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“No!” She shoved him back. “I don’t want to hear any more about God’s plan.”
“The bird fell from the trees. It probably felt very little pain—”
“Stop!” With her free hand, she tried to cover her ears, but it was no use. He was in her mind, pushing his cold logic at her while nothing about her new circumstances was logical. “Just let me be sad about this. You’re always trying to—” Her breath hitched. Like a tiny pebble falling into a well a hundred miles away, she felt the slightest ripple of motion and opened her palm.
“Delilah, we must accept—”
“Shh! Do you hear it?”
She gasped again, her fingers coasting over the warbler’s breast as the tiny wing twitched.
Christian stilled. His denial clattered through her open mind like a church bell cut from its belfry.
It was dead. He had sensed its last breath.
The rapid tapping of its little heart abruptly beat to life, and Delilah laughed breathlessly. “He’s alive!”
The flat, beady eyes reanimated with life. Her fingers coasted over the broken wing, and the bird righted itself. More euphoric laughter bubbled out of her as it fluttered its little body upright and perched in her palm.
Christian’s unblinking stare watched the bird as he whispered, “What have you done, pintura? Did you give it blood?”
“What?” She frowned up at him. “Gross. No.”
Ignoring him, she laughed and kissed the smooth gray head of the warbler then raised her arms high, and the bird miraculously flew from her grip, swooping low under the trees and then shifting, building up speed and zeal as it disappeared into the forest.
“Did you see that?”
When she turned back to Christian, he wore a blank look of shock. “You toy with the laws of nature.”
She scowled at him, finally seeing some value in this vampire stuff only to have him shit on her parade. “That bird is alive. Why can’t you be happy about that?”
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. You saw me.”
“The bird was dead, Delilah.”
“Maybe not.”
He shook his head in awe. “It was. I felt it die.”
She’d felt it too, but that also didn’t make sense. Standing, she brushed the pine needles from her skirt. “Well, it’s not dead anymore.”
“Death is a part of life, pintura. We cannot interrupt such things. The warbler was not meant to live.”
“Why do you care? It was just a baby.”
“How did you bring it back to life?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…wanted it to live. Maybe it’s a vampire thing. I mean, I was sort of unimpressed with your species so far, but that was badass. Can we save other stuff?”
He blinked at her. “Unimpressed?”
“Well, yeah. You can’t fly. You can’t turn into a bat—”
“Why would anyone want to turn into a bat?”
“Well, maybe not a bat, but a wolf would be cool, or a bear, or—Oh!—a dinosaur! That would be awesome.”
He shook his head. “The laws of nature must be respected.”
“Oh, please. Why am I here? I mean, really, Christian? If it’s all part of God’s plan then why did God leave that bird for me to find? You can’t pick and choose what fits into your fairytale and what doesn’t.”
“It’s not a tale.”
“Well, it’s not any reality I know.” She hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “That was a fucking tragedy that turned into a fucking miracle. How can you call us miraculous, but not that? Why are we better than birds?”
“Because we are,” he snapped. “We’re the top of the food chain, stronger than any living creature.”
She glared up at him, rising on her toes. “Well, might doesn’t always equal greatness, you sanctimonious prick!”
“Do not speak to me with such filthy disrespect!”
“You’re the one who started yelling at me first!” She didn’t back down when he crowded her. “Doesn’t your faith claim we’re all God’s creatures?”
“You’re purposefully twisting things.”
“No, I’m not. Your hypocrisy folds on its own.”
“Tell me what you did, Delilah. I must know the truth.”
Detecting something more than censure in his tone, she sobered. “Why?” A cold chill passed between them and she sensed his fear. “Am I in trouble?” When he didn’t immediately say no, her worry doubled. “Christian?”
“We cannot interfere.”
“I didn’t. I mean, not really. I thought it was a vampire thing. Super manifestation or something. I swear.”
“Immortal,” he corrected.
“Whatever. I don’t even know what I did. I just wanted it to live. I didn’t do anything. Why can’t we just be happy it flew away and move on?”
He nodded. “You’re right. God works in mysterious ways. Perhaps it was just not the warbler’s time.”
But deep down she knew that bird lived because of her, not his God. And Christian—ever-present in her mind—knew it too.
CHAPTER 12
By the time they reached the house where Christian assumed the women would be, Delilah’s feet were dragging. Her steps had been sluggish since leaving the forest, and the appeal of meeting others was now overshadowed by her desire to take a nap.
