28. Willow
An entire day passes with no sign of Azrael. He doesn’t come to the room. He doesn’t bother to give me an update on Bec. When the housekeeper delivers my meals, she informs me she’s been instructed not to provide any information. Whether those are Salomé’s directives or my husband’s, I don’t know.
The only thing left to do is sit with my thoughts and come to grips with the harsh reality of my circumstances. Is this what’s to become of me? Will he keep me locked in this room like a prisoner until I die?
Tears fall, and I swipe them away, but they return until, eventually, I stop caring and let them go unchecked.
I pass the time texting my sisters and parents, staring out the window, and pacing the room. Fiona watches in concern, never far from my side. She senses my despair and tries to provide comfort, but it does little to soothe either of us.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do, Fi,” I whisper as I stare into her eyes.
She nudges my hand, showing me that I’m not alone, whatever it is that may come.
A little while later, I hear a car in the drive, and when I glance out the window, Azrael is climbing inside to join his brother. They’re going somewhere.
He hesitates before he closes the door, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to look up. To meet my gaze and show me that he hasn’t shut me out completely. But he just shakes his head and slams the door before the car disappears down the driveway.
Another wave of emotion catches me by the throat as I stand there, feeling his loss. The delicate threads of whatever connection we may have had are fraying, ripping, as if to prove the curse would always destroy us this way.
I fear this is only the beginning of the end.
I’m trapped in those thoughts, equally terrified and depressed, when the sound of the lock disengaging on the door startles me. I step back on instinct, knowing it can’t be the housekeeper. I’ve already had my dinner. Sure enough, when the door creaks open, it isn’t a friendly face staring back at me. It’s Salomé.
“What do you want?” I snap at her, eyes narrowing on the tome in her hands.
“You’ve made a grave mistake,” she informs me with a smug sense of satisfaction. “Did you really think you could undo the curse? That you could rewrite what has been done for centuries?”
“Leave me alone.” I turn to face the window again so she can’t see my vulnerability, though I’m sure she senses it. She wouldn’t be here otherwise.
A moment passes, but she doesn’t go. She allows the silence to bloom, filling up the space between us.
“I was foolish like you once,” she says. “I had to learn the hard way too. Azrael is made of greater things than you could ever even imagine. But he is still a man, and mortal men have their faults. He thought it would be best to lie to you, to keep you complacent until it was time. And I suppose it worked because I’ve seen the way you look at him. You are falling for him. Perhaps you already have. But I know you aren’t the sort of woman to hide from the truth. I think you’d rather know exactly what it is you’re facing. Exactly what he has planned for you.”
Her words prickle, and I don’t want to turn around, but I can’t help myself. When I meet her gaze, she knows she has me.
“Do you want to know the truth, Willow?” She glances at the tome in her hands before extending it in offer. “Do you want to know how Azrael feels about you? There was only ever one way this could end. It’s written in these pages.”
“And what will it cost me?” I narrow my eyes at her. “Clearly, you want something. So just spit it out.”
She smiles, and I don’t know how she manages it, but the woman looks downright sinister every time she does that.
“A lock of your hair will suffice.”
“For your God?” I snort.
Her eyes flash. “For Shemhazai. The Sacrifice must be offered.”
There are no two ways about it. She’s delusional. Insane, probably. But even so, I’m not above temptation. I don’t know what’s in that tome, but I do know that Azrael is a liar. He’s proven I can’t trust his assurances. If I am to go to my death, I don’t want to go naively. I want to know exactly how the man I married has betrayed me.
Salomé waits for my decision, already knowing I will make a deal with the devil. She sees that weakness in me, and I hate her for it. But it doesn’t stop me from walking into the bathroom and retrieving a pair of scissors.
I can barely meet my gaze in the mirror’s reflection as I degrade myself by snipping off a lock of what feels like part of my soul. When I deliver it back to her, I wonder if I’m making a terrible mistake by negotiating with an emotional terrorist. But the truth is, she’s right. I opened myself up to Azrael. I have feelings for him I never wanted or expected. I have to know if he’s been manipulating me this entire time. I have to know what he’s been hiding from me.
“Happy?” I hold the hair out for Salomé, and a wicked gleam reflects in her eyes.
“Very.” She snatches the lock from my fingers and hands me the tome. “You aren’t half as stupid as I thought you might be.”
I won’t dignify her with a response, and I’m glad when she returns to the door without waiting for one.
