Wrath's Patience (Seven Deadly Sins Book 3)

by R. A. Pollard

  Moving back to the bed she sank down on the sheet and closed her eyes. She needed to sleep, she needed to get some rest—she was losing her mind being locked up here. She had forgotten what the sky looked like, the scent of grass. Since Michael had acquired her Dream-Weaver mirror he spent his nights keeping her from resting, trying psychological torture to get what he wanted. She was half Dream-Weaver; dreams were supposed to be her domain, but now, they were only a place of fear.

  Despite the fight, she felt in her blood, the hate she had for this man, she knew she would give in eventually—she was not trained to deal with this kind of interrogation. Lying back on the bed she covered her eyes with her arm, trying to get some darkness, some respite from the light.

  God, he had found a child. If he tortured her like this, what would that soulless bastard do to a child? Eviee licked her lips and reached down to the edge of the mattress. She pulled out the small piece of sharp metal. It was about the length of her middle finger and had a deadly pointed end. She had been sharpening the old piece of metal. Rubbing her thumb against the smooth side of the makeshift weapon she held back her excitement. She should be terrified, scared that she was thinking of killing someone. No, Michael had driven any sweet mercy from her heart; next time he came in here she was going to kill him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Wrath splashed cold water on his face and focused his blue eyes on his reflection in the mirror. He ran his hands over his hair-covered jaw. So, his name was Wrath, or rather Satanus as the websites called him. He wondered if it was fate, or just plain serendipitous that the woman who had saved his soul from the darkness had called him Tan, after her dog Satan. He didn’t know if the Fates were playing some cruel joke on him—letting him lose everything that made him who and what he was so he could learn it all again? Ensuring he felt helpless in his loss of everything?

  If he ever met them he was going to have strong words. Hell, it was possible he had met them, might have even gone out to drinks with them. Rubbing his jaw he thought about what the search on the computer had found. It looked like he was one of seven brothers—that’s what he felt was the strongest draw. So if they were indeed brothers that would mean they would be looking for him. How was he supposed to get a message to people he couldn’t remember, with names he could not even link to faces?

  Bad enough he was finding out more about himself from a damn computer than his own fragmented brain. He was a demon, one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Wrath, to be precise. It was clear there was some kind of war going on between the angels and the demons, and it looked like the demons were the good guys in this macabre little dance. The dream he had experienced with Layla had shown him how much control that bastard angel really had over him, so first things first, he needed to find a way to break that control. But how?

  How did a person get a stolen soul returned to them? There had to be gods or some shit out there who dealt in souls right? It would be someone like the Lord of the Underworld, Hades. Thinking about that name made his heart tighten. He pushed off the sink and pressed his hand to his chest. Confusion marred his face. What was it about that name that brought up pain? The search had not brought up anything about the creation of the Sins, just that they existed and appeared when Pandora’s Box was first opened. Had they come from the Box? Or had they been made after the fact?

  He growled and grabbed a towel to dab the water from his face and beard. So many unanswered questions, and each answer they did find opened up more avenues for questions. He hated feeling like a damn lost puppy that relied on Layla and her hospitality so he could live.

  If that angelic bastard was coming for Annabelle he would have to go through him first, not a chance he would let that asshole lay one finger on her. Leaving the bathroom, he turned his gaze to the three doors stretching down the short hallway. He walked silently to the one that stood ajar and looked in on the sleeping child.

  She had been the first, the first to see him as more than just a monster—she had reached out to his broken mind and tried to help him speak. He didn’t know much about himself, but what he did know was that his circle of trust was small, and even smaller were those he would lay his life down for. This family, Lexi included, had entered into that circle.

  Leaving the door ajar he paused outside the room where he had laid the sleeping Layla. She had passed out in his arms and not even stirred when he moved her up to her room. She was mentally and physically exhausted, so he had decided he would protect this place while those within slept. They were the closet thing he had to family now, and that meant a lot to his shattered memories.

  He headed back down into the living room and threw on some fresh logs. He loved this season, the smell of the wood, the heat and light from the fire. He got the distinct feeling he did not have this where he came from. And right now, sitting here watching the flames devour the new log, he didn’t think he wanted to return to where he had been.

  Truth was, he was happy. Yes, he had no memory, and could not put names to the faces that sometimes flashed through his brain, but he was actually happy. Why did it seem like this was such a rare thing for him? He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the first time he had ever truly been content—and he had a little mamma bear of a Seer and her tiny cub to thank for it. Still, he needed to know who he was, and if indeed he had family, they would be worried about him.

  He stood and made his way from the warmth of the cabin, and stepped out into the frigid night. All he wore on his feet were a pair of old sneakers that didn’t fit very well. They’d once belonged to Layla’s father. If he was allowed to remain with them he would look at getting his own clothing soon.

  Stepping through the snow and ice he stopped by the door of the barn and pulled it open. It was warm inside compared to the chill of the night. Flicking on the light he entered and walked down the middle walkway, stopping before the stall that held the pegasus.

