Page 118 of Body and Soul

I nodded solemnly, even as a grin threatened to break out on my face. Gaining Azreal's trust, even a sliver of it, felt like a victory.

Azreal turned on his heel, stalking toward the front door. “I’ll be back before ten,” he announced, shrugging on a white jacket I’d never seen Shepherd wear before.

The front door opened and shut, the lock clicking into place.

I started in the kitchen, washing the handful of dishes in the sink and wiping down the countertops until they gleamed.

I moved on to the living room next, straightening the throw pillows on the couch and folding the soft fleece blanket that was draped over the back. I grabbed the feather duster from the hall closet and went to town, running it over the walnut bookcase filled with thick psychology textbooks and the framed art on the walls.

As I worked, my mind kept drifting back to my conversation with Azreal. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than the cold, hard exterior he projected. Underneath all that ice, I'd caught a glimpse of something else. Something almost... human.

In Shepherd's bedroom, I stripped the sheets off the king-size bed and tossed them in the hamper. I remade the bed with fresh sheets, the soft cotton cool and crisp under my hands. I plumpedthe pillows and tucked the comforter tight, making sure it was smooth and wrinkle-free.

The bathroom was my next stop. I scrubbed the sink and toilet until they sparkled, the sharp scent of bleach burning my nose. I hung fresh towels on the rack, making sure they were perfectly aligned.

By the time I finished, my arms were sore and my eyes were heavy. I glanced at my phone—almost 9:30. Azreal would be back soon.

I trudged back to the living room and flopped down on the couch, my body sinking into the buttery soft leather. I'd rest my eyes for a minute, I told myself. Just a quick power nap before Azreal got home.

I woke to the sound of the front door opening, the jingle of keys in the lock. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The clock on the wall read 10:02. Shit.

I sat up slowly, my neck stiff from sleeping at a weird angle on the couch. I blinked blearily as Azreal walked in, shrugging off his white jacket and hanging it by the door.

He looked different from when he'd left—his shoulders not quite so rigid, his jaw not clenched quite so tight. There was almost a softness to him, a sort of quiet peace that I'd never seen on him before.

“Hey,” I croaked, my voice rough with sleep. “How was church?”

Azreal glanced over at me, his dark eyes unreadable in the low light of the living room. “It was fine.”

He moved further into the room, his gaze sweeping over the spotless kitchen, the neatly arranged living room. I held my breath, suddenly nervous.

But Azreal gave a small nod, almost to himself, and said, “Well done.”

I felt a flush of pride at the words, warmth blooming in my chest. Praise from Azreal felt like a rare and precious thing, and I found myself wanting to chase that feeling, to do more, be better, just to hear him say it again.

Without another word, Azreal turned and headed down the hall toward the bedroom. I heard the door open and close before I fell back against the couch cushions, beaming. Maybe there was hope that me and Azreal could get along after all.

The autumn sun stabbedat heavy gray clouds as I guided my SUV down the curvy state route toward Boone's Junkyard. Barren trees reached skeletal fingers towards a sky made of lead, the last leaves stubbornly clinging to death and hoping for life. Frost rimed the dead grass and crept across the cracked asphalt, turning the world into a monochromatic wasteland. It was going to snow soon, maybe even before Thanksgiving.

I parked the car at the entrance to the junkyard. The rusted husks of long-abandoned vehicles piled up in heaps everywhere, strangely resembling how I’d always imagined an elephant graveyard might look. In the distance, I could see the doublewide trailer where Boone lived with Xion.

Xion, who was supposed to be his captive, or at best, his ward. Instead, I had the sneaking suspicion Boone was developing a thing for my brother. I’d felt it on my last visit, the attraction building up between them like static in the air. It was the worst possible thing that could happen. If Xion got Boone wrappedaround his little finger, Boone would never hand him over to Algerone, not for all the money in the world.

I slammed the car door shut with more force than necessary, the metal frame shuddering beneath my hands. The cold bit at my exposed skin as I strode towards the doublewide, purpose quickening my steps. Dead leaves crunched under my boots, disintegrating into icy shards.

Rescuing Dani consumed my thoughts these days. Those zealot bastards had stolen her away to Malaysia, far beyond my reach. I needed more than my skills and resources to bring her home. As much as it pained me, I had to consider working with others. Mercenaries. Criminals. Anyone who could help.

Boone's crew had potential. Six highly trained soldiers of fortune could accomplish a lot. But Malaysia was a world away. They lacked the funds, gear, and connections for an op of this magnitude. It would be a suicide mission. I'd be leading lambs to the slaughter and losing my best chance at recovering Xion in the process.

No, I needed someone with deep pockets and international pull. Someone like Algerone.

So why wasn’t I knocking on his door right now, cutting a deal to hand over my wayward brother in exchange for my sister? It wasn’t as if Xion and I were close. He’d spent the last five years institutionalized and hated me for not rescuing him. Actually, he hated all of us Laskins for not being there for him, and who could blame him? The family hadn’t reacted the best at the time.

But how was a family supposed to react when one brother has a schizophrenic break and attacks another? How did a family torn apart by violence find a way back to being a family again?

One thing was for certain. Selling Xion to Algerone wasn’t the way. Maybe there was no way back, though. Perhaps I was wasting my time here, and I should cut my losses, make the trade.

Or maybe it was time for me to accept that Dani was gone and embrace the family I had left.

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