Stalker (The Hunt Book 3) Page 21

  “Do you think he made her sick?” Moira hadn’t considered it until now, that the illness that had stolen her mom away could have had supernatural origins. No one could explain it. No one had been able to give it a name, but she’d assumed it was something—natural. “He gave her m-money not to talk about whatever they had, and she went looking for him. What if he—”

  “Stop.” Fat tears cascaded down Ella’s cheeks too, and she plopped back on the ground with a sniffle. “We’re gonna get him. We’re gonna find out what he did to her, and we’re gonna get him, do you hear me? We know his name now. If Mom could find him, then we can too.”

  “If it’s all true, then he killed her for digging into his backstory. He…” She couldn’t think about it anymore. She couldn’t imagine her mom, frightened and alone with this enormous secret—right up until the very end. She just couldn’t. Instead, she dried her eyes and took a few deep breaths, watching as Ella picked up the journal and flipped through it.

  “Fuck, Moira—”

  “Don’t read it.” She covered the page with her hand, waiting until Ella’s honey-brown gaze met hers. “You shouldn’t be involved in this. I shouldn’t have… Severus shouldn’t… I bet he killed her, and he’ll kill you too.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Demons are terrified of angels,” she said, shaking her head as a fresh batch of tears surfaced. “Severus warned me about them, and then I got him involved anyway. I didn’t take it seriously. Not really. I just… I can’t…I can’t let you guys in on this anymore. I can’t… No one else should die because of—”

  “Shut your face, Moira.”

  No one else should die because of me. Because of who he is to me. The sentiment hung heavy between them.

  “Knowing this, I can’t let any of you go forward with me. It’s not safe.”

  “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Ella told her as she swiped her thumb under each eye. She then snapped the journal closed. “And if you bail on Severus without an explanation, he will never forgive you. The guy digs you, Moira. Like. A lot. You don’t go to Hell for just anyone.”

  “I know.”

  “So, talk to him.” They grasped hands and stood. Moira grabbed the box of old journals and set it back where it belonged, then drifted toward the doorway, that black notebook clutched to her chest. By now, the sun bathed the parking lot, visible from where they stood in the row of covered storage units.

  If she talked to Severus, he wouldn’t back down—not after what they had been through together in Hell. Not with unspoken declarations of love in the air. He’d stay in the fight right to the bitter end.

  Right until Aeneas killed him.

  And Ella.

  And, probably, her.

  She couldn’t damn them like that. She just couldn’t. Ella would be easy to tuck away somewhere; maybe Alaric would agree to keep her inside the house until all this was over. He could be reasonable.

  But Severus…

  What the fuck was she going to do about Severus? He had risked so much for her already. She couldn’t ask him to go up against Aeneas for her too, not after this—not after learning what the angel had done to her mom. First Diriel had kidnapped Moira, tortured her, but the look in his eye when he had his sights set on Severus in the battle—it had frightened her more than anything he had ever done to her. And Diriel was a nobody. Aeneas had real power. Real authority. A very real ability to obliterate Severus—permanently. Just as he’d done with her mom.

  She couldn’t stand the thought of losing Severus too. Death was so permanent. She had learned that the hard way. So, why hadn’t she realized any of this sooner? Had the threats not been real enough?

  How could she have been this stupid—this careless?

  Miserably, she handed the keys to Ella as they approached the SUV, opting to ride shotgun on the way to Monroe’s. Her driving right now would have been a hazard.

  “Gibson, hey,” Ella chirped into her phone once she got the engine started up. “Are you checking up on me? My girl and I just needed to have a heart to heart about boy stuff. We’re headed to Monroe’s now. Oh, is the GPS not on? Well, I can’t fiddle with it while I’m driving—totally not safe. Gibson. Gibson. Gibson.” Ella shot Moira an eye roll, her smile forced. “D’you want white toast or whole wheat? Text me. I can’t talk. I can’t talk. No. I see a cop and I’ll get a ticket for being on the phone. I’m hanging up now. Bye, Gibson.”

