I woke up screaming.
The dream had been so vivid, so real, that I could still smell smoke and sulfur in my nostrils. I'd been sitting on a throne made of black stone, wearing a crown of thorns that drew blood from my forehead. Below me, an army of demons had knelt in worship while fires burned all around us.
And in the dream, I'd liked it.
"Emma." Alexander's voice cut through my panic. He was sitting in a chair beside the bed, fully dressed, watching me with those dark eyes. "You're awake."
"What time is it?" I asked, my voice hoarse from screaming.
"Three in the afternoon. You've been asleep for eighteen hours."
Eighteen hours? I looked around the room, and everything seemed different somehow. The colors were more intense, the shadows deeper. I could hear sounds from the street forty floors below as clearly as if they were happening in the same room.
"Something's wrong with me," I said.
"Nothing's wrong," Alexander said calmly. "You're changing. It's perfectly normal."
"Normal?" I sat up in bed, and the silver bracelet on my wrist caught the light. The strange symbols were glowing faintly. "What's normal about any of this?"
Alexander stood up and walked to the window. "Tell me about the dream, Emma."
"How do you know I had a dream?"
"Because you've been talking in your sleep for the past six hours," he said. "In a language that died out three hundred years ago."
My blood turned to ice. "That's impossible."
"Is it?" He turned to face me, and there was something different about him too. He seemed more solid somehow, more present, like he was taking up more space in the room than his physical body should allow. "What did you see in the dream?"
I closed my eyes and tried to remember, but the images came flooding back so vividly that I gasped.
"I was on a throne," I whispered. "In a place that looked like hell. There were demons everywhere, and they were bowing to me like I was their queen."
"And how did that make you feel?"
The honest answer terrified me. "Powerful. Like I belonged there."
Alexander nodded like this was exactly what he'd expected to hear.
"What's happening to me?" I demanded.
"You're remembering who you really are," he said. "Who you've always been."
"That's crazy. I'm just a college student from Chicago. I'm nobody special."
"Are you?" Alexander walked back to the bed and sat down beside me. "Then explain this."
He picked up a mirror from the nightstand and held it up so I could see my reflection. What I saw made me scream again.
My eyes had changed. Instead of green, they were now a deep golden color that seemed to glow with their own light. My skin was paler, almost translucent, and when I opened my mouth, I could see that my canine teeth had grown longer and sharper.
"What did you do to me?" I whispered.
"I didn't do anything," Alexander said. "The bracelet simply awakened what was already inside you."
I grabbed at the silver bracelet, trying to pull it off, but it wouldn't budge. It felt like it had fused with my skin.
"Take it off," I begged. "Please, just take it off."
"I can't," he said. "Only you can remove it, and only when you're ready to accept the truth."
"What truth?"
Alexander stood up and walked to an easel in the corner of the room. I hadn't noticed it before - there was a painting on it covered by a white cloth.
"Three days ago, this canvas was blank," he said. "But while you slept, you painted this."
He pulled away the cloth, and I nearly fainted.
The painting showed the exact same scene from my dream - the black throne, the burning landscape, the army of demons. But in the center, sitting on the throne with a crown of thorns on her head, was me. Not the me I'd always been, but the me I'd become - golden eyes, pale skin, sharp teeth, and an expression of absolute power.
"I didn't paint that," I said weakly.
"Your body did," Alexander said. "While your conscious mind slept, your true self was awake. Painting. Remembering."
I looked at my hands, and sure enough, there was dried paint under my fingernails. Red paint that looked suspiciously like blood.
"This is insane," I said. "This is all completely insane."
"Is it?" Alexander asked. "Or is it the first sane thing that's happened to you in twenty-two years?"
Before I could answer, there was a knock at the bedroom door. Victoria walked in carrying a silver tray with what looked like breakfast, though the food on it wasn't anything I recognized.
"Good afternoon, my lady," she said, setting the tray down on the bed. "I thought you might be hungry."
I looked at the tray. Instead of normal breakfast foods, there were cuts of meat so rare they were almost raw, fruit that was black as night, and a glass filled with liquid that looked suspiciously like blood.
"I can't eat that," I said.
"Your body needs different nutrition now," Victoria said matter-of-factly. "Your human digestive system is adapting. This food will help with the transition."
"Transition to what?"
Victoria looked at Alexander, who nodded slightly.
"To what you've always been," she said. "A Hell Princess. The lost daughter of the underworld."
I stared at her. "You're both completely insane."
"Am I?" Alexander asked. "Then explain how I knew so much about you before we met. Explain how I was able to transfer half a million dollars with a phone call. Explain how your father's surgery went so perfectly that the doctors called it a miracle."
