my leotard, tights, and skirt for jean shorts and a green flouncy top. Then I hop on the counter and pull my duffel bag onto my lap. I dig around until I find the halo. It’s near the bottom, tucked inside a legwarmer, warm and waiting.
I slip it onto my wrist and pull a light sweater over it. It’s warm out, and the halo’s sure to make me warmer, but Dad gives me grief every time he sees it.
“High school boys don’t give their girlfriends gold bracelets, Elle.”
“Sure they do.”
“Not bracelets like that, kiddo.”
I had no response to that.
My skin soaks up the halo’s presence, and I lean against the mirror. Today was a good day. A very good day.
So why do I feel like I’ve been socked in the stomach?
Someone knocks on the door, and I jump.
“Coming. Sorry.” I slide off the counter and twist the doorknob. “Sorry, I was—” The door swings open, Olivia Holt on the other side. “I was changing.”
All at once, I know exactly why I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.
“Not a problem,” she says. I step out of her way and into the hall. “A girl without a wardrobe change could never be the belle of the ball, right?”
She tilts her head at me, scrutinizing me from beneath those long—probably fake—lashes.
“Your dad, Keith . . .”
“I know my dad’s name.”
“Of course. He tells me you’re multitalented. Modeling, right? And some acting.”
I heft my bag higher on my shoulder. “Not so much anymore.”
She taps her teeth with a red fingernail. “Shame. The foundation’s looking to do some publicity in the near future. I wonder if I could convince you to help us out with some print work, maybe a commercial or two?”
She’s not the first one to ask. My agent’s called no less than a billion times over the past several months. I tell Olivia the same thing I tell Susie.
“I don’t think so. Dance is really my thing. I can get you the numbers of a few girls in Portland who might be interested, though.”
She shrugs off my offer. “Models in the city are easy enough to come by, but I’d like the opportunity to work with you.” She produces a business card. “Take it. If you change your mind, give me a call.”
I don’t want her business card. I don’t plan to change my mind. Still, politeness demands I take it. But the minute her fingers touch mine, I jerk away. The halo flames red-hot against my wrist—angry hot.
Her face pales and her caramel eyes narrow.
She felt it too. She balls her hand into a fist but leaves it hanging there, the business card wrinkled.
“Probably just static electricity,” she whispers. “This dry weather and all.” But her eyes are on my hand, and I have a sick feeling, like I’ve just given up a friend’s secret. I slide both arms behind my back and twine my fingers together.
“There,” she says, placing the card on the bathroom counter. “Don’t want another shock, do we?” And then she takes a step back and grabs the door. “I’d appreciate you taking the card, Brielle. Just in case.”
But I leave the card on the counter and walk away.
Because she’s right.
Another shock is the last thing we need.
3
Pearla
Pearla watches the demon chained to the floor. He struggles to stand as the Fallen assembled round about bite and snap at him from a distance.
The Fallen are a species who eagerly devour their own kind. Cannibalism, the humans call it. Yes, they specialize in cannibalism. Only here, in the depths of hell, the beings are spirit. Not flesh and blood. And death doesn’t come easily to spirit beings.
The chewing lasts for ages.
But the blistering, smoking wounds on this one weren’t inflicted by another demon. The Fallen don’t use fire as a weapon. They fear it. The demon waiting below is nursing wounds that could only have come from the pit.
The abyss.
The eternal fire created for the devil and his angels.
Pearla’s seen it—navigated the cavern on occasion. It’s a place that cannot damage her. When the Prince’s stronghold was formed, the Creator confined the celestial light that was displaced to a chasm just beyond the black walls of Abaddon. There holy fire reflects itself eternally, magnifying in that ever-brightening divide.
The pit is a glorious thing to the angels of light. It is God’s goodness multiplied. But for those who chose darkness, the abyss is feared above all. Because even the Fallen heal.