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“You mean you don’t already know?” I ask, trying for a neutral tone.
He considers me for a moment, tension creeping into his features. “I have a file,” he admits. “But I don’t want to read about it in a file. I want to hear it from you.”
I curl my knees into my chest, quietly giving it some thought as his fingers glide over my arms. He’s being gentle again, and I don’t know if that’s better or worse. I’m so used to stuffing down these memories, trying to forget they ever happened. Staying numb is how I’ve survived, but Azrael makes me feel with even the slightest touch, and I know that isn’t an option this time.
I can’t recite the story as if I’m talking about someone else’s life. As reluctant as I am to tell him the truth, I know he’ll learn it regardless. I would rather it came from me, and I can begrudgingly admit that he respected me enough to ask before he went digging through that file himself.
“I don’t know where to start,” I confess.
“Start at the beginning,” he suggests. “How did you even meet him?”
There’s a note of tension in his voice, and I can tell he’s trying to temper his feelings for Caleb Church, but it isn’t necessary. I already know how he feels about him, and there’s comfort in that. Because if I meant nothing to him, he wouldn’t care what history I had with Caleb or anyone else.
“When I was in high school, my sisters and I used to visit this bookshop in the Garden District,” I explain. “We’d spend the afternoons reading, each of us finding a comfortable chair and getting lost in whatever book we were fascinated with at the time. One day, I was there alone because I had to pick up a book I’d ordered. I was so eager to start reading I didn’t want to wait. I wasn’t paying attention to anyone around me, and when I went to sit down, I bumped into Caleb. Or, more accurately, I suppose he bumped into me.”
Azrael’s fingers come to a halt on my arm, and I glance back at him momentarily, long enough for him to realize his mistake. He pulls me closer, resuming the soothing rhythm that’s keeping me grounded.
“At the time, I thought it was all one big coincidence,” I tell him. “How stupid that was.”
“He knew who you were?” Azrael asks.
“Yes. He knew who my whole family was. The Disciples had assigned him to watch us and gather information because they considered our existence a threat to their religion, apparently. I had no idea he’d been observing me for a while already. It wasn’t until the police found journal entries of his stalking that I realized the full extent of it.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Azrael assures me. “They have a long history of this. They’ve learned how to stay under the radar.”
I shouldn’t be surprised that Azrael knows so much about The Disciples, but in a way, I’m glad for it. At least that part, I won’t have to explain.
“I knew I would be married to a Delacroix,” I tell him. “But I was young and naive and thought I deserved to be a little rebellious. So, when he asked me to stay and have a coffee with him, I did. He seemed… charming and funny, and he was always interested in what I had to say. Before I knew it, I wasn’t thinking about the consequences anymore. One date turned into two, and then I was sneaking out to meet him every week. It was fun, mostly the thrill of it, I think. I just wanted to break the rules in my own little way while I had the chance. I never intended for it to go anywhere or for anything serious to happen between us. I was only sixteen.”
Azrael is quiet behind me, and I can’t look at his face because I’m not sure what I’ll find, but I can feel his breathing has slowed. He’s anxious to hear the rest.
“This went on for a while. A month, maybe two. I’m not really sure. I told him I couldn’t have a boyfriend, and he kept insisting it was okay. But then he started to get handsier. He kissed me a few times—”
Azrael stiffens, and I swallow.
“Go on,” he says gruffly.
“And he’d insist on holding my hand all the time when we were in public like he wanted to stake a claim on me. At that point, I was already getting a little annoyed with him. He was becoming more demanding of my time and attention and trying to call and text me constantly when we weren’t together. My family started asking questions about who I was talking to, and I hated keeping secrets from them. I was already thinking about ending it, and I think he sensed that.”
