The Sinner

“Bloody hell, man, it’s Oblivion,” he hisses, leaning into me. “There’s no coming back. Perhaps you haven’t considered that as deeply as you ought. Because I have.”

“I’ve considered everything.”

“And your wife? I can’t imagine she’s happy with your choice.”

“Her safety is all that matters. If it were just my soul on the line, I might seek a different way out. But now she’s in real danger.” I lower my voice. “Ashtaroth wants her, Ambri. If I’m gone, there is no reason for her to be tempted by his promises. And she’ll be free to love again.”

Ambri snorts as Eistibus returns with fresh glasses of tequila.

“You don’t approve?” I ask and nod gratefully at the djinn.

“I prefer making decisions about the course of my own existence,” Ambri says with a smirk. “But that’s just me.”

I scoff. “And risk condemning her to Ashtaroth’s depravities? Because she would, for my sake.”

“A horrid fate to be sure, and I’m no expert on such matters, but…” Ambri turns his black eyes on me. “It’s her life.”

He’s right. The Li’ili I know would despise being a pawn in this game, even if every action I take is to protect her. Always to protect her.

I shake my head. “She cannot fathom what lies on the Other Side, and apparently, you’ve spent too much time on This Side and have forgotten. No, I won’t risk it. I won’t condemn her to endless suffering. Not when I can save her.”

“While you simply cease to be.”

“Is there an alternative?”

“Maybe there is,” Ambri says with scorn. “I’m just spit balling—as the American humans like to say—but did you ever consider that the forgiveness you need is your own?”

For a long moment, I stare, then toss back the second shot of tequila. “Ah, Ambri. You’ve always been able to make me laugh.” I lay my hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, my friend. I will miss you.”

His lip curls, and he turns his gaze away, muttering to himself.

I wave Eistibus over and clasp his wrist. The djinn’s expression is confused and fearful at the same time.

“My lord?”

“Farewell, Eistibus. And my apologies. It’s about to get messy in here.”

“Farewell?” Eistibus shoots a glance at Ambri who hunches deeper over his drink, still pouting.

I turn away from them both before I let Ambri talk me out of it. I stride for the door to the back room, unsheathing the greatsword from between my wings as I go. Other demons watch me with wide eyes, apprehension thickening the room like smoke. I struggle for a moment to get my blood up, to let the anger and rage for Ashtaroth flow through me. For the demon whose lies had coaxed me into this existence. But the truth is ruthless—he had no power except that which I gave him.

And I gave him everything.

The rage comes then, not at Ashtaroth but at myself. That I’ve been so foolish and weak. I failed to protect my wife and then had taken the worst possible way out of the agony, ruining us forever.

With a snarl I kick the door in, shattering it to kindling. I step inside. The darkness is lifted by the light spilling in from the common room, adding to the flame of the single black candle on its little table. The stench is ungodly.

Ashtaroth lounges on the settee, waiting for me, petting the head of the giant serpent coiled on the floor. The white python emanates its own ghostly light, its black eyes watching me.

“Such a dramatic entrance,” Ashtaroth drawls lazily and then makes a face. “You stink of her.” He cocks his head, smirking. “Been saying your goodbyes?”

My fist tightens on my sword handle.

“It doesn’t have to be goodbye,” he continues. “It will be easy to draw sweet Lucy into our realm. I’m quite willing to share her—”

I let out an inhuman bellow and swing the sword into the small antique table. The table’s legs are reduced to splinters and the black candle hits the ground and rolls toward me, its flame never wavering.

“You will never touch her,” I snarl between gritted teeth. “You’ll have nothing to do with her.”