get on!” called a voice.

Atop the Umbramare, Amicia looked pale, her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat from the effort of her magic.

“Who else is alive?” Aleja barked as she scrambled into the shadowy saddle. It was too small for the both of them, forcing Aleja to press herself tightly against Amicia’s back.

Unlike the last time they had been this close, it wasn’t lust that surged through her but uncontrolled fury. One of Amicia’s hands shot from the Umbramare’s neck to grasp Aleja’s wrist just as she realized she was about to claw at her own face.

“Sorry. I’m having a hard time controlling it,” Amicia said through gritted teeth. “I caught a glimpse of Nic a little while ago. The Messenger is probably still alive. Everyone else—I don’t know.”

“What the hell are we going to do?” Aleja muttered, half to herself.

“We ordered most of our remaining soldiers to retreat an hour ago,” Amicia replied, her spine shifting against Aleja’s chest. She felt so fragile. “At this point, we’re just trying to hold the Authorities off long enough to give them time to get back behind the wards.”

“And then what?” Aleja asked sharply.

“Who the fuck knows?” Amicia snapped. “Did you save the world?”

Aleja hesitated. She had saved the world, yes—but she hadn’t saved her world. And as the Third had accused, she was horribly selfish. “Mostly.”

Amicia hummed. “Then we need to get you back to the line. The more time our soldiers have to prepare, the better they’ll be able to defend the Hiding Place. The Astraelis are with them—we’re all rebels now. The Second will appoint a new Knowing One, when the time comes. And new Dark Saints.”

“What?” Aleja said. “So you’re all just waiting to die?”

“I wouldn’t exactly put it that way. We were holding out for you .”

Aleja’s breath hitched. She had known the plan hinged on her protecting Val, but she had only been following Nicolas’s orders. If she’d been given any other choice, she would have been out here, while someone more competent and experienced guarded the only ritual that could save them.

The Umbramare stumbled violently, sending both Aleja and Amicia tumbling to the same side. Amicia landed on top of her but was quicker to recover. With a surge of magic that left Aleja wanting to drive her own blade into her eye, two mutineer mages froze in their tracks and turned on each other.

The pain in Aleja’s ribs stabbed through to her heart. Since returning to the surface, she hadn’t had a moment to consider Val’s words—that the Third was still lodged inside her, that he could squeeze her heart shut forever.

In that case, she might as well give this fight all she had.

As the fire engulfed her, it was a deep, dark black that extinguished any color it touched. The flames were icy cold, searing into her bones. Her magic wasn’t at full strength when it reached the Principalities, but they scattered all the same, their screams satisfying. She knew, without needing to wonder, that this wasn’t entirely her magic—it was the Third’s.

“Ami, you have to get up,” Aleja said, noticing that the Dark Saint of Lust was still on her knees and elbows.

“I can’t,” Amicia replied. The words were eerily neutral, as though she’d reached a fork in the road and decided there was only one path left for her to take. “You run. I’ll distract them.”

“Not going to happen,” Aleja snapped, grabbing Amicia under the arms to haul her up. But the touch sent a wave of dark compulsion through her, making her want to drag her own blade across her throat. She jerked her hands back. “Stop doing that. You need to save your strength.”

“I’m helping your stubborn ass escape. Go, Aleja. The Hiding Place will need you when this is all over.”

Arguing was useless. Aleja could tell by the distant yet determined look in Amicia’s eyes.

But Aleja was stubborn too.

The sulfuric stench of the closest Authority filled her nostrils. Aleja raised her hands and sent another wave of black fire hurtling toward it. The magic wrenched something out of her, as if her heart had been torn straight from her chest. She cut off the flames abruptly, stumbling back to Amicia. Only then did she see why her friend wasn’t moving.

A shard of pale bone jutted out of Amicia’s leg, punching through her thick pants just above the shin guards.

“It’ll heal. Lean on me, and we can run,” Aleja barked, though her own breathing was ragged.

“Your magic felt so wrong,” Amicia said distantly, her voice hollow.

There was no time to explain the truth—that the Third was still inside her. Now that she was acutely aware of it, she could almost feel him clawing at her rib cage.

Get the hell out of me , she thought sharply. But in Aleja’s hesitation, the Authorities closed the gap. Clumped together like this, they looked like one massive creature—a dark, undulating mass of wings and eyes—all fixed on her.

Aleja tried her fire again. If she could just force them to veer, even for a moment, she might buy enough time to slip between them. Authorities were always slow to turn in battle.

It should have been impossible for something black to also be brilliant, but the flames burned so intensely that Aleja could only look at them for a moment before her vision blurred. She knew she should stop before the magic drained her life, but the thought vanished into the static in her mind.

There you go, Lady of Wrath. You don’t need to be afraid.

The voice of the Third crawled through her thoughts like frost.

You’ve channeled too much of me into yourself, and now we’re stuck together until your physical body is destroyed. You must die, Wrath. You must free me.

Aleja tried to respond. There came a desperate tug on the marriage bond, but she couldn’t answer that either. There was nothing in her left but cold.

Don’t worry , the Third whispered. I have always liked you, Lady of Wrath. I will make sure that it doesn’t hurt .

She managed to open her eyes again, but the world was dark.

Your fool of a husband , the Third snapped.

Aleja had never actually had a white knight—or in this case, the devil atop a shadowy black horse—come to rescue her. She was jostled, and it was a relief to feel any physical sensation. This seemed to distract the Third enough to allow her to take a gasping breath and realize she was on the back of another Umbramare.

“How?” she breathed. Aside from Nicolas’s arm around her waist and the movement of the Umbramare’s muscles against her inner thighs, there were no other sensations.

“The Messenger. She’s not the magician Val is, but she suppressed the Third’s influence on you for a few minutes.”

A few minutes? Aleja thought desperately, but in a world of pressing issues, this seemed relatively low on the list. “Amicia?”

“We’re looking for her.”

The darkness was so heavy around Aleja that she couldn’t tell whether her eyes were open or closed. She wanted to ask about the Authorities, but it was too hard to keep her teeth from chattering. Her mind was still muddled, even though there were a thousand things she wanted to voice.

“I love you,” she muttered.

“Stop it, dove. We’re not saying goodbyes now. If the Third found a way into you, then there is a way out. Listen to me,” Nicolas went on. “My magic is nearly spent. I’m not going to be able to hold this darkness for much longer.”

“The Authorities…”

“I know,” Nicolas said grimly. “Garm is faster and more maneuverable than them. He’s agreed to draw them away so we can find Amicia and retreat.”

That isn’t going to work , Aleja wanted to say. The Authorities had already spotted her. They might not yet understand that she had averted the Avaddon, but when they did, they would be bent on revenge. The Hiding Place wouldn’t withstand their onslaught.