flipped through the pages, wanting to get to anything that would help the Realm of Light figure out what was going on with Isabelle and Angelique.
It was only when he got to a certain passage that he sat up, his eyes widening.
I haven’t written in a while and it’s because I’m not certain how to explain this. It’s strange, surreal, almost as if it were an out-of-body experience.
I don’t know what happened. He seemed like such a nice man. Seductive, beautiful, with the most unusual eyes I’d ever seen. He took such interest in my work, and we spent days, and nights, talking about my current project. We would have dinner, and he was always so polite. I began to trust him. Perhaps that was my biggest mistake. I have always been too trusting.
He stayed with me for over a month, gaining my confidence-and my love. I knew in my heart he was the one for me. Foolish, foolish woman I was.
We made love in the desert, under the stars. It started out beautifully, but then it went so terribly wrong. Something in his eyes-those eyes that I had found so beautiful-they turned evil-horribly evil. I couldn’t stop him. The passion, the terror, I wanted to stop, and yet I didn’t want to stop. It was heaven and hell combined. When it was over, I was afraid and I ran from him into the night. He chased me. Then something even worse happened.
Two men interceded. Dressed entirely in robes of black, they fought Ahmed. I was so frightened. I hid so the two men couldn’t see me. When they approached, Ahmed changed. His eyes glowed red, he grew fangs and claws-I know what I saw, I’m not insane! He attacked, and the two men in black robes sliced through him with their swords. I smothered a scream, I was so terrified I couldn’t even breathe. But instead of Ahmed falling to the ground and bleeding, he simply disappeared in smoke and ash.
I have seen many strange things in my travels. Many unexplained things. Spiritual, demonic, call it what you will. Ahmed was not of this world.
I cowered, afraid to move, to even breathe, certain they would strike me down next. But they left. It was hours later when I could run from my hiding place.
I never told anyone what I saw.
Now I find myself pregnant with his child.
But what kind of child do I carry? Is it a human child, or, God help me, something else?
I’m so afraid. And I have no one to talk to.
Who would believe me, anyway?
Oh, shit. Dalton swallowed, his throat dry and his head throbbing. He continued to read on, realizing as he did that what he’d just read about had to be Angelique and Isabelle’s conception.
The journal entries grew sparse as the years went on. The girls were born, seemed perfectly normal, and Monette seemed relieved. She didn’t mention her secret again. She wrote about the girls’ childhoods and her own adventures in archaeology. She spoke of their travels, how the girls were educated, but she didn’t mention the demons again. Still, he couldn’t put the book down, had to know if there was anything else.
He found an entry that stopped him cold.
I worry about Isabelle. I always have, though I’ve been loath to put it in writing. Now that the girls are adults, I’ve mentioned it to Angelique. She’s noticed, too.
Isabelle has a dark side. A very dark side. Yes, we often disagree on the archaeology part of our work, but it’s more than that. I sense there’s evil within her-a true, pure evil. I don’t think she’s ever been aware of it, but I’ve noticed it since the girls were little. Small things at first. Stealing and lying well beyond harmless children’s pranks. Hurting her sister. Angelique has scars from the fights with Isabelle. I can’t recall the number of times I had to pull knives and other sharp objects away from Isabelle’s hands. The threats she made, the malevolence in her eyes. What would have happened had I not been there to keep close watch over Isabelle, to prevent potential disaster? There were times I feared she might kill her sister. I never spoke to Angelique about this. I didn’t want her to be afraid of Isabelle.
There was a fire once in a bungalow, and I found matches on Isabelle, though she denied starting it. But she’d reeked of smoke. Thank the Lord everyone had escaped the hut that night. I never told anyone I suspected my own daughter. She was only eight years old. What could I do?
There were more events than those I’ve mentioned here. So many more examples of the darkness within Isabelle. I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve never known what to do about it. I’ve watched her, praying the evil of their father never surfaces in Isabelle, but I fear that someday it might, that it already has. But as soon as I think Isabelle is lost, she turns on the charm and she’s oh so sweet, her innocence shining through. Which is real, the innocence or the darkness? I honestly don’t know.
How could this potential evil be so invisible in Angelique and so prevalent in Isabelle? I don’t understand. Yet it is what it is.
I will never tell anyone about the girls’ parentage, but now that I’m ill, I’ve asked Angelique to keep watch over her sister. Angelique knows nothing, and I would never burden her with this secret. It would destroy her to know the truth. It would destroy both of them. No one must find out. But I must ask Angelique to protect her sister.
It’s all I can do. That, and pray for Isabelle’s immortal soul.
God help her. God help them both if any part of their father lives within them.
I love my girls so much. Please, God, save them.
Dalton had to talk to Lou. Now.
“Oh, my God. What are you doing?”
He damn near leaped out of the chair, pivoting around at the sound of Isabelle’s voice.
How long had he been reading? Hours, no doubt. He’d lost track of time, so absorbed in Monette’s journal he hadn’t counted on Isabelle waking up.
Damn brilliant, Dalton.
Her hair disheveled, she’d pulled on the dress she’d worn earlier. Her eyes wide, she stepped into the room and looked down at her mother’s journal, then back up at him.
“Isabelle.” He had no words, didn’t know what to say or how to explain what she saw.
“That’s mine,” she whispered in a ragged voice as she choked back tears.
“I know.”
“How did you find it? I had it locked up.”
“Yes.”
Her gaze narrowed, anguish turning to anger. “You’re not really some rich guy who wants to help me find treasure under the sea, are you?”
