Sweet Evil (The Sweet Trilogy #1)

“How do they decide who to pick?” I asked.

“That’s where it can get tricky. They seek out low-profile young or middle-aged people, preferably someone who isn’t surrounded by a big, doting family. It’s too much effort if there are humans who will search when the person disappears. Some Dukes want attractive bodies; some want to appear rougher. It can take a while to find a perfect match, but time doesn’t matter to them. Besides, the Dukes enjoy having an opportunity to whisper to humans while they’re hunting and waiting. A hospital is a perfect place to work, because emotions are already running high.”

“That’s disgusting,” I muttered.

“As far as life span,” he continued, “normal humans can live upward of one hundred and twenty years these days, but their life expectancy is lower because of health-related issues. Dukes and Neph don’t have those problems, so our bodies can make it that long. We’re not immune to aging, though. A body wears out, no matter how healthy it is. Dukes discard their bodies before they get to that point. Then it’s on to the next body and building a new false identity.”

“What happens when they leave the bodies?” I envisioned zombies.

“If no other soul was inhabiting it, the body appears to die of cardiac arrest.”

“Ah. I’ve been wondering about Nephilim souls. Are our souls half demon?”

Kaidan’s mouth lifted. “The questions you ask remind me of when I was a child. I asked the very same ones of my father.”

I tried to imagine young, inquisitive Kaidan looking up at the demon in his life, desperate for his attention. I wished I could hold that little boy.

“No,” he answered, “our souls are neither human nor demon. We Neph have our own unique souls, but as children of dark angels our souls are marked with demonic stains.”

I did not like the sound of that.

“I guess in your case you’ve got a bleached-out angel patch there, too,” he added.

Funny.

“There’s something else I’m confused about,” I said. “If I had a baby someday, would the childbirth kill me?”

“Yes, it would. Why? Are you thinking of conceiving?”

I gave his arm a little shove and he grinned, but he got serious again before answering.

“I’m not certain why, but nobody survives.”

I thought of my mother’s singing, and her love for me inside of her. She must have known she wouldn’t live to hold me, and yet she exuded pure joy.

“Were you able to sense your mother’s feelings when she was pregnant with you?” I asked him.

“Yes, I suppose because we were sharing a life source. I could sense moments of affection directed at me, even brief glimpses of love, but mostly she despaired. No doubt she was suffering from obsession with my father, but he saw her only as a vessel for his use. She was chosen for her beauty, and physical characteristics in her family that complemented his. When I was very small I asked him what happened to her and he said, ‘You killed her—shame, too. She was nice to look at.’”

He brought a hand up and ran his fingers through his hair, blocking my view of his face so I couldn’t see any hint of emotion that might have been there. I had a violent image of kicking Kaidan’s father in his prized lust parts. He cleared his throat and began again.

“My father has had one child in each life, all trained in music and manners, and highly educated.”

He stated the facts without any interest.

“Are any of them still living?”

“No.”

“You might have relatives out there. Maybe I do, too!”

“No, we don’t. Don’t get excited. There are no descendants.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“The details aren’t important.”

“They’re important to me.”

“Please, Ann, not right now. I’ll tell you everything later, just not right now. I’m not in the mood for your tears. It’s been a nice day.”

I didn’t want to be protected through ignorance. I hated that he thought I would cry, and hated even more that he was probably right. Kaidan pointed out the window at a sign. We were entering California.

I took a deep breath. I would go to the prison tomorrow and meet another of Lucifer’s Dukes. My own father.

What was the worst that could happen? If I prepared myself, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt as badly. He could refuse to see me. He could see me, but be hateful and rude and tell me never to come back. No matter what, I would be okay. I didn’t need him, I told myself. I needed information from him, yes. But I had Patti to give me love.

“Can I use your phone?” I asked.

He handed it to me, and I took out the paper with the number to the convent. A woman answered after three rings.

“Convent of Our Mother Mary, this is Sister Emily speaking.”

“Hello, Sister Emily, my name is Anna Whitt—”

“Ah, yes. Sister Ruth has been waiting for you, and try as I may, she will not relay a message of any sort. She insists on seeing you.”

Hope bubbled up inside me.

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