It’s funny how things can change in a couple of hours. Not too long ago, she’d been searching for answers, digging for the truth about her mother, about her life. She had certain beliefs that had shaped her existence. Now those beliefs were shattered. For the past ten years, she’d known without any doubts that Father Joseph Alexander was an evil predator. He preyed on the weak, took advantage of vulnerability, hurt innocents. She’d been damaged by him, changed by his actions. For years she hated him, praying for his death, sometimes even dreaming of killing him with her own bare hands. But never in her wildest dreams did she think she’d feel sorry for him. What a difference an hour made.
Dec ushered her inside. She hesitated at the entrance, not sure what to expect. The room reeked of burnt earth. The chair was overturned, empty except for small clumps of grey ash still clinging to the wood. The same substance spattered the walls around the chair in an arc pattern, much like blood castoff at a crime scene. She looked up at the ceiling and stepped closer to Dec. A three-foot diameter of scorched wood smoldered with wisps of acrid smoke. There was no sign of the demon.
She reached to take his hand, but he jerked away, warning, “Don’t touch me right now. The ash will burn your skin, and it’s all over me.” He forced a weary smile and said, “He’s gone. He won’t be able to hurt anyone ever again. One down, one to go.”
“Dec? Are you all right? You don’t look so good.” He was swaying on his feet even as he grimaced at her question. It was hard to see his color under the dusting of grey, but he seemed pale. Something was off. No cuts or bruises. Nothing ripped or bloody either. He appeared to be untouched--except for bloodshot eyes. That was new. A blood vessel had burst.
Completely ignoring her concern, he flapped a hand at the mostly empty bookshelves that were built into one wall. “You go ahead and look around. I’ll take care of him.”
What was once Father Joseph Alexander lay curled on the floor. His body had aged the moment the demon had left him. The wrinkled, shrunken mess was barely recognizable as human. She turned away with a twinge of sympathy that brought a lump to her throat.
“I used to wish him dead. But now I see he already was.” She dragged an old raggedy quilt from a rocking chair and covered him with it. “Will he go to Heaven, do you think?”
“He’s already there, love.”
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care--as were three sets of mittens, three miniature hats, and three pairs of wet winter boots. All were fire engine red because that was their favorite color. As an added benefit, no one argued over what belonged to whom. God knew there were enough arguments about other super important things, like who got to sleep with Domino, who got to race the purple Mustang Matchbox car, or who spilled the cereal all over the pantry.
Mica finished sopping up more melted snow from the brick hearth. A peek out the window confirmed that, yes indeed, it was frickin’ snowing again. She scowled at the ceiling and muttered at Mother Nature. “Jesus, woman, when are you going to run out of juice? Enough already!”
They were practically swimming in the fluffy crap. Once upon a time, she loved snow. That was before she had three kids who were pretty sure they were polar bears. They spent most of their free time in the yard. They were lucky Dani liked snow too, or they’d be corralled in the house all winter long. Dani watched the kids during the day while she taught classes and managed the studio. Since Dani was a nanny versus a housekeeper, Mica usually ended up washing 80,000 loads of clothes and mopping the floor a 1,000 times a week just to keep up with the mess.
Dropping a peck on Killian’s cheek, she flopped on his lap hard enough to make him grunt. “We need a maid. I’m exhausted.”
Her handsome man was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table. He was trying to fix her 101 Dalmatians music box. For some reason, the tiny Perdita figurine stopped turning. As soon as she landed, he dropped the miniature screwdriver and pulled her in for a more serious kiss. Drawing back to study her face, he caressed her cheek with the backs of his knuckles and pressed a soft kiss on her mouth. “You look tired, babe. You’re doing too much. I’ll ask Alex to find us a housekeeper to come in once a week. He’ll know who’s been vetted to work with Primani.”
She rubbed her cheek against his and sighed. He was the best husband in the world. No doubt she was very lucky. There was another reason she needed help, but she wasn’t sure how he would take the news.
“Mica? Babe? Are you asleep?”
