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I nodded. “Okay.”
“He tried to remove my white wing,” he explained. My gasp was shaky as I thought about it. An angel’s wings were what defined them. An angel without a wing was like a human without its legs. “He brought me out into the back of the Estate under the guise of helping me stay balanced in the air. When I got my wings out, he stabbed me.”
Sariel’s throat worked, and I closed my eyes at the image.
“He kept saying ‘it’ll grow back black, it’ll grow back black’ like a mantra, trying to convince himself that I could grow an entirely new wing. There was so much blood, so many feathers.”
Sariel’s chuckle was sardonic. “The guards on patrol heard me screaming and spooked him when they came to my rescue. He ran.”
My nose and eyes were on fire from my attempt at keeping my tears at bay.
“You should have seen him when they brought me home. My wing was mangled, and I still have a huge scar, yet he was the picture of the perfect father. Our family doctor patched me up, and my father threatened to beat me bloody if I told anyone the truth about what happened. As a sixteen-year-old boy who’d already felt like a bug under a fucking microscope, there was no way I was going to say shit to anyone.”
“Oh God, Sariel…”
“That was the beginning, I think. After that, I became an issue for him. I’d seen a side to him I probably never should have, and thus, I was a liability. Let’s just say after that, my life became increasingly difficult to live. And I wouldn’t leave willingly, because I could handle him being violent towards me, but my brothers were off limits. If that meant preserving Azazel Ambrose’s false personality, then… so be it.”
I was beginning to see him in an entirely different light. “Auren…” I trailed off.
“Not tonight,” he said. “I just needed you to understand that I have no loyalty to that monster, Aria. Only to my brother, Lucy, and grandma Credence.”
“Okay.”
“I know what he’s capable of, and I’m not letting you deal with him. The Upper Council and gods know who the fuck else coming after you. Besides,” he said, hazel eyes sparkling with unidentifiable emotion as he stared at me. “I feel partially responsible for getting you in this mess in the first place.”
“You’re not obligated to help me.”
“I don’t feel obligated, Aria. I have never felt that shit,obligation. I do what the fuck I want because I want to,” he said, shrugging. “Iwantto help you.”
Silence descended as I considered all that he’d said. “Do you think your witch friend can help with my erratic shifting?”
“Erratic?” he blinked in confusion. “The fuck do you mean by erratic?”
“I shift, but only when my wolf wants to…”
His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “And does she want to often?”
“She does,” I said. “But I’ve been drinking this thing that Harry gets at the witch markets. It’s supposed to help fallen-blood wolves sleep, but it just makes my wolf lethargic. She gets very disoriented. It’s easier to keep her under control when she… what? Why are you glaring at me?”
“You’ve been drinking wolf’s bane?” he asked.
“No? If I were drinking wolf’s bane, I would know, Sariel. It would kill me.”
“Not if it’s been diluted to its weakest form and mixed with lesser herbs,” he snapped. “Jesus Christ.”
“I… Harry wouldn’t intentionally poison me,” I stressed. “He probably didn’t know.”
“Of course not. The witch wouldn’t have told him for damn fucking sure.” He rose to his feet and paced the living room. “Newsflash, pup. If your wolf wants out often, it’s because she doesn’t feel safe. Shifting into that form should be as natural as breathing.”
That couldn’t be right. I always felt safe at Pack Homer.
“Just some friendly advice, here: get your shit together. We’re going to see Dessi sooner than I’d liked.”
I frowned. “How much sooner?”
“We leave at first light.”
10