"You're rich," I said desperately. "Rich people can do anything."
"Not anything," he said. "But supernatural beings can."
The word hung in the air like a loaded gun. Supernatural.
"You're saying you're not human," I said slowly.
"I'm saying neither of us are entirely human," he corrected. "I'm what you might call a Grim Reaper's agent. My job is to collect souls that have made deals with dark forces. And you, Emma, are the most powerful supernatural being to walk the earth in three hundred years."
I laughed, but it came out high and hysterical. "This is ridiculous. You're talking about demons and hell and soul collecting like it's a real job."
"It is a real job," Alexander said calmly. "Would you like me to prove it?"
"How?"
He walked to the window and looked down at the street below. "Do you see that man in the blue suit?"
I joined him at the window. Forty floors down, I could see people walking on the sidewalk with perfect clarity - another change I didn't want to think about. There was indeed a man in a blue suit standing on the corner.
"I see him," I said.
"He made a deal with a demon five years ago," Alexander said. "Sold his soul for wealth and power. The contract comes due in exactly thirty-seven minutes."
As he spoke, I could see something above the man's head - numbers, like a digital countdown clock. 00:36:42. 00:36:41. 00:36:40.
"What are those numbers?" I whispered.
"His time remaining," Alexander said. "You can see them because you're awakening. Soon, you'll be able to see the countdown for everyone - how much time they have left, how they're going to die, whether their soul is destined for heaven or hell."
The countdown was moving faster now. 00:36:12. 00:36:11. 00:36:10.
"This isn't real," I said. "This can't be real."
"Keep watching," Alexander said.
The numbers kept falling. 00:30:00. 00:25:00. 00:20:00.
As they got lower, I could see something else - a dark shadow hovering near the man, getting closer and more solid as the time decreased.
"What's that shadow?"
"Death," Alexander said simply. "Waiting to collect what's owed."
00:10:00. 00:09:59. 00:09:58.
"Stop this," I said. "I don't want to watch someone die."
"You can't stop it," Alexander said. "The contract was signed. The debt must be paid."
00:05:00. 00:04:59. 00:04:58.
The man in the blue suit was walking toward his car, completely unaware that his life was about to end. The shadow was right behind him now, reaching out with what looked like clawed hands.
00:00:10. 00:00:09. 00:00:08.
"Please," I whispered.
00:00:03. 00:00:02. 00:00:01.
00:00:00.
The man collapsed on the sidewalk. From forty floors up, I could see people rushing to help him, calling for ambulances, trying to perform CPR. But I knew it was too late. The shadow was gone, and so was he.
"Heart attack," Alexander said calmly. "Quick and relatively painless. He was lucky."
I stumbled away from the window, my hand pressed to my mouth. "You knew that was going to happen."
"I know when everyone's time is up," he said. "It's what I do."
"And you just watch? You don't try to help?"
"I can't interfere with a soul contract," he said. "Those are the rules."
"Whose rules?"
Alexander's expression grew distant. "The rules that keep the balance between heaven, hell, and earth. The rules that prevent chaos from consuming everything."
I sank down onto the bed, my legs too weak to support me anymore. "Let's say I believe you. Let's say you really are some kind of supernatural... whatever. That still doesn't explain why you think I am too."
"Doesn't it?" Alexander asked. "You saw the countdown, Emma. Normal humans can't see death timers. You painted a picture while you were unconscious. Your eyes have changed color, your teeth have sharpened, and you can hear conversations happening forty floors below us. Tell me that's normal human behavior."
It wasn't. None of it was normal, and I couldn't explain any of it.
"Even if that's all true," I said weakly, "it doesn't mean I'm some kind of hell princess."
"No," Alexander agreed. "But this might."
He walked to another covered easel I hadn't noticed before. When he pulled away the cloth, I saw a portrait that made my heart stop.
It was me, but not me. The woman in the painting had my face, but she was wearing medieval clothes and a crown made of black metal. Her eyes were the same golden color mine had become, and she was standing in what looked like a throne room filled with demons and dark magic.
At the bottom of the painting, in elegant script, were the words: "Princess Evangeline of the Seventh Circle. Lost to the upper world, 1723."
"Evangeline," I whispered, and the name felt familiar on my tongue.
"That's who you were," Alexander said. "That's who you are. You disappeared from hell three hundred years ago, and every supernatural creature in existence has been looking for you ever since."
"That's impossible. I'm twenty-two years old."
"Your body is twenty-two years old," he corrected. "Your soul is much, much older. You've been reincarnated, Emma. Born into a human family, given a human life, with no memory of who you really are. Until now."
