Path of Night

by Sarah Rees Brennan

  Lilith pulled off the face she wore, grinding it beneath her heel until it was destroyed. She pushed the ruin of a face, exposed muscles and blood with a skull-like grin, at Lord Beelzebub.

  “Do you like this smile?”

  Beelzebub frowned. Even demons whose faces were mainly flies expected women to make themselves pretty.

  Lilith snapped her fingers, restoring the face of Mary Wardwell. Her lost Adam had loved this face. Her frightful protégée Sabrina had looked up to it. This face fit.

  “It’s a bit … haggard,” remarked Beelzebub, a creature from the dawn of time.

  Lilith removed the golden crown from her head and used it to strike down the demon lord. Lilith’s crown was made from skeleton fingers dipped in gold, and she’d recently had them sharpened. Beelzebub toppled over sideways, his countenance torn from hairline to jaw.

  “I like the face, personally,” remarked Caliban as Beelzebub gibbered at their feet.

  “Nobody asked you, Caliban!”

  “It has character. Almost makes you look a queen.” Caliban smiled, nasty as a filthy blade in a wound.

  Lilith prowled forward, but then they were distracted.

  Nick Scratch’s dark eyes slammed open, staring at horror Lilith couldn’t see. His piteous, heartrending screams filled the chamber. Fortunately, none of those present had hearts.

  Caliban, appearing vaguely interested, poked Nick in his bare shoulder. “What’s wrong with the living one?”

  “Love,” Lilith answered succinctly.

  Caliban edged away. “Ew.”

  “It’s often deeply unpleasant. Much like your continued presence in my palace of the damned. Shoo.”

  He shrugged. “If you see the Morningstar Princess before me, give her my regards.”

  Lilith reminded him sharply, “Lord Beelzebub?”

  “Oh, yes.” Caliban wandered back. He used his lanky body to prop up Beelzebub’s burly form. Beelzebub moaned, the wounds on his face leaking maggots. “It’s fine,” assured Caliban, who appeared in an affirming mood. “Looks better this way.”

  Beelzebub made a gobbling sound as the pair lurched off.

  “If they darken my doorstep again,” Lilith told a minion, “release the hellhounds. Now prepare my chariot for war.”

  As desperate cries echoed through the dungeon, Lilith absently twisted Nick’s curls around her fingers, dragging his head back until his throat was exposed. Nick was becoming a favorite with her. He was rather luscious and proving himself useful containing Lucifer. It was amusing, watching a man brought to his knees by a girl. The trouble was, men got up. Best to break their legs when they were down.

  “Minion!” Lilith called.

  “We have names,” muttered the demonic minion.

  “Do I look like I care?” Mary Wardwell’s face was magnificent at conveying indifference.

  “No, mistress. I mean, my queen.”

  “Convey our favored pet to the throne room. It appears Lucifer will be imprisoned for some time. I wish to keep him close.”

  Lilith tapped her finger thoughtfully against her lips.

  “Remove his tongue first,” she added.

  She’d never get any work done with that racket going on. And she didn’t like any of the people Nick Scratch was calling for.

  That small matter settled, she sallied forth from the dungeon and made for her chariot. Everyone seemed concerned about riots in some slum of hell. Lilith couldn’t imagine why. She felt very clearheaded today, wearing the right face. All she must do was raze the slum to the ground. Men couldn’t seem to perform simple cleaning tasks.

  “You have been too long accustomed to a king,” Lilith informed her charioteer, seizing the reins of the hellhorses. “Watch the queen conquer.”

  Lucifer had been right about one thing. Hell needed a queen.

  I stood at the gates of hell, demanding entry. I tried another configuration to unlock the gates. When that failed, I struck the gates with my fists. No fallen angels or demons in the shadows answered my knock.

  If I was the Morningstar Princess, someone should answer.

  The Lady had promised a way would open. I hadn’t been able to sleep last night for the burning resolve in me. Every bone ached, but I was alight with purpose.

  At last, I turned away from the gates and met Harvey emerging from another part of the mines. When he took off his miner’s hat, there was a smudge on his cheek. I reached up to wipe it away, but let my hand drop.

  “Hey. I asked Dad to give me an early shift in the mines. Thought you might be here.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yeah, ’Brina. I did.”

  Harvey took my hand and led me back up into the light.

  Outside the mines, holding Harvey’s hand, felt like old times. The only birds left were those in the trees, singing for the coming of spring. The world seemed clear and simple.

  It wasn’t. There had always been shadows and witches waiting in the trees. I was part of that darkness. I loved some of those witches.

  “You must be tired from working down there,” I told Harvey. “You don’t have to walk me all the way.”

  He said: “I like to see you home safe.”

  I smiled, lacing my fingers with his.

  “I was thinking about hell.”

  Harvey winced. I knew my friends were apprehensive about going to hell. They were mortal, and it was a lot to ask. But I knew too that when I asked, they would answer. I would be stronger with them by my side. Strong enough to do what I must.

  “Operation Eurydice is a bad name,” I continued. “There’s nothing wrong with looking back at someone you love. Let’s call our mission Operation Handbasket. Because we’re going to hell.”

  After a pause, Harvey nodded.

  “They say the way to hell is paved with good intentions,” I said. “So I’m thinking of every good intention I can possibly have. Every step, I’ll think of a new good intention. Want to do it with me?”

  He smiled his shy smile. “Sure, ’Brina.”

  When I’d tried to raise Harvey’s brother from the dead, I said Harvey would do the same for me. My cousin thought I was out of my mind, but I was right. Harvey would walk into dark, strange dangers with me, to save someone I loved.

  I made mistakes, but I was right to believe in people: witches and witch-hunters, mortals and immortals alike.

  I took a jump step, thinking of a good intention. The first was obvious, remembering Nick on his knees, dark eyes beseeching me. With love and fear, both real. Nick, my first thought every morning and my last every night. I didn’t care how far I had to fall if I could lift him up.

  I’m going to love Nick with everything I have. I’ll do whatever it takes, claim whatever power I must, to get him back.

  Another step.

  I’m going to support Roz and Harvey in every way possible. I’ll be happy for my friends’ happiness.

  Another step.

  I’m going to be Sabrina Spellman and whoever else I need to be, as hard as I can. A way will open. When it does, I must be my own wild, flawed self.

  Harvey was humming. I started to sing a skipping song from our childhood, when the four of us played and the woods rang with our laughter. Friends forever.

  We jumped and sang.

  My cousin will return. Nick will be redeemed. My family and friends will be with me. Every piece of my heart can be put back together.

  Alongside witches and shadows, there was this. Ever since we were kids. A little boy holding a little girl’s hand, on the path through the forest.

  It would always be this way. His hand in mine, and mine in his. When the woods whispered, and the waters rose. When devils threatened, and the angels came.

  Through springtime leaves unfurling into new green stars, I glimpsed the gables of a witch house.

  I was going to hell, but first I’d go home.

  Sarah Rees Brennan is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of over a dozen books, both so
lo and cowritten with authors including Kelly Link and Maureen Johnson. She is the Lodestar Award and Mythopoeic Award finalist for her book In Other Lands. She was born in Ireland by the sea and lives there now in the shadow of a cathedral. Visit her at sarahreesbrennan.com, or follow her on Twitter at @sarahreesbrenna (they stole her last N, and she may resort to magic to recover it).

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First printing 2020

  © 2020 Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

  Cover art by Adams Carvalho

  e-ISBN 978-1-338-32624-6

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.