Laughing against her hair, he scooped her up and carried her to their bedroom. She was so tired… she wasn’t sleeping; she was resting her eyes.
The sound of pounding and yelling dragged her out of a solid sleep. Her brain couldn’t get it together enough to make sense of what was happening, though. Groggy, she leaned up on an elbow and strained to hear. Was that Rori? Just as she lurched off the bed with every intention of flying (or tumbling) down the stairs to see what was going on, Killian Jr. threw the door open and ran inside, his face glowing with excitement.
“Daddy says to come quick! Uncle Dec’s really hurt!” He took one look at her and said, “Hold my hand, Mom. I’ll help you down the stairs.”
Was he really only three? Such a little man already… still feeling wobbly, she smiled for him and let him help ‘cuz that’s what he did. Exactly like his father, he took charge and fixed things. The apocalypse was in very good hands.
The living room was filled with people when they finally made it down. Killian, Sean, and Raphael were huddled up by the front window. Dec was prostrate on the floor with Rori hovering by his side, strangely not touching him. He was awake, but not trying to sit up. He looked horrible. He turned towards her as she entered his line of sight. Uh-oh. Bloody eyeballs can’t be good.
Rafe and Michael were watching from the kitchen doorway where their very smart father probably banished them. Taking a deep breath, she sent the rug rat still by her side to keep his brothers company. “Go on, little man. I’m okay now.”
She took three steps into the room when her vision went dark around the edges. Unable to stop the momentum, she watched the floor hit her forehead with entirely too much force.
Consciousness came back with just as much force thanks to the smelling salts stuck underneath her nostrils. Snorting out the obnoxious fumes, she blinked awake and regretted it immediately.
“Ow!”
“There you are. You scared the hell out of me.” Killian frowned from a position just above her nose. He laid an ice pack across her forehead where it arched over the goose egg that throbbed like a mother.
She had an audience. Everyone, minus Dec who was still on the floor, must’ve scurried over when she face planted. Yep, Sean, Raphael, and Rori all stared down at her from way up above her. It was kind of like looking into a forest…
“You guys are creeping me out. Help me up. I’m okay.”
Killian didn’t trust her to know whether she was okay or not, so he helped her up and steered her to the couch.
Something you want to tell me, babe?
His eyes gleamed with knowledge that his wife was up to something… she swallowed hard.
Not at the moment.
His eyes dropped to her belly, one brow lifted in question. Damn him. She couldn’t keep anything from him.
He patted her stomach and said, “As of right now, you’re off laundry duty.” He handed her the ice pack and ordered, “Stay here and rest. We need to settle things with Dec and Rori.”
Rori was back to kneeling beside Dec. He was covered in ash. That’s why she wasn’t touching him. He must’ve already warned her. For someone so new to their world, she was holding up pretty well. Killian pegged her as more of a girly girl, but she wasn’t wigging out over the fact that her boyfriend was covered in demon ash that came from killing said demon in the most brutal way possible. He knew what Dec had done. He’d felt it through their psychic connection. Stripping the meat from that bastard had taken more than 45 minutes. Dec had been thorough in
his retribution, but not without damage.
Did he let Rori watch? Since she was still willing to be in the same room with him, the answer was probably no. Good call, Dec. That’s not a side of you for your woman to see. No, definitely not. She caught him watching but didn’t say anything. All of her attention was on Dec. Her brows were knitted with worry. Her lips moved in prayer. Once she said there was no God. Now she trusted Dec’s life to Him. Maybe the girl would be all right after all. Leave it to Dec to fix the broken ones. It truly was his unique gift. Time to help the healer heal though. The broken blood vessels in his eyes weren’t the only ones they needed to worry about. Fresh blood snaked from his nose and slowly followed the curve of his cheek. He was out cold.
Wedging between Rori and Dec, Killian gestured to Sean for help. Between the two of them, they helped him to the bathroom, stripped him, hosed him down, and then stuffed him into his bed. Rori hovered in the doorway watching every move they made. She was clearly still worried but stayed out of the way. Smart girl. He liked her more and more every minute.
