Page 95 of Demise

“Tell me, did you bleed black?”

“What?” I ask.

“Bleed black, did you? Course you didn’t. They wouldn’t have let you live more than a second later if you had. Still, though…fascinating.”

“Wait, what does bleeding black have to do with anything? That’s impossible. No one’s blood is black.”

“No one except those that have sold their soul to the devil,” Horris counters.

My eyes stay narrowed as I look at him for several seconds before I swallow.

“Are you saying—”

“I’m not saying anything, just making polite conversation with a darling girl,” he interrupts.

“No,” I snap quickly, sucking in a deep breath before blowing it out. “Are you saying that my mom was a…witch?”

“All I know is what I hear. There were rumors for years, no one could ever provide evidence, but her death was quite…convenient.”

“Convenient? How?”

“Well,” he says, sitting forward in his chair as he lowers his voice. “Right around the time of her death, the Coven was growing in strength. Luther knew there was a mole. A handful of days later, your mother ends up dead, and you are sent away.”

“Coven?” I echo. “Like a group of witches or—”

“Grandpa! There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Andrew says before his eyes come to me.

Shock splashes across his face before his trademark red cheeks appear.

“Oh, hi, Skyla. I see you’ve met my grandfather.”

I nod. “Hi, Andrew.

“It’s been…a while,” he says hesitantly.

A while since I thought he was my stalker, and we only figured out he wasn’t because Corwin assumingly held him at gunpoint and forced him and his family to flee the country to throw us off his track.

“It has,” I agree.

He takes a step closer to me, lowering his voice as he whispers desperately.

“I’m so sorry about everything. I heard what happened. The fact that Professor Corwin had been torturing you like that. The fact that he was the one that approached me in the parking lot that day,” he says with a shake of his head.

I nod and smile, appreciating the condolences, but far more interested in what his grandfather has to say. I move to look around Andrew when an arm slides behind my back, that clean familiar smell washing over me as Asher presses a kiss to the side of my head.

Looking up at him, I smile before turning to wrap my arms around him.

“Are you okay?” I whisper into his ear.

“No,” he responds hollowly, causing me to frown as I pull away.

There’s a vacancy in his eyes. He stares down at me warmly, or as warmly as he can, but there is noticeably something off, an emptiness hiding something horrible.

“What—”

“Kiss me,” Asher demands before he’s leaning forward, pressing his lips to mine.

I go to him easily, his kiss bruising against me as he lets out…whatever he can. I’ll happily hold the burden of his pain. Whatever he needs.

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