Jegudiel (Deadly Virtues #2) -Tillie Cole Page 0,65

listen to your troubles, I’m here. It’s nice to have sisterhood back in my life.” She pushed back her extremely long hair. “I may not be a practicing novitiate anymore, but I still take my teachings seriously. I still live to serve, albeit on a road rough in terrain and far less traveled. But there is nothing you could confess that could turn me from you. If you are to be part of our family, I want you to know that my door is always open to you. This is an estate filled with survivors, warriors who have made it through a bloody war.” Maria’s gaze shone. “But not even the strongest among us can fight through something like that and not be somewhat wounded. Talking can help.”

With that, Maria left the office … and sent Noa reeling. Had anyone in her life ever offered her anything simply out of the goodness of their heart? Noa’s eyes closed as she tried to calm her thundering pulse. But not even the strongest among us can fight through something like that and not be somewhat wounded. She felt her hand shaking on her thigh and gritted her teeth when a flash of a memory came barreling into her mind … Noa, sitting on an older woman’s lap, tarot cards spread around them, a fragrant cup of tea in her hand, and a blazing fire before them, keeping them warm.

An ember of the warmth from that fire broke from Noa’s memory and flooded her body. She smelled lavender and patchouli drifting around her like a soothing aura. She saw the moon full and blue and high in the sky, felt fresh grass under the soles of her feet. There was soft, rhythmic chanting around them, and then the woman began to sing about the wind and rain. But the warmth in Noa’s body cooled as that softly singing voice cut to a deafening scream, filled with pain and fear. Then came the low tone of violent male voices …

Noa opened her eyes and jumped to her feet. Her breathing was erratic, and her chest felt as though a crater had been carved into the flesh. She shook her head, expelling the unwanted feelings from her body. As they had been so many times before, the cracks that had managed to fissure inside her were covered with granite and stopped dead in their tracks. Noa turned to the door, but as she did, she felt wetness on her cheeks. She lifted her hand to her face.

Tears.

Tears were useless, a pathetic sign of weakness. So Noa straightened her spine, took a deep breath, and wiped those tears dry.

Chapter 11

Noa didn’t notice if it was warm or cold as she fled the housekeeper’s home in the cover of darkness. She had sneaked out, unseen, and trudged over the manor’s vast grounds. She passed perfectly manicured gardens, greenhouses filled with roses, masses of trees, and private, secluded groves until she finally saw the man-made lake Diel had told her about. Flutters invaded her chest as her eyes landed on a fairytale building just beyond it.

The folly.

Noa smirked. Diel had chosen a building suitable for weddings and romance and the confessing of true love for their confrontation. But all they would be bringing was violence and pain and the facing of their inner demons.

Noa’s long pink hair blew around her face, creating a momentary veil. She had left it free from the braid tonight. She wore top-to-toe leather and clutched Gabriel’s stolen remote in her hand. It felt like fire in her palm, but its freedom flooded into her veins.

She could almost taste it, the indescribable sensation that came from such freedom. The sense of liberation she’d felt when she pushed her knife into the heart of a Brethren priest who had hurt her as a child. Watching the life drain from his eyes, pulling her scarf from her face so he could see exactly who had come to send him to hell.

The lake rippled as she walked along its perimeter. The full moon reflected off its black surface, and a fountain lay dormant in the center. The statue looked like a stone mermaid holding a man in her hand—a lover, perhaps? Noa stopped when the image became clear, and the smirk she had been wearing spread into a wide smile. No, it wasn’t a mermaid holding a lover, but a fang-toothed siren with long wavy locks and bare breasts dragging a screaming, terrified sailor to the sea’s

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