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“You have no right to do this,” I say like I know what I’m talking about. “Let him go.”

“You’re awfully bossy for such a small piece of work, you know that?” Wolfgang taps the whip against my shoulder. “Simmer down. You won’t like me unhappy. Your dad doesn’t like me unhappy. Do you,
Dad
?”

“You’re not allowed to Take him!” I say, and Wolfgang looks mildly impressed.

“Ah, and she surprises me yet again. You’re well informed, for a human. Unfortunately, you are also wrong. You see, Sophia, Daddy has been very naughty.” He circles me and clicks his tongue and then whacks Dad across the face with the whip. Dad howls and doubles over, clutching his face. I want to go to him but Wolfgang positions
himself between us.

“Your daddy is open to a world of hurt. He damned his soul and there is nothing you can do about it.”

“That’s not true. The Council hasn’t released his soul.”

“I’ll make him wish they had.” Wolfgang raises his arm and launches Dad across the room. Dad slams into a stack of boxes and drops with a sickening thud. More boxes rain down.

“Dad!” I run to him and push the boxes aside. He is grimacing and grabbing his back.

“Sophia, you have to go home. These monsters will kill you.”

“What?” I help him up and look around. There is Vaughn Raider, in jeans and a T-shirt, leaning against the far wall. His arms and neck are lined with red welts, and he is flicking a blade across his thigh. His jeans are sliced open and soaked with something black. He looks at me with eyes as sad as wounds, and I remember who he is.
Affliction
.

Dad returns to the chair and I hiss at him, “What are you doing? Let’s go!”

“There is nothing to be done, Sophia. I’ve committed a sin I can’t undo. They have every right to this. The best I can do is not involve you.” Dad’s voice is an empty church on Monday morning. He has succumbed to his sorrows and aged ten years since yesterday. I want to convince him otherwise but there is movement in the corner, and I snap to attention.

Pale green eyes glow in the shadows, and then Dante’s dark silhouette takes shape around them. He walks into the light, looking the same as when I left him an hour ago, handsome and heartbroken. He casually slides his hands into his pockets.

“Ciao, cara mia.”

I flinch at his voice, and his brow twitches with disapproval. Unlike Wolfgang, Dante takes no pleasure in my fear. He looks apologetic, as though resigned to the inevitable. Something occurs to me and I turn to Wolfgang. “This is
your
doing. Here, tonight, torturing my dad. It’s all
you
, Wolfgang. Isn’t it?” He flashes a magnanimous smile. “Well, I won’t let you Take him.”

“Yes, I heard you the first time.”

I look back at Dante. “Are you here to help Wolfgang Take my dad?”

“I thought you understood what I am here for, Sophia. I want you and only you.” His voice is soft and full of ancient grief.

Wolfgang scowls and makes a strange, guttural noise against Dante’s admission.

“Then help me stop him!” I yell, pointing at Wolfgang.

“There is nothing I can do, Sophia.” Dante sighs heavily. “When your father
killed that boy, he set everything in motion.”

“Boy?” I choke out, and Dad cringes as though he has been struck again. I drop to my knees and clutch his hands. “Dad! Tell me what happened!”

Dad bows his head and sobs. “That boy! I killed that boy who hurt you, Sophie. I hit Steve with my car. I killed him.” He wraps himself around my thin shoulders and cries so desperately I am rendered immobile.

Dad killed Steve? Steve is dead?

He mumbles incoherent details and I catch snippets of his confession. It was intentional. It was vengeful. It was unforgiveable. This explains so much: Dad’s self-inflicted torture, his insomnia, his obsession with Hell and the afterlife. He wasn’t doing research for a book; he was preparing for his future.

I stroke his head and murmur that everything will be all right, while the full implication of what’s happened settles on my conscience. Dad got caught up in a mistake I made. I brought Steve into our lives. Dad insisted Steve was wrong for me, and I ignored him. I was intentionally obstinate because Dad refused to answer my questions about Mom’s death. Dad would never have killed Steve if it weren’t for me.

I did this
.

I climb to my feet and face Wolfgang. Ignoring his brimming enthusiasm and sadistic smile, I argue my case like a defense attorney. “There are extenuating circumstances in Dad’s case. You don’t have a right to Take him. You have to wait for The Council to pass judgment.”

