Chapter 21
Food arrived and Samantha was happy with the quality, eating while telling us everything. Now it was more like she just wanted to get it all off her chest—finally had a captive audience.
Or anyone at all who cared, which hurt my heart.
I recognized a few other names and was impressed. She’d done some real good taking out some monsters in history the world was better off without.
We were on the last thirty years when I saw what made everything change—what changed her.
“I’ve read there are several serial killers in history who carved initials or symbols into their victims,” I interjected when she started to talk faster. “There’s some psychology to it and—”
“Yes, well, I don’t really care much when I was the one he tried to do it to and would be dead if I’d been human,” she snapped.
“He was the first feed, and I waited too long because of other circumstances. I didn’t see the gun and—woke in so much pain and—he knew he didn’t kill me because he wanted me to wake up being carved. ”
“I’m so sorry,” I told her gently. “I’ve put myself as bait more times than I can count and—I’ve been caught in traps too. The trauma and pain are beyond what others can understand. Even those of us who have had traumas like it.”
She settled back down. “Yes, the monsters scar many of us. That’s why they need to be punished.”
“The men who would mark women,” I pushed.
“Yes, the ones who would brand and own,” she agreed.
Like initials on her nails. That was the correlation. That was the trigger.
It was complete horseshit. A man who wanted his initials on your nails wasn’t the same as a mass murderer who carved initials into live women. It wasn’t even an actual brand like at a ranch.
“I would think it was hot if my lover wanted me to put his initials on my nails,” I told her honestly.
“You cannot be serious,” she hissed. “How you could want something so disgusting and vile is beyond reason! You’re not a possession! You’re not—”
“How is that different than when a girl wears a necklace with a guy’s name or vice versa?” one of the demons on security teams asked as he arrived, completely unaware of the situation. “I used to wear a bracelet with my lover’s name on it and it made me smile. She engraved it herself—”
“That’s not the same,” she argued.
“But it is,” I whispered. “It is, Samantha. You were traumatized. You took things to the other extreme. You saw monsters where there were only assholes. Yes, they hit you. Yes, that’s horrible, but you don’t kill because someone smacked a woman.”
And not to ever victim-blame—not ever—I was wondering how things had gone down with her being so traumatized. When had they hit her? What level did things get to?
Did her power have anything to do with it? What was the true situation?
We would never know since she saw everything through the wrong lens.
Or she was completely accurate and the guys got aggressive and were abusers. Full stop could be the case.
They still didn’t deserve to die for that.
“Listen to me,” I said firmly when she started to argue. I tapped the table and made sure my eyes were kind when she focused on me. “None of your kills bothered me until these last ones that I looked into.”
“No?”
“No,” I said firmly, others echoing me. “Fine, death is not the punishment for rape but fuck, they deserve it in my book. That level of violating someone deserves it. Fine, not the law—whatever. I would painfully kill anyone who did that to me or someone I loved. Consequences be damned. None of us here judges you for that.”
“Nor the one who beat their children and sold them,” Elijah added, stretching his neck to keep his annoyance in check.
“Exactly.” I tapped the table again. “You were traumatized, Sam. Everything was painted in different colors for you.” I hurried on when she opened her mouth.
“I get it.” I slowly nodded when she flinched.
“I’ve been there—I’m still there most days.
Wolves took me and tortured me. I still see them in a different light.
“So much has happened that what I see is painted by my traumas.” I gestured around the room. “We all have. We all know this. We all help each other to keep the line and remove the paint. Elijah has—it’s what packs and covens have that we don’t. We’ve fought to change that—”
“Why bother telling me how you were lucky to find each other and I wasn’t?” she rasped, covering her face. “Fine, now you know it all and just kill me. I became the monster.”
Yes, but… Did she deserve death?
Maybe.
Probably in the name of justice.
“I think there could be another way,” I admitted quietly.
“Like what? Prison for demons?” one of the guys drawled.
“Why the fuck not?” I snapped. “The shifters and others have them. Vamps do. ISLE does. Why can’t—”
“Sorry,” he whispered. “Sorry, boss. I just—my head snarked Hell is our prison. Sorry.”
I gave a sharp nod. Yeah, we had too much going on.