“Enjoy your reading. There’s quite a lot there.”
She takes her leave, and it doesn’t register in my mind until a moment later, as her shoes echo down the hall, that she didn’t lock the door.
I glance down at the tome in my hands, torn between two options. I don’t know how much time I’ll have before Azrael returns. If I’m going to read it, it has to be now. But I also know Bec is just down the hall, and I want to check on her while I have the opportunity.
I crack open the tome, deciding I’ll just have to be quick. But as I begin flipping through the pages, reading through the documented history of the first Delacroix and Wildblood marriage, my stomach revolts.
There are pages upon pages documenting their time together.
There is no other way to describe what’s written in these passages: Ophelia Wildblood was tortured until the very day she was executed by her husband. The graphic descriptions of her punishments include whippings, beatings, and humiliation in the form of shaving her head and parading her around naked before leading her to the very spot where she was stoned to death.
A tear splashes onto the page before me, and my eyes blur as I flip through more pages until I reach the next couple. And the next. And slowly, an undeniable pattern emerges.
While every Wildblood woman who had the ill fate of marrying a Delacroix dies, it was not fate who delivered the blow. It was their husbands who took their lives.
They were all murdered.
A silent sob wrenches from my throat as I try to keep myself in check, forcing my attention back to the last remaining pages, to the sections that detail the curse. The Delacroixes believe that sacrificing a Wildblood with each new generation will curb the tragedies that have plagued their lineage for so long.
To solidify their argument, there are well-documented examples of how the tides turned with every Sacrifice. And at the end are the contracts signed by each of the Delacroix men vowing to carry the torch to protect their bloodline.
When I see Azrael’s signature on the last contract, my blood runs cold.
He never intended to protect me.
You have my word, Willow. As long as I live and breathe, I will protect you. I will keep you safe.
Betrayal like I’ve never known pierces my heart as I recall those words, those lies from his lips. He never meant any of it.
And now, there’s only one thing I can do.
“Willow?”Bec croaks when she sees me standing above her bed.
“Hi.” I offer her a soft smile as I take a seat beside her. “How are you feeling?”
Fear streaks through her eyes, and she averts her gaze. “I… don’t know. I’m scared.”
“It’s okay.” I squeeze her hand, even though, truthfully, I don’t know if anything will be okay.
She’s quiet while I take in the room around her, noting all the supplements stacked on her nightstand next to a case of nutritional shakes. My eyes linger on the open vanilla shake at her bedside. I don’t know what prompts me to pick it up, but when I do, it’s still full.
“Not hungry?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I hate those things. They taste so awful. Gran makes me drink them.”
I allow that to digest for a moment before I venture down a path of questioning that we might not be able to come back from. “What do they taste like?”
Bec wrinkles her nose. “There are different flavors, but they aren’t even sweet. They’re all too bitter.”
I straighten my spine, regarding her with concern. “And what about the pills? How are they?”
She glances at the supplements and shrugs. “Those aren’t bad, I guess. But the ones Gran makes me take hurt my stomach.”
Terror wraps its ugly claws around me as I process the full meaning of her words. I didn’t want to be right about this, but there’s no way I can dismiss it. Maybe Azrael can’t see the truth, but I can.
“Bec, I have to tell you something,” I whisper, sneaking a glance at the time on my phone. It’s been fifteen minutes since I called Raven already.
“What is it?” she asks.
“I have to leave,” I choke out. “Because it isn’t safe for me here. And I don’t think it’s safe for you either. I want you to come with me so I can take you to a real hospital. You can see a different doctor and get the treatment you need. Would you be willing to do that?”
A frown tugs at her lips as she considers it. “What about my brothers? Won’t they be mad if we go?”
“I’ll make them understand once you’re safe,” I assure her. “They won’t be mad at you, I promise.”
She bites her lip, anxiety creeping into her features. “How will we get out of the house with Gran here, though?”
“Don’t worry. I have a plan.”
Bec mulls it over, struggling to decide on her own while I wait with bated breath. I don’t want to leave her here. I don’t think I can, and this is the only chance we’ll probably get to leave.
“Okay,” she says finally. “I trust you.”
Relief swells inside me as I nod, helping her pull back the bedcovers. “Okay. We’re going to have to be very quiet. You wait here. I’m just going to grab Fi’s crate.”
