Page 92 of Backfire
He decided what I’d wear, when I’d sleep, and what I would eat. If Angus hadn’t sent them on an errand, I might’ve spent the third day cleaning up murder scenes.
Thankfully, I finally got some breathing room, which I took full advantage of. I spent the afternoon walking around outside with Charmaine. It was nice. I hadn’t seen her smile like that in years. It, of course, didn’t last.
Two hours into our time, and she was talking about the infamoustheyagain. I managed to get her back to her room before she had a full-blown panic attack, then went in search of Angus.
I was starting to be okay with Devlin and Reese. And the okay part was teetering on the edge. They had their good qualities. I hadn’t found more than a few, but I was sure there was more in there. Angus, however…
If anyone should be worried about her state, then it should be her so-called husband. I could count the times I’d seen them together on one hand. Angus had never really shown interest in her, which was bothersome all on its own. Add in his serious demeanor, and there was definitely something wrong. And I wasn’t going to ignore it anymore.
I marched down the hall to Angus’s office—which, by some miracle, I remembered the way to—and lifted my fist to knock on the door. The voice inside stopped me.
“Yes, she’s the daughter of the traitor, Rosco.”
Did he just call my father a traitor? A traitor to what? Pretty sure I’d know if he was executed by the government for something. It was kind of hard to hide that information.
“Pascello is petitioning the council for custody.”
One didn’t petition for custody, they sued. In a court. Unless counsel was a fancy word for court, he was talking crazy. Still…
My brows knit as I leaned in and pressed my ear up against the door. I was curious as to why my uncle would want custody. He didn’t know me or Charmaine. I wasn’t even sure how well he knew my father. Might help if he’d told me something beyonddon’t trust them. Know who said shit like that, people who shouldn’t be trusted.
“Of course I’m sure she has the mark.”
Whoever Angus was talking to, he didn’t seem pleased. I could hear him pacing around in there.
“No, Gregory, I didn’t see it. The boys did.”
My mind went back to the first night when my stepbrothers held me down in my room. What was it with these people and strange marks? I glanced down at my pant leg where my birthmark lay underneath.
“If he wasn’t sure, Devlin would’ve spilled her blood on the altar already.”
What!?
My eyes snapped back up to the door as Angus shuffled past the other side.
“I should thank her mother. If she hadn’t run off, we’d have sacrificed the baby without knowing.”
My hand flew up over my mouth to muffle a gasp. Babies and sacrifices? Was he talking about me? Who the hell were these people? Some kind of satanic cult? I heard about this stuff on the news, but I didn’t think it was real. Who would? It was crazy.
“I can only thank the spirits that Devlin saw the mark before it was too late. She was set to the die the next night.”
Oh my god.
The floor started to spin as I slowly backed away, then turned and ran down the hall. Angus didn’t marry Charmaine because he loved her. He brought me here to kill me in some twisted ritual.
I froze.
Ritual. How many times had I heard someone say that word? I thought they were dreams, but maybe they weren’t. What had they been doing to Charmaine? What had they been doing to me? Were we drugged? Is that how Devlin and Reese pulled me into their web?
Charmaine and I had to get out of here. But how? We didn’t know anyone and there were people everywhere. We were trapped.
That’s when I remembered the note I’d tucked away in my room. It was time to find out just how much my uncle cared.
Devlin
My eyes trickled over the red pool laying under a set of open, dead eyes. Everything in here was in order. All the books were neatly tucked into their shelves. There wasn’t a single ruffle in the carpet or paper on the floor. Even the waste basket was clean.
Whatever happened, he didn’t see it coming. Based on the empty mug and trail of blood staining the corner of his mouth, I’d say it was poison. Fast acting stuff, too. He still had his pen held in his hand, like he was getting ready to sign something.
