Page 92 of The Devil She Knows
Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering curses beneath his breath in languages Sam couldn’t begin to understand. “Yes. Daphne is relinquished from her indenture.” With a flick of his wrist, Daphne sagged forward into Sam’s arms, the invisible barrier between them gone; the threads sewing her lips shut disappeared, too. “Congratulations, Daphne. You are the greatest disappointment of my long life.” He glowered hotly at Sam. “You got lucky, Samantha Cooper. Mark my words, next time, if there ever is one, you won’t be.”
He snapped his fingers, and in the blink of an eye, he and Eithrig both were gone.
Sam stared at the space where he had stood for a moment before tugging on Daphne’s shoulders so that she could look at her. Daphne stared back, speechless, lips parted, looking as dumbstruck as Sam felt.
“Holy shit.” A giddy laugh escaped Sam. “I didn’t—I had no—Oh my God.”
Sam leaned in, breathed in the scent of vanilla that clung to Daphne’s skin, there even beneath the smell of burnt sugar and gunpowder that lingered in the air. Her lips landed softly, gently, pressing against the pillowed swells of Daphne’s, holding, savoring this, the first kiss of the rest of their lives unencumbered by wishes or deals or ticking clocks.
Daphne trembled under her touch and Sam knew without her having to say a word how she felt. Like this was all a dream come true, or maybetoo goodto be true. She pulled back to reassure her that this was all real and frowned at the sight of scarlet streaking her lips.
Blood.
Now that Sam saw it, she could taste it on the back of her tongue, the cloying metallic tang of copper and iron.
Sam opened her mouth, terrified and confused, words dying on her tongue as Daphne’s lips quivered like she was about to speak. She covered her mouth quickly and coughed weakly into her fist.
Sam stopped breathing altogether when she saw the crimson coating her hand.
“Daphne!” Panic gripped her heart when Daphne slumped like someone had cut her strings. “Hey, hey, no. Talk to me. What’s happening? What is this?”
She was small but solid, and Sam wasn’t weak, but her arms trembled with the effort it took to keep them both upright.
“Here, let’s—let’s sit you down over—” They didn’t make it to the park bench. Daphne’s knees gave out altogether and Sam cushioned her fall, easing her down to the ground.
“I can feel it,” were the first words out of Daphne’s mouth, whispered through her bloodstained lips. “I can.”
“You can feel what?” Sam asked, voice cracking. “Are you hurt? Where? Did Lucifer do—”
Daphne cut her off with a jerk of her chin. Her blue eyes were wet. “My soul.” She winced and Sam got the feeling that the reason she pressed her lips together was to stifle a gasp. A sob, maybe.
Sam swallowed thickly. “What do you mean you can—”
“I’m mortal now, Sam.” Her lips quivered, pale where they weren’t stained red. All of her was pale and cold and—“I fell, remember?”
“You fell? When? I don’t remember—”
Her stomach plummeted as the realization dawned on her.
“What did you do?”
“Oh, you know.” Daphne gave an effortless shrug and set the empty glass down on the floor. “Threw myself off the top of the Delian Temple of Apollo.”
Sam sucked in a sharp breath. “You—threw yourself? Off the top of the temple?”
Daphne turned and finally looked at Sam. Her eyes were grave, her smile a touch wry. “Dramatic, I’ll admit. But I was young and stupid and in love and I couldn’t fathom a life without Calliope.”
Okay—“But—the top?”
Daphne snorted. “If you’re asking whether I lived?” She shook her head and Sam’s stomach kept finding new depths to which to sink. “No, I didn’t.”
“We can fix this,” she muttered, staring down at Daphne like she was a problem to be solved. She just wished she knew where to touch, where to put her hands. They always said to apply pressure to wounds, but this wasn’t a wound—or it was, but not one she could see, an internal injury and—
“Hey. Sam. Sam, look at me. Please?” Daphne squeezed Sam’s hand and tried to smile encouragingly, but the blood on her lips and her teeth undermined her efforts. “It’s okay.”
“No. Mm-mm.” Sam shook her head. She knew what Daphne was saying, and she refused to accept that after everything, this was how it ended. Their love story snuffed out before they’d had a chance to live any of it. Ending, not with a bang but with a whimper, as Daphne lay dying from amore-than-two-thousand-year-old injury she never should have had in the first place. “Not now.”
She didn’t know how to fix this, but there were people who would. Doctors. Daphne needed a doctor. Hands trembling, Sam dug inside her pocket for her phone and swore. She’d left it in the apartment, forgotten on the kitchen floor.
