He was here, truly here.
He blinked, squinted, and glanced around.
“Dad?” I ventured softly.
His eyes landed on me, and he jerked. His face contorted in agony. “No,” he said, his voice plaintive. “Please, not again.” He clutched his head in both hands and rocked on his knees. “Not her again. I can’t take it anymore. Please stop. Not her. I can’t take her pain. It hurts too much. Not again, not again, not again—”
“Dad…” My voice broke. “What—”
“Torture,” Azazel murmured from beside me. “They tortured him with you.”
I startled, turned to him. “What?”
“We punish not just physically.” He put his hands in his pants pockets. “Emotional torture often causes even more pain, especially when there’s guilt involved.”
“But—how—”
“He was likely shown scenes where you confronted him about his abandonment and either cried or yelled at him.” He cast me a sidelong glance. “Or both at once, since you’re an angry crier.”
“That is horrible,” I whispered.
My father was still rocking in a panic on the ground, and it broke my fucking heart to see him this way. There was a time when I would have thought I’d relish watching him feel the weight of what he did to me, knowing that he suffered from guilt over his actions.
The bleak reality was, it gave me no satisfaction at all.
Sick to my stomach, even in my spirit form, I sank to my knees in front of him and laid a hand on his shoulder, able to touch and feel him since we were both spirit.
“Dad. Stop. This isn’t a hallucination. I’m real. This is real.”
He stopped rocking.
“You’re not in Hell anymore.” I squeezed his shoulder, shaking inside and out. “It’s over.”
Haltingly, his eyes met mine. “Zoe?”
“Yes.” I felt the threat of tears in my eyes, knowing they wouldn’t fall. Not while I was here on Earth. “It’s really me. I’m not in your head. I’m not here to hurt you.”
His features slackened. “You’re really real?”
I nodded.
“Oh, my God.” He rubbed a hand over his face, then stilled. “Why don’t I feel my—” His gaze fell on Azazel, and he flinched as if whipped. “He’s one of them. He—he’s a—” He scrambled backward. “Zoe, get away from him!” Reaching out to me, he grabbed my arm and tried to pull me behind him.
My heart broke a bit more. “It’s okay,” I said soothingly, laying my hand over his. “He’s with me.”
My dad’s startled gaze swung to me. “What?”
“Um…” This was going to be awkward. “He’s my husband.”
A blank stare.
“We’re married.”
His mouth moved, but no sound came out.
“I think you broke him,” Azazel muttered from behind me. “Weeks of torture in Hell, but this is what did him in.”
“Shush,” I shot back over my shoulder. To my dad, I said, “This is Azazel, and he’s not like the others. He won’t hurt you. He’s the one who got you out for me.” I squeezed his hand. “He saved you.”
My dad’s eyes flicked to Azazel, but he still winced. I grimaced in sympathy. Yeah, it took some time to get used to his powerful presence.
“I don’t understand,” my dad rasped. “What happened? What’s going on?”
Oof, where to start?
While I was still pondering how to explain everything to my dad, Azazel said, “Call me if you need me,” and retreated to the front of the house, giving us some privacy.
I looked at my dad and bit my lip. “Well,” I said, “so I made this deal…”
And I told him. Starting with the séance, to the moment I’d found out about his soul in Hell, to our reckless rescue mission, to this instant right here, leaving out any details that were Not Safe for Parents.
My dad listened through it all, his eyes growing wider by the minute, and when I finished, he shook his head. “This is amazing.” His face full of wonder, he added softly, “You’re amazing.”
I ducked my head, foolish, childlike pleasure at his praise blooming warm inside me.
“Thank you,” he said hoarsely. “You got me out, when you had every reason to watch me burn.”
I shook my head, my voice hollow. “I don’t want to watch you burn. It’s not—” I broke off, pressed my lips together. “Seeing your pain doesn’t lessen mine.”
“Zoe,” he began, then stopped, seeming to gather himself. “I said this a thousand times to you back in Hell, to that image of yours they kept sending me. You weren’t real, but what I felt was.” He paused, his features trembling. “I’m sorry.”
I hadn’t known how much those two words would make me feel.
“I’m