What was the politest way to ask whether his sister’s reaper had immediately shuffled Eloise off to whatever afterlife the Fates had mandated? Or whether that reaper had instead escorted hissister to the Realm Below, where a demon lawyer would teleport into Death’s courtroom and argue her case before an afterlife judge?
That courtroom constituted the only semipublic area of the Realm. Otherwise, its fathomless, unmapped expanse was accessible only to Death and the Fates, who ruled sovereign over the territory, punished intrusions in grisly fashion, and employed an unknown number of workers to process the courtroom’s decisions and track the destinations chosen for the dead.
As the old saying went, you had to die or apply to see the Realm for yourself.
That said, most deaths didn’t actually require all the administrative bother of a trial there. Appropriate final destinations for the dead were usually clear, with no need for lawyers. Depending on what Hugh’s sister had actually done in her final, grief- and rage-filled moments, though, a just afterlife assignment might not have been quite so clear. And if a trial had been held, maybe Hugh had been able to argue his sister’s case? See her one last time?
“Eloise was brought to the Realm Below,” Hugh said, somehow deciphering what Gwen couldn’t quite bring herself to ask. “I wanted to represent her, but my lack of teleportation ability meant I couldn’t. Our mother argued her case instead, and my sister’s sentence was redacted. Even Mom doesn’t know where Eloise went or what’s happening to her.”
Given his clear adoration for his sister, that uncertainty must eat at him daily.
“I’m so sorry.” Gwen smoothed a rumpled bit of his beard. “Were you tempted to leave the firm then?”
“I couldn’t resign.” His voice sounded uncertain, though, as ifhe were now questioning his decision of a decade before. “Between the departure of Roarke’s clients and the fresh stains on our family’s reputation, Blackes struggled for a long time, and I felt partially responsible for those struggles.”
Mystified, she stared at him. “Why?”
“My parents said I should have realized what was happening with Eloise and intervened before she reached the breaking point, and…” He sighed. “They were right. Although their failing business was the least disastrous consequence of my neglect by far.”
“You stayed out of guilt.”However misplaced, she very carefully didn’t add.
“I paid penance where I could.” Pain soaked every syllable of the simple statement. “It took five years of endless, meticulous work before Blackes’s most important clients returned.”
“And once the business stabilized, you felt able to leave,” she concluded.
“To my great relief.” He laid a hand over hers, pressing her palm tighter to his cheek. “After my sister’s death, I couldn’t unsee the injustices in my work, and I couldn’t unsee Eloise. Everywhere I went in the office, her ghost was there too.”
He hesitated. “I know Josiah has been an ass, and I’m very sorry, Gwen. If he doesn’t do better when it comes to you, I’ll cut ties with him. I would have already done so, except…in the aftermath of my sister’s death, he was our only family friend who stayed loyal. And once the firm’s finances had stabilized, he encouraged me to run for election as a SERC councilor.”
At least Gwen could give the elder demon credit for that much. Because yes, Josiah truly had been an ass toward her, and he seemed unlikely to un-ass himself in the immediate future.She believed Hugh’s promise to part ways with his mentor if the other demon didn’t reform, though. Just as she believed Hugh’s declaration that his election to SERC had been a great relief to him.
But she also remembered the news coverage of his campaign’s victory party five years ago. The trays of champagne to toast the new councilor. The orchestra. The grand ballroom filled with supporters in elegant dresses and dark, boring suits.
In one of the photos, Hugh had been standing on the far edge of the dais, nearly out of the frame, surveying the crowd. No champagne in his hand, no smile on his face. Utterly alone.
When she’d seen that photo, she’d wondered for the first time whether his life might actually be emptier and less fulfilling than hers, despite all the pomp and wealth and power surrounding him. And now she had a pretty good sense of what he might have been thinking in that moment. Ofwhomhe might have been thinking.
She spoke quietly. “You must miss Eloise terribly.”
“Every day. Every minute. I…” His mouth worked. “I love her like—”
He swallowed audibly. Corrected himself. “Ilovedher like my own heartbeat, and now I have to live with the knowledge that I didn’t help her when she needed me most.”
“You tried your best,” Gwen told him, but he just shook his head.
“Sometimes I trick myself into thinking I can sense her here, just like always.” He took Gwen’s hand and laid it on the exact center of his chest, where his demon’s heart steadily beat beneath his sweater. “I imagine that I can feel her love for me and that she’s happy again.”
His lips curved in a wry, sad smile. “A nice bit of self-delusion, isn’t it?”
If that delusion provided him comfort, Gwen was glad for it.
She flattened her palm over his heart. “How many others can you sense here?”
It couldn’t be many, after decades of suppressing his native empath talent.
He didn’t answer her question directly. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed a warm, lingering kiss to the center of her forehead. “As I told you earlier, Gwen, I can senseyou. Even though it shouldn’t be possible.”
Her brows beetled. “What does that mean?”
