I moved through the fire once more, my power driving me towards another soul. This one, after he regained his contours, was a burly man. He smiled at me before he drifted upwards, joining a collection of souls gathered far above me.
I repeated the process again and again. Why I passed by certain souls and stopped at others, I couldn’t say. Some other force guided my hand. I didn’t know who these souls were or why they called out to me, but I did know that I wasn’t liberating all of hell’s prisoners.
The devil said it wasn’t possible to release a soul from the fire. What he meant was that it was impossible for me to release a prisoner. But that was before he’d thrown our connection wide open, thrown it open so that he could tap into my power.
He’d dipped into my power, and now I was dipping into his.
Time lapsed as I freed souls, and the more I touched, the more dissociated I became. I lost my identity somewhere in those flames, and thank God for it. I would’ve gone mad otherwise. The sheer number of souls I freed, the faces of those I bypassed, the power I wielded—it was all too much for even an immortal like me to bear.
Until, that was, I came up to my father.
My identity rushed back to me all at once. Unlike the other souls, this one was personal.
In front of me was the man who died to save me. The man I’d dreamed about intermittently for a decade. I couldn’t stop the wetness that welled up in my eyes, both from the agony that contorted his features, and from the knowledge that I’d get to free him from that suffering.
That realization led to another: There was a method to this madness. The souls I released weren’t picked at random. Each had arrived here unjustly.
My power gushed through me the moment I touched my father’s soul. The terrible agony that consumed him fled.
I ran my hand reverently over his essence as his form brightened and filled out. It didn’t take much energy to revive his soul completely.
A shimmering hand reached for me. I looked up, meeting my father’s gaze. I felt the brush of his spirit as he ran his phantom fingers down my cheek, gazing at me with stark adoration.
I leaned into his touch, and I smiled at him. “I’ve missed you, Dad,” I said, blinking back my tears. He moved his hand to his heart, then back to me.
I nodded, understanding what he couldn’t say. “I love you too.”
I released his soul from the fire, and stepped back to watch his ascent. My heart rejoiced as he floated up beyond the reach of the flames, where they could never get to him again. I stayed rooted in place until he joined the other souls gathered far above me.
When I resumed my work, I allowed my body to be directed by the power once more. I kept vigilant, however. My father’s release had reminded me that Andre was down here somewhere. With the same senses I used to locate souls, I searched the vast fields of flame for him.
I couldn’t feel him. Where was he? Could he still be … alive?
Hope flooded me, only to get squashed a moment later. He’d told me himself; he’d been mortally wounded. He might not die right away, but he was indeed dying. And that was a soul the devil would claim.
But as I continued to work, I didn’t sense him, nor did I come across him. My steps began to slow as I realized, ominously, that my power was coming to a close and I still hadn’t found my soulmate amidst the flames.
And then my feet dragged me forward one final time. I could feel it inside me—this soul would be the last I released.
I swallowed as I came to a stop in front of a reedy man with hollow cheeks and sparse white hair.
Not Andre.
I’d released thousands upon thousands of individuals. Among them I’d seen some vaguely familiar faces from Andre’s coven—an alarming discovery since I believed many of these individuals to still be alive—but I hadn’t come across my soulmate. Worse, I still couldn’t sense him.
I stared out across the roaring inferno that spanned as far as the eye could see. Despair curled around my heart like a lover.
My soulmate was lost to me.
Chapter 30
Andre
Andre stumbled down the persecution tunnel set into his library. He clutched a hand tightly to his chest, staving off the slow drip of blood through his wound. Now that he was moving, something beyond his own determination compelled him onwards. Fire burned through his blood. No longer could he feel the magic draining from him. No longer was the pain so horrible that it seized up his muscles.
Andre paused to lean against the wall and rub his eyes. His fingers came away with blood.
The celestial request quill hadn’t worked. Gabrielle had one chance, and she wasted it trying to save him. He hadn’t been strong enough to pull away, and now the quill was gone, along with the last of his hope.
The world would have to save itself. God wasn’t listening.