I return to my room to gather the hobo bag I already packed, slinging it over my shoulder before I stoop to pick up Fiona’s carrier. It’s all that I’m taking. I don’t care about anything else right now.
When I get back to Bec’s room, I’m glad to see she’s sitting up on her own, but she’s still very weak. It will be a process getting both of us out of the house.
“Just one second,” I tell her, eyeing the shake. “Let me take a couple of these.”
Bec watches me curiously as I secure a latex glove from the nightstand over the open shake and stuff it into my bag, along with an unopened one.
“I don’t need them,” she tells me.
“I know.” I give her a strained smile. “I’ll explain later.”
I help her from the bed, giving her a minute to adjust to being on her feet again. Ten minutes and one very careful walk later, Bec, Fiona, and I make it down the stairs and into the library unseen. Just that amount of exertion nearly drains Bec, and helping her while I carry Fiona’s crate is no easy feat, but we manage somehow.
The house is mostly quiet, and I have no idea where Salomé is, but I’m hoping she’ll stay gone long enough for us to get out. When I open the secret door to the dark wing, Bec stiffens.
“We’re going through there?” she asks.
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “It’s safe. I was just in here the other day, and Azrael does this all the time.”
She still looks uncertain, but she puts her trust in me as I lead her down the dark corridor. With only the light from my phone to guide us, it’s difficult to see, but I already know where we’re going. I’ve seen the door from outside the house, and I’m just hoping it’s not barricaded shut.
It takes us an additional five minutes to get there, and when we do, I have to settle Bec on an old rickety chair while I muscle open the ancient locks. With a lot of creaking and groaning, the door finally opens, and I steel myself with another breath. I’m exhausted, and we still have to get down the driveway.
“Not long now,” I tell Bec, helping her out the door as I clutch Fi’s crate in my other hand.
My phone chimes, and I stop to look at it. Raven sent me a message informing me she arrived and asking if she should come inside. I pause to read her question in confusion before calling her and wedging the phone against my ear.
“Yeah?” she answers.
“The gate is locked from the inside,” I tell her. “You’ll have to wait for us down there.”
“It’s open,” she says.
The hair on the back of my neck prickles with alarm as I consider that. I know they don’t leave the gate open. Does that mean Azrael is on his way back, or did they just forget?
“Do you see anyone?” I ask Raven.
“No, it’s all clear.”
Her words should reassure me, but something about this feels too easy. Regardless, there isn’t anything I can do about it. I just have to focus on getting us out of here.
“Walk down to meet us,” I tell my sister. “You can help us back to the car. I don’t want Salomé to hear you pull up.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there.”
The line goes dead, and Bec’s breathing becomes strained as we continue, even with me supporting her. She doesn’t weigh much, but the journey is taking a toll on both of us.
When we finally see Raven, I feel the weight of relief as she takes over without question, helping Bec along while I carry Fi.
None of us talk, but Raven and I glance at each other, both of us worried. I don’t know if we’re actually going to make it out of here. I still have that terrible feeling Azrael will show up at any moment if Salomé doesn’t find us first. To make things worse, Elizabeth’s voice is notably absent to warn me like she usually does.
Regardless, I can still rely on my senses, and as we approach Raven’s purple Volkswagen Beetle, I can’t ignore the sludgy feeling in my gut. Something isn’t right.
“We have to get out of here,” I tell the girls as I shove Fi’s crate into the backseat. “Hurry.”
A scream behind me pierces the night air, and I whip around to see Raven being yanked back by her hair and Bec crashing to the ground. Two dark figures emerge from behind them, followed by three more from the other side of the road. It isn’t until I feel the blade of a knife against my throat and smell the sickly cloying scent of a man I’ll never forget that true terror settles over me.
“Hi, Willow.” Caleb drags his nose along my neck, inhaling me. “Did you miss me?”
My body quakes, knees nearly buckling as I turn to meet his gaze. The scar slashed across his face, right through his eye, is confirmation that my mind isn’t playing tricks on me. He’s back with the disfigurement I gave him, and I have no doubt he’ll kill me this time.
He’s going to kill us all.
“I can smell your fear,” he growls, his lips hovering over my ear. “And I can’t tell you how long I’ve thought about this. You and I are going to have so much fun together, baby.”
“Leave them,” I croak. “Please. They have nothing to do with this.”
A dark chuckle blows across my cheek as he shakes his head behind me. “Load them all into the van. It’s time for the Wildbloods to learn about the wages of sin.”