“What’s wrong with him, Killian? I’m so sorry; I didn’t know what to do. He told me to drive us here so I did. I just thought he was tired, but now…”
“You did the right thing. I don’t suppose he told you everything about his Primani powers yet, did he?”
“Not much, no. Is this one of them?”
Sean chimed in. “Hemorrhaging after ganking demons? Uh, no. As far as powers go, that would definitely be lame.”
Killian didn’t hide his grin for a change. “Yeah, glad I don’t have that one! Seriously though, he’s got to rest now. His saol will heal everything while he sleeps. He’s used a massive amount of energy to do what he did today. He’s bleeding inside his melon. We need to leave him alone for a day or so.”
“Are you crazy? We need to take him to a hospital. He can’t stay here! He’ll die!”
“Keep your voice down!” he snapped. “Listen to me. We don’t need hospitals. We can heal ourselves. You should know that already.” Guiding her by the arm, he towed her towards the door. “Leave him alone for a few hours so he can get better. He needs to focus.”
Sean suggested, “You can sleep with him if you want to. He’ll know you’re there even if he doesn’t respond. It’ll help you both.”
Rori tugged at her arm until Killian let her go. After smoothing the bangs away from Dec’s eyes, she kissed him and whispered fervently, “I’m not leaving you.”
Floating in a brilliant blue sea, Dec relaxed in the gentle swells, letting them work their magic. The healing place in his mind was this endless sea. The warm water lifted him above pain, numbed his body so his saol could focus on knitting him back together. Although anyone staring down at him would think otherwise, he was aware of the outside world. Rori watched him now. He sensed her, felt her energy settled comfortably beside him. She had been lying there for hours, not crying, not worrying… no, surprisingly she was calm. Her arm was draped across his bare waist, face turned into his side. So sure of his immortality, she slept like a rock. Funny how she accepted he was indestructible when she’d once seen his death.
Nearly completely healed, he stayed still as he conducted a mental inventory of his body parts. All of the pain was gone now. The blood vessels drained to their correct capacity again… his headache had finally dissipated. He could open his eyes any time now. But he wasn’t quite ready. His body was healed, but his soul was forever scarred by what he’d done. If he was going to find a lasting peace, there was someone he needed to see. Something he needed to say to her…
Concentrating hard, he searched the vast expanse of Heaven. His eyes roamed over sweeping vistas of mountains and plains. Rivers and streams snaked through fields and forests like so many satin ribbons. Sun-drenched deserts rioting with spring blooms popped up here and there. As beautiful as they were, he wasn’t looking for a desert. That wouldn’t be her idea of Heaven. No, he was looking for something more green, more like home. There! Gathering wildflowers from a lush, green meadow, she wore a vivid yellow smock that shone like a miniature sun. The clothes didn’t matter; he would recognize her anywhere. Her hair was braided; her feet were bare. She straightened from her task, looking around, looking for him. Frozen in time, she was beautiful. Perfect and unbloodied.
Brigid.
Her face lit up the second she spotted him. Laughing, she tossed the flowers and raced to meet him. Flinging herself against his legs, she squeezed hard, crying, “Declan! You’ve come to see me!”
“Of course I have! I’ve missed you, sweetheart!”
Scooping her up, he swung her around, laughing and then weeping at her squeals of delight. Holding her tightly after all these years, he thoroughly and completely lost it.
The lullaby was one their mother always sang before bed. He hadn’t heard it in more years than he could say. She’d stopped singing after Brigid’s death. She stopped talking, too. Brigid cuddled on his lap, singing softly and patting his shoulder, mothering him as best she could. He hugged her again, cherishing the lightness of her bones, the baby softness of her skin. It would be a long time before he saw her again.
“Shall I sing with you, little one? Maybe together we can get the words right?”
She giggled, but then studied him intently. “You should not be here, brother. You are not ready for Heaven. Why have you come?”
“Mostly to see your pretty face again. But there’s another reason. One that’s very important to me. I need you to try to understand something that’s kind of complicated for a little girl. Can you try?” When she nodded soberly, he continued, “I’ve come to ask for your forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness?” She wrinkled her nose in puzzlement and asked, “What did you do?”
