“Speaking of the baby, do you still feel nothing different? I mean, he should’ve been born by now.” Over the last few weeks my tension had grown with each passing day as the time drew near for the big moment . . . and for Sophìa to claim Gemma’s soul. No other Subterraneans had attacked us, and Gemma was safe, but the baby was overdue and it worried me not to know why.

  Gemma smiled. Unlike me, she was calm. “I told you, Evan. It’s normal in my family. My mother had a really long pregnancy too.”

  “And you’re special,” I said without thinking.

  “Does that mean you think he will be too?” she asked. That seemed to be the only thing that still upset her. We didn’t know if the baby would be human or if he would have powers. Ginevra had tried using magic to find out more, but the baby was protected by an impenetrable shell.

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” I reassured her, and she nodded. I was happy Gemma had agreed to follow my plan and not transform. It had been hard to keep the secret all those months. The Witches continued to stay at the house, but Gemma had gotten good at keeping them from reading her mind. I’d helped her perfect the technique and together we’d hidden our true intentions, letting them believe Gemma intended to keep up her side of the pact with Sophìa. Not even Simon and Ginevra knew. We did it to protect them—both from the Witches, who were always prowling around, and from the consequences of our decision.

  Once the baby was born, I would take Gemma to Heaven and she would eat of the Tree, casting evil out of her heart forever. In recent months, our plan had helped her stay strong whenever the darkness spread its tentacles around her. The closer the time to transform drew, the more strongly the power of evil writhed within her, threatening to tear her away. But soon it would all be over.

  “There’s something you haven’t told me.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Why did you ask the Witches for three days after the birth?”

  “Funny, Simon asked me the same thing.”

  “Really? What did you tell him?”

  “That’s how they do it in Disney movies.”

  I laughed. “Is that the real reason?”

  “Well, not only that.”

  “Tell me the rest,” I encouraged her, pushing the hair from her forehead. I sought her eyes until she raised them and looked at me. “I wanted to spend time with the baby. No matter what happened, I wanted us to be a family, at least for a little while.”

  Her answer left me wordless. I held her close and kissed her head. “We will be. And not for three days, but forever.”

  She pressed her lips to mine to seal the vow. “A while ago you said you’d gotten orders?”

  I bit her lip. “I only take orders from you,” I whispered.

  Gemma laughed. “At ease, Soldier. We can’t spend the whole day in this room making love.”

  “You’re right.” My hand slid down to her hip. “There’s the spa and the living room . . . and the kitchen. What about the garage?”

  She punched my shoulder and broke free from my embrace. “We’ve already done it in the garage, remember? And in the workout room and the swimming pool and the music room.” She leaned in again to tease me, which she loved doing so much. “But the part I love most is when you steal into my dreams,” she admitted.

  “Why?” I asked, curious.

  “Because that way we can be together all the time, day and night. I don’t want to waste even one minute.”

  She kissed me sweetly and I took a deep breath, preparing to leave her. “Speaking of which . . .”

  “You have to go,” she finished for me. “You have a mission and you can’t stay, I know. Orders come first. What’s wrong, Evan? Why that look? With Anya and Ginevra here I’ll be fine.”

  “No, not this time.” She stared at me, puzzled. It was hard to give her the bad news. “I never thought I’d say this, but you need to spend some time with your friend Peter. I’m going over to take his father.”

  “No . . .” she gasped in shock. “Mr. Turner . . .”

  “I’m sorry. I have to follow orders. His time has come.”

  Gemma blinked and a tear slid down her face. “Can I at least say goodbye to him?” I nodded. “How much time does he have left?”

  “I’ll be at his house in an hour.”

