“I’ll take my leave,” he murmured, breaking the pulsing silence.

“Yep.” I had no strength for more than that.

I didn’t turn from the view out the window, but my scalp tingled as if he’d given my hair one barely-there stroke as he passed. I didn’t turn to watch him as he called for Beezle and Bub. I didn’t blink in his direction as he conjured a portal into existence, or when he stepped into it. I kept my back turned as it slowly faded away until there was nothing left of it. Nothing left of him.

Then I sobbed. Great, gusting cries that wracked my body. Pain-like claws caging my heart.

“Jem. Come here.”

I turned and collapsed into Ezra’s waiting arms. He pulled me onto the lounge, cradling me against him.

“I really thought this was going to be your happy ending,” he murmured against my hair. “I’m so sorry that it wasn’t.”

“Me too!” I wailed, soaking his shirt with my tears. My hand hurt. I thought maybe it had been hurting for a while, but I’d been too distracted to notice.

Sitting back, ignoring the rivers of tears on my cheeks, I opened my fist. The Soul Token was red hot, blistering my palm. I felt like I was looking at it from a million miles away.

Ezra hissed. “Jesus, Jem! That’s a nasty burn! Let’s get you to the tap. Cold water, and then some first aid.”

“It’s my pain. My pain,” I mumbled, following Ezra into the kitchen.

“That’s your soul, Jemma,” Ezra reminded me. “That’s the piece of you that’s been missing.”

I set the searing Token down on the counter beside the sink and let Ezra rinse the sting from the wound. I wasn’t sure the Token mattered all that much to me. The thing that I would miss most had just taken a permanent portal ride back to Hell.

41. Devils Don’t Cry

Chapter 41

Devils Don’t Cry

SJ

Another garbage can was being treated to the contents of my stomach.

“Jeez, Boss, you really committed to your bit back there!” Beezle commented as I heaved.

“Yeah, I don’t think she bought it, though,” Bub added.

“I …” I retched again, but nothing came up. With a cough, I wiped at my mouth.

“What I mean is, you wanted her to think you didn’t care,” Bub explained. “Instead, she knows you care, but thinks you’re scared. A big old scaredy demon.”

“Yeah, but she was still mad, and sad … you hurt her bad,” Beezle remarked.

“Your poetry is truly magnificent,” I muttered, then choked on another retch. There was nothing left to come up. “And the method in which I … ended things with her matters not. Let her believe there was no other factor than my own cowardice at play. Playing down the truth was entirely our intention, was it not?”