“I didn’t know what was happening. I was screaming for my parents. I finally passed out from exhaustion and stress. We had lived in Connecticut, and the next thing I remember was waking up in a hotel room in Pennsylvania. Rego told me what he’d learned—the Regents ruled that my mother was a traitor to her kind. They took her as their prisoner. Her own family.” Logan angrily dashed away the few tears that had leaked onto his cheeks with his knuckles, his movement so aggressive I was afraid he’d bruise his skin. “That night, the fire was supposed to kill me, the unholy, unnatural spawn.” He spat the words out, his voice shaking with rage.
“Instead, it killed my father. Of course, there were rumors that he got out, was in hiding—because it’s not enough for the Regents to kill my father, they have to destroy his integrity after he’s dead.”
Logan stopped speaking after that last comment, but he was anything but quiet. His breathing was ragged, rough with emotion, and my hands twisted in my lap, desperate to comfort him in some way. I’d known whatever happened to his parents had to be bad—but I had no idea it was this heartbreakingly brutal.
I hesitantly reached my hand out to him, and placed it over his heart, which beat rapidly under my palm. Logan covered my hand with his, but held it there, and when his breathing steadied, he continued speaking.
“Rego isn’t my father. He isn’t nurturing and he sure isn’t the kind of guy who read me bedtime stories or bandaged my skinned knees. When I turned eight, I wanted that remote-control car. But by the time I turned nine, the only thing I wanted was revenge. And Rego helped me with that.”
Logan was stone-faced as he spoke, his slightly damp cheeks the only evidence of his earlier emotion. He even dropped his hold on my hand, and I let my palm drop from his heart, my hand casually resting against his leg instead.
“How did he help you?”
“Rego started teaching me stuff immediately. We were on the run. Someone had just tried to kill us. I had to learn how to defend myself,” Logan explained with a matter-of-fact shrug. “I helped him, too. My particular genetic makeup made me very valuable for certain spells that the warlocks could use against the Regents. Whatever Rego wanted from me, he could have.”
Logan reached behind his shoulder and slowly pulled out his sword, resting it flat across his knees.
“Like I said, Regents are hard to kill. Regular warlock-forged steel can injure, sure, but you need a powerful weapon to conquer such a powerful creature. Something created with a part of the monster you’re trying to destroy.”
Logan ran the tip of his finger down the smooth amethyst blade.
“Every warlock who uses one of Rego’s weapons has something made with my blood,” Logan revealed.
“Wait,” I snapped, reaching out and grabbing his wrist, causing Logan’s eyes to pop open in surprise.
“What?” he asked.
“So a few weeks ago, when you disappeared and said you were helping Rego make weapons, you were tired because he had been bleeding you?” My voice rose in pitch as I spoke, and Logan gingerly grabbed my hand, removing it from his wrist.
“Um, you’re about to draw blood with your nails. Ow, Paige,” he said, and I jerked my wrist back, holding my hands up.
“I’m so sorry!” I yelped, and Logan merely laughed as he put his sword away.
“It’s nice to see that you still get angry when you feel like I’ve been wronged,” he remarked, rubbing his wrist. “Even if I’m on the wrong end of your temper.”
“I said I was sorry! It’s just the thought of you as a little kid—and now—bleeding to make weapons...” I slammed my eyes shut, shuddering.
“It’s okay,” Logan said, putting his hands on my shoulders and giving me a little squeeze. “Look, I wanted to help in any way I could. Back then, it was with weapons. My blood made Rego’s weapons lethal. And Regent blood added the nice little perk of stealing the demon’s powers when you kill them.”
“So that’s why I absorbed Blaise’s fire power,” I realized. “Your blood.”
“Yeah, it, um...” Logan paused, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. “It also makes me aware of the presence of any sword,” he added rapidly, the words running together.
I stared at him suspiciously as he ducked his head.
“Can you repeat that, please? And why do you look guilty?”
“If I focus hard enough, I can pinpoint your location—because you’ve always got the sword.” He flinched, anticipating my response.
As I realized the implications of what he was saying, my jaw dropped in horror, and Logan quickly put his hands up in defense.
“Before you get mad, you have to understand that it’s an involuntary thing. It’s not like I asked for them to be homing devices. But the more blood used to make the sword, the more powerful the sword is...and the easier it is for me to find it. I wanted your sword to be really powerful, in case you ever needed to use it. Technically, you could argue that what I did was kind of a nice thing.” He gave me an angelic smile, and I just glared at him in response.
“Yeah, it’s really nice that I’m essentially microchipped like a prized schnauzer.”
“It’s not like that, I swear,” Logan insisted. “I understand why you’re pissed. It’s why I’m telling you now even though I knew you’d be mad. But it helped me find you when Aiden and Della had you. And I promise you, it’s not like there’s a blinking tracking light above your head or anything.”
“Still, I should have known,” I maintained, indignant, and Logan nodded, giving me a sheepish look.
“Are you sufficiently creeped out and pissed off yet?”
“You know what? I am all pissed off,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Sorry,” he mouthed, and I sighed heavily. At least he’s telling you everything now. And if it weren’t for that sword, you’d be hanging out in a demon dungeon somewhere.
“I’m sure Dottie would love it if you ranted to her, all pissed off about me. Now that she knows what I am, she’s not my biggest fan.” His eyes looked up as he shook his head, and I wondered what Dottie had said to him after I left. “I can only imagine what she’s going to say to you about me,” he muttered.
“Um, hello? You can see and hear her. Anything she says about you, you’re probably going to know about it.”
I paused as I considered that statement. Logan could see and hear my best friend and Travis—but all the other demons seemed to chase them away.
“How come you can see her and Travis, anyway? You’re a demon.”
“Half-demon,” he replied automatically.
“Yeah, but still, why don’t you chase her and Travis away like Blaise and Aiden do?”
“Are you asking me to? Because I’d love to tell Travis to take a hike sometimes,” Logan said with a snarky grin, relishing the change in subject, and I poked him gently in the leg.
“They’re trapped over there because a demon caused their lives to end prematurely. When a demon’s in the area, it sends them back to where they belong, so to speak.”
“But you’re a demon.”
“Half-demon,” he stressed, sounding exasperated. “I’m only half. I can see them because I have ties to that world, was conceived on that side—but I was born on this side. My energy is strictly Light World, baby.”
I studied Logan’s face as he grinned rakishly at me. His energy was anything but dark, especially when that boyish grin made his eyes sparkle like that, underneath his disheveled mess of brown hair.
He was nothing like Blaise or Aiden...Blaise with her glittering eyes and inhuman teeth, and Aiden with those huge wings and gray claws. Aiden, who was a relative. I inhaled sharply, studying Logan’s face for an indication that he was anything other than what he professed to be.