  She leapt out of bed and pulled on her clothes. “Take the car. I won’t be needing it,” I told her.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. I knew she was talking not about the car but the fact that I was giving her the chance to say goodbye. She kissed me on the lips and left the room. I heard her run down the stairs, open and shut the front door, and start the car. It couldn’t have been easy for her. She’d grown up with Peter and had known Mr. Turner since she was a little girl; it was right that she be there for her friend, though the thought of the two of them together put me on edge. To avoid upsetting her too much, I’d waited until the last minute to break the bad news to her, but the time had come. I went downstairs to the living room.

  “Everything okay?” Simon asked. “I saw Gemma run out the door. She all right?”

  “Yeah, she’s fine. She went to Peter’s. In a little while I’ve got an appointment at his house.”

  “I see. The mother?”

  “Father. I gave Gemma the chance to say goodbye. Besides, the kid’s going to need her.”

  “That was a nice thing to do. I know how hard it is for you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “The baby? Any news?”

  “Nothing yet. I wonder if his being overdue has anything to do with his nature,” I told him, worried.

  “We’ve already talked about that. There’s no way we can know until he’s born. In any case, Gemma ingested the poison and the baby survived anyway. That should give us hope. It means he’s immune to the poison and he’s not a Subterranean. Besides, Gemma conceived him as a mortal. Maybe he’ll be a baby like all the others.”

  “We can’t say that for sure.” Ginevra appeared in the room. “Evil was already rooted inside her. Maybe your genes combined to generate something unique. His powers might prove to be immense. He has the blood of a Subterranean and the blood of a Witch.”

  “You know what that means?” Simon asked her, without actually expecting an answer. “It might put an end to the feud that has shed blood on both sides for centuries.”

  “Or it might trigger a war,” Ginevra said. “The bloodiest, most ferocious one ever seen.”

  I clenched my fists. If there was one thing that was sure, it was that no one was going to take my son from me.

  “The day is coming, Evan,” Simon reminded me. “Gemma could give birth at any moment. Have you thought of how you’re going to face the Witches if she really does manage to go through the transformation without being obliterated? Do you really think they’ll agree to let her go without a fight?”

  Ginevra gave me a hard look. “She’s not going to transform, is she?” I frowned in frustration. Distracted, I’d let a bit of my concern show and Ginevra had picked up on it.

  “What’s she talking about?” Simon asked, surprised.

  “We’ll talk it over when I get back. Right now I have to go.”

  “Evan!” Ginevra called after me as I disappeared. But it was too late.

  A SAD FAREWELL

  I materialized at the Turner home. They were all in the living room—Peter, his parents, and Gemma. When I arrived she flinched, but instantly realized from my gray eyes that she was the only one who could see me, so she tried to hide her emotions as best she could. We stared at each other for a few seconds and then I nodded my head. Her lips tightened and her eyes filled with sadness because the time had come. I was there for Mr. Turner and soon I would take his soul.

  “Get him out of here,” I told her with my mind.

  She took Peter by the arm and pulled him up from the sofa. “Why don’t you show me your latest drawing?”

  Peter was instantly enthusiastic. Gemma knew how to handle the guy. “You’re going to like it. It’s in my room. Come upstairs with me.”

  They turned to go but before leaving the living room, Gemma stopped. “Mr. Turner?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?” he replied. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with gray hair and a slight paunch. His son didn’t much resemble him; he’d inherited his mother’s traits.

  “I’m happy you decided not to move to Europe.”

  The man’s face lit up. “Fortunately, that good-for-nothing brother-in-law of mine came to his senses.”

  “My uncle took over Grandpa’s business so we didn’t need to relocate any more,” Peter said.

  “Last year we were on the verge of packing our bags who knows how many times,” his mother said. “My brother wouldn’t hear of working in the fields and we couldn’t let everything fall apart. Still, my father isn’t as strong as he used to be and needed help.”

  “I understand, Mrs. Turner. You’re Italian, right?”

  “Yes, I’m from a small town in Tuscany.”

  “Peter told me about it. It must be a wonderful place.”

  “Oh, you can’t imagine!”

