Vera snorted at Astasiya’s look. “That’s not how our society works, youngling. They need a rational reason to comply—which is something Gabriel is about to give them. If he uses the memories I supplied him with, anyway.”
“Unless the empathy impacts him,” Balthazar said, walking in with some sort of fruity alcoholic beverage in his hand.
“What empathy?” Vera asked.
“The ability he imbibed from Clara,” Balthazar explained, his focus on Leela. He handed her the drink, his eyes glimmering with knowledge. “Rum and punch. Seems like something you would like.”
The Seraphim had gone pale, her fingers wrapping around the glass as she replied, “I’m more of a wine girl.”
“Liar,” he accused. “You like fruity concoctions. Mimosas, too, if I remember right.”
She blanched, then glared accusingly at Vera.
“What do you mean, he imbibed an ability?” the other woman asked, acting as though her best friend hadn’t just flashed her a murderous look.
Right. Sethios was done with this back-and-forth game. He’d lost his patience hours ago, and he no longer had any more fucks to give. It was time for Vera to give him all the specifics and stop wasting his time with frivolous details.
“He sliced Clara open and licked the blade, which gave him the ability to feel emotions. Or that was our observation of the results, anyway,” he replied quickly. “Now give me back my memories.”
He didn’t word it as a request but as a compelling demand.
“The only reason I’m not fighting you on this is because I know it’s going to hurt,” she growled, pressing her palm to his head. “Enjoy.”
Something was happening. Caro couldn’t define it, but she felt the agony associated with the change coming from someplace deep within.
She followed the thin strand, curious to determine the source of the intrusion. One moment, she’d been entirely fine. Floating. Alone. The next, that sting had punched through her heart and twisted her insides into a knot she couldn’t seem to untie.
What is that? she wondered, tracing the glimmering cord. Part of her recognized that it wasn’t real. A ghostly ribbon of unknown origins. It truly wasn’t practical to follow that cord. However, she supposed ending the pain proved to be a reasonable excuse nonetheless.
Caro swam along, searching, searching, searching.
Such an alarming nuisance. She’d been at peace, surrounded by sunlight and nothing, just waiting to be. Then this thing in her chest had to start aching.
She found the wispy essence, the ends intangible. Because they didn’t exist, of course. Not in a physical sense, anyway. Her spirit recognized them, not her body.
An odd sort of experience, one that defied her logic. Which was precisely why she followed the path. It served a suitable purpose to determine the origin and report back on the bizarre sensation.
Report back to who? she asked herself. When was the last time she even spoke to another being outside of the figments in her mind?
She pondered the latest figment, a rich, deep baritone that constantly infiltrated her thoughts. Caro rather liked his voice, something that alarmed her slightly. Because she shouldn’t like anything. What purpose did enjoyment serve? None at all, really.
Yet she found herself waiting for him to speak and missed him when he fell quiet. He told her strange things about their daughter.
Daughter. She puzzled over that phrase, curious as to what that meant. She’d procreated, but the memories were fuzzy.
Hmm. She pushed them away, chasing the pain into her core to locate the source.
And fell headfirst into a reality that made little sense to her.
She spun around in a circle, pausing at the heat from the fireplace. No sun. Instead, the moonlight glistened off the snow outside. Her lips parted at the sight. So beautiful, so—
“Caro?” that deep male rumble came from behind her.
“I’m almost done,” she heard herself say.
She frowned, not understanding how she’d spoken without actually moving her mouth. Then she turned to see herself on the couch beside a handsome dark-haired male. He held a tiny child in his arms.
However, it wasn’t a typical infant hold.
