Sweet Peril

When I looked into Dad’s eyes, I found a rock-solid faith there. He pointed at me. “You can do it. And you will. Don’t doubt yourself, ’cause if the Maker wants to use you, you gotta be all in.”

I swallowed hard. “But . . . I’ve been working,” I said in a small voice.

Next to him Patti’s eyes spilled over.

It was my deep-down terrible fear—that one day I’d touch the Sword of Righteousness and it would no longer zap me. I hadn’t touched it since before the summit.

“No, baby,” Dad assured me. “Your heart is pure.”

“But how do you know?” I whispered.

Dad shook his head. “Tell me how you feel about the people around you when you have to work.”

“I . . .” I glanced at Patti, who gave me a small nod. “At first I always get a little, I don’t know, thrill or something, when I can get them to drink. Like a rush of power. But then it fades, and I feel sorry for them. I worry about them and I feel guilty. I hate it.” The last part came out barely a whisper.

“That’s how I know your heart is pure, Anna,” he said. “Through it all, you choose to love them. You could have come to loathe humans like many of the Neph do, or to feel indifferent toward them as a way to make it easier on yourself, but that’s not you.”

I chewed my lip and stared down at the table. So many elements of this puzzle were unknown, but I hoped he was right.

“Go get the hilt,” Dad ordered.

I looked up at him, a sharp pang of fear ripping through me.

“Go get it,” he said more softly this time. I went to my room and took the leather-clad hilt from my purse on the dresser. Then I walked back to the table and lay the hilt in the middle, sitting in my chair. Dad pushed back a little, taking his hands off the table and leaning away from it. A flash of fear crossed his face and was gone just as quickly.

“Sorry,” I said, pulling the hilt closer to me.

He cleared his throat. “Go ahead and open it. Just, uh, don’t point it at me.” He looked a little sheepish saying that. “Even though I’m sure it’ll know I’m not a threat. It’s just that a single slash from an angel’s sword is what sent me to hell in the first place, so, yeah.” He cleared his throat again.

“Is that what the sword does?” Patti asked. “Sends souls to hell?”

Dad eyed the hilt with discomfort. “It disperses justice as God would have it. It can send a soul somewhere, or it can wipe a soul from existence. It knows what to do when it hits. Go ahead and touch it, baby. Don’t be afraid.”

I stared at it for a long time before wiping my sweaty palms on my shorts. With shaking hands I opened the top of the leather casing and let the hilt slide out a few inches. I sucked in a breath and brought my hands down to the shimmery metal.

I gasped as an electric current blasted through my skin, zapping up my arm. Then I curled my fingers around the hilt and let the buzz throb through my body. No flaming sword came to life from the hilt, because I wasn’t in danger. But it worked. It recognized my heart and would allow me to wield it. Every cell of my body was alive with its energy.

Patti and Dad were both watching me, their eyes shining with hope and love.

I could do this. I wanted to live with purpose. I needed there to be a worthwhile reason for all the pain.

I slid the hilt back into its case.

“Dad?”

“Hm?” He glanced up, having been lost in his own imaginings.

“When can I go to California? To tell Blake and Kaidan?” His eyes narrowed at me and I fumbled on, a tightness clamping over my insides. “’Cause they live the closest. They need to know, right? Allies and all?”

He entwined his fingers and put them behind his head. “Maybe I’ll tell them myself.”

My shoulders slumped, and I quickly squared them back again. He was testing me. Patti could tell, as well. She crossed her arms.

“Okay,” I said, unable to keep the hint of bad attitude from my voice. “Just so long as they know about it. Soon.” I crossed my arms to match Patti.

Dad closed his eyes. “Anna.”

“Yes?”

“How long’s it been since you saw the son of Pharzuph?”

Oh, crap. “Um . . . a day?”

Two giant brown eyes popped open.

“Just for a few minutes at a record store,” I clarified. “Pharzuph was out of town.”

He grumbled a muffled curse into his hand, then asked, “He called you?”

“No. He won’t talk to me. I found out about it from my friend Jay.”

Dad nodded. Where was he going with this?

“You still got a crush on him?” He linked his fingers on the table in front of him.

“It’s not a crush, Dad.”

He sighed. “And that’s exactly why it’s not a good idea for you to see him, Anna. He seems to understand that. Why don’t you?”

I bit down hard, not trusting myself to answer.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be harsh, but you still don’t have that killer instinct most Neph come to learn during childhood. You’re not cautious enough in your relationships. You can be mad at me all you want, but it’s my job to keep you out of danger. Over time your feelings for him will fade.”

“You of all people know it doesn’t work like that,” Patti said to him. “You spent hundreds of years looking for Anna’s mother.”