Page 120 of Prodigal Son

Cain found Adam watching from his grandfather’s porch. The house was gone, along with everything in it.

“How is Father?”

Adam looked at him, his eyes creased with soot and his stare haunted. “He’s not speaking.”

Cain panted. “It was witches.”

Adam nodded, banked fury in his eyes. “They’re going to see if Grace can get into Father’s head to find out why this happened.”

Cain shook his head. “Have we been infested? We’ve made no offense.”

Adam’s jaw ticked. “Perhaps Father knows.” He handed Cain the pewter cup he held. “Drink this. You look like you need it more than me.”

Cain glanced down at the cup of blood, his hand still trembling from the stroke he’d suffered minutes ago.

Inside his grandparents’ house, Gracie sobbed into her palms, rocking back and forth as she sat in a chair. Anna consoled her.

A crowd of males gathered in the hall as his mother’s cries bellowed from a bedroom. The stench of burnt flesh and hair soiled the air.

Cain followed his mother’s cries to where his father lay. Jonas’s eyes widened as a tremor ran through his body. He looked to be in pain but did not whimper or whine. A tear rolled from his eyes, and Cain rushed to his side. “Father, who were they?”

His hand closed around his father’s arm, squeezing tightly. The witch’s blood stained his clothes, and his eyes moved frantically.

“We can’t get him to speak,” his mother cried. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“The witch did something to him. A spell of sorts. She sealed it with her blood.”

His mother gasped. “Take these clothes off of him!” She ripped at his shirt, stripping his father bare. “Jonas, talk to me.”

A blood vessel burst in his father’s eye as his gaze went wild. His claws cut into the bedding and he thrashed as if something inside of him were trying to escape.

“He’s in pain.”

They turned to find Gracie filling the door. Her bonnet had come off and her long black hair unraveled down her back. Blood stained her pale neck. She looked so tormented and small, Cain wanted to protect her from others’ views.

“The witch put a binding spell on him. He’s dying.”

“What?” Their mother gasped.

Grace shook her head, her eye devoid of sentiment and her voice cold. “He’s been dying for some time. He wanted the witches to return his immortality, but they refused, so he forced them.”

“What do you mean?” their mother gasped. “Jonas, what have you done?”

“He can’t talk,” Gracie explained. “They took his voice as payment. His soul is still dying, but they made him immortal as he demanded. Only now, he’ll exist like this forever. Or worse.” She crossed the bedroom and took his hand as another burst of pain ripped through their father’s body. “What have you done, father? Your actions were not that of an honorable man. May God take mercy on your soul.” She released his hand and walked out of the room.

Cain knew, in that moment, Gracie would struggle to forgive their father. Whatever he’d done, she heartily disapproved. And his actions had led to hers. She took a life only to find out she was fighting for a dishonorable male.

Cain went after her. “Grace—”

She pivoted and faced him, tears streaming down her face. “He’s been lying to everyone.”

“What lie?”

She looked up at him, fear making her voice small with so many around. “He never finished the bonding. He’s still suffering symptoms from the calling, only now his mate is dead. He wanted the witches to save him. When they refused, he burned their house to the ground, killing the girl’s aunt in the process.” Her face bleached of color. “I just killed her other one.”

“You were trying to protect your father.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears and she covered her mouth. “I’ve committed a mortal sin. God will punish me.”

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