  The horse lifted his head from his straw bed, and in only a few moments was back up on his long elegant legs, stretching out his wings to remove the loose straw from the feathers.

  Dimoni, you have broken the hold upon you. That is good. But not all is gone I see. The horse shook out his black mane and nipped at an itch on his flank.

  “You can see the curse?” Tan leaned against the stall door watching the silver-eyed mythical beast.

  I see some. Before you were locked away, barely a shadow within the beast. Now it is the curse that is the shadow. But one that could grow very easily if you do not shatter it completely. He turned his head so he could see the demon clearly.

  The Seer and you are linked. I did not see it before, so little of you remained. But now I see, it is good. She will need you. The mythical beast’s voice whispered in his mind like the rumble of faraway thunder.

  “I am pretty sure she can look after herself. The fact she seems to have accepted me, memory loss and all, is a miracle.” One he would be thankful for until the end of his days. The stallion snorted and stomped his foot against the door, shaking his head.

  Foolish Dimoni, you are tied, you and her. What nature has linked none can break. Accept and learn together.

  So the stallion was basically telling him to keep his mouth shut and accept the gift that had been given to him, despite all the issues he brought to their “relationship.” It was reassuring to know a beast such as this had, in essence, blessed the attraction between Seer and demon.

  “I need to ask you something. I have brothers, at least I think I do. Please, how do I find them? It is not like they have an email address.”

  Modern machines are useless for mythical creatures such as me. All lies and half-truths. If what I have seen is right, they will soon find you. Take time with your female, you will not find much peace when the sun rises in two days. Now I must rest. Tomorrow I return to the skies and go back to my people. I will tell your story to our young so they might learn to accept what fate has written for them.

  Tan did not know if he should feel privileged or not
; the fact that he had been deemed worthy enough to speak to was a good start.

  “Then I wish you good travels. Thank you, speaking with you has been an honor.”

  Dimoni, watch over that child. She is special—do not let the Malakhim take her from you. With that he was done talking. Heading back into his stall he turned once, twice, and then knelt back down in the straw, his head curling up under a wing much like a bird.

  Malakhim? That word echoed around in his brain. Malakhim. It meant something. Damn it, he felt like it was right on the tip of his tongue. He left the barn thinking over and over what that damn word meant, his mind stopping on Michael. Angel, Malakhim, it was the name for those with wings such as Michael. He had something to start with. There had to be someone out there he could contact about them.

  Once indoors be removed his snow-saturated sneakers and curled his icy toes against the floor. He was really going to need proper shoes if he was going to stay here. Well, if Layla wanted him to stay. Not just her, but her sister. Heading back toward the fire he let out a sigh of delight as the heat chased away the chill from outside. Settling himself before the fire, he knew dawn was not long off, and it occurred to him he had not slept since the nightmare. But he didn’t feel tired. It was probably a good thing given what he had done to the couch.

  Content to sit and watch the flames, he played over what he knew in his mind and hoped it would spark a memory. Something pink caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and spotted two tiny feet attached to a little girl watching him from the stairs. Her long nightgown almost touched the floor and she clutched a large wolf toy to her chest.

  “You should be sleeping.” What did you do with kids when they were not in bed? He was drawing a total blank.

  The child didn’t answer him—she just took another step down, then another, until she was standing right before him, looking down at him and chewing on her lip. She spoke, but the words were muffled by that plush wolf she held to her mouth as she looked at him with her light blue eyes from over its fuzzy head.

  “I don’t speak mumble, child, try again.” He tilted his head to the side as he watched her looking down at her toes. Okay, maybe he was being too harsh? How did one speak to children? “I’m kinda new at this, kid, you gotta give me some direction here.”

  She puffed up her little chest, and in one long sentence, with not a single break between the words, she said, “I-had-a-nightmare-can-I-please-sleep-with-you!” Then she went dead quiet again.

  Tan blinked. Okay, he was sure that was English—maybe. He caught “nightmare” and “sleep.” Figuring he was not going to get much more out of her than that, he just nodded. When in doubt just say yes, right?

  Saying yes earned him a huge smile. What he did not expect, however, was to have all three foot nothing of a little girl climb onto his lap and curl up against him. Tan held his hands out to the side and looked around the room, desperately hoping her mother would come downstairs any second and tell him what was going on. Panic gripped him. Did all small humans do this? Climb on total strangers? No wonder this kid was a troublemaker.

  He had no idea what to do with his hands. Did you hug them? Or perhaps pet them? Were they like cats? She didn’t move at all. She kept her feet curled under her, the stuffed toy held tightly to her, and her head against his chest. It took him a few moments to realize she was shaking, and it could not be from the cold; this close to the fire she should be hot enough.

  “Annabelle, tell me what is wrong.” Too harsh? Maybe. Damn it, didn’t small humans come with a manual?

  “I had a nightmare.” She refused to move her head from his chest as she spoke, her voice still half muffled by the plushy toy.

  “Nightmare? What did you see?” Talking. Talking he could do.

