Chapter 6: Feathers and Truths

Watching his focused expression, I felt the curse mark on my chest heat up, like it was rooting itself deeper.

Moved, I finally asked the question I’d been avoiding.

"You knew how I felt from the start, but you still welcomed me to the sanctuary. Michael, you don’t feel nothing for me, do you?"

He looked at me, a flicker of warmth in his eyes that made my heart skip.

"Don’t do stuff like that again. It’s dangerous. Demons are cunning and ruthless."

I knew he meant me trying to shield the boy. Remembering the sword at that kid’s throat, the warmth in my chest cooled.

"But he was just a five-year-old."

"He might be five now, but he’s got demon blood. Who knows if he won’t turn out just as vicious as his mom? All demons are dangerous and have to be wiped out."

Michael’s stance on demons was set in stone.

But Devil’s Drop had never picked sides in the angel-demon feud. To me, it was always about good and evil, not which side you were on.

Still, thinking of Lucien, the demon who cursed me, I let it drop.

That night, I couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning like a kid before the first day of school.

Wandering aimlessly to Harmony Pavilion, I stopped short.

This was where Christine Williams was recovering. Michael had told me she was born with a congenital defect, not expected to live past twenty. Last time he’d met her, he’d brought her to St. Gabriel’s for help.

I was about to turn away when a faint light flickered deeper in the birch grove, pulling me in.

I crept closer and nearly choked on a gasp.

Ahead, a bowl-shaped relic hovered in midair, casting a shimmering barrier. Inside, Christine Williams sat facing the boy.

Demonic energy curled around the kid, marking him as one of the clan.

Her fingers were like claws, digging into his chest. Blood flowed from him into her, right through her fingertips. She looked more like a demon than any demon I’d seen.

St. Gabriel’s was loaded with wards against demons. Even though Christine hadn’t trained, she could use the relic to control the boy.

He couldn’t even struggle. His cries were muffled inside the barrier, his life draining away with every heartbeat.

Thinking of the boy in Silver Hollow, chained and helpless, I finally got it.