Loren couldn’t sleep. Considering it was Monday, she knew she should try to get some rest for school the next day. But try and stop them as she may, her thoughts continued to race.
Darien had said little about the black-haired beauty named Christa Copenspire after getting into the vehicle. Tanner had inquired as to why she was in Randal’s lair, but all Darien said was that she’d moved to the city two months ago and worked for Randal now. No one pressed him for more information, for they’d clearly sensed that Darien didn’t want to talk about it. It seemed Loren was the only person who was bothered by the lack of details—and clearly the only person who couldn’t sleep because of that lack.
Though when she ventured downstairs, tiptoeing through the quiet house, she found Ivyana seated at the island in the kitchen, a book spread out on the quartz countertop before her.
The dark hair that brushed her collarbones caught the light as Ivyana glanced up from her book. “Can’t sleep?”
Loren shook her head, ponytail swaying from the movement.
Ivy dog-eared the page and set the book aside. “Me neither. Then again, I usually can’t sleep after I’ve been graced by my bastard of a father’s presence.”
Loren grimaced. “I suppose it was a difficult night for all of us.” She slid onto a stool beside Ivy. “I hope I don’t sound insensitive for asking this, but what did your mother see in him? Has Randal always been this way?”
Ivy shrugged. “To an extent. And to answer your question, I suppose Randal was simply hertype. She was young, easily influenced, and fell head over heels for him, despite his occupation.” Her mouth curled into a frown, and she shrugged again. “Maybe it was the sex. Honestly, when I consider the man that I know him to be, I fail to understand what she saw in him. But she got pregnant with twins barely six months into their relationship.”
Loren chewed on her lip. “Was she a hellseher, too?”
“No. My mother—her name was Emberley Cassel—was as human as they come.”
Loren started. “But you and Darien… You’re both full-bloods.” Darien wouldn’t be the person he was today if he had been born half—or even a quarter—human.
Ivyana was nodding her head. “She was a human and he was a Darkslayer, yet despite this, she gave birth to two full-blooded hellsehers Randal would raise to become deadly killers. It’s possible, but extremely rare. And it only happens with hellsehers, not wolves, vampires, or witches.” A peculiar look crossed her face. Loren thought it looked a bit like sadness.
“What happened?” she whispered.
Ivy seemed to be concentrating on her breathing. “She attempted to escape him and raise us without his influence. But of course, he tracked her down and fed her the pretty lies he knew she wanted to hear. She wished for her children to have no part in the life Randal planned on giving us, but she stayed with him purely out of fear. And when we were fourteen, she became so overcome with depression that she threw herself off the roof of the apartment building where we were living at the time.” Cold rage transformed Ivy’s beautiful features into a brutal mask.
Loren whispered, “I don’t think she killed herself.”
When Ivy met Loren’s gaze, there was nothing kind in it. “Neither do we,” she whispered. A moment of silence stretched between them before she said, her words hollow and barely audible, “I keep begging Darien to kill him. He could do it—I know he could. If anyone in this city could kill that bastard, it’s my brother.”
A chill licked up Loren’s spine. “Why doesn’t he?”
“Plenty of reasons, I suppose. He’s worried about the repercussions he could face from Randal’s supporters, but his worry is not for himself; it’s for me and the other Devils. Randal’s cronies are powerful in number, which I think is part of the reason he’s lasted so long as kingpin of Angelthene’s underbelly. No one would dare overthrow him because of the thugs that might sniff them out afterward—that is, if someone were to succeed at killing him. You’d have to get past those thugs first, and they put up one hell of a fight when provoked.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, the humming of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock the only sounds. Loren thought she finally understood why Darien had offered to help her that day in the alley.
Because she was human and fresh out of luck, just like his mother.
“Can I ask you something?” Loren said. “It’s unrelatable, but I thought if anyone would tell me the truth, it would be you.”
Ivy cocked her head, her dark hair falling to one shoulder. “Go ahead.”
Loren squirmed in her seat, wringing her hands in her lap, wondering what her question might cost her. And then she blurted out, “What sort of relationship does Darien have with Christa?”
Ivyana blinked, and then she gave a soft laugh. “I try not to get too involved in my brother’s personal affairs. But from what I understand, what they share has only ever been purely physical for Darien, as it usually is. They’ve been on and off again for a little over a year. Long story short, Christa wanted a relationship with him from the start, but he’s never wanted one with her.”
Loren nodded. “I guess I can handle that.”
Ivy trilled another musical laugh. “There have been a few girls who’ve asked me that same question.”
Loren shifted. “That’s not exactly comforting,” she mumbled.
“Maybe not,” Ivy said. “But if you want my opinion, you’re the only girl who’s ever had therightto ask me that question.” Her lips curved upward with a smile. “He really likes you, Loren.”
Ivy studied whatever expression was displayed on Loren’s face. Loren had no idea what she was feeling, nor did she know what her face looked like. If she had to guess, she would say raw and vulnerable.
When Ivy spoke again, her voice was soft. “Look. I know my brother is a bit of a jerk sometimes, but it’s only to protect himself—because he’s been hurt more times than he cares to admit. But the day he dares to fall in love, he will love forever.”
