Chasing Demons (Book 2) Rated R

Chapter 31

When I entered the dining room the next day, Christian had a hard time looking me in the eye.

Coward...

Handsome, stupid, coward.

He sat at the head of the table with one palm flat against the linen, the other clutching his fork, his plate of food suddenly very interesting.

It'd taken a lot of coaxing from Anca for me to even come to dinner and getting out of bed had been an ordeal in and of itself.

I was so tired and after the other day, seeing all those bodies... I'd gone to my room, thrown my blanket over my head, and had lain there in silence until sleep claimed me.

Anca had come and checked on me several times throughout the next day. She was content to sit there with me in silence, her hand squeezing mine tight.

And I'd never been more thankful for someone's quiet presence than I was for hers. It was a kindness I wasn't sure I entirely deserved.

Today was better, but only slightly. The guilt was still an iron fist around my heart. But...Anca had been right. Somehow, I would survive this. Maybe my mind would never stop being haunted by the image of all those bodies under the sun...but it was better, I decided, that the occupants around this dining table were alive than them.

They'd led an unprovoked attack. Had slaughtered innocent women and children...infants.

Yes, I decided. It had been a necessary evil.

But knowing this didn't make me feel less like a monster.

I could never be with...a monster like you. Whether he'd mean it or just said it because he knew they were the words that would wound me most--make me hate him--it didn't matter.

They were true.

The dining room chatter halted momentarily as I entered in jeans and an oversized sweater, clothes Daciana had loaned me.

In my search for Christian, I'd scanned right past the figure sitting beside him.

"Little Changeling," Brandon whooped. He jumped from his seat, nothing but a blur of blond and black clothing. He reached me in less time than it took me to blink, and his arms wrapped around me.

A low squeak left my throat.

"Brandon!" There was surprise in my voice and something else--guilt. Fresh and sharp.

Through the chaos, through all the madness, I hadn't thought to ask if he'd been here during the attack, not even once. Guilt curled around my chest.

"Oh, Brandon!" I repeated, tightening my arms around him. "You're alive. You're ok. Hanna and the baby?"

"They're fine. I knew the second I saw him that Vinny wasn't Chris, and I couldn't stomach being around him," he said as he pulled back, surveying me. "So, I took the girls and left. They're in our American family home in upstate New York. They're good. Cassie is getting huge. She uh--well, she's started to babble, and she thinks. Well, she thinks--"

"She calls him Dada," Daciana said with a teasing smile.

I grinned up at him. "So no more high-rolling in Vegas?"

"It appears I have traded my dice for rattles, these days, little Changeling."

I snorted.

"I missed you," I said a second later and meant it. Though our time had been brief, I realized outside of Oregon, Brandon was one of the few people I considered my friends.