that?”
“Face the truth, little sister. He lied to us. And you—” He jabbed a finger at her chest. “—you want that man. You want to lie naked in his bed. Admit it.”
Cassandra’s face burned and her eyes bulged as she stared at her brother. She wanted to deny his accusations, but anger kept any words from forming. Her silence seemed to only fuel Jordan’s anger.
“See?” he sneered. “Demon blood. It makes you want him. It makes you choose a stranger over me, makes you want to behave like a prostitute. If you deny it, you’re a liar just like Father.”
“Do not speak of him that way!” Cassandra yelled. “Do not speak of him at all.”
“Demon blood makes us act like this, little sister. That’s why I am the way I am. And you are no different. Not really. I see it in your eyes. Your lust. Your desire. Your defiance. Thank Father for all that.” He leaned back and stroked his chin. “Oh, but you can’t. He conveniently died instead of facing his own children. The coward I always thought he was!”
Sickened by Jordan’s words, Cassandra could think of only one way to shut him up. She pulled her hand back and let it fly forward. But she didn’t slap him. She curled her hand into a fist and punched him in the jaw. As strong as he was, he staggered several steps backward. His blue eyes widened with surprise and his hand went to his injured face. Cassandra turned once again and never looked back.
When she entered the hut, she was grateful to find Niko still sleeping soundly. She sank to her knees and cried. Life had already changed so much. Why did Father wait until he died to tell us? Is Jordan right? She refused to believe her brother’s theory. But she also couldn’t explain his behavior. How could he be so cruel? So selfish? What happened to him? They were so different and she almost had to wonder if he did have demon blood in him.
But if he did …
“Is everything okay?” a husky voice asked.
Cassandra looked up in surprise to find Niko watching her from his bed—her bed—with those strangely beautiful green eyes. She scrubbed the tears from her face.
“Not really,” she admitted, but then she lifted her chin and went to him. She held her hand to his cheek and found his skin temperature to be nearly normal. “How are you?”
“I think I’ll be okay.” Niko covered her hand with his, pressing it tighter against his face. “With you here.”
He closed his eyes and drifted off again. Her hand on his face suddenly felt more intimate than the touch of a healer. She should pull away, but she liked the feeling of his large hand over her small one. She liked the strange tingle of his skin against hers. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have all of him pressed against all of her. Then she gasped and yanked her hand away.
She sprang back, landing on her feet near Father’s bed. How could I think such a thing? Is the demon blood coming out in me? She looked at her palm that had pressed against Niko’s face. She’d never felt anything like that. It felt good, not bad. But Mother had told her many things that felt good weren’t. Especially when it came to men. And punching Jordan had also felt good … at the time. Now her heart squeezed with guilt for hurting her own brother.
She didn’t know what to believe. Was she letting Jordan get to her? Or did she just prove him right? But how could she be a demon? She cared for people. Healed strangers. Gave them everything she could. But what Jordan said … what just happened … Lust and desire—Jordan said he’d seen it in her eyes. Was that what she’d just felt? Was wanting to be close to a man wrong?
Cassandra looked at her Father’s empty bedding. She bent down and smelled him in the blankets.
“I miss you, Father,” she cried. “I miss you so much. I need you. I do need to know.”
She pulled the blankets back, wanting to crawl underneath them, to close her eyes and not think about angels and demons anymore. The thought of being a demon—even half a demon—scared her so much, yet she thought it might be something she would have to face. Maybe her vision had been clouded and confused when Father rose to leave them. Maybe that hadn’t been him at all, with the glorious white wings, looking like an Angel. Maybe Jordan had seen the truth, while she had seen only what she wanted … what she wanted to believe.
She looked over her shoulder at the door, wondering if Jordan had already left, if it was too late to catch him. But she was too exhausted to even try. She would decide in the morning if she really wanted the answers he sought.
She slid into Father’s bedding and began to lay her head down when something pricked her shoulder. She reached underneath herself, pulled out what felt like a twig and held it up to the fire—a small feather, about the length of her thumb. It seemed to almost glow, it shone so white, with gold at the tip of its quill. She held it to her nose and smelled Father. She brushed the feathery softness against her lips as she lay down. She smiled and closed her eyes.
And she saw Father, hovering above her, just like his last moments with them. When he rose with white wings outspread. When he looked so inhumanly magnificent. When he looked like his real self: an Angel.
No, she didn’t need answers from anyone else. She had to believe in herself, in her own eyes, in her own heart. As she’d told Jordan, what they now knew didn’t change anything. She would still care for others and heal them when possible. Her heart still desperately wanted that kind of love Father and Mother shared. And how could a demon want to care for others? Want love?
Jordan is wrong. She must find him and convince him before he ruined his life.
Chapter 4
Jordan rubbed his jaw as he watched his sister disappear into the raggedy grass hut they called a home. He’d taught her how to throw that punch, never expecting she’d use it on him. If the forming bruise didn’t pulse on his skin and into his bone right now, he’d never believe her capable of physically harming another person. She had the strength and ability, but not the temperament. He wasn’t surprised to find that perfect Cassandra wasn’t so perfect after all, though. He’d suspected she had a streak buried deeply under all that goodness and now he knew how to pull it out of her.
He turned his back to their home and pulled his dagger out of his belt, swiping it at the thigh-high grass as he walked to the far edge of the clearing. His anger, ignited by Father’s death and fueled by Cassandra’s rejection, cooled as new plans formed in his mind. Perhaps Father’s death—an inexact term for someone who’d revealed their true dark self and then just disappeared, but the only way Jordan could describe it—hadn’t ruined everything after all. He just needed to convince Cassandra of their potential and how much better their lives could be. She should be easier to convince than Father, who had been so cowardly and stubborn.
Jordan’s plans had begun forming over a decade ago, although the idea had planted itself in his mind many, many years before then, while Mother was still alive. Once he had become a man, he’d grown restless, knowing there was more to experience in this world than their secluded lives. Although the rest of his family seemed happy, he was not. He wanted more. So Father took him along on supply trips and taught him how to barter in the marketplace, hunt in the wilderness and fight with a sword and dagger. While at the market one day, a rival army attacked the town. Jordan and Father had to fight or be taken as slaves, leaving Mother and Cassandra on their own. Jordan saw clearly that he and Father were superior warriors compared to any of the trained soldiers on either side.
After experiencing the thrill of victory, he questioned Father on the way home, asking why they didn’t just overthrow the rulers of a small village, claim their spot as leaders and create a real home for their family. Father quickly dismissed Jordan’s notions, explaining that although civilization was a threat to them because of their differences, they were to treat people with kindness, respect and love.
“It is not our place to rule a village,” Father had said. “We’re to serve the people however we can, but never abuse the abilities we’ve been given.”
Serve the people who would lock them up or stone them to death? Jordan didn’t understand and eventually decided Father was simply a coward.
After Mother died, Father and Cassandra found solace in each other, tightening their bond, while Jordan drifted further away. He began making the supply trips on his own since Father didn’t want to leave Cassandra
