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“But tell me why you think I should.”
He was silent again for a time, staring intensely down at their still joined hands. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision, for his face hardened into an implacable mask.
“I was sent here to lure you away from your home,” he intoned, his voice cold and emotionless, his eyes avoiding hers.
“This costume, this pretense…” his mouth slanted into a thin, cruel line. “You see a proper man. A beau to court you on a sunny day. You do not see the monster inside. You’re not afraid of me…”
He speared her with those dagger-like eyes.
“You should be.”
She nodded agreeably to calm him.
“Of course. You are a dreadful monster. I see it now. How could anyone so beautiful on the outside be anything but empty and evil on the inside? Warrior angels like you can’t possibly exist on earth.”
He darted another look at her, narrowing his eyes.
“You mock me.”
“Never,” she murmured.
“This is no jest.”
“No, I can see that it is very serious to you,” she said, contrite.
“Forgive my fumbling attempt at wit. Do continue. For what purpose are you trying to lure me?”
“I do not know,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, his frustration clear. “Only that the Master commands it. They have plans for you.”
“They?” she asked. “Who is the Master? Is it male or female?”
“Neither and both,” he answered. “The Master is an evil power that seeks to subjugate the realms and all living beings within them.”
“Are you one of this Master’s henchmen?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “I suppose I am.”
That wasn’t what Brigid wanted to hear. But again, she sensed the truth. Thus far, he had not lied to her. Not ever.
“Do you want to be?” she whispered.
“No,” came his swift, unequivocal reply.
“Then why are you?”
“I have no choice.”
“There is always choice,” she said softly. “It might not be an easy choice. But then, real choices seldom are.”
He released a long, pent-up breath. And a bit of his cold mask chipped away.
“Either I complete my mission—”
“Luring me into your Master’s clutches?” she asked.
“Yes,” he confirmed rather heartlessly. He didn’t look sorry. He resembled unyielding granite.
“Either that, or my friends suffer.”
