“Same difference.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Rosser shook his head. “I can’t fix it.”
“It’s too late. For all of us.”
“Pauly, no!”
Paul’s look was full of pain, his eyes moving over his father’s face intently, as though trying to memorize the details. “I love you, Dad. I’m sorry. I grew up to be the man you always wanted me to be. I can’t be responsible for innocent people dying. And I don’t think you want me to, either. We’ll see each other again. Soon.”
He was staring into his father’s eyes as the bullet entered his father’s chest. A soundless scream came as Rosser’s mouth opened in protest and nothing came out. The loud report of the gun seemed to echo in the vast emptiness of the room, and it was like time slowed.
“No!” My reaction felt delayed. He’d actually shot him! Death was here. Present in the room. He was claiming a soul before my eyes.
Rosser could only look down at his chest as crimson spread across his white button-up shirt. Then his legs buckled, landing him on his knees, and his face creased into lines of pain. A single deep, guttural sob tore from Paul’s chest. He closed his swollen, purpled eyes with an anguished sound trembling on his lips.
It had really happened. Rosser was dying and no one was going to help him. This wasn’t a dream to wake up from. Oh, shit! Oh, my God! I gasped for breath after breath, horrified and mesmerized by the sight all at once. Sweat broke out across my face and neck.
In the next moment, all thoughts fled as cold fingers of fear dug in to my mind, gripping it firmly. My thoughts swirled around a single question.
Was I next?
Frank sighed, tilting his head to the side as though looking at a small curiosity, and watched Rosser collapse to his belly, his breathing labored, heavy and slowing little by little. It wasn’t like in the movies. This wasn’t fast. It was slow and agonizing. Frank was taking a certain amount of pleasure in watching Rosser suffer his final moments. A light of satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. That was more frightening than anything. It was so inhuman.
Rosser took a final rattling breath and released it, only to be silent once and for all.
Gone. Done. Not coming back. Paul was right. None of us was going to survive.
I’m so sorry, Ryder. I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you. Or would it have made a difference? Maybe we would both have been taken, both of us facing death. No. This was best. I wouldn’t have been able to handle seeing his death. And maybe this was going to be my death, but I wasn’t going to make it easy.
Frank was not going to let me out alive willingly, but I still had mylunate on my toe. When I had the chance, I was going grab hold of Paul, somehow, and hopefully get us both the hell out of here.
“Hog.” Frank turned to Baldy. “Why don’t you go out and let me know when our guests arrive? And I do hope you’ll have a different answer for them, Paul, when they ask for the mylunate this time. As you know, they are experts at torture. And while you might be able to handle the pain, I don’t think Taylor here is made of the same stuff.”
“Is that why I’m here?” I asked shakily. “To force Paul to talk?”
“That is a good question. A very good question.” Frank chuckled as he pondered it. It was like he was trying to decide whether or not to tell me something. With a look like he was indulging in a guilty pleasure, he said, “You are about to be very surprised, Taylor, dear. You see, your name is not really Taylor.”
“Wh-what are you t-talking about?” This wasn’t exactly what I was expecting to hear, but I suddenly got goose bumps. What did he know about me? I was starting to get that weird, fated feeling again.
“What am I talking about? I’m talking about loose ends, my darling. You are a loose end.”
“A loose end?” Shit, this felt surreal.
He smiled charmingly, becoming giddy with his game. “Do you know who your father is?”
The door from the Gods’ plane opened in my mind, a calming breeze sifting through my heart and soul. This was Dreya. She was with me. I could feel her energy signature, even if only a little.
Back was the feeling of inevitability, where all roads led to this one destination in time. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I was supposed to be here at this moment. I knew I was meant to have this conversation with the devil.
“What do you know about him?” I managed the question in an even tone.
“He’s from another world,” Frank said dramatically. He motioned his hands wide, encompassing the universe in a grandiose gesture. When all I did was continue to stare at him, he seemed disappointed and added, almost sulkily, “You don’t seem surprised. Either you already know, or you don’t believe me.”
“I know, and I believe you,” I said quietly.
“His name was Chagin Battler.”
Chagin. The name echoed through my mind, rolling around a few times as I tried it out in the privacy of my thoughts. Finally, I had a name to put to my father, even if I didn’t have a picture. I was the daughter of Chagin. I didn’t know what that was supposed to mean to me. I looked inward and didn’t feel any particularly good or bad thoughts.
“Would you like to know your real name?”
“My real name?” I frowned.
“Your parents named you Tayla, after your father’s mother. She’s still alive, you know.”
Tayla? I had a grandmother who was still alive? “Where is she?”
“She works as a slave to Ral’e, the warrior king of the Brausa.” He shook his head with silent mirth, making his lips tremble.
“Why is that funny?” I asked, almost afraid to know the answer.
“I was paid by Ral’e to kill her son, and now she’s made to serve him that ordered the assassination—the warrior king.”
“Why? Why did this leader want my father dead?”
“He was a traitor.”
Chapter Twenty-One
This was a front-row seat to a show I’d wanted to see for years. I couldn’t believe I was actually hearing about my father, if Frank was to be believed. It didn’t feel like he was lying. He had no reason to lie at this point.
“The irony is, your father paid me to bring him to Earth to escape execution by his own people. In turn, they paid me to kill him. In essence, he paid his own executioner.”
The upsurge of anger I felt was surprising. Thinning my lips to keep from mouthing off, I asked, “Why would they call him a traitor?”
With a narrow-eyed stare that seemed to take him back in time, Frank took a few seconds to consider the question before he replied. “He was protesting the heavy-handedness and corrupt policies Ral’e was beginning to implement, and some of his people were starting to listen. There were whispers of revolt, talk of the peaceful movement their previous king had tried to move forward with. I must give it to him for having the courage of his convictions. He knew this would bring heavy censure, but I don’t think he believed his own leader was so corrupt that Ral’e would fabricate evidence against him.”
“So his king made up evidence against him and got rid of him.”
“That is correct. He was accused of infiltrating the ranks to help the Sunan people and sentenced to execution. In any case, he came to know that the warrior king was going to have him killed. He approached me and asked me to help him escape.”
“If you knew he was being set up, how could you kill him?”
Frank’s empty, soulless eyes looked down at me, and he tut-tutted, as though I were a foolish child. “Taylor, darling, why would I care about the Brausiian people? They’re filthy animals.”
I felt the sting of the comment, though I still frowned at him, frightened by how he could be so ruthless. I’d never been around anyone who was so conscienceless before. “So you helped him get to Earth and then killed him?”