Zacharel’s hands curled into fists. “The water cannot bring back the dead. Now talk.”
Brax gulped. “I came home for your birthday. You, Mom and Dad went to dinner and the movies to celebrate a little early because you were going to be with friends on the actual day, and I said I wasn’t feeling well. While you were out, a friend of mine from high school came over. He brought a book and…a joint with him. I hadn’t gotten high in so long, and I felt like total crap, so…”
Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. “What’s the name of the book?”
“I don’t remember.”
“What kind of book was it?”
“Some kind of, uh…spell book.”
Her gaze darted to Zacharel. He’d tried to tell her something had welcomed the demon into her life. She hadn’t believed him, and hadn’t really thought the answer would lie with her brother.
Zacharel nodded, telling her without words the book was indeed the reason.
“Why weren’t you killed?” she demanded. “Why wouldn’t you wake up the morning of the…of the… I screamed for you, I shook you, but you never even opened your eyes.”
“I was passed out from the grass. I just… I’m sorry, Annabelle. I really am.”
“Why wasn’t he killed?” she asked Zacharel.
“A demon rarely kills his summoner right away. They want a host to possess, so that they can remain on earth. But I’m betting your brother was not possessed because you were spotted, you were desired, and the need to mark you distracted the demon. Your parents got in his way. After that, I’m not sure why you were left.”
Deep breath in…out… Here were the reasons for her parents’ murder finally laid bare. But there was no comfort with the answers. No sense of closure.
Zacharel glared at Brax. “Do you yet realize that you are responsible for your sister’s circumstances? Your actions killed your parents, not hers, yet you allowed Annabelle to suffer for your crime. You abandoned her when she needed you most. You.”
Brax gave a violent shake of his head. “I—I didn’t. Or if I did, I didn’t know. I promise you I didn’t know. You have to believe me.”
The way he had believed her when she had spoken those very words to him?
Your prints are all over the knife, Annabelle! Yours. Only yours. No one else’s. Do you really think we’re that stupid? Do you really think anyone will believe a monster did this terrible thing? Oh, a monster did it, all right, but that monster is you.
Of course her prints had been all over a knife. She’d grabbed one just in case the monster came back.
“You don’t remember anything else about that day?” she asked, pushing the ugly memory to the back of her mind. “A dream, maybe, where someone seemingly wonderful asked you something terrible?”
“No. I’m sorry,” he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
Unable to deny him, she offered him a soft smile of forgiveness. “It’s okay. We’ll get through this.” He was the only family she had.
He closed his eyes as if her forgiveness was too much for him to bear.
“What do we do now?” she asked, gaze settling on Zacharel. She gasped, did a double take. “Your wings.”
“What—” He flared out one, then the other. A curse exploded from him.
Snow once again fell from the tips of the feathers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
HIS DEITY WAS DISPLEASED with him. Again, Zacharel thought. For once, however, he knew why beyond any doubt, without being told. He had assumed responsibility for Annabelle, and she had then killed a human, demon possessed or not.
Not that Zacharel blamed her for her actions. He would rather suffer the Deity’s displeasure than lose her, and he would have lost her had she not reacted and protected herself. The blame rested on his shoulders, and his alone. He had trained her a bit in the art of fighting demons, but he had not prepared her for a situation such as this.