Page 96 of Not Today, Satan
When I approach the edge of the pier, I slow and lean over, my elbows propped on the railing.
The waves ripple below me, slapping angrily against the poles beneath the dock. I close my eyes, and my body sways as the force of the water vibrates the planks under my feet and drowns out the voices of the other people.
Salty air whips my hair against my face, and I take a shaky breath. I’m still in the heavy black dress I’d tried on before attacking my mother, and sweat plasters the material to my back. I shield my eyes and stare out at the water.
Nate was right about the ocean.
It’s breathtaking.
Small ripples bathed in bubbles of white reach for the shore and fall back. The sun glistens off the surface, casting yellow light across the few swimmers who dare to venture into the water. A sailboat with white wings glides like an angel across the horizon, and I blink to bring it into focus.
Turns out, Nate was right about a lot of things. Including what he’d said before walking away at the park.
No matter how much I try to shove it down, there will always be a darkness in me, and it will keep pushing away everyone I care about, for as long as I let it.
The sun catches the ring on my finger, and it blinks red. It’s been heavier since my birthday, pulling me home like a magnet. I cover it with my other hand.
This is my only way home. Without it, I’ll be trapped on Earth forever. But as long as I’m wearing it, Father controls that part of the narrative. Like my wings are a piece of my mom, this ring is forever tethered to him.
It slides off my finger with a pop, sweat slicking beneath it. I cup it in my palm and frown. The ruby weighs almost nothing, yet it carries the weight of the Underworld. My fingers curl around it like the Venus flytrap—Father’s favorite plant—ensnaring her prey.
I roll the ring across my palm, then close my fist again.
This is it, the last piece of him I own. If I destroy it, I can go back to Mom and tell her that all of him is gone, that she no longer needs to fear me. Maybe she’ll forgive me, and we can live as mother and daughter for good.
It wouldn’t take much. The ocean’s massive. The ring will disappear, never to be found, except maybe by a curious diver who’ll have no inkling of its importance.
But if I throw this, it’s gone forever. There’s no going back. Not for Nate, not for the throne. And there’s no guarantee Mom will want me here. She told me to leave. I could end up homeless. An orphan, like Nate.
The ring digs into my palm until it draws blood, and blue sparkles track down my wrist. I take a deep breath of the ocean air.
That’s a chance I’ll have to take.
I raise my hand and pull back, preparing to release the ring, and my home, forever.
“Don’t do it.”
My arm freezes midair, my hand still clutching the ring. I’d know that voice anywhere. I spent a year navigating Hell with it. Missing it every second of the last week.
But it can’t be. He’s gone. I’m hallucinating again. Like the mirrors in Lot Eleven. I smashed the one at my mom’s house. Maybe the mirrors on Earth are magicked, too.
A hand wraps around my fist, and then he’s behind me, his scent enveloping me, so subtle he almost blends in with the ocean, the sand, and the sun.
The name comes out of my mouth as barely a whisper. “Nate?”
XLVI.
He spins me so that we’re face-to-face, and there’s no mistaking him. The way his eyes glow as they gaze down at me, the thud of his heart against mine. That lock of hair that never stays behind his ear.
My entire body reacts to the sight of him. My muscles tingle, and the blood rushes to my face. My heart speeds as my eyes meet his, and I smile. His grin in return warms me more than the sun on a blistering afternoon.
I don’t know why he’s here, but I don’t even care.
He smiles. “Hey, Dev.”
My name is barely out of his mouth before my lips cut him off. I wrap my arms around him and pull him as close as I can, savoring his mouth on mine. His kiss is the same, but different. His lips remain familiar, yet his mouth tastes sweeter, his heart strong against my chest, his breath catching for the seconds we part.
I gasp.