  “Let them go, dear. You can tell them all about it some other time,” her husband said, as though he had a more pressing need.

  “In any case, thank you,” Gemma concluded. “It’s great that you stayed here.”

  “You’re such a sweet girl,” he replied.

  Gemma shot me one last glance before leaving the room with Peter. I went over to the man, who had started chatting with his wife, believing they were alone. He had no idea I was there for him. No one knew it, except Gemma. I found the thought a bit disorienting. It was strange to carry out orders knowing she was there in the house with me.

  “It’s such a shame Gemma got pregnant by another boy.”

  “What are you saying, Matthew?”

  “I know my son. He’ll never give up on that girl, and with a baby on the way it’ll be harder for him to win her over.” I clenched my fists, tempted to put an immediate end to the conversation.

  “Gemma’s a fine girl, but she’s with another boy now and they’re about to have a baby together. I’m sure Peter has already gotten over it and that one day he’ll find someone more fitting for him.”

  “What, are you blind? Can’t you see how he looks at her? He’s not going to give up until he gets her, Angela. Either that or he’ll suffer in silence for the rest of his life. Between the two alternatives, I prefer the first.”

  “What do you want him to do?”

  “I don’t want him to suffer. I hope Gemma has a change of heart and finally recognizes what there is between them.”

  “Do you really want Peter to raise someone else’s child?”

  “Why not? I did it.” My eyes bulged with surprise. So he wasn’t Peter’s real father?

  “Shh . . . Do you want him to hear you?”

  “You’re the one who never wanted to tell him. I never had a problem with it. He’s my son, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “He’s not ready yet,” the mother said softly, tears in her eyes. “He’ll find out when the time is right. The truth might upset him now.”

  “Or it might give him the strength to—Ah!” Mr. Turner raised a hand to his head. His coffee cup fell to the ground.

  “Matthew! Matthew, what’s wrong?!” His wife knelt in front of him.

  “My head!” he groaned between gritted teeth. “It feels like it’s been split in two with an ax. It . . . hurts.”

  His wife jumped to her feet, grabbed her phone, and called 911. “Help! My husband needs help! Hurry!” She gave them the address and went back to comforting him, trembling. He was on his knees now, his elbow propped on the sofa. I clenched my fists tighter to finish what I’d begun. The man gave a cry of pain and crumpled to the floor.

  “Matthew!” Angela screamed, bursting into tears. “Peter! Peter, come here! Hurry!”

  “What’s wrong?” he shouted, rushing into the room. Seeing his father lying there, Peter stood paralyzed in the doorway for a moment. “Dad . . .” he murmured.

  In tears, his mother looked at her husband. “They’re on their way,” she said, stroking his face. “Everything will be just fine. You’re going to be just fine.” She’d rested her husband’s head on her lap, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Peter ran across the room and knelt before his father. “Dad!” he said anxiously. I looked up and met Gemma’s eyes. She’d never seen me during a mission and she hadn’t taken her eyes off me for a second. Was she afraid of me? What was she thinking? Was all she saw a Soldier of Death who’d come to tear away the soul of her friend’s father? Or did she realize it was still me?

  “You don’t have to watch this, you know,” my voice touched her mind. I didn’t want her to see the darkness that lurked in me. She shook her head slowly. She was going to stay put.

  “Dad!” Peter’s voice broke the connection between us. We both looked at the boy, who was leaning over his dying father. “Don’t worry, they’re coming.” He didn’t cry, but his voice was distraught.

  His father, who’d realized his time had come, shook his head and motioned him closer. “Take care of your mother. You’re the man of the house now. Understood?”

  A tear slid down Peter’s face. “Don’t say that, Dad! You’re going to get better.”

  “There’s something you should know.”

  “Matthew . . .” His wife tried to stop him but her sobs prevented it.

  “Your mother was already pregnant when I met her. I . . .” Suddenly he let out another cry of pain.

  “Don’t talk, Dad. Don’t talk . . . They’re on their way.”

