I unwrapped my dad’s limp body and brushed my fingers over his soft sandy blond hair. His eyes were closed, like he was sleeping, but his skin had a light gray hue. The image would haunt me forever.
“I’m so sorry, Dad. Please forgive me.” I didn’t see any marks, but I knew what Serina had done to him. I felt like it was all my fault.
“Come.” King’s warm hand gripped my shoulder. “Take a moment to gather yourself while he heals.”
I didn’t want to leave my dad’s side.
“He will wake soon,” King pushed. “He should not see you like this.”
King was right. Dad didn’t need to witness me in hysterics on top of everything else.
I slowly got to my feet and followed King to the kitchen.
“Here.” He handed me a white piece of cloth.
A handkerchief? Who used those anymore? Holding it in my hands suddenly made everything feel real. King was not from this time. He was not from the world I’d been born to. He was something altogether different. I didn’t know why it took so long for that to sink in, but it finally had.
“Are you all right?” he asked, not sounding particularly sympathetic. Typical.
“No.” I shook my head. “Why? Why would Serina hurt him like that?”
“Do not worry. He will be fine.”
“I know he’s got your ring, but that’s not going to address his memories.” My dad would wake, totally fucked up in the head after what he’d gone through.
“I will take care of it,” said King. “He won’t remember a thing. It will be like nothing happened.”
That was a relief, but I still felt sick to my stomach, overwhelmed by everything.
“What just happened?” I stared at King’s beautiful face, noting a subtle shift in his eyes. The silvery gray had flecks of blue.
“Eventually, all debts must be paid.” His tone was even.
“Will Serina come back to life? If yes, I’d like to help her pay her debts.”
“She will not be returning, and you will never speak of revenge again. Leave the dirty work to me. On that note, you are no longer needed at the Ten Club gathering tomorrow.”
“No. I’m going.” The man who murdered my mother would be there, and I looked forward to seeing his life end.
“Your hands must remain clean. I will take care of him myself along with Ten Club. Here on out, they are my problem.”
After all his efforts to persuade me to kill Ten Club, that was a weird thing to say. “But how will you…”
My mind offered the answer before I could finish the sentence. That thing, the dark shadow that killed Randall and King, was actually him—a piece of King or something.
“Tell me what happened,” I demanded. King was keeping something big from me. I could feel him mentally pushing me back.
“It is time for you to return to Florida and move on with your life. I will give you enough money for graduate school and so that your father may retire.”
I frowned, feeling completely confused. One minute, I had been fighting for my dad, and the next, a big King-shaped shadow appeared and Serina was dead. And now I’m being sent home.
“I’m not leaving.” I didn’t want to go. I felt like I still had unfinished business, not to mention the fact that my feelings for King hadn’t changed.
“Jeni,” he pierced me with his eyes, “the woman I was fated to love is gone. There will never be another. I will never have feelings for you. Not even if I wished it.”
“I am not asking you to lov—”
He cut me off, showing me what he meant. That shadow was more than a dark assassin at his beck and call. It was his soul. Dark, bloodied, cursed.
Jesus. I inhaled sharply. How the hell was that his soul? And why was it running around protecting me?
“A topic for another day,” he said, listening in as usual. “But that is not the point. You now see I have been telling you the truth.”
He was not a good man. His soul was tainted.
Yes, yes. For fuck’s sake, I get it! You’re bad and evil and horrible and dangerous. But he was overlooking one important fact: I couldn’t help how I felt. I saw something in him. Something good. And I was drawn to it. His salvation gave me hope, because if he could be saved, maybe this fucked-up world wasn’t a lost cause. Maybe I’m not a lost cause.
I knew he heard me. And I knew it made no difference to him.
He came around the counter and placed a warm hand on my cheek, beaming down at me. “And you would be wrong, little Seer. It makes all the difference in the world.”
If I lived a million years, I would never understand how King’s gifts worked. He was a brain surgeon, only he performed operations on people’s memories. He could walk right into someone’s head, look around, pluck out specific things, and throw them out.