  As they pulled out of the parking lot, Moira opened the notebook again to those last two pages and stared at them until she couldn’t see anymore, until her eyes filled with tears—until she knew exactly what she needed to do, but had always been too scared to accept. Moira had feared it from the beginning, feared that Severus would walk away, wash his hands clean of all this with every new bit of information they acquired. Before today, him leaving, too frightened of angels to continue, had sounded like the worst thing in the world.

  Now, she knew he wouldn’t go—but separation might be the one thing that would keep him alive.

  She inhaled shakily, her chest tight. Beside her, ever the forced distraction, Ella fiddled with the radio, cursed at shitty drivers, and shot Moira worried looks at stoplights.

  And if either of them listened closely, over the roar of the latest top-forty track, they might just hear the sound of her breaking heart.

  “Do my ears deceive me—or did you steal Alaric’s SUV this morning?” Severus cocked his head to the side, sprawled out on his bed, half naked and semi-rested. He grinned at the sight of Moira slinking into his bedroom. “Bit of a rogue move, even for you, darling.”

  Still blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he scratched at his head as she padded across the room and settled at the end of the bed.

  “Severus, we have to talk.”

  He frowned, then sat up a little straighter, rearranging the pillows to soften the bite of the barred wooden headrest on his back. “Moira, I was only teasing. I hardly think Alaric cares if you borrowed the SUV. I’m not thrilled that you went somewhere without me, but…”

  His gaze snagged on the thin black book in her hands, an item he’d never seen among her personal effects before. Curiosity piqued, he tried to put the pieces together, all the while wondering what Malachi had fucked up now. Why else would she look so serious? His brother had probably done something ridiculous, something that had now come back to bite Severus in the ass. Honestly, bringing him here had been a mistake—one he’d thought would correct itself after they left the hell-gate.

  But, his brother had stayed, curious as sin about all the twenty-first century technology around him—curious and insistent that Severus teach him everything in a single afternoon. Since Moira had been occupied with Ella for most of yesterday, Severus had begrudgingly done as his brother demanded, even if it had drained him of his final energy reserves.

  He had crashed sometime after they’d all settled in for a movie last night, and had then slept—holy fuck, eighteen hours. Shaking his head, Severus tossed his phone back on the nightstand, unsure of why Moira had yet to say a word. It hadn’t surprised him to wake an hour earlier to an empty bed; Moira had told him before he passed out that she’d be sleeping with Ella anyway. However, Gibson’s dulcet tones had carried from the second floor to the fourth, ranting on and on about how the girls took the SUV to get breakfast. While he hadn’t been able to hear Alaric’s response, he’d heard a door slam, promptly followed by Gibson’s heavy footsteps stomping down the stairs.

  Alaric wouldn’t care if Moira took the car. He had always told Severus that whatever vehicles he had on hand were free for him to use should he need them. So, why the sour face? Why did his little hybrid look like someone had died?

  “Moira?” He waited, the inner demon grumbling at the sight of her face falling further. Something was wrong. Something had happened. Damn it, he should have gone with her. But then again, she hadn’t exactly woken him up when she’d left. Clearly, she hadn’t wanted him to accompany her. Sighing,
he pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed a human touch soon. Yesterday’s headache had cleared, but the trip to Hell had left him weak. Too weak—too weak when the woman he loved was still at risk. Diriel might have been sanctioned, but there was no telling where he was now, if he was back in Farrow’s Hollow or if he’d fled like he was supposed to.

  And if not Diriel, then there was still her father. She shouldn’t go out alone, at least not without himself or Gibson or, fuck, even Malachi, just someone who could actually do something in a fight against the supernatural. Ella was sprightly and mouthy—but human. What good was she?

  “I went to my mom’s old storage unit before we picked up breakfast,” Moira admitted, fiddling with the sharp corner of the book on her lap. She then tucked her hair behind her ears, her cheeks flushed and gaze averted. “I couldn’t shake this feeling that… I don’t know, I needed to go there. Mom used to journal here and there, and I thought she might have information about Aeneas. And then I found this…”

  He thought she might offer the book to him, but she clutched it to her chest instead.