  “No. You need to know. I’m not . . . I’m not your father,” he confessed, his eyes filling with tears.

  “Yes. Yes, you are. I’ve always known, but I’ve never cared. You are my father.” The man’s eyes wavered with surprise and his heart beat faster for a moment before going forever silent. “Dad!” Peter cried, but the man’s gaze was already lost and his hand dropped out of the boy’s.

  The mother bit her fist, unable to hold back a grief-stricken sob. She hugged her husband, shaking him through her tears. I looked at Gemma, who was standing in the doorway, a hand clasped over her mouth and her eyes full of tears.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered to her mind. Why had I thought bringing her there was a good idea? I knew the answer: she would never have forgiven me if I hadn’t told her.

  Something behind me drew her attention. The sorrow vanished from her eyes, replaced by astonishment. I turned to find Peter’s father’s soul standing beside me, his gaze locked on his family. I looked back at Gemma, stunned. She could see him. A shiver crept through me as I lost myself in her eyes. They were turning black.

  “Gemma, stay with me,” I whispered in her mind. What the hell had I been thinking, bringing her there?! “Jamie, Peter is suffering. Your friend needs you.” My words managed to break through to her heart, driving the darkness away. Gemma knelt beside Peter and held his hand without saying a word.

  “Have you come for me?” Mr. Turner stared at me, waiting. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I never would have been able to tell him any other way.”

  I nodded. He’d suffered so much about not being Peter’s biological father that he’d only been able to tell him with his last breath. If he’d found the courage to do so sooner, he would have realized it didn’t matter much to Peter. Mr. Turner’s soul was now free of remorse and fear. The confession had liberated him and his soul was at peace.

  “Can she see us?” His question snapped me out of my meditative trance. I stared at Gemma, still shaken, and she immediately looked away.

  “No. None of them can,” I lied.

  He took a closer look at me. “I know you. You’re—”

  “You’re mistaken. You’ve never seen me before.”

  “I’ve never seen you before. Who are you?” he asked, influenced by what I’d said.

  “It doesn’t matter. Your time here is over. Take my hand and you’ll finally be free.”

  The man looked one last time at his family. “Will I see them again?”

  “One day, perhaps.” I didn’t want to lie to him again. I didn’t know if there would be Subterraneans waiting for them when their time came. If they gave in to Temptation, they would find a Witch waiting for them instead.

  The man reached out and took my hand, slowly vanishing. My eyes went to Gemma’s. She’d seen the whole thing. I had no idea what she was thinking or how she saw me just then. I was Death. Had she truly understood that before? The ambulance’s siren announced its pointless arrival. Gemma hugged Peter, staring at me over his shoulder. “Stay with him for a while,” I suggested in her mind, “but then come back to me.” She nodded slightly, her big dark eyes fixed on mine as I disappeared.

  DISAGREEMENTS

  “Well?” Ginevra snapped the second I reappeared in the living room. “What’s going on? And why have you kept us out of the loop?”

  I walked past her and went to pour myself a bourbon, which I tossed back in a single gulp before pouring another one. “I did it to protect you. It’s not safe with them here,” I growled, nodding at the door leading down to the dungeon. The Witches were still underfoot. It would be easier for them to discover the truth if all of us knew about it.

  “What are you planning, Evan?” Simon admonished me, grabbing me by the arm.

  “I’m going to have Gemma eat of the Tree. She’s already agreed.”

  Simon stepped back, gripping his hair in his hands. “You’re out of your mind. We already discarded that idea, remember?”

  “We said we’d talk about it one day, but we never did.”

  “I thought you’d gotten a hold on yourself! Damn it, you never think of the consequences.”

  “Well, you think about them too much.”

  “Because everything is at stake!” he yelled.

  “I’m not going to sit around while she transforms and erases me from her heart completely. You and Ginevra were enemies once—you should know what it means.”