Well, if she thought that was going to make me side with her, she was dead wrong. I would have chained her up, too.
Abram turned to me hesitantly. “She told you I murdered her, didn’t she?”
“Did you?” I asked.
“Of course not. Everything I told you was the truth.”
“You were a priest,” I said, shaking my head.
His jaw set. “I was in training, but I never completed the process,” he said. “Is that what she showed you? You need to understand, I was a different—”
“What happened to them?” I asked, backing away from him. “To all the people in the building you set fire to?”
His gaze lowered. Quietly, he said, “They were awake and outside when I set that fire. Working. I did horrible things, Charisse, but I wasn’t a killer. I have never been a killer.”
“And what about the girl you slept with? That was Satina? That must have ruined her life!” As much as I hated the witch, I had to admit I felt bad for the girl she was before all that happened.
“I ruined a lot of lives,” Abram conceded. “I was selfish and more than a little irresponsible. But I’m not that man anymore, and I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Are you really this stupid, Supplicant?” Satina asked, eyeing the way Abram’s hand hung expectantly in the air, waiting for me to take it. “He has broken every promise he has ever made. He turned his back on God himself. What makes you think you’ll be any different?”
“For such a crystal clear vision, you didn’t take the opportunity to show your supposed murder. Not that I could trust anything you show me anyway.” I turned to Abram. “Could I?”
He pressed his lips together. “She can’t show you a memory that hasn’t happened. Even Conduits have limits, though not enough of them,” he added, glaring at her. He returned his gaze to me and frowned. “She had to show you a horrible truth, and I’ve certainly given her enough to choose from.” He reached for my hand. “And she’s right about one thing. I’ve broken a lot of promises in my long life. But not with you,” he said, his voice cracking. “Never with you.”
“He lies.” Satina scowled. “We’re all the same to him. What makes your relationship with him any different?”
I looked at him for a long moment, studying his dark eyes, watching the lines on his face, considering his strong hand, still outstretched and reaching for my own. I knew him—maybe not the man he was then, but certainly the man he was now. And I would make this choice. I would trust him.
Because I already did.
“It’s different now,” I said, taking his hand, “because he’s different.”
Chapter 20
Something about the small act of taking Abram’s hand changed everything. It was then, with my fingers knotted in his, that I let go. All my doubts, all my fears, everything that had been holding me back since that day in The Castle...it all melted away in the heat of his touch.
All the nonsense that had been and still was swirling around me lost its potency. Abram was here. He was mine. There was some evil force trying its best to bleed me dry and discard me like last year’s spring line, and it didn’t matter. Abram would keep me safe. I trusted him. I really, honest-to-God, without a shadow of a doubt, trusted him. And that made the world a brighter place.
Of course, it didn’t change the fact that, googly eyes aside, there was still work that needed to be done.
As we walked through the forest, still hand in hand, my body trembled slightly as everything I had learned came rushing in at me. Suddenly, it wasn’t a wild story. It wasn’t crazy talk. This was my new reality, and as much as I was ready to accept that, it wasn’t any easier to come to terms with.
Abram gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Are you all right, Charisse?”
I chewed my lip. “To tell you the truth, it’s still a lot to take in.”
“Of course it is,” he said, his voice just as steady as his resolve. “You’ve had days to take in what I’ve had decades to learn and accept.”
As if I needed the reminder. The path where our feet fell was well worn, and I imagined Abram walking it ten, fifty, one hundred years ago. The idea that it was possible, that he had been this breathtaking man even then, was still enough to spin my head around.
It made me uneasy. He had lived so long. He had seen so much. And maybe, my grand gesture notwithstanding, I was no different than the rest of them. How could I compete with a hundred and fifty years of life experience?
No, that wasn’t true. Those were Satina’s words, her insecurities, and I wasn’t about to let them become mine. Besides, I was Charisse Bellamy. I had been on the cover of Seventeen, Cosmo, and Maxim magazine. I was third runner up to the 2007 Miss Plus Size Manhattan. A hundred and fifty years of life experience couldn’t compete with me. And that was just the way I liked it.