Page 31 of Sleeping Redemption
Snorting, he looked at me. “Unless she’s painting the town with blood.”
Scratching the scruff on the side of my face, I thought back to a time when things were much simpler. “Even when we were training together before Lucifer’s departure, she always walked on the edge of morality.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to figure out how much of a disaster this could turn into. The realization hit me that Atlas’s presence in her life was going to be needed more than ever if what Rook was saying was true.
“Scale of one to St. Cassius, where is she?” I asked as I closed my eyes, trying to strategize around the dull ache between my eyes.
Without hesitation, Rook answered, “A snowstorm and a matchstick.” He shook his head, a hint of sadness touching his hazel eyes. “Had I not adequately distracted her the other night, she would have had a listing up for another new house manager. She was here in body, Sylas, but her mind was under siege.”
Downstairs, the sound of shattering ceramic pulled us from our heavy discussion. It was followed by Kinley’s shouts and the frightened shrieks of who I could only imagine was one of her household staff members.
Looking at Rook with widened eyes, he didn’t bother waiting before speeding past me out the bedroom door.
“Fuck, this can’t be good,” I grumbled before following behind the trickster, barely catching the blur of his body’s near-supersonic movements before he disappeared around the end of the hallway.
Chapter Fourteen
With my mind stuck on the sight of the soapy bubbles gliding down Rook’s muscles and the water droplets falling off the tip of his dick, I reluctantly headed downstairs. Also knowing that Sylas was helping, I was confident that the search for my sword would turn out successful.It has to be around here somewhere. Where else would it be?
In this day and age, I didn’t lug it around everywhere with me. Could you imagine the terrified looks of all the little humans as I sauntered down the sidewalk casually wielding a large blade in one hand and my coffee in the other?
Entering the study, no sooner than my fingers wrapped around the handle of the door that led into the basement did Christina timidly call my name.
“Miss Ward?”
Why on earth was she so goddamn skittish lately? It was grating on my nerves. At first, it was cute, but now it was just downright annoying.
I looked over my shoulder. “Yes, Christina?” My eyes landed on a white box in her hands, looking no bigger than one thatcould hold a pair of sneakers. There was a pristinely tied black silk bow wrapped around it.
The girl shifted on her feet and extended the box toward me. “This just arrived for you. The delivery man said you should be sure to open it right away.”
A smile stretched across my pink lips. A gift? I love presents.
Relinquishing my grasp on the door handle, I walked over to her and eased the box out of her hands. There didn’t appear to be a card on the outside, so I tugged on the tail of the ribbon and watched the bow unravel before my eyes.
As the wide satin material fell to the ground, I pried the top off of the container. Setting the lid down on my dark mahogany desk, I immediately pushed the dark tissue paper aside. A sticky black residue adhered to my fingertips as I did.
The final layer of thin paper shifted aside, revealing what lay underneath. A stuffed doll lay there face down, blonde curls set beneath a golden halo. Her silvery white wings and pure white gown were stained with the same black substance that remained on the pads of my fingers.
Burrowing my brows together, I gently reached in as though to cradle a newborn child with the softest of touches. Taking the doll around the waist, I pulled the stuffed angel from the box and turned her to take a look at her face.
The front of her had those onyx-colored smudges on it, sullying what should have been a toy reflective of purity and innocence. If I had known better, I would have thought Rook blew his load on this stuffed toy.
The doll had a pleasant expression on her face, blue plastic eyes nearly sparkling underneath the dim lights from the ceiling overhead. A demure smile rested on her face, making this gift even more unsettling by the sheer amount of what seemed like demonic cum splashed all over it.
My eyes drifted lower to see the doll held a felt scroll between her hands. Embroidered in golden thread were the words, “Welcome to St. Cassius.”
I’m unclear when I dropped the stuffed angel, but the second it hit the floor, a roaring of blood rushed in my ears. Images of the slaughter of the village at the foot of St. Cassius Mountain flickered through my mind like an old movie reel rotating out of control. My heart leapt into my throat, and all my muscles tensed as the box landed next to the doll on the hardwood floor.
Ash. Blood. Smoke. All the memories flooded my senses like an avalanche. Then, as if my brain snapped much like an overstretched rubber band, my present surroundings came hurtling back into place around my awareness.
Christina inched back away from me the moment I focused my wild gaze on her.
“Did you do this?” The words were calm but no less deadly as the intensity built up from my toes to my ears.
The sweet dark-haired woman shook her head several times. “N-no, Miss Ward. I don’t know who?—”
“DON’T LIE TO ME!” I roared. Reaching over to my right, I grabbed the white vase on the edge of my desk. It was packed full of white peonies, their multiple layers not unlike the tissue paper that filled the box resting at my feet.
