I could smell her evil from miles away. The evil and her fear.

Fearing for what, I could not say for sure. Although, I was aware that my sudden appearance in her hospital room practically scared the living daylights out of her.

She was thirty-one years old, going on sixty. Only child of Isabella Martinez de la Rosa and Ivan Ramirez. She had been forced into marriage with a man seven years her senior, after her parents discovered she was pregnant.

Danielle Kara, mother of Damian and his late sister, Daphne. The daughter she sacrificed for who really knows what reasons.

Danielle regarded me in an interesting way. Her bloodshot, brown eyes were set in a combination of loathe and fear. Her body language showed resilience and submission all at once.

“Are you one of them?”

Her voice was raspier than I had reckoned. Messy strands of dark hair fell across her caramel-colored complexion. She looked like him. Apart from the eye color, she was the female version of Damian.

Maybe that was what glued me to my seat. Maybe that was why I had not killed her the moment we crossed paths.

I remained impassive and unresponsive, my eyes never leaving her. From what I could gather from Damian, and the small amount of time I had spent in her presence, she was not someone I could underestimate. That woman had done more harm to others than she had done to herself. What really astounded me was the way she claimed it was all done for the greater good.

It appeared as if I was only surrounded by ludicrous individuals.

Danielle’s eyes narrowed into small, menacing slits. “I bet you really are a bloody, dirty sorcerer,” she hissed, baring her teeth into a beastly growl, “Poison of humankind. Get out of here or you’ll regret it.”

Oh, I regretted it already. Just breathing in the same room as her was making me sick. Sick to the stomach.

I had to mentally congratulate her, though. Despite the rapid beating of her heart, the sweat that was pouring down her face and her clammy hands, Danielle was not about to back down without a retort. She was definitely one of those people that would talk back until they got themselves in their graves.

I was itching to send her to her grave.

“Give me one good reason why I should not kill you right now,” I said coldly.

Even for me, that was too nice. I should probably end it right now. Not just for her sake, but for mine. For Damian’s. If I didn’t do it, somebody else would.

Danielle lowered her head, her hair covering her face. “Because I am already dead in the inside,” she answered quietly.

Truthfully, I wasn’t expecting her to say something of that sort. Indeed, Danielle was in a high security asylum, but I was oddly fascinated that at least she was aware of what predicament she was involved in.

At least, she had already given up on life.

This made my task much more easier. She was right. Who was I to slaughter somebody who already considered themselves to be dead? That would ultimately waste my precious time and energy.

I nodded at her, accepting her statement. “Tell me everything you know,” I said.

Honestly, it had been quite difficult to get away. After I had jumped out the window, I decided to deal with Damian’s mother before doing anything else. Despite my knowing what would become of him, I was adamant to admit that I was ignorant about his origins. No matter how much research I had conducted, I could not even pinpoint the identity of his father.

The man who, according to Danielle’s previous diary entries, had fathered me as well, due to a previous affair he had with Mom.

I was ignorant about many things, yet it appeared as if Danielle had some useful insight who could eventually come up handy. I wanted answers, though the more I looked at her, the more I realized she had confusion written all over her face.

“You know of Cain and Alexis Malakai, right?” I said, “You used to associate with them.”

She did not even blink. No reaction whatsoever. Was she too bonkers to remember?

“Alexis returned with her daughter not too long ago,” I added, “Which means, they are not only on my case, but they will come for you later.”

Still, the promise that she would be dealt with later, gave me no reaction. This was getting frustrating.

“Those people are holding someone captive,” I said, not bothering to hide my growing fury, “Someone who’s important to me. Had you been a good parent, that person would also have been dear to you, regardless of your knowing they would lose their mind someday.”

Even by loosely bringing up Damian in the topic, Danielle remained detached from emotions. I was beginning to believe she was a fallen sorceress, because I had never met a human who was so good at hiding their emotions.

She was either a better actress than Rhea or she really did not know or care about my visit.

This called for desperate measures.

When Damian and I had first discovered the truth about Daphne’s murder, it was due to a certain something. A certain something Damian had hidden away from me. The hiding place itself had not been the best, for I had found it a few hours after he'd buried it, near the tree in my flower field.

I began to reach into my pocket, and to my satisfaction, Danielle winced. Good, she was a human after all. All my doubts about her went out the window. She feared for her life, probably believing that I was going to pull a knife or a gun on her.

Carefully, I pulled out a green journal from the inside of my shirt pocket. It was burnt because of the fireball Rhea had shot at me earlier, but it was still readable.

“Remember this?” I asked Danielle, hovering the diary in front of her face. Without waiting for an answer, I flipped through the pages and showed her the passage who had changed my life forever.

I let her scan it, then snapped the book shut. There was no use turning the pages, as I had already done so before. For whatever reason, the rest of the journal was empty.

When I was satisfied I had cured her amnesia for the following five minutes, I asked her a question I had been dying to know the answer to:

“What is your husband’s name?”

The first time I met Damian, we had not hit it off too well. I will admit, his constant curiosity and infatuation of me was irritating, because I knew that if I so much as talked to him, I would end up being hurt again.

However, his persistence got the better of me, causing me to break out of a shell I had believed was solid. For two years, we had talked about everything and nothing. Giggled like little girls, played with Cookie, wrestled on the field, snuck out at night to watch the stars, held hands, kissed…

Stop. Now wasn’t the time to feel nostalgic.

Anyways, no matter how much we conversed, Damian would never bring up his father. It was as if the man had never existed. Damian would not even tell me his name, and despite conducting my own personal investigations, I had been more than shocked when I discovered nothing about him.

Thus, I was hoping that maybe Danielle would tell me about him. After all, I had seen the look on Damian’s face when I mentioned his father. It was obvious he did not even want to think about him.

Danielle’s features twisted into an angry scowl. “My husband’s name is none of your business,” she spat.

Clearly, son and mother had something against that man. Nonetheless, I was in no mood to back down and give her the privacy she desired. In fact, I did not have a shred of respect for her.

Before she even had the time to react, my hand was around her throat. I squeezed, sending a blast of venomous, murderous