“It’s me. It’s Mom.” The older woman reached out to Aimee. “Remember when you were six and we had the blizzard that kept us snowbound for four days? We cooked over the fireplace in the living room and camped out on the floor there.”
“And remember when you were eight and crashed your bike into the apple tree on the edge of the garden?” the man added. “You cried so hard. Not because you were hurt, but because you broke your bike.”
Aimee stepped forward, her footsteps hesitant. No one but her parents could know such things. “Mom. Dad.” She swiped her arm over her face, drying her tears in her sleeve. Eyes red and luminous, she reached out to the woman.
Roric could feel her slipping away from him. His heart ached for her and for himself. She deserved this. She deserved to have her family reunited and to be happy.
But what about the Lady? What about his fellow warriors? Didn’t they deserve to be rescued? They’d suffered for millennia. What were a few human years of suffering when compared to that?
He knew the demon was feeding his doubts and thoughts, but that didn’t stop the flood of disappointment and anger that filled him. Aimee was quick to change her mind. One minute she was staying, the next she was turning her back on him to save her family.
But wasn’t that exactly what he was doing?
The Lady wouldn’t want innocents hurt in order to free herself, and neither would his fellow warriors. Resolve filled him. He would support Aimee, whatever her decision.
As he watched, mother and daughter drew closer, almost touching. At the last second, Aimee curled her fingers into her palm.
“No! This isn’t real. This is a trick.”
“You’re my daughter,” the man cried.
Roric stared at the man. For a moment, he thought he saw the outline of the man’s body shimmer. “Aimee.”
“I know.” She smiled sadly, clearly hearing the warning of caution in his tone. She turned to the older man. “I wish you were my father, but you’re not.”
“That’s not true,” the woman cried.
“My parents are in heaven, and nothing you can say or do can convince me otherwise.”
“You’re right. You’re not my daughter,” the man whispered. “My daughter would save her parents, not sacrifice them for a man she barely knows.”
Aimee winced but stood her ground. The black hole opened up, and the pair cried out as they were sucked back into the depths of hell. They were both screaming as the hole closed around them, swallowing them whole. Aimee cried out and stumbled forward, but Roric caught her and yanked her back against him.
Her skin was cold and clammy. She was shivering. He knew how much this had cost her. The devil had made certain she’d never know for sure if she was being tested or if she’d just resigned her parents to an eternity in Hell.
“Such a selfish creature you are, Aimee.” Sandra, who’d been quiet until now, shook her head mockingly. “And here I thought you were such a good girl. You might fit in just fine in Hell after all.”
Aimee couldn’t stop trembling. Her teeth chattered as hard as if she were lying naked outside in the snow in the dead of winter. She felt so cold. Her limbs shook uncontrollably. It had been too real. Her parents had stood before her only moments before, and she hadn’t even touched them. She’d been too afraid to. If they’d felt real, she wasn’t sure what she would have done.
Would she have sacrificed Roric and his friends and his goddess for her own happiness? She was very afraid that she would have. She ached with the need to feel her father’s strong arms around her, to feel her mother’s tender kiss against her brow.
Nothing she’d ever done in her life had been as hard as what she’d just had to do. Not living through the accident or dealing with the death of her parents, not going home to an empty house and learning to start over had been as difficult.
She hadn’t had any choice with the accident. That was fate. This had been her choice.
Anguish filled her like acid, eating away at her soul. Had it been a test? Had they been nothing more than demons in disguise? Or had they been real? She couldn’t believe that, not for a second, or she’d go mad with grief.
She could still smell her father’s spicy aftershave and her mother’s gardenia perfume. Her chest ached as she suppressed a sob. She would not cry. Not again. That would give the demon way too much pleasure.
Roric’s arms were strong and warm around her. Supporting her. Protecting her.
Yet, like her parents, his protection was an illusion. There was no safety to be found. Not anywhere. Roric had his agenda, and she’d made her decision. There was no going back. For either of them.