“The old man knew exactly what he was doing, and I have a death contract that allows me to Take him. Nothing else matters.” Wolfgang negates my argument, and I don’t know who is right. I don’t know what the extenuating circumstances are. I want Dad to explain but when I look down, his chair is empty—Dad is gone.

I whirl around and find him standing next to Vaughn. Dad is stooped in pain from his beatings and the Demon of Affliction is helping him gingerly climb onto a crate, a Boy Scout walking the elderly across the road. Dad steadies himself on the crate and takes the noose from Vaughn.

“No! Dad! Don’t!” I run to him, but Wolfgang flashes between us. We struggle and he pushes me aside. I throw myself against Dante, crying out, “Please! Dante! Don’t you have any sympathy for him? It wasn’t his fault!”

“Sympathy is not mine to give,” he says evenly.

“Make them stop!” I beg, clutching his shirt. “It’s too soon! They can’t Take him!”

“Oh, there is always a way,” he says affectionately, as though coaxing Dad into
taking his own life is child’s play. And then Dante’s face softens and his hands lovingly caress my hair. “Shhh, now,
cara mia
. It will be over soon.”

“No! No!” I shake him so hard that hair spills across his forehead. One thought evolves into another,
This isn’t right; this isn’t supposed to happen; there has to be a way
—and then I understand. “You make bargains, don’t you?” I demand.

This peaks Dante’s interest and his face becomes very still. “You would bargain with me?” He sounds cautiously optimistic.

I look at Dad readying the noose to accommodate his neck. Vaughn tosses the rope over a beam, and Dad pushes his head into the noose.

“Yes!” I snap at Dante. “Just tell me what to do.”

He cups my face and looks hard into my eyes. “You must know exactly what you are asking for, Sophia, or it will not work. You understand?”

In this moment, I understand that life is full of mistakes and debts to be rectified.

Mistakes that bring me to face the debt I didn’t know I owed, and the one who has come to collect it. I never imagined it would be Dante. I never imagined I would beg for it.

His handsome face grins as anticipation plays in his eyes. An unseen clock ticks silently in my heart and I am caught in that tender space between thought and action. I can’t say if my faith is subtracted or multiplied; there is only the certainty of action. I must die for my debt.

I nod in surrender.

One kiss. Is that so bad?

Yes.

I know Dante loves me, and I know it is a kiss—
this
kiss—he has wanted all along. The kiss that will kill me.

“You must state your bargain,” Dante whispers eagerly.

“I am … trading places with my dad.”

Wolfgang claps his hands and inhales deeply. “Ahhh, suicide is in bloom.”

Dad immediately yells for me to stop what I am doing this instant.
I am five years old and riding my bike too fast and Dad is yelling to slow down or I will crash
.

Tears stream down my face as I stare into beautiful, hypnotic eyes that begin to dilate and swirl. “What do you need, Dante?”

“I need your last breath,
cara
. But … this is not how I envisioned us going home.” He brushes hair from my eyes and smiles wistfully. “Could you … would you mind … saying it for me? Just once? Please?”

There is no warm cinnamon spice this time, only the natural fragrance of fear, I
suppose. Only Dante, standing tall and proud and exhilarated to get what he came for. And so I fall into his eyes and recite the words he has longed to hear: “I belong to you, Dante.”

His chest swells and his face darkens with deep desire. He stares at my mouth and then presses his lips against mine to begin the kiss that will kill me.

Fire burns across my mouth, searing my tongue, and I know there is no protection for what he will do to me. Arms encase me and burn across my back. The kiss releases scorching heat down my throat that envelopes my heart. I feel the soft organ slowing one beat at a time. Lava flows into my veins and coats tendons and ligaments, cauterizes nerve endings. Every cell and muscle and organ is consumed and destroyed upon impact. An unnatural sound like teeth crunching ice creeps into my head.
The soul crackles when it is loosened from flesh
. And then my mind goes blank, and a dark wind blows through me, scattering everything to ash.

My arms drop to my sides and Dante supports my weight. He continues the kiss to ensure his fire reaches the tips of my existence. The faint thumping of my life is losing energy. I need it to stop and so it does, and I am set adrift.…

I rise up and out of myself with a delicious sense of lightness. Further up and then I look down at my lifeless body in the lavender dress. Dante is cradling me possessively, tenderly, and declaring his love. He instructs me to find the Borderlands and wait there for him. He will join me soon. A kiss on my quiet lips, and he says he loves me.

