Page 13 of In Between Death and the Devil

“And you do?” His expression turned incredulous, almost fierce.

“You have no idea.”

“Try me.”

“Are you suggesting I confess my sins to you? I don’t even know you.” I scoffed, even as a lump formed in my throat.

“I’m Fenmore, but my friends call me Fen.” He offered me his hand.

I stared at him for a moment. All I knew about him was that he was a Judge who hated crowds, but I wanted to trust him, and that was unnerving. The last time I’d trusted a man, I’d ended up with a broken heart and a dead family. “You just want me to tell you my dirty secrets,” I managed finally. The words came out in a whisper.

“Or maybe I want to make you feel better, if you’ll let me.”

The sincerity in his eyes made me take his hand. That and the fact that he could find out who I was without my telling him.

“I’m Maeve.” His hand dwarfed mine, making me feel almost dainty.

“Maeve.”

I shivered at the sound of my name on his tongue, and I felt a faint tug in my chest as if something was pulling me towards him as he released me.

“I find giving voice to what bothers you reduces its power,” he said when I remained silent. “It’s almost never as bad as you think.”

I gave him a skeptical look.

“Trust me. I’ve seen it all. Holding it in is always worse than saying it out loud.”

I couldn’t deny that it weighed on me. Maybe that was why I was so tempted to share my deepest, darkest secret with this man. I was so tired of carrying it, even if I deserved it. It was so heavy. More than that, I felt connected to him because of the vision, and something I couldn’t put my finger on told me I could trust him. It wasn’t rational, just a certainty that came from my heart.

Besides, he was a Judge. For all I knew, he would watch the evaluation tomorrow. My secret wouldn’t stay that way for long.

“I have to weigh my soul tomorrow.” My voice was thick.

“And that bothers you. Why?”

“I killed my family.” The words hung between us. I braced for his revulsion, but he just looked at me, intent and serious.

“On purpose?”

My mouth hung open for a moment. “No. That’s—that’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“I had a… condition most of my life that made it very difficult to be around people.” I didn’t feel like talking about my curse. “My family was everything to me. They were all I had. And they’re dead because of me. Because I had no control.” I turned back to the railing to blink away the burn of tears.

Fen didn’t say anything. He just watched me, as if waiting for the rest.

“I was arrested for their murder. I thought I would be executed. Instead, they gave me a choice. Prison or the convent. I should have chosen prison, it’s what I deserved. But I wanted—” My throat tightened, making it impossible to speak until I swallowed. “I wanted to redeem myself.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”

“I don’t deserve to want. I don’t deserve any of this. I deserve to be punished, not to be at an orgy.” I waved my hand at the crowd below. “And tomorrow I have to sentence myself, to admit what should have happened to me. I’ll finally get what I deserve, I suppose.” I drew a thin breath as guilt cinched around my chest like an iron band.

“You’re not the only one here who has killed someone.”

My eyes flashed back to Fen. “You?”

“I was responsible for the death of too many before I came here.” The guilt and sorrow in his expression were muted but there, like he still carried the weight of them. He’d just grown used to it.