Page 16 of Try As I Smite
He didn’t do that, though. Instead, Alasdair tipped his head back to shout at the ceiling. “That’s enough.”
Nothing happened.
Was there more her mother wanted them to witness? Wouldn’t he know if there were more?
A spot over her heart, where no doubt a mark matching the one Alasdair bore, warmed until it became uncomfortable, and Delilah silently cursed her parent.
“I think you have to take my hand,” she said, and held hers out.
He stared at her as if she’d grown a few extra heads, then reached for her.
But Delilah jerked away with a gasp.
“I’m not going to hurt you—”
She waved him off, still staring at what had caught her attention. Leaving Alasdair standing there, she walked closer to the boy on the couch, right up to him, and bent over.
There.
In the center of his forehead, a slight red glow that faded even more as she watched. Delilah squeezed her eyes shut for a second. Holy hells, had none of the witches and warlocks in the room seen this mark that night?
She blinked, then froze as the younger Alasdair had lifted his gaze. This was the past, and she couldn’t influence it, but she swore he was looking directly at her. Impossible.
Giving herself a shake, she straightened and turned to the man. “You were marked.”
He frowned, his gaze dropping to the boy. “Marked?”
“That night. A demon, usually an upper level one, had been assigned to possess you. There is always a reason.” Always. “And until they achieve what they’re after, they don’t stop trying, which likely explains your current predicament.”
Alasdair crossed his arms. “I killed it.”
She shook her head. “If you’d killed it, the mark wouldn’t be there. You killed its underling.”
She didn’t blame him for the way he frowned, denial stark in his eyes. She wouldn’t want to believe such a thing, either. “What does this mean?”
“I’m not sure yet. Best guess? This demon attack and the ones happening now are connected. They want you for a reason. Can you think of anything a demon might want?”
The spot over her heart warmed again, suddenly.
His must’ve as well, because he grimaced. “I guess we dissect this later.”
He was right. The faster they got through the visions, the sooner he could return to his people. Delilah crossed back to his side and held out her hand, which he took in a distracted way, most likely thinking through what she’d just said, his hand swallowing hers whole.
Instantly, the darkness consumed her vision, her only link to reality the strong, remarkably steady hand wrapped around her own.
Chapter Four
Sight returned in a blink and a shiver over his skin, though Alasdair recognized that he wasn’t actually feeling the cold. More like the idea of the cold, the memory. Snow again. Just a dusting of it this time, crystalizing on the tops of storefront awnings and parked cars.
Delilah slipped her hand from his. In the transition, he forgot he hadn’t wanted to touch her again. Contrarily, he didn’t want to let go now.
She’d been a beacon of warmth, of escape, in the middle of that memory—of that moment he’d tried so hard to block out and forget since the night he’d left the house for good. The edge of that memory had been dulled, though. Almost like her presence today had altered it somehow. Reached through the past and made it…not easier exactly—
Focus. If he couldn’t be in the here and now, dealing with a demon problem, then he’d damn well use his time wisely.
Since, apparently, he’d been marked to be a target for all of time. Why him? Was taking over mages, with the variety of powers, always the plan, and he’d just been caught in the crossfire as a youth? Or was it the fact he came from an ancient magical family line and was extremely powerful? Maybe that was why they’d gone after his father initially—he’d been the head of the Covens Syndicate at the time.
But did they need Alasdair for his power? Or to keep him from preventing their uprising?