“You’ve lived hundreds of years having no idea what you really were, pushed in the wrong way, and did the best you could. You turned into a monster because of what was done to you and clearly you didn’t enjoy it. You didn’t…” I sighed. “We’ll have to discuss this.”
“And maybe with more than us,” Elijah hinted.
It took me a moment, but then I caught on, flinching. The angels.
Yeah, that was probably smart.
“Get us the rest of the names and list,” I told Samatha when she seemed lost. “Some could have still been murderers. Maybe—we weren’t there.”
“And you certainly did a lot of good with the evil you eliminated,” Elijah added as he stood. “You did wrong, you took life—but how many did you save to balance the scales we should be judged by?”
He was headed for the portal before we could even think to answer.
I sighed and scrubbed my hand over my face, shrugging when Sam gave me a confused look. “He’s ancient. He’s got more crap on him than both of us combined. Being immortal isn’t always a gift like people think. It can also mean more life to mess up.”
She opened her mouth but then closed it, shaking her head and then trying again.
“No matter what you all decided, all I ask is that I learn the truth about my own kind before I’m sentenced.
” She gestured between all of us there. “This is so different from the few demons I met that—clearly I had so much wrong.”
And that was what broke my heart.
She wasn’t a monster. Life had turned her into one for the story of others.
Sam needed to be punished for that. Absolutely and completely.
But I didn’t think it was as simple as writing her off. I’d been around too much evil and I knew the difference.
She promised to stay locked down at home base, the teams agreeing to keep watch over her. I didn’t see a problem for the moment and went after Elijah. I found him at corporate talking with Ally.
“What am I missing?” I asked in way of greeting.
Ally sighed and rubbed her neck. “We can’t ever know for sure, but—demons like her used to be immediately killed because they tended to go feral like vamps could. When fledglings don’t learn to feed with restraint or are denied blood too long, they lose all sense. They’re monsters.”
“She controlled it though,” I hedged. “She’s not feral even if she didn’t know how to feed without killing. Hell, it’s not her fault that she killed to feed when so many can’t do that. How is—”
“Jasmine, we know,” Ally said gently, clearly understanding that I was taking it personally.
Clearly.
“Do you know what CIP is?” Ally asked me, rubbing her neck rougher when I shook my head. “Congenital Insensitivity to Pain—or CIP—is a rare. Very rare and a genetic condition preventing people from feeling physical pain from birth. We think it’s related to demons who feed until death.”
“Basically, she can’t feel she’s too full,” I surmised, catching on. “Just later she knows it takes her a bit to process the feed.”
“Yes, that’s the theory,” Elijah muttered, his body stiff.
So clearly, he knew someone who had had it and the ending was… Not good.
“We can talk to her about if she felt pain before she changed into us,” I muttered. “She wouldn’t know her family history, but—it’s a smart theory.”
“But a dangerous one,” Ally said under her breath. “If people learned that certain human genetics or conditions could lead to different types of demons—we have enough problems. A demon who could easily feed to kill is a weapon, Jasmine.”
Like I was. I swallowed loudly and nodded. “We won’t punish her for that, right? We can—can’t we just gag her?” I pushed when they both hesitated. “She’s the victim too, Ally.”
“You’re seeing yourself in her too much.” She held up her hand when I went to argue. “We will be objective, but you are not being. Admit it.”
I had no problem admitting it. I wasn’t being.
But I needed them to say they could be and not just write her off either.
Once they did, I agreed to let them take over and step aside. I would still check in on Sam and be in the loop, but I could admit it wasn’t smart to be at the front of this.
I think who I called to ask to discuss it all surprised me as much as him, but he agreed… Even when I really floored him with where I asked to eat.
I went back to being Jasmine, choreographing and working on helping the people I could. I was clearly distracted, but we’d gotten so much done that it was fine. I approved the whole crazy calendar and plan mapped out to audit every club and their dancers. It was truly impressive.
And somehow boosted my confidence when Kyria had done it all. Mason said it was because I knew she was the right person for the job and it wasn’t simply she was my friend or who I could trust. It was a judgment call that was the right one and made me feel more confident in my decisions.
He was right, but I realized we weren’t only talking about me.
Still, I left it alone.