  “She went looking for him, and she documented it all. She knew about demons, about Seraphim Securities, and she was terrified.” Moira pulled in a short breath, shaking her head slightly when Severus started to shuffle down toward her. He paused, his frown deepening.

  The inner demon’s rumbles had escalated to full-blown growls, neither of them understanding why she wouldn’t let him touch her. Clearly the news was upsetting—and Severus wanted her in his arms. He wanted to kiss the pain away and murmur gentle reassurances in her ear until the look on her face, that morose, anguished expression, melted away to something more palatable. She didn’t need to be all sunshine and smiles, but the sight of her now made his heart hurt right along with her.

  So, he pressed onward, crawling down the enormous king-sized bed, the sheets rumpled at his knees—but his jaw clenched when she climbed off and stood a few feet away. Physically fleeing from him now, was she?

  What the fuck had gone on while he’d slept?

  “This isn’t proof,” she insisted, tapping the book. “It’s only her suspicions, but Severus, I think he killed her. I think he realized she had broken her promise not to look into him after he, he, he paid her off when she was pregnant with me. I…I think he made her sick, and I think he killed her because of what she was doing.”

  It physically pained him to see her so distressed. Severus had known all along what the winged bastards were capable of. Demons grew up on fables of warrior angels; they lived the horror, but Moira was just getting her first real taste of it. Of course it upset her.

  “Darling, I’m so sorry you’ve had to find out this way. I know it can’t be easy.” Moira had actually liked her mother. They had been close, as far as he understood it, and now the man she had been waiting her whole life to meet was implicated in her death. Severus could sympathize. Not empathize, of course. He despised his mother—yet the news of her death had still hit him harder than he dared admit. Clearing his throat, he held a hand out to her. “Really. I’m sure it’s a lot to digest… Come here.”

  She shook her head. “No, Severus, I can’t.”

  “What?” He chuckled, waiting for her to break into a smile, emit a giggle, something to suggest that she was joking. Yet all she did was stare at him like she was about to—lose him. “Moira—”

  “I can’t do this with you anymore. If it’s all true, and he…and he killed her, I just can’t.”

  She was serious. This was a serious discussion. Battling a rush of panic, the inner demon clawing at the inside of his chest to get out, to show her she was being ridiculous and come here and let him make her forget all her troubles, Severus clambered off the bed and started toward her. Again she retreated—and it hurt as if she’d slapped him.

  “I mean, I don’t know how I could have been so naive,” she said, her voice catching. “You told me… You told me the day you told me everything. Angels aren’t supposed to, to procreate with humans, so obviously he’d kill to keep it a secret. He broke the rules, and he covered it up when the truth threatened to surface. And here I am, two years later, doing the exact same thing.”

  “Of course he’ll kill to keep the truth hidden,” Severus growled, one hand easing into a fist, a fist that got tighter and tighter the more she distanced herself from him. Not physically, but he could see it in her eyes—she wanted to run. “But angels have rules. They can’t kill willy-nilly. I’m fairly certain they need a just cause to butcher a human, and if your mother was a nurse, what could possibly be the just cause—”

  “Maybe he had someone else do it. I don’t know,” she cried, the red in her cheeks deepening sharply. “Severus, I don’t have the answers, but this just made everything so much clearer. I can’t keep dragging you into this.”

  “As I recall, I volunteered—”

  “And I’m not going to take the risk anymore. Not with you. I can’t. Please, please understand—”

  “I’m afraid I don’t, Moira, so just come right out and say it.” He winced, the inner demon driving his claws deeper into him. Maybe he was getting too riled up, but the way she was talking—she couldn’t back out now. She couldn’t. They were partners. “Moira, just stop being ridiculous. This… There’s no need for any of it.”

  That little book had made her emotional, sure, but they could work through that. He could comfort her as he always did, and she could pour out her heart to him until she was utterly spent. They’d hold one another until the storm had passed. They were partners.