There is no sound here, only soothing emotions that ride on a pale iridescent fog. I settle in place and look around. It is vast and intimate at the same time. I feel safe and think,
Yeah, okay. This isn’t so bad
. And then sensations well inside me and I know I am not alone. A figure emerges from the fog.

“Mom!” I run to her, and she envelopes me in her strong, thin arms. She is laughing delightfully, and it is dessert for my ears. There are no tears, only gushing emotions. I step back and have a look. Her hair is luxuriant and flowing, the color of lightning. Her gown is pale and beautiful, the texture of happy thoughts. Her smile is radiant, and I squeeze her hands and say, “You are a goddess!” She laughs, tickled at the title I give her. She is coy and more delicate than I remember.

“And you are my warrior,” she says unexpectedly. She loops her arm through mine and we walk. “I missed you,” she begins, and then sighs regretfully. “I miss many things, Sophia. But mostly, I missed a great opportunity with you. I hope you will forgive me.” I am confused and want to challenge her but she pats my hand patiently. “I was so lost in myself that I failed to prepare you. I was weak when you needed me to be strong. I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mom. I’m here now. Everything is fine.”

“No, Sophia. Everything is not fine. You cannot stay here.”

I remember Dante and the circumstances that brought me here. “I had to do it, Mom. Miss Minnie needed Michael and Dad needed me.”

Mom gives me the disapproving frown I haven’t seen in years. “The pastor has screwed things up royally but—”

“It wasn’t his fault. I got us involved with Steve. Dad told me to stop seeing him but I wouldn’t listen. I … was being so … horrible to Dad.”

“I understand. But there were extenuating circumstances regarding Steve’s death. What the pastor … what your father did … He had time before his judgment: if he’d only been stronger, resisted the temptation to end his own life.”

“What were the extenuating circumstances? Dad deliberately hit Steve with the car.”

“Yes, but your father didn’t know that Steve had his own plan that night. He had a knife and he was coming after you again. Sophia, Steve planned to kill you.”

I visualize Steve’s twisted face yelling at me that night in the kitchen when I threw the knife at him. He warned me that it wasn’t over.

“Mom, I tried to kill him when he hit me. It was like I became someone else when I threw the knife at him.”

“Felt like a warrior?” she asks with a smile, and I nod. “Yes, Sophia, it’s almost time. And now I’m thinking the pastor’s mistake is all for the best. It brought you to me, and I have an unexpected opportunity to help you begin. You have work to do, honey. Do you understand?”

“Not at all. Why can’t I stay here with you?”

“Because it wasn’t your time, my dear.”

“Yeah, but I made a pact with Dante.”

“Yes, I am aware. And if we were home right now, young lady, you would be grounded until Labor Day!” We stare for a long serious moment and then break up laughing. “My Sophia,” she croons, stroking my hair. Her thumb traces my eyebrow where the scar used to be. “Much better,” she murmurs, and my face brightens.

“It was you! You made it disappear!”

She grins. “I simply couldn’t have it on this beautiful face of mine.” She sighs and switches to her no-nonsense voice. “Now, my dear, you have work to do. I am afraid your Awakening is bursting at the seams. Aside from your emerging fighting skills, you’ve had another episode? A vision?”

I remember the night of the street racing with Dante, when I saw the cars crashing
and those kids flying out of the wreckage. “Yes. I didn’t know … I thought it was a fluke or something.”

“No, my dear. It was no fluke. But I do wish I could be there to help you begin. To help reveal the reason for you.”

“I already found it, Mom. I was meant to save Dad. I’m no warrior.” Whatever that means.

Mom looks doubtful. “My dear, you come from a long line of warriors. If I hadn’t been so impatient myself, I would be home administering your tutorial.”

“Mom, what happened to you? Did you die from a stroke?” This brings out her coy smile, and I know I am wrong. Even now, she won’t divulge her secrets, keeping mystery wrapped around her like a shawl. And somehow, in this place and time, it doesn’t matter.

She guides me toward a particularly thick patch of fog. “I must show you something.”

The fog swirls and images begin to separate one from another until I can distinguish people trudging in a line. They are soft around the edges and wear the clothes they died in. They are despondent and lost, turning their faces toward me. I feel a ripple effect along my skin, and then the people begin to cry with my tears and I let them have them. For the first time since arriving here, I ache with sorrow.