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“That was bizarre,” Raven harrumphs. “What do you think they were talking about?”
“I have no idea,” I admit. “Maybe Caleb.”
“Well, there are Society guards all over the property,” Raven informs me. “So that would be my guess too. Dad nearly had a coronary this morning over it.”
“Azrael arranged for them?” I ask, my heart warming at the thought.
“He must have.” Raven shrugs. “Who else would have done it?”
“Well, I think that’s for the best,” I tell her. “Until we know where he is, nobody is safe.”
“Agreed.”
A beat passes, and I know the housekeeper will be in soon to deliver my breakfast, so I need to get ready for the day. But I’m curious about what Nan is planning.
“What has Nan got up her sleeve for the coven meeting?” I ask.
Raven snorts. “Who knows? She’s probably going to make pot brownies and get all philosophical again.”
“Probably.” I laugh.
“Although I have been seeing lots of baby stuff appear. So if I had to venture a guess, it might be related to that.”
I press a hand to my belly, feeling that same strange energy I did when I first learned of the pregnancy. It’s surreal to think I’m carrying a tiny human. The child that Azrael and I made together.
“Are you nervous?” Raven asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“I am,” I admit. “I’m very nervous. But I’m also… strangely happy. I always wanted to be a mother. I just didn’t think it would happen.”
She looks relieved, at least until I add the next part, the thing I can’t get out of my head.
“I just don’t know how long I’ll get to spend with her.”
“Don’t talk like that, Willow,” Raven pleads. “We don’t know, okay? We don’t know how everything will go.”
I nod, emotion clogging my throat. I know she’s right, and I’m trying to keep an open mind and heart like Nan said. It’s easier said than done, considering I also know the history between our two families. It’s something I can’t bring myself to tell Raven about.
“I should go take a shower,” I tell her.
“Okay. Talk to you tomorrow?”
I smile at that, knowing Raven will probably call me again tonight. She can’t go a full day without talking to me several times.
“Sounds like a deal.”
We disconnect the call, and I give Fiona a scratch between her ears before I yawn and shuffle to the bathroom. I’m still tired, but I slept better last night than I have in weeks.
I take a short shower and put on my robe with the intent to go pick out some clothes from my room. But when I open the bathroom door, I feel an immediate shift in the air, and I’m greeted by the sight of Salomé sitting on one of the chairs near the window, my breakfast tray resting beside her on the table.
“I took the liberty of bringing it in for you,” she tells me.
“You really shouldn’t have,” I mutter. “I won’t touch any of it now.”
She studies me, her face devoid of any human emotion. Not for the first time, I wonder how she could be of any relation to Azrael. How he and his siblings could grow up under her cold and undoubtedly callous parenting style and turn out the way they did is mind-boggling because they are nothing like her.
“If I wanted to poison you, I would have done it long ago,” Salomé responds. “I’ve had every opportunity.”
“I suppose that’s true. You’ve proven yourself to have plenty of opportunities. And perhaps plenty of practice, too.”
“Explain yourself, witch.” She narrows her gaze. “What exactly are you accusing me of?”
“I think you know,” I answer. “You speak of gods and angels, and yet it’s you who has been moving the chess pieces around the board.”
She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t have to. The truth is written in her emotionless eyes.
“Do you harbor love for any of your grandchildren?” I ask. “Or are they all pawns to be manipulated and pushed around to suit your selfish desires?”
She balls her fists at her sides. “What do you know of love, whore? Do you think I don’t see how you’re trying to manipulate Azrael? The way you lure him between your legs as if that will save you somehow. You are foolish if you think that means anything. He can have any woman he chooses. He’s probably out with one right now, if I had to venture a guess. There’s nothing special about you.”
“Spoken like a pious woman,” I scoff. “What is it you’re so afraid of, Salomé? Do you really feel that threatened by me?”
“The Tithe will be paid!” she snarls, rising to her full height to point her finger at me. “This is the natural order, and you will not change it. Wake up, and stop believing in fairytales. Everything Azrael does is for his family. He killed those Disciples because they took his sister, not you. He signed the contract himself, and he carries the mark of Shemhazai. Only a foolish little girl would believe she could be worthy of a man of his greatness. You have had one purpose since you entered this house, and that purpose will be fulfilled when your blood is spilled on our soil, at Shemhazai’s feet, by the husband who will sacrifice you without a second thought.”
