But this was the daughter of a demon who walked the earth in the form of a man-wolf shifter.
How innocent was she? How innocent could she be? "Do you know the song?" he asked suddenly. He'd been walking down an alley innocently enough when he'd heard that song drifting through an open window. For a split second, he'd been consumed by its beauty, and then it had torn into him, ripping apart his humanity, and igniting a ravenous, killing rage that ripped his wolf from his control, forcing him to shift … and to kill. That same song had turned countless wolves into Grigori's murderous pack. It was the darkest evil, rippling with power. If Abby had grown up in Grigori's pack, she might have access to it. "Do you know the words and the melody?"
Her cheeks turned red. "I do."
He tensed. "So, you could start singing it at any moment and force me to shift?"
Her eyes widened, and her cheeks turned even redder. "I wouldn't do that-"
"But you could." He believed her that she wouldn't do it on purpose. There was a purity to her soul that he felt deep in his bones. He'd never been wrong about a person, and he wasn't worried he was wrong now. But if she had the capacity to turn that song on him … hell. It was a tremendous risk to even be standing near her.
She sighed, but she didn't look away. She met his gaze, and nodded, unwilling to hide the truth from him. "Yes."
"Jesus." He turned away, running his hands through his hair. He'd been living in terror that the song running through his subconscious would force him to shift, and now, here was a woman who could control him with just a whisper. With a few words, she could turn him into a living nightmare over which he had no control.
He realized his hands were shaking, and he shoved them in his pockets to hide his weakness. His index finger hit the silver spheres, and he swore, jerking his hand back when it started to burn.
"Jace!" She grabbed his arm, and he froze, unwilling to turn around to face her. "I'm not like him. My mother died trying to protect us from him. He killed my mother, and he had my sister killed. I despise everything he stands for, including that song. He killed everyone who matters to me." Her voice started to break, and tears swam in her green eyes. "He has my nephew. I have to get him back, Jace. Please."
He steeled himself to her plea, even though her desperation wrenched a part of his soul that he fought so hard to protect. The stakes were too high. He couldn't afford to have emotion interfere. Instead, he replayed that song in his head, the one that had haunted him for weeks, comparing it to her voice. As he did so, a slow burn of dread rose inside him. "Was that your voice that I heard singing it? Were you the one singing it?"
Stark anguish flashed across her face, giving him his answer.
He stepped back, horrified. "You did that? To your own sister? You had me kill her?"
"No!" She reached for him, but he stepped to the right, avoiding her. Instead, she fell to her knees, tears swimming in her eyes. "That was a recording of my voice. I wasn't even there. I just … " She shook her head. "I didn't know my voice could do that, until it was too late. Once Grigori found out, it was too late." She spread her hands, palms up, indicating helplessness. "My own voice killed my sister," she whispered. "It's my fault, Jace. My fault."
Her anguish pierced his shields, and he went down to his knees in front of her. He took her hands, which were ice cold in his. "It's not your fault. He's the murderer, not you." He pressed her hands between his palms, using his shifter heat to warm them. "He wants you, doesn't he?" he asked softly. "You're his weapon. He doesn't want Seth. It's you."
She shook her head. "He doesn't need me anymore. He has my voice recorded. It's Seth, he wants, because Seth is his-" She stopped, cutting herself off.
She didn't need to finish the sentence. He'd already figured it out. "Seth is his grandson."
At her nod, the enormity of the situation pressed down upon him. He was being asked to go rescue Grigori's grandson? From Grigori himself? With the woman whose voice could turn him into a murderer? What the fuck?
He wrapped her hands up in his as he fought to process it. He owed Abby and Melissa, but at the same time, the situation was incredibly volatile, fraught with obstacles that risked more innocent deaths. The worst fucking thing he'd done in his life was murder Melissa Stevens, and if he went after Grigori with Abby, he was risking it all again, and so much more.
Abby was with him. She would be his nearest target if he heard the song again, and he had no doubt that Grigori wouldn't hesitate to turn him against Abby, if he decided he didn't need her.
He looked into her desperate green eyes, so full of guilt and self-recrimination, and something inside him roared in response to her vulnerability. He slid his hand along her jaw, tracing the curves of her neck. He needed to help her. He needed to offer her every resource at his disposal … but at the same time, he was bound by what was left of his moral code to protect her from himself.
"Jace?"
He cupped the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in the soft tresses of her hair. "No."
Her face fell, wrenching at his gut. "But-"
"No." He dropped his hand and stood up. "I'm so sorry, Abby. I would do anything for you, except risk your life." Leaving her kneeling in the mud, he forced himself to turn away from her and walked back toward the truck, where Cash and Drake were waiting. "Let's go." He gestured for Cash to move aside so he could open the door, but the shifter didn't move.
"You have to help her," Cash said. "You need to get that kid away from Grigori."
He knew Cash was right, but what the hell? The stakes were too high. "How do I even know what's true and what's not? She could be working for him. I could be walking right into a fucking trap." He didn't want to admit the truth, that he might kill her. He'd led his pack by example, by making them believe that every one of them was stronger than the base instincts of their wolves. It was brutal to have descended into a hell that he'd refused to acknowledge was even real.
"You can scent deceit better than anyone," Cash said. "What did she smell like?"
The faint scent of violet on a summer day brushed through his mind. "She smelled like warm sunshine and those little purple flowers that come only in the spring," he snapped, blurting it out before he had time to process it. When's Cash's eyes widened in surprise, Jace ground his jaw and glared at him, sort of horrified by what he'd just blurted. Sunshine and flowers? Seriously? She was messing with him, in more ways that he could deal with right now. "Back off, Cash."
"We'll go with you," Cash said. "We'll guard you from her, and we'll protect her from you."
"Yeah, we'll sit between you so there's no hanky-panky," Drake added, grinning. "It'll be like having a chaperone."
"Hanky-panky? What are you, twelve?" The thought of Drake sitting between him and Abby made anger shift inside Jace. He didn't like the idea of the other wolf being next to her. "You can't come," he said, dismissing the idea immediately. "The pack needs you both. We can't leave it unprotected in case Grigori returns."
"Cash can handle the pack. I'll go with you," Drake said. "I won't let you kill her, I swear."
"I can take care of myself," Abby interrupted. There was an audible click, and Jace felt the cold steel of a gun against the back of his neck.
He spun around to find Abby less than a foot away, her gun now pressed to his forehead. "Silver bullets," she said softly. "If you try to kill me, I will take you down." She held up another gun. "This one's for you. If I start to sing, you can kill me."
Cash snorted. "This feels like a safe, supportive partnership with all the makings of a successful pairing."
But Jace didn't laugh. He stared into Abby's unflinching green eyes, and something inside him seemed to settle. She was fully prepared to shoot him, and she was also willing to give him the power to silence her if she started to sing.
"You get it," he said quietly, shocked to realize exactly how deeply entrenched his fear of being forced to shift and kill again was. He could not allow his wolf to kill again. The taste for blood was too intrinsic to the wolf, and the only way to maintain control over it was to never allow it to taste the freedom. His wolf had tasted it once, and now it was ready for more. More death. More slaughter. More merciless killing. If she started to sing, he would have only a split second to react before he would lose control. If he had a gun, that split second would be long enough. But could he shoot her? Was that any better than letting his wolf slaughter someone? Death of an innocent was death, no matter whether it was by a gun or his own slathering jaws.