  “Mommy and Auntie Lexi were bleeding.” That got his attention. If this young girl had even half the powers of the twins, then her dream could very well be the future. Wait, how did he know that?

  “Tell me what happened, Bella.” She pulled her head back and looked up into his blue eyes, a small smile on her lips.

  “I like that. You can call me Bella, but only you. Everyone else has to call me Belle.” She nodded in her decision and lay her head back down.

  Hell, he couldn’t help it, a smile spread on his lips and he lifted his hand to stroke down her fly-away hair. She relaxed into him, playing with the ear of the fuzzy wolf. Finally, she opened her mouth and started to talk.

  “The man with the wings came again. I’ve seen him before; he is always so mean. Why is he mean? I thought angels were supposed to be nice.” She looked him in the eyes with such an innocent question. He didn’t know how to answer without scaring the poor child for life.

  “I’m sure some are nice. This one, I don’t know why he is different, Bella. But I feel it too when I see him, he is not a nice man.” Okay that was PC, right?

  “No, he is not a nice man, he is a bastard.” Tan almost choked and stared at her, his eyes wide. He looked around quickly hoping no one had heard her use of the rather colorful word. Looking back to her he pinned her with a gaze.

  “Okay, please tell me you did not learn that word from me? Your mother will kill me.”

  “No, Auntie Lexi uses it all the time when she talks about my sperm donor. Mommy says she means my father, but a father is someone who is there, right? A real daddy loves his children and spends time with them. Mine is… an… asshole, that’s what Mommy calls him when she thinks I can’t hear.”

  The demon couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face. Her words were so innocent, and she was just stating facts. He even laughed and leaned his head back. He had a father, right? He felt that pain in his chest again—Hades—was Hades his father?

  “You won’t tell Mommy I used a bad word, will you?” Her little imploring eyes locked on his and he groaned.

  “You are too damn young to know how to manipulate people, missy. Okay, fine, I won’t say anything—this time.” That earned him a squeal of joy, and she burrowed herself closer to him again.

  “Tell me a story, Wolfie.”

  “Wolfie?” He frowned down at the child and she nodded. “I don’t know many stories, Bella. I don’t even remember my own childhood.”

  “Make something up. I like your voice.”

  God, could a child make your heart melt even more? He almost damn well cried at her words, big bad wolf shifter demon thing that he was. He felt like he would break down because she liked his voice.

  “Okay, don’t blame me if this sucks.” That earned him a giggle from her and he winced. “Don’t use the word sucks, it’s a bad word.” Okay, a story… what did one tell little kids about anyway? He was pretty sure telling her about any of his hunting escapades over the last few months was out. Something pricked the edge of his memory and he found himself talking. “So, err. Once upon a time—that’s how these things start, right? Okay, one upon a time, there was a… god. He saw a beautiful woman picking flowers in a field; she was so beautiful it blinded him. You see, he lived in a dark place with no light. Thanks to his scheming brothers he’d been thrown down into the dark to protect the souls of those waiting for new life. So long in the darkness he lived until he spotted this woman—she was light itself. He could not live a moment without her, so he tricked her into coming with him down into the darkness.”

  “But you see, the woman’s mother was angry that her daughter had been stolen from the world, so she took all the life from the trees, making everything like death. As the world died the god knew he must return the woman that had become his light, his everything. But they had fallen in love so deeply that the beautiful woman did not wish to be parted from him. So they came up with a compromise—she would spend six months with her mother and six months with the man she loved. Her mother was so enraged by this deal and so saddened that her child would pick the man she loved, that every time the Lord of Darkness and his bride are together she takes the light from the world, plunging it into winte
r until the time her child returns to her in spring.”

  The demon tilted his head to the side and looked down at the child nestled against him. Her eyes were closed in sleep, her little body relaxed and limp against him. Leaning back, he pulled the blanket from the couch and laid it over her sleeping form. His mind went back to the story. How had he known that story? Hades and Persephone, he knew the names, he could see the faces for those names, and he knew the story to be true.

  He leaned his head against the torn couch and closed his eyes, trying to piece together the fragments of memory that he did know. If he was indeed the child of Hades, then surely someone would be able to find him.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Layla came awake slowly, her eyes opening. She was warm and comfortable in her own bed, and for a moment she forgot about the shocking revelations from the night before. Her mind took a few moments to catch up and she sighed, everything coming back. She pulled her blankets chill around her body, the chill in the air bitter this morning.

  She swung her legs from the bed, sliding her feet into her slippers, and headed out across the hallway to her daughter’s room. She found the bed empty. Usually that would not have upset her, but after last night—first with Michael, and now with that damn video out there—she panicked. Turning quickly, she moved to her sister’s door and flung it open, waking a bleary-eyed Lexi.

  Not seeing Annabelle, she rushed down the stairs, her heart racing a mile a minute in her chest. Then she stopped dead still, her eyes falling on her Wolfman. On his chest was a sleeping little female covered in a blanket; only her blond hair could be seen sticking out. He turned his head to Layla and gave her a little smile.

  “I would have put her back in bed, but I think my legs fell asleep.”