Mortal Wounds

Chapter Thirty

Davian's POV

I hop from foot to foot, trying to sike myself up enough to enter my father's room. I draw in a breath. I can do this. I'm jittery with terror, my heart aches and I swallow, not wanting to show my father weakness. Tears escaped my eyes the last time I visited him and he punched me for it. Security came and got me out of the room, and restrained him. At that moment, I thought to myself, "I'm done," and I refused to come back. I walked away from the hospital vowing to myself this would be the last time I'd see him. Two years later and I am here with a flurry of emotions battling inside of me.

There was never winning with this man. Every time I tried to express myself, rage and disgust crossed his face as though he expected me to keep my feelings locked up. I could never win an argument no matter how prepared I was. He'd scream at me for being weak and pathetic while I called him abusive. Every time he made me cry, I felt small, as though he stripped me bare of any masculinity I had.

The difference is I'm not here with an urge to argue. I'm here for a demon. I am here for Invidian, which makes my heart race and fear creep into my soul. His freedom is at stake. If the worst-case scenario comes to fruition, I'm going to need to know how to get him out of Purgatory.

With my reaper abilities, there must be a way to break him out. If that happens, I'm going to have to understand how my powers work and what is the layout of Purgatory. From what I've seen, it looks like a place with all-consuming darkness, but there must be a way to get him out and the only person I have to ask is my father.

I grit my teeth to the point they might shatter. I can't stand the idea of Invidian being brought back there. I can't stand the thought of his absence leaving a hole in my chest. I'm not letting him go without a fight. Through the Veil, I morph through the door. My father sits on the bed, his back to me.

"I knew you will come," he says as soon as I take a step forward.

I frown in confusion.

"How?"

He doesn't answer the question. I walk closer, noticing that he's eating something. A fig. I furrow my brows. An odd choice of fruit. I inspect his appearance. He looks more corpse-like than the zombie guards the angels have control over.

His greasy hair is matted to the sides of his face and I swear his eyes will sink into the back of his skull if he gets even less sleep. Has he gotten at least a little better since he was put here?

"Hey, Caius... It's been a long time," I mutter, not sure how to begin this conversation.

There is an unsettling calmness about him.

"Something about you is different," he mentions.

"Changed my hair. Hey, listen, I know we haven't talked in a long time but I really need to ask you some questions."

"What gives you the right to ask?" he hisses, narrowing his eyes at me from over his shoulder, "You abandoned me. You didn't want anything to do with me."

He casts me a dark glare and I swallow. I can't regret my choices. Perhaps I would have continued to see him if I knew he went insane from saving someone but that doesn't change the fact at the time he didn't want to change. It doesn't change how much his words hurt.

"I don't want to see your pathetic face here again."

If this was a few years ago, I would have left but I stand my ground.

"Please, I need some questions answered," I reply tightly.

I tense when he abruptly stands up, stalking over to me. Although he's deathly skinny he towers over me at Ascanius' height. Pure hatred blazes in his eyes as he approaches me. I tighten my fists, resisting the urge to run off. He wears the same expression he did the day he tried to smash my head open for no reason. This isn't the first time he wore that expression either, I remind myself. It probably won't be the last.