I stared at the painting, and more memories started flooding back. Not dreams this time, but actual memories. I remembered the throne room, the demons, the feeling of absolute power. I remembered magic flowing through my veins like liquid fire. I remembered a world where I was feared and worshipped and utterly alone.
And I remembered him.
"You were there," I said suddenly, looking at Alexander. "In hell. You were there, but you weren't collecting souls. You were... different."
His jaw tightened. "Yes."
"You were an angel."
"I was an archangel," he corrected. "Second in command of heaven's armies."
"And you fell in love with me."
"Yes."
"And you fell. Literally fell. From grace."
Alexander's dark eyes met mine, and in them I saw centuries of pain and longing.
"I chose you over heaven," he said quietly. "I gave up everything for you. My wings, my position, my place at God's side. And when you disappeared, I spent three hundred years searching for you."
The bracelet on my wrist was glowing brighter now, and I could feel power flowing through me like electricity. Not human power, but something ancient and dangerous and intoxicating.
"Why?" I asked. "Why did you give up everything for someone like me?"
Alexander knelt beside the bed and took my hands in his. His skin was warm, but I could feel something else underneath - something that hummed with otherworldly energy.
"Because you weren't just the Princess of Hell," he said. "You were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. You were trapped in a world of darkness and cruelty, forced to rule over creatures you despised, longing for something better. And when I looked into your eyes, I saw a soul that was capable of redemption."
"But I'm supposed to be evil," I said. "Hell princesses are supposed to be evil."
"You were never evil," he said. "You were born into evil, raised in evil, given no choice but to rule over evil. But your heart was always pure. That's why you disappeared. You couldn't stand the suffering anymore, so you gave up your power and your immortality to be reborn as a human."
"And now?"
"Now you have a choice," Alexander said. "You can reclaim your throne, return to hell, and rule as you were born to do. Or you can stay here, with me, and try to build something better."
The power flowing through me was getting stronger, and I could feel my human self slipping away. Part of me wanted to let it go, to embrace the darkness and the power and the absolute control. But another part of me - the part that had fallen in love with my father's bedtime stories and believed in happy endings - was fighting to hold on.
"What happens if I choose you?" I asked.
"Then we face whatever comes together," he said. "Heaven and hell will both want you back, and they'll do whatever it takes to reclaim you. It won't be easy."
"And if I choose hell?"
Alexander's grip on my hands tightened. "Then I'll follow you there, just like I did three hundred years ago."
I looked into his eyes and saw the truth. He really would follow me anywhere, give up anything, just to be with me. It was the kind of love that destroyed kingdoms and started wars.
It was also the kind of love I'd been searching for my whole life.
"I choose you," I whispered.
Alexander's smile was like sunrise after the longest night. "Then we'll face whatever comes together."
He leaned down and kissed me, and this time there was nothing fake about it. This was real, and desperate, and full of three hundred years of longing. When our lips touched, I felt power surge between us like lightning, and for a moment I could see our souls intertwined - his dark and scarred but still beautiful, mine burning with golden fire.
When we broke apart, I was breathing hard and my entire body was humming with energy.
"So what happens now?" I asked.
Alexander's expression grew serious. "Now we prepare for war. Because when hell realizes their princess has chosen heaven's fallen angel over the throne, they're going to come for us both."
As if summoned by his words, every light in the penthouse suddenly went out. The temperature dropped twenty degrees in an instant, and I could smell sulfur and brimstone filling the air.
"They're here," Alexander said grimly, standing up and moving protectively in front of me.
The windows exploded inward in a shower of glass, and through the openings came creatures I'd only seen in nightmares. Demons with leathery wings and glowing red eyes, their claws extended and their mouths full of razor-sharp teeth.
"Hello, sister," one of them said in a voice like grinding glass. "Time to come home."
I looked at Alexander, then at the demons, then at the painting of my former self. The power inside me was screaming to be released, to show these creatures who they were dealing with.
For the first time in three hundred years, I let it.
Golden fire erupted from my hands, filling the room with light so bright the demons shrieked and covered their eyes. When the light faded, they were gone, leaving nothing but scorch marks on the walls.
"Not bad for someone who just woke up," Alexander said, looking impressed.
I stared at my hands, which were still glowing faintly with golden fire. "I remember now. Not everything, but enough."
"Good," he said. "Because that was just the beginning."
He was right. I could feel it in my bones - this was just the first skirmish in a war that would determine the fate of my soul and the balance between heaven and hell.
But for the first time in either of my lives, I wasn't alone.
I had Alexander. I had power. And I had a choice.
Let the war begin.
End of Chapter 3