  “It has to be done,” she whispered, her pale pink lips trembling, her eyes glassy. “Severus, I’m sorry, but it’s over. Our partnership… We agreed to work together until we found my dad. I know his name. I know where he works. I know what he looks like. It’s done. We… You don’t have to do this anymore. You fulfilled your end of the deal—”

  “You think I’m standing here right now for the sake of some fucking deal!” He hated himself for shouting, for raising his voice, for the demon eyes flashing to life in front of her. He sounded more beast than man, more demon than not, and he swallowed thickly when she clapped a hand over her mouth to smother a sob. Exhaling hard, Severus went toward her again—and again she withdrew, backing away from the door and across the room. She hovered in the bathroom doorway, her arms crossed over herself until one reached inside to flick the light on. Briefly he saw the way she trembled until the bathroom light cast deep shadows across her features, hiding her face, her tears.

  Fuck your tears, Moira. She didn’t get to stand there and cry, break his heart, so that he would back down and concede. No. Not today. Not this time.

  “I shouldn’t have involved you,” she told him, her words breathy. All around them, the air had started to cool—angelic sorrow. Scowling, he snatched a T-shirt off the shelf in his closet, dragging it over his head as she carried on. “It’s too risky. It was stupid of me to ask so much of you.”

  “I knew the fucking risks when I volunteered for this,” he snapped, yanking the shirt into place. “You don’t get to kick me aside now, not after everything. Not after…”

  Not after I’ve fallen in love with you.

  “It’s for the best,” was her response, and she yelped when he slammed his fist into the wall. Pain bloomed up his arm, and he flexed his hand open and shut, shaking his head at her.

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do.” She brushed at her cheeks absently, sniffling. “I have to mean it, Severus. I’m sorry. We need…distance. We need space until I know he won’t hurt you.”

  She had always been rational before. Any time a discussion had become heated, they had found a way to discuss things calmly, even if they needed to vent a little at one another first. When that failed, there was always a more enjoyable way to solve an argument, but he had a feeling she didn’t want him near her. Kind of difficult to fuck the tension away when she wouldn’t stop running.

  Hands on his hips, he
looked up and inhaled deeply. The early-morning sunshine gleamed through his bedroom skylight, and its cheery, chipper brightness was a fucking insult. He should have seen this coming. He should have expected this. With a lifetime of poor luck and rejection behind him, the first woman he truly loved had been destined to break his heart, to break him. There was no way around it—they had been doomed from the start. He exhaled a sharp, humorless chuckle, shaking his head.

  “Severus, please, this has nothing to do with you—”

  “How can it not?” Stalking around the bed, he snatched his phone off the little side table and shoved it in the pocket of his sweatpants. “You needn’t explain yourself, Moira.”

  “I feel like I do.” Now she followed him, the soft pitter-patter of her footsteps trailing after him as he crossed the bedroom to the door. “I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say. Maybe I’m not being clear—”

  “It’s clear enough,” he growled, wrenching the door open, his back to her. “It’s over. It’s done. You don’t need to say it again.”

  “No, Severus, I don’t mean—”

  “Enough.” He paused, his entire body tensing when her hand fell on his arm. The inner demon responded like a cat in the sun, purring at the faint physical contact. Blind idiot. Slowly, Severus looked back, his black-eyed stare falling to her hand. He could only glance at her face, at the quivering lower lip and the open desperation in her eyes. His gaze flickered to them, yet he couldn’t meet them, couldn’t hold that blue-eyed stare. Not now. With a shaky breath, Moira retracted her hand at last, but he could still feel the burn of her touch.

  “Don’t go. Don’t leave.”

  “I need to,” Severus exhaled sharply, ignoring the way his brain screamed coward at him, over and over again, “not be here with you right now. I need to go. Isn’t that what you want?”

  “No, Severus, please…”

  He knew what she wanted—to sit down and talk it all out reasonably. Now was the time for that cool, calm, rational conversation they were so adept at.