It didn't matter. He could have killed a hundred Sisters and it wouldn't have changed anything. Enoch had merely been an unborn baby, still forming in his mother's womb. The agrimony had been too much for his still forming heart and lungs to handle. He was born two and a half months early.
He had looked beautiful, with olive skin, hazel eyes and a little bit of lush black hair. He was small for a baby, fitting neatly against Nadia's forearm. Unlike his mother, he was born with his witch's mark, though with the angel blood coursing through his body, the mark had taken on a golden colour.
Nothing could have saved the poor mite, so small and yet so damaged.
The coven had hoped that the angel blood would heal the damage done to his tiny organs by the agrimony.
Sadly, it had not.
The three of them had been a happy little family for all of a fortnight; one night they put little Enoch down to sleep, and the poor boy never woke up.
After burying her son, Nadia spiralled into a depression so deep, she refused to talk to anyone, and at night her agonised cried filled the darkness. She stopped eating, she barely slept; she was a hollow shell. She spent most days staring into space.
Mathias wasn't much better.
His grief manifested itself in a different manner; anger. He was never home anymore, instead he'd go out looking for a fight, and he'd come back battered or bleeding, sometimes both. Then he'd sleep, only to do it all over again the following day.
Their whole wold had been obliterated around them.
I hated the silence that dragged the days out. Mathias was never around, and Rogan was still dealing with a volatile new wolf.
So when the phone rang, my entire body hummed with excitement.
"Hello?" Excitement creeped into my tone.
"Nina? It's Ary. We have a problem."
Then suddenly, the voice on the other end of the phone changed.
"Nina, how quickly can you get here? I have a rather disgruntled immortal man here, trying to claim ownership of Tamzin."
It was the first time I'd ever groaned at Rogan's voice. This was just what I needed; an angry immortal.
"Give me ten minutes." I was so irritated, I didn't even say goodbye before hanging up. I launched the phone across the room, screamed, picked up my car keys, and left for Rogan's flat across town.
The sullen gentleman sat in Rogan's living room was nothing like the image I'd created within my head. Instead of a well built, muscular giant, in jeans and an ill-fitting t-shirt, I was confronted with a lean, well dressed, well-mannered man, with dark blonde hair and deep hazel eyes, that bore into my soul; this was the High Alpha that had taken control of Tamzin's fragile human mind... and this was not our first encounter.
"Nina Flynn."
"Henri Lancaster."
I had first met Henri three hundred years before, and he was only alive now for two reasons; he had been granted immortality, and he was protected by a curse. Should he be murdered, the murderer would be haunted by his soul for the rest of their life. I hadn't wished to live the rest of my eternity haunted by a grumpy old man with a vengeance.
I had met him by accident.
I had taken in a young girl, whose parents had been bitten by a rogue wolf and, consequently, been killed.
