Page 45 of Destined for Shadows
“It still isn’t right that we have to leave Ruth like this.” The nerou began pacing the living room, muttering curses under his breath.
Bartol understood his feelings and felt the same way. If he hadn’t just spent a century in Purgatory, he might have been willing to risk breaking the rules and killing Martin no matter the consequences. But he couldn’t go back there, and he couldn’t let Tormod get in trouble, either. There was always another way if one thought about it hard enough. They couldn’t take a human’s free will from them when it came to life-altering decisions—such as compelling Ruth to leave her husband—but the angels wouldn’t get upset over something less significant. Compulsion wasn’t forbidden. There were simply limits on how far one could go with it before crossing a line.
“We still can’t kill him.” Bartol paused and lowered his tone. “But there is something else we can do.”
Tormod stopped and looked at him. “What?”
“You’ll see.” Bartol turned his attention toward Martin, who entered the living room carrying a piece of paper.
“Here,” the man said in a gruff voice, not meeting his gaze. “Will you leave now?”
After taking the piece of paper and checking it over, Bartol grabbed Martin’s chin and forced the human to look at him. “I will leave, but there is one thing you must hear first. From this day forward, you will not hurt your wife ever again. This includes saying harsh words to her, striking her, or pushing her around. It is your duty as her husband to treat her with respect and put her needs above your own.” Bartol pushed as much power as he could into every word. “Do you understand?”
With eyes glazed over, Martin bobbed his head up and down. “Yes.”
Bartol went a little further. “If Ruth decides to leave you at any point in the future, you will let her go in peace without trying to stop her. You will also tell no one about our visit today.”
“Yes,” the human said numbly. His mind was so muddled from the pressure of the compulsion that he’d be dazed for the next hour or so. He deserved that.
“Go sit on the couch,” Bartol commanded and waited until Martin complied. “Spend the rest of the day and evening thinking about what a horrible person you are, and how lucky you are to have a sweet wife. Do not disturb her until she comes to you.”
“Okay.” Martin’s voice came out wooden without a hint of inflection.
Tormod frowned at him, then turned to Bartol. “Will that really work? I thought compulsion wears off eventually.”
“The stronger you are, the longer it lasts. With the amount of power I used, he won’t be able to break through it for a couple of years. As long as one of us checks on Ruth periodically and reinforces the compulsion, Martin shouldn’t hurt his wife anymore,” Bartol informed him.
What he didn’t tell the nerou was that he’d done this very thing a few times in the past, which was how he knew it was the best solution. Interfering any further could get them into serious trouble, but the angels would look the other way for this.
Tormod stared at the human, who sat like a robot with his hands in his lap. The nerou still had a glint in his eyes that said he wanted nothing more than to kill the man, but that was what made this lesson even more important. He would encounter situations such as this over and over again in the future, and there wouldn’t always be someone around to stop him from doing something foolish.
When you had great powers that could turn humans into puppets, it was easy to want to interfere. But people had to be allowed to make mistakes and live with their bad choices. The most Bartol and Tormod could do was make the victim’s life a little easier. Only Ruth could decide to stay with her husband or leave him no matter how much they wanted to take the decision from her.
After a few minutes, the nerou’s shoulders slumped. “Fine. I get it.”
Ruth came in with a photo. “This is the best one I have.”
“Thank you,” Bartol said, taking it from her. Griff looked a lot like Cori’s description—stocky shoulders, closely shaven brown hair, and light skin. The only difference he noted was that the man in the photograph had brown eyes. She’d said his were black now as was the case with all vampires. More than likely, his skin was a few shades paler after not seeing the sun for almost four years as well.
Tormod told the woman she could go rest now. She’d be exhausted after having healing magic used to treat her injuries, and it was a good time to sleep while her husband was busy contemplating his poor behavior.
“You’ve done well today.” Bartol gave him an approving look. “Are you ready to go?”
“Where to next?”
He studied the piece of paper Martin had given him. There were three names on it and only one had an address to go with it. “We’ll check on these next. Perhaps we’ll get lucky, and Griff is hiding with one of his former compatriots.”
