Therian Prisoner(61)
Nehema pulled open the door, her expression tense and troubled. “Where did you go? That woman has been wailing nonstop since you left.”
“She’s gagged and the basement is insulated. How much noise can she make?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Well, we’ve got a bigger problem than Carly Ides. Payne is at the sanctuary.”
“Payne?” Confusion creased Nehema’s brow for a moment then her eyes widened and her lips formed a perfect O. “That’s not possible. Is it? It’s been much too long.”
“I can’t explain how, but it was him.”
Nehema shook her head and shoved both hands into the pockets of her fluffy blue robe. With her feet encased in matching slippers and her graying hair in disarray, Nehema looked every inch the suburban grandmother, not the driving force behind a paramilitary campaign intent on the destruction of Therian males. Zophiel was sick of the suburban grandmother. All the hand-wringing and continual complaints made Zophiel restless and edgy. If she couldn’t find a way to reenergize her sister’s ruthless huntress, it might be time to consider a separation.
“If it was really Payne, we need to leave the state,” Nehema concluded. “Maybe go back to Canada for a while. Things are completely out of control.”
“Not a chance.” Zophiel tossed her long silver braid over her shoulder and grinned. “Things are just getting interesting.”
Fear darkened Nehema’s green eyes, making them appear almost brown. “I don’t think I can go through it again. The last time you gave in to your dark side, it cost us both dearly. I know you can’t change who you are, but you don’t have to be controlled by his impulses.”
“Go ahead. Say it.” She narrowed her gaze as she slowly crossed the room. “I don’t have to act like a demon just because I was sired by one.”
Nehema licked her lips and began a subtle retreat. “We both have something dark inside us. I fight my animal nature every hour of every day. I know you can find the strength to do the same.”
“But that’s the difference between you and me. I don’t want to fight my ‘dark side’. I embrace it and allow it to empower me.”
“It’s sinful. It’s evil.” Nehema began her familiar tirade. “Each time you abandon yourself to that darkness a piece of your true self dies.”
“But what if the darkness is my true self? After all, I have a Therian nature from our mother as well as my father’s demonic legacy. It’s simple mathematics. I’m more evil than good.”
The color drained from Nehema’s face and she pressed her hand against her throat. “Don’t say such things. They’re blasphemous. Mother was innocent. She was brutalized by a being from the pit of hell and she—”
“That’s your story, not hers. She was seduced by a demon. That much is irrefutable, but he didn’t brutalize her. In fact she sneaked away to be with him several times before I was conceived.”
Nehema put her hands over her ears and shook her head. “I will not listen to these lies. Mother was blinded by his evil magic. She didn’t realize she’d been deceived until it was too late.”
This was an old argument, one that no longer held any appeal for Zophiel. “Believe what you like. I know the truth. Denying my demonic nature is as pointless as you denying you’re Therian.”
“I am not Therian.” Nehema suddenly straightened and indignation brightened her eyes. “I have never intentionally transformed, therefore I am still human.”
Zophiel rubbed the back of her neck. She’d heard the denial so often she should be used to it, but annoyance turned to irritation and finally cold determination spread through her entire body. “Humans don’t live for a hundred and seventy-five years.”
Nehema’s chin came up and she glared at Zophiel. “Perhaps my life has been expanded until I accomplish my goal. I have never been this close before. Once the backers determine how transformation occurs, the genetic mutation can be reversed. The curse will be broken and future generations will be free to live as they were meant to live.”
“There are two gaping holes in your objective.” She held up her index finger. “One, Therians don’t want to be ‘cured’ and two,” she held up her middle finger, “the backers want to control transformation, not suppress it.”
“At some point they will have to suppress it.” Nehema tossed her head, sending her hair cascading over her shoulders. She hadn’t looked this animated in months. Zophiel should have provoked her sooner. “Any weapon is most effective when you have exclusive control over it.”