“Don’t read into this, Anna. It would be a mistake to romanticize me.”
“I’m not,” she assures me. “It was a nice gesture. That’s all.”
Is it? If she believes that, we are both fools.
She wears the necklace to meet Belial. I have to remind myself it’s just an inanimate object. An accessory. Not a big deal. But she keeps reaching up and touching it as she stares off, deep in thought.
I have bunged things up royally, and I haven’t a clue how to turn it back. Nothing good can come of this, especially once she meets her father. I want to give her a list of warnings—don’t tell your father about me, don’t let him know how good you are, guard yourself and be careful what you say—but I can’t say any of this because we’re in the prison parking lot now and Belial could be listening.
The visitor doors open and I swallow hard. “You’re up,” I say.
I feel ill when she enters the building and leaves my sight. I remain still and listen carefully as she makes it through security, moves into an echoey room, and sits. Soon there are sounds of chains and feet shuffling. I cannot move. I feel paralyzed with helplessness. I’m listening so intently I can hear the shake of Anna’s breath. I nearly jump when a guard tells “LaGray” to sit. I didn’t know Belial’s earthly name.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” says a deep, scratchy voice. I assume this is Belial, and I’m momentarily floored by the gentleness there. He goes on, “. . . I wanted you to have a normal life.”
“There was never any chance of that,” Anna says softly.
She doesn’t sound scared, and I feel my own fear subsiding. Especially when Belial asks, “Have they treated you well, the people who raised you?”
His voice is filled with concern. And as I continue listening for a bit, realization soon hits me—he loves her. Of course he does. Patti was right. I’m certain Belial can sense the depth of her goodness, just as Duke Alocer can sense the goodness in Kopano. They are the sort of Neph who can soften even the hearts of demons. They are the kind of Neph who deserve love.
A knot that cannot be swallowed forms in my throat. Knowing Anna is safe, I start the car and drive away.
I peruse L.A. like a sightseer for a couple hours, but I don’t really see anything because my mind’s a disaster. I don’t understand the things I feel. I’ve always been a moody bastard, but this is beyond my normal scope. I go from rage to tenderness to terror to happiness in a few blinks. Anna’s angel voodoo is a dangerous tonic. This is worse than being piss-arsed drunk—it doesn’t seem to want to burn off.
I return to the prison with only minutes to spare—L.A. traffic blows.
I push my hearing through the walls of concrete and steel until I find that gruff voice once more, “. . . might be different for you. Your mother’s good might cancel out my bad. We don’t know . . .”
I let out a full breath. She’s fine. For the first time ever I feel strange about eavesdropping, so I pull back and ponder his words. I wonder if he’s talking about what I think he is: hell. And the fact that Neph are sent to hell after death, no matter what kind of life we’ve lived. Yes, perhaps it will be different for Anna. Her soul is too good for that kind of darkness. It would be the ultimate injustice, and I’m deeply disturbed pondering her suffering.
I step from the car and lean against it, waiting. From what I can tell, Anna didn’t get a verbal beating from her father, and I’m glad for her. When the doors open, and Anna filters out with the others, all the madness I felt today disappears. My blood rushes at the sight of her. But as she gets closer, the look on her face halts my thoughts.
Something is wrong. She ignores me and climbs into the car. I go around to the driver’s side and get us out of there. I want to ask what he did and what he said, but we’re still within his five-mile hearing range.
When we’re far enough away, I’m about to ask how it went, but she buries her face in her hands and cries the most pitiful, heart-wrenching tears I’ve ever heard. I have no idea