He kissed the back of her tiny hand. “I… I found the bad man who did this to you. He won’t ever hurt anyone else.”
“Did you stab him like he stabbed me? It hurt a lot. I cried hard. Did he cry?”
“Not exactly, no. But it’s done, and I wanted you to know that.”
She lifted round blue eyes to peer into his for so long he had to look away. “So why are you so sad?”
“I’m sad because I couldn’t save you. I would give anything to turn back time. If I could re-do that day, I would stay with you instead of wandering off to look at those stupid horses! It’s my fault you were alone. My fault that bastard grabbed you. If I was doing my job, you would’ve had a different life; you would’ve actually had a life. Can you ever forgive me, Brigid?”
Her eyes, so like his own, sparkled with mischief as she dabbed at his cheek with the hem of her dress. “Do all big people weep this much? Papa never cried. Are you sure you are all grown up?”
Papa never cried? He was glad she had that memory of their father. His memories were very different. Racked by guilt and shame, he watched as his parents collapsed under the weight of their grief. Papa cried for months. Mama cried for years.
“Brigid, please don’t tease me now. You’ll break my heart all over again.” He pressed her palm to his chest and said with a slight smile, “See how it beats? I think you’ve broken it.”
He sighed as her attention wandered to the sky. After watching clouds drift by for several minutes, she seemed to fall asleep. He dropped a light kiss on the top of her silky little head. She was too young to understand such concepts as vengeance, justice, forgiveness. She’d certainly not understand what he’d done to that demon. She asked if he stabbed it. Stabbed? Not quite. He always thought he’d feel better afterwards. After all, he was stopping a vicious predator, avenging the deaths of so many children. But all he felt was a tearing in his soul. He’d crossed lines, and he wasn’t proud of it. But it was done. There was no way to make her understand his need to avenge her death. She was just too young. He got that. But even so, he needed to see her now, after all this time had passed, to tell her the monster that ended her life was gone. She wouldn’t know the words to ease the guilt he felt even today. He needed to move o
n. To do that, he would have to find a way to let the guilt go. She was happy here. He would leave her alone with her Heaven.
Waking as abruptly as she dozed off, she yawned hugely and stretched her arms. After climbing down, she patted his leg and said, “You are not a monster, brother.”
Then she was gone.
The meadow shifted back to his sea just as something soft danced across his stomach.
Rori.
God, he was beautiful. She’d come awake with her nose pressed against his ribs, the smell of lemongrass soap teasing her senses. That stuff was amazing. While she inhaled the fragrance of soap mixed with eau de Declan, she peered down at his sleeping form. He was better. His breathing was slow and regular. His chest rising and falling as it should. The golden color was back in his skin--all of his skin. She was thrilled to realize his brothers had put him to bed naked. They had thrown a blanket over him, and that was it. Carefully, soft as a feather, she caressed the delicate skin across the ridges of his abs, exploring a random scattering of tiny freckles and the happy trail on the way. She practically had her nose pressed against the damn thing as she checked out the hollow of his belly button. It was an adorable innie that begged for her to taste it. After tickling it with the tip of her tongue, she couldn’t resist running her lips over his belly too. Relaxed in sleep, he was warm and cuddly… and entirely too sexy. Just as she was considering her next move, the blanket twitched next to her ear.
Dec’s fingers curled around the back of her neck, rubbing lazy circles while watching with heavy-lidded eyes. He propped himself on his elbows and chuckled as she jerked her face away from his stomach.
“Are you feeling better?” The question came out in a throaty whisper she didn’t recognize. She flushed and cleared her throat.
The slow smile and dimples said he was. Dragging his hand through her hair, he played with it, watching the strands slip between his fingers. Such a simple touch, nothing erotic about it… but it stoked the fire that was already smoldering. She must’ve moaned or swayed or done something else obviously blissful because he tightened his grip with enough pressure to make her gasp.
Broken Souls (Primani Book 4) Page 28