Chapter Twelve
“Perrian, you need to eat.”
“Haines, please go away.”
The door to my bedroom opens wider and I turn my face away from the light of the hallway. I’ve been lying in my bed for the past day or so, only getting up to use the bathroom. They’ve brought me food, but I can’t eat. Part of me hopes that if I lay here long enough maybe I’ll wither away. “Please, Haines. Just go. I don’t want to talk.”
“You need to feed.” The bed dips as he sits down behind me. “It’s been two days. I think you’re still bleeding.”
I shift and bury my face deeper into the soft, damp pillows. Damp with tears and sweat. Pain makes you sweat. Up until this morning, I think, they smelled of fresh dryer sheets. “I can’t feed. I keep thinking about my dad. Anything sexual just…”
“You need to be strong. The funeral is tomorrow and you can’t go with a hole through your body.”
After Samael killed my father Haines brought me and my mom back to our home. Our home? Aunt Rita took care of the body.
My father’s body.
Aunt Rita is taking care of everything. She put a ward around the house so that Samael can’t come in to do any more damage. She’d figured it out the night my dad was murdered. She was so excited that she finally managed to angel-proof the house that she called at three in the morning to let us know.
I lift my head and look at Haines. “Did Aunt Rita ward Ryan and Trent’s house? Your brother’s house?”
He lifts my shirt to look at my stomach. I’m pretty sure there is still a bedpost sized hole in my belly.
“Yes,” he says, frowning. “Rita sent the instructions to a local coven near my brother’s home. She’s also working on a way to keep everyone safe when they’re not at home. Especially for Roman, and my new niece.” He smiles. “Her name is Riley. Riley Marie. She was born a few hours ago.” His face lights up.
A ghost of a smile teases my lips. “That’s beautiful.” I flinch as he pulls the bandage off my wound.
“My God.” He gently returns the bandage and goes to the one on my back. “You are healing. I’ve never—”
“Demonic angel, remember?” I say, pulling my shirt down so he can stop gawking at me. “Or would that be angelic demon?”
The full weight of what I am finally seems to fall on me. My mother is a full-blooded demon and my father was an angel. He wasn’t an angel when he died. He wouldn’t be dead if he was. I’m what you get when an angel and a demon procreate. The Bringer of Death.
“You are amazing, Perrian.”
“I am useless, Haines. I can’t do anything.” As I lay back, a sharp pain shoots through my body where the wooden post once was. “Samael is going to start killing people in less than a week if I don’t give in to him.”
Haines kicks off his slippers and lies down behind me, spooning me. When did we get so comfortable with each other?
“You can kill him.”
“How? With my bare hands? Maybe I’ll seduce him and see if that’ll do it. Drink him dry.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Your aunt says there are ways.”
“Maybe he’ll stay still long enough for me to do it,” I say sarcastically.
I have no idea how to kill an angel. A batshit crazy angel. Maybe I should pray for God to take him. Is that even allowed? Dear God, kill this crazy angel to make him stop terrorizing me and my family because he thinks I am an abomination. And I pray for world peace. Amen.
“I’m sorry. We can talk about it later.” He scoots up closer behind me. “You have to feed, Perrian.”
I sigh and wince. It hurts to be awake, and I wish everyone would leave me alone. There is no amount of discussing or thinking or brainstorming that’s going to fix this. I can’t fix this. If I could I would have done it back at my parents’ house.
That son of a bitch just comes and goes as he pleases. Will the wards keep him out forever or are we just buying time?
“Does it hurt to breathe?”
“Yes. Hurts to talk, too,” I say, pushing him away. “Leave me alone.”
“No.” He moves closer to me. “I’m not going to leave you alone.”
I pull my legs up to my chest. “No! I haven’t taken a bath. And I’m pretty sure being impaled and having your blood ooze out of your body doesn’t smell nice. I just want to lay here and be sad!”
“Perrian—”
Why won’t he give it a rest? I’ve been listening to him and my mother and my aunt tell me how I need to be strong and keep my chin up, and it all sounds stupid. They’re trying to encourage me but it just makes me feel even worse. Even more powerless. I don’t know what to do, and having them tell me that I am strong enough makes me feel even less so.
“I’m supposed to save my family and friends and the only way I know how to do that is to die!” I sweep away my tears. “And I’m not ready to die.”
“You’re not going to die,” my mother says from the bedroom door. “We don’t have time for this.” She comes in and kneels in front of me. Her hair is a beautiful brown, curly mess and her eyes are hollow, empty. She’s still absolutely beautiful, but there’s something missing. “I’m sad, too, Perry. But we’ve got to figure out how to get rid of that crazy bastard, so let your husband feed you so you can be ready.”
Dear God, please make them shut-up and go away. Is that a mean prayer?
She uses her sleeve to wipe away the tears and snot—only a mother—that are about to ruin my already ruined pillow. “Tomorrow morning, we’re going to have a home going service for your father. Your aunt and I are going to the Wiccan shop to get whatever she needs to finish the satchels that will protect us from Samael. And then we’re going to collect kindling for your father’s funeral pyre.”
I look her in the eyes and shake my head, silently pleading with her to stop trying to make this better. “I can’t kill him. I don’t even know how. It’s not like I can cut off his head or shoot him. Maybe I’ll impale him.”
She smiles. “We’ll figure it out. Rita will figure it out.” She sighs. “Your father—”
“Is dead. So please don’t tell me what he would want me to do. Auntie came in with that crap last night.”
“Perrian!” Haines says. “Don’t talk to your mother like that.”
I gather as much strength as I can and push myself up off the bed. “Just get out! Both of you.” I wrap my arms around my belly and double over as I try to stand. “Don’t bother. I’m leaving. I’m going to take a shower to get this blood off me and pick out the shards of wood that I can feel rattling around in my belly. And then I’m going back to sleep.”
Pushing against the wall for support, I look up and see bloody hand prints next to me.
Yup, I’m still bleeding.
“I could have been prepared for this,” I say, looking at my mother as I open the door. “You and Dad lied to me.” I can hear the venom in my voice. This is their fault. My mother and father tried to protect me and did nothing but set me up for failure. My nose begins to tickle, and I start panicking. What the hell is that smell? Rita and her fucking potion spices!
Dear God, please don’t let me sneeze. The first time I sneezed a few hours after my father was killed I almost passed out. The pain radiated out from my wound, and I thought I would die. I wished I had died.
“Damn-it.” I sneeze, and everything looks fuzzy. I fall to my knees and sneeze again. “Jesus,” I whisper, the pain spiraling around me like the confusion and hopelessness inside me.
Haines jumps up and starts toward me. “Perrian. You can’t stay like this.”
“Don’t you touch me!” My vision is hazy from the pain and the tears.
I deserve to be in pain. To feel like I’m being ripped in half. This is what I deserve for letting my father die. There’s nothing I can do to help them. It’s not their fault. It’s mine. It’s my fault my dad is dead. Not my mother’s.
I sneeze again and see black spots as I begin to lose consciousness.
God or Lilith, please, just let me die.