Noa had told Diel that some of her tongue had been removed by the Witch Finders as a punishment. She had rarely spoken since, and if she did it was only ever to her sisters. Naomi’s face paled and she shook her head profusely. “Please …” Noa’s voice cracked, as did Naomi’s terrified expression. Even in his weakened state, Diel could see pure fear reflected in Naomi’s face as her eyes scanned the room.
“Please, Naomi,” Noa begged. Diel didn’t know what she was begging her for, but he trusted Noa as much as he did any of his brothers.
“We’ll leave the room,” Gabriel said to Noa and Naomi, “if it will help things. If it makes things better for you.”
Sela’s hand tightened on Diel’s shoulder. His best friend didn’t want to go. “And what exactly are you planning to do?” Sela asked, suspicion and protectiveness lacing his voice.
“Regression.” Dinah turned to Noa. “That’s what you’re thinking, right?” Noa nodded. Dinah stepped forward. “I’ll do it. I’ve seen Naomi do it before. I have some knowledge on it. I think I can do it.”
Noa’s head dropped, and Diel saw the disappointment in her face. She turned back to him, smiling a strained smile as she brushed her hand over his forehead. Then Naomi stepped forward. The Coven stilled, and Noa turned around again. Naomi lifted her head gave Noa a subtle nod.
“Thank you,” Noa said with a deep exhale. She briefly released Diel to embrace Naomi. Noa held her younger sister tightly, only pulling away to kiss her cheek. “Thank you.”
As Naomi went to leave the room, Gabriel asked her, “Do you need us to leave?” Naomi looked at the Fallen brothers, who were tense, awaiting her response. Anyone could see they didn’t want to go anywhere. That was the Fallen. It was a unit, a brotherhood. When one of them hurt, they all did. When one of them was down, the others were there to pick him back up.
Naomi dropped her shoulders, but then shook her head. They could stay. She quickly left the room, Candace and Jo following behind. “She’s gone to get some things that she needs,” Dinah said.
Noa took Diel’s hand again and sat on the bed beside him. He breathed deeply.
Regression. They were going to try regression.
“What the fuck happens with regression?” Bara asked, sitting down on a nearby chair.
“It’s a type of hypnosis,” Dinah said. “It unlocks your subconscious. Frees memories that have been blocked out by trauma, things that have been repressed.”
Bara’s smile was immediate. “Trauma? I don’t think anyone in this room has experienced any trauma.” Sarcasm dripped off him like water. Noa sighed at Diel’s brother’s ill-timed attempt at humor, and Diel looked over at her. She scooted down beside him until they faced one another.
A light knock came on the bedroom door, and Maria let herself in. Raphael was across the bedroom in seconds to kiss her. As they pulled apart, she said, “Candace and Jo have just told me what’s happening.” Raphael took her to the couch beside Bara. He pulled her to his lap, and Diel looked at the happiness on Raphael’s face as he held her, golden eyes content. Diel wondered if he ever looked like that around Noa. He never used to understand Raphael’s need for Maria.
He absolutely did now.
Diel kissed Noa’s head as she threaded her arm around his waist. “Feel free to give him a good-luck fuck,” Bara said to Noa, his legs crossed and his red hair hanging down over his shoulders like a curtain of flames.
Diel tensed, but Uriel shook his head at his best friend and said, “Or don’t.”
“Raphe, you have to side with me on this one,” Bara said. “Fucking is your thing. Sex and hedonism and all that mortal-sin shit.”
A bright smile of agreement appeared on Raphael’s face. Maria shook her head at her lover, and Raphael in turn just kissed her again, his hand wrapping around the lengths of her incredibly long hair. “Only with you, little rose,” he said against her mouth.
Gabriel appeared at Diel’s bedside. Worry was obvious in his expression. “Are you okay with this, brother?” Gabriel’s crucifix hung like an omen around his neck. He was the only one of the Fallen who ever put any trust in that well-known cross, the only one, bar Maria, who saw it as anything but a symbol of their repressive childhoods.
The pain in Diel’s head had downgraded to a low hum, obvious but not crippling. Diel was a