“Yeah. But who isn’t? Who doesn’t want to be in charge of their life, their own destiny?”
“Sorry,” she said, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I didn’t mean to be so defensive.”
“You have a lot of things to be angry at me about, Isabelle. Don’t be sorry.”
“You mean because of my mother’s diary?”
“Yeah.”
She shrugged. “Somehow I think everything would have happened the way it did regardless of you finding the diary or not. In fact, you might have saved my life because you found it.”
“How?”
“The demons would have found me, taken me eventually. If you hadn’t found me when you did, if the Realm and Angie and everyone else hadn’t been there that night …”
“You think the Sons of Darkness would have finished what they started with you.”
“Yes. And we wouldn’t be sitting here right now having this conversation. I wouldn’t still be human.” She’d be wholly demon, one of the Sons of Darkness.
“That’s not what happened. Don’t think about it.”
“How can I not think about it? I was one of them. I am one of them. Their blood runs in me. I …”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He stood and came over to her side of the table, straddling the bench. “Isabelle, if we’re going to make any headway, you have to talk to me. You have to tell me everything. What you’re feeling, what you see, what you experience. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
She still didn’t understand how he could help her at all. He was just a man. A human. He had no power. “I appreciate the offer, Dalton. But there’s nothing you can do for me.”
He cocked his head to the side and his lips tilted. “You might be surprised what I can do to help.”
Isabelle frowned. “Like what?”
“This and that.”
“Now who’s being vague and uncommunicative?”
“Okay. Let’s just say there are things I can do to help you.”
“What? Do you practice voodoo like Georgie?”
His lips quirked. “Not really my area. But I have other talents.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t understand how the whole voodoo thing pertains to me and my situation anyway. Blood is blood. It’s in me. I’m a demon. Nothing can change that. No one can take it away.”
“You’ve already changed it. You’re human right now.”
She swung her legs over the bench and stood, feeling cornered, needing space so she could pace back and forth. She wrapped her arms around herself. “For how long, though, Dalton? I don’t feel human.”
He studied her. “How do you feel?”
She didn’t look at him, just kept pacing. “Unsettled. Not myself. I feel like at any time I could revert back to the demon I was. I feel shaky, like I’m barely holding on.”
“Do you have some kind of sensation inside you, some kind of feeling that makes you think that?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know,” she snapped back at him. “It just is. And the dreams.”
“What dreams?”
This time she stopped, looked at him. “Every damn time I try to sleep, even if I drift off for a few seconds … the demons come.”
He stood and came toward her. He reached out, laid his hands on her shoulders. She wanted to pull away. But she also wanted to walk into his arms, wrap herself in the comfort of someone holding her. She needed that. At the same time she feared it, felt if she gave into her emotions, if she let go of the tight string holding herself together, something would snap inside her and the demons would take hold.
“What happens in your dreams, Isabelle?”
His tone wasn’t accusatory. It was gentle. She took a deep breath. “I don’t really know. By the time I’m fully awake I’ve forgotten what happens. I can only grab hold of remnants. I just know they come for me when I fall asleep.”
“They?”
“The demons.”
“Are you having the same dream every time?”
She shrugged. “I think so.”
“But you don’t know in what way.”
She shook her head again. “I wish I could remember all of it. Most times I want to shake it off as soon as I wake up.”
“Maybe it’s time you start to remember.”
She tilted her head back to look at his face. “Why?”
“Because it might help unlock this mystery about the hold they have on you.”
“Do you think they know where I am?”
He shook his head. “Doubtful. If they knew they’d have come for you already. For us. I don’t think they do. I think you’re blocking them.”
Despite the heat of the night, she shivered. “Then why would I want to remember? Isn’t it better if I forget, to keep forgetting?”
“I don’t think so. The more we know about what you’re dreaming, where it’s coming from, the better armed we’ll be when they do show up.”
She backed away from him. “They’ll come for me, won’t they?”
“Eventually, yeah.”
Honesty was supposed to be refreshing. Maybe it would be better if he lied to her. “When will they come? When I remember? When I stop blocking them?”
Dalton inhaled, let it out. “That depends on you. You’re in charge of more than you think, Isabelle.” He slid his hand in hers, pulled her back to the table, and sat them both down on the bench.
He didn’t let go of her hand. This time, she didn’t mind. It felt good. His hand was so big, like the rest of him, and calloused from hard work. It signaled strength. She needed to draw on some strength right now. She’d always been independent, strong on her own, never needed anyone else.
Not right now, though. She felt weak and she hated it.
“I know you’re afraid,” he said. “I know you’re confused. There’s a lot unsettled right now, a lot we both don’t know. All I do know is that I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you, Isabelle. I won’t let the Sons of Darkness take you. Not again.”
For the first time in a long while, she felt hope. Maybe it was lame to take that hope from Dalton’s words alone, but she’d always been on her own, and now she felt like she had an ally. She had to believe he’d protect her, that he’d do whatever it took to keep the Sons of Darkness away from her.
“Thank you. I’m not used to … needing anyone. This isn’t easy for me. But I do need you.”
“We need each other.”
“You need me? How?” What could she possibly offer him?
He looked away for a second, then back at her. “What I meant was that I feel like I owe you after stealing your mother’s diary, setting all this in motion. Let’s just say this is my chance at redemption.”
Somehow she didn’t think that’s what he meant. But as long as he was on her side this time, it was a start.
Dalton mentally cursed himself. He was going to have to watch what he said. He’d slipped a couple times tonight with Isabelle. He couldn’t let her know that he needed her, what his plans were for her. She wouldn’t understand. Not right now. Maybe never. It was best that she just believe he was trying to help her, that he’d brought her here because he thought Georgie could assist her.
They’d talked for a while, then she’d started to yawn, her eyelids drooping. He could tell she fought it, but she eventually gave in and went to bed. He waited an hour or so, slipping her door open to make sure she was asleep.
He went up to the main house and found Georgie sitting out front in her great-grandmother’s old white rocking chair.
He’d had a few conversations with Georgie’s great-grandmother while she rocked in that chair.
It had been so long ago.
“Thought you might come by tonight,” she said.
Dalton smiled and leaned against the railing. “You psychic, too?”
“Oh, I have many gifts, Dalton. I know what you’re about.”