Deals with the Devil (PA #1)

Chapter 9

Willow, Age Thirteen

Sundays are a lot like dying. Depending on who you ask, they either signify a beginning or an ending. The beginning of a new life, the end of an old one; the start of a new week, the bookend of the previous one.

It's fitting then, that Ragnar is leaving us on a Sunday. He's excited about his upcoming experience at Purgatory Academy, while Lucifer is acting like a grieving parent in mourning. He's covered head-to-toe in dark clothing. It's almost as if Lucifer has invented a new, darker shade of black to wear just to show all of us how truly upset he is.

My feelings about Ragnar's departure are a mixed bag. On the one hand, I'm glad to be rid of his girlfriend Priscilla, who is the same age and also leaving for the academy. On the other hand, I'm going to miss the man who I recently developed a crush on, as well as the sort-of friend that I had in my younger years. He's been avoiding me more than ever since Lucifer's birthday, so I suppose that his absence won't change my life all that much. Or at least, that's what I keep telling myself.

"This is all incredibly unnecessary. I'm going to a school, not war; I'll be back in a few years. There's no need to make such a big deal out of this." Ragnar punctuates his statement by picking up his single black duffel bag and throwing it over his broad shoulder.

If Purgatory Academy allowed students to bring weapons, I'm sure that he wouldn't have packed as lightly. As it is, all of what he deems to be essential items are distilled into one leather bag. Classic Ragnar.

Lucifer clutches his chest like he's making a solemn oath, although he appears to be more offended than anything. "My firstborn son is leaving me," Lilith elbows him in the gut, "us. He's leaving us and going to live with those bastardly angels. I'm allowed to feel however I want to feel about that!"

Alexander, forever an instigator, asks, "Weren't you once an angel? Doesn't that make you a bastard, too?"

Honestly, I'm not sure what he's even doing here, other than to gloat. Alexander hates Ragnar so much that he's had a countdown calendar for this very day. A calendar that he made when he was only five years old.

With a smirk on his face, Rome responds before Lucifer can. "Yeah, Alexander, and you're the son of a bastard. Makes perfect sense, actually." I pinch the bridge of my nose because sometimes Rome doesn't think things through.

"Dumbass, we have the same father. That would make you the son of a bastard, too," Alexander is quick to point out. Romeo's proud expression is quickly replaced by a glare in Alexander's direction.

Before the situation can escalate, I grab onto Romeo's arm. He glances down at me in question, but I just squeeze him and say nothing. He reaches up with his opposite arm to hold my hand in place, seemingly calmed by the action.

Lost in our own little world, I barely notice that Aristotle is talking to Alexander while Ragnar is caught up in an unwanted hug by his father. After successfully maneuvering himself away from Lucifer, Ragnar gives Lilith a quick side hug before promptly entering the portal. Without even a backward glance or a word of goodbye, Ragnar is gone.

In the aftermath of his abrupt departure, Lucifer excuses himself from the room with barely concealed tears in his eyes. Making a mental note to check in on him later, I assess the rest of the room's occupants.

Unsurprisingly, both Alexander and Gwen are excited by the day's events. They are next to leave. Lilith consoles a crying Elizabeth, saying soothing words in a voice too low for me to hear. With her mother's help, Eli is able to shuffle into the hallway. Moving in unison, Aristotle and Anne follow behind them, likely on the way to sleep and eat away their feelings.

All the while, Rome holds onto me in silence. Not sure how to conceptualize what I'm feeling, I stay quiet as well. There we stand, not a word between us, both knowing that life as we know it will never be quite the same. This is the turning point between childhood and something else. Moving a muscle or saying a single word will make it real, so we do neither.

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As much as I love my best friend, I can't deny that she's being a stupid flipping idiot. I'm attempting to cuss less in my head and out loud, but flip just doesn't have the same effect as fuck. Oh, well.

"Don't be like this, Eli. Just tell him that you like him and I guarantee he'll say the same thing back."

"Oh, did you develop the ability to see into the future, Will? Kinda rude to not mention it before now." Elizabeth wraps her arms around her middle in a self-soothing gesture that is done almost subconsciously.

"Don't do that. Don't try to use sarcasm to deflect from a conversation you don't want to have. You can't ignore him forever, so put him out of his misery and tell him the truth! Neither of you will be happy if you keep doing this."

"I can't, Will. Just the thought of it makes me physically ill. He's a shifter and he's going to find a mate one day. I refuse to start something with him now when he could leave me for his fated love at any point. Call it pride, call it cowardice, whatever, but I won't put myself through that."

I want to shake her. "Killian loves you, Eli! We're young, sure, but I really don't think his feelings about you will ever change. For as long as I can remember, he's looked at you like you single-handedly created the universe. He's been your friend, protector, and confidant for every day that he's been alive. And I know that you feel the same way about him. What if you're his mate? We won't find out until you guys are eighteen, anyway."

Elizabeth throws her arms out in frustration. "But what if I'm not, Will? I don't want to be with him for five years just to learn that it was all a waste of time."

I sigh. "Unfortunately, I can't actually predict the future. At the end of the day, I'll support whatever it is you decide to do, but just know that I think you're making a big mistake."

Elizabeth gives me a sad smile. "I know, Willow. And I love you for it. I just think it will be easier for all of us in the long run if I cut ties with him now. Maybe I can even find a way to transform all of this love into hate."

I give her an admonishing glance before reaching out for a hug that she eagerly returns. Barely four months of being thirteen, and two of my best friends are no longer speaking to each other. Is being a teenager always this hard?