"What happened?" Oh God. What did my husband do?
"Derek followed him."
No. Please no.
"And killed him."
THREE
Demand Me Nothing
DEREK
Demand me nothing: what you know, you know:
From this time forth I never will speak word.
— William Shakespeare, Othello
DRAKE AND I were discussing his transformation when Sam came in first, her face sad as she communicated something with her husband.
"I gotta go, dude. Sorry. Let's catch up later," Drake said as he walked out of the dining hall with Sam, who cast me a look I couldn't quite interpret.
When Rose came in, I knew.
Her face was the color of her name and she stormed toward me, anger flashing in her eyes. "You killed him?" she hissed. "After everything we went through, you killed him? How could you, Derek? He was innocent!"
"I didn't know that at the time," I said. "And he wasn't innocent. He still almost killed Drake and would have killed Ana. Do you think someone like that should live?"
"He wouldn't have killed a child, I saw that in his soul. As for Drake, he's my friend too, but he didn't die. And Ryder had his reasons for hating Nephilim."
A growl formed in my chest and I stomped down my wolf nature. "So you and Ryder got close while we were there?"
"Not close," she said, her hazel eyes full of tears, caramel hair windblown from being outside. "But while I was out walking I found him in the bathing hall and he told me something of his story. At least I think it was his story. You don't understand what he'd been through."
My jaw clenched and I tried to stay calm, but what the fuck? "You hung out with him while he took a bath?"
She glared at me. "It wasn't like that and you know it. You're missing the point entirely. I understand him a bit more than I did before, and he didn't deserve to die."
"We'll have to agree to disagree about this."
She stood still, too still, then turned and stormed away before I could say anything. I hoped she wouldn't tell Alaric. I didn't like the old bishop, but I didn't want to fight him to the death, either.
My skin felt feverish and I knew I would say or do something I'd regret if I didn't get out of there.
The air outside bit my skin, cooling me as I inhaled deeply. I made my way into the woods then shifted into my wolf and ran.
The sun had already risen full in the sky by the time I returned from the hunt. I felt invigorated, alive and a little unwilling to shift back to human, but I still hadn't figured out how to fix things with Rose, so I went to the only person I knew who could offer me advice I might consider taking.
Father Patrick sat at his desk in his large room reading an old leather-bound book when I found him. No ebooks for this guy. He seemed like a man who came from another era and time. His door hung open, but I knocked on it anyways, not wanting to startle him.
He looked up, a flop of white hair covering one eye, and smiled as he took off his silver reading glasses. "Derek, it's good to see you. Come in. Can I get you some tea?"
A pile of old books sat on the corner of his desk and a chipped tea cup rested on its saucer in front of the book he'd been reading. Everything else in his room was tidy. A twin bed with a dark comforter tucked in neatly, several bookshelves with his private collection, a reading chair with lamp in one corner with his desk in another and a spare chair for visitors. I took the spare chair. "I don't suppose you have something stronger?" I asked.
"Ah, one of those kinds of days. Well, I think I can round something up, yes." He poured me some tea from the teapot I hadn't seen before and took a bottle of clear liquid from the bottom drawer of his desk. "One shot or two?"
"What is it?"
"Something special I got a long time ago. It's got a kick."
"Two."
He accommodated and handed me the tea cup, then put a dollop of the 'special stuff' in his. I assumed it was some backwoods moonshine, but I didn't care. I downed it in one long gulp, feeling the burning of the tea and the liquor creating a trail through my body, lacing me with heat as it settled into my bones. I instantly felt more relaxed.
"I've never been to confession," I told him, surprised my words weren't slurring.
"This isn't a confessional, son, just a place for you to tell an old man what's on your mind, if you so choose."
"I killed someone, and I don't really regret it. But Rose found out and she's pissed. More pissed than I've ever seen her."
I waited for him to show some shock, disgust, outrage, something, but he sat and sipped his tea, waiting for me to continue, so I told him everything that had happened on that mountain in Italy. I described how Ryder's body looked as it fell down the hill, blood trailing behind him in the snow. How it felt to see his life leave him. How I'd do it again if I had to, because he was dangerous and shouldn't be alive.
"I could apologize to Rose, tell her I was wrong," I said at the end.
"But you're not sorry. You don't believe you were wrong."