Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
After my father died, the teachings of my grandfather crept in around the edges. I was only fourteen. Too young to realize the poison infecting my mother’s mind. But now, with the hindsight of true adulthood, it’s all too clear. It’s enough to make me wonder why I didn’t see it before. Except I know the answer to that, don’t I?
I didn’t want to see it.
Azazel was right. There’s no satisfaction in this. Instead of feeling relief from the knowledge, all I can do is worry that I’ll never see Bram again. How can he stand to look at me, knowing I’m related to the reason he suffered so much loss?
Misery is a cloak I wear wrapped around every inch of my skin. I wander the castle for hours, for days. No one bothers me. Even the castle itself seems to take pity on me. It routes me through the kitchen at regular intervals to ensure I eat. Another time, that might amuse me. Right now, there’s no room for amusement.
I’ve gotten so used to being alone that when the castle spits me out into a room instead of another hallway, it takes me several long seconds to realize I’m not by myself. I’m in a study with a dark color scheme and an oversized desk that looks like it’s made of rock. Behind that desk sits Azazel. He looks a little different from the last time I saw him. Tired. The lines around his mouth and eyes are deeper than before. Exhaustion weighs heavy in his aura, dimming its colors. Maybe that shit should please me, but I’m so godsdamned tired of suffering in all its forms. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks.” He gives a wan smile. “You’re not looking so hot yourself. Since you’re back, I thought it was time we have a conversation that you’ve been seeking.”
Again, the relief I expected to feel is nowhere in evidence. I drop into one of the chairs across from him. “I don’t know what else there is to say. I know she killed Bram’s family. I can even guess why.”
“She didn’t just kill his family.” Azazel says it so gently, it takes a bit for the words to penetrate. “After she left the castle, we couldn’t find her. Not until she showed up in the incubus and succubus territory and killed several of their high-ranking members. Rusalka was able to restrain her and bring her to me, and upon questioning, I discovered that she had every intention of killing her way through all the leadership positions in this realm.”
I wish I could say I’m surprised. But this was clearly a suicide mission. Sorrow weighs me down. What a fucked-up family I come from. “That sounds like something my grandfather would do.”
“He tried to make deals with my predecessor several times. I expect that was his plan all along, which he obviously communicated to your mother at some point.” He watches me closely. If there were pity in his aura, I don’t know what I would do. But there’s just a gentle understanding in a shared sorrow. “Bram isn’t aware of the other damage she did. Rusalka wanted to keep it internal, and I respected her wishes. You’re the only person outside her territory—and me—who is aware of it.”
I appreciate his candor, and as much as part of me feels that it’s too little too late, knowing the truth earlier would have meant that I wouldn’t have had a chance to know Bram. It’s so selfish of me to be grateful for the time we spent together, even if it was limited, even if it hurt us both. I don’t care. “What did my mother ask for? As her bargain?”
Azazel leans back, his expression unreadable. “She asked for protection for you.”
“Excuse me?”
“It was limited. I’m not a celestial, capable of blessing someone across every facet of their life. But we bargainer demons have many spells and even more variety of magic. You haven’t been sick since you were a teenager, have you? And you heal faster than you have any right to. I couldn’t guarantee your protection, but I was able to stack the deck in your favor. Your training and your instincts have done the rest.”
It feels like he kicked the chair right out from underneath me. I don’t know how to feel. My mother was a monster, and what she did was unforgivable. But . . . she loved me. No matter what else is true, that is. I rub my chest, trying to ease the tightness there. “This is a lot.”
“Yes. Be gentle with yourself while you process it. I expect you’ll feel a wide range of emotions, and none of them are incorrect.”
That draws a sharp laugh from me. “Are you a therapist now, Azazel?”
“I know you’d prefer to see me as the orchestrator of all your ills, but I take the protection and care of my humans incredibly seriously. That includes your mental health. If you want to talk to someone, I have several qualified people on staff. That’s an open-ended offer, by the way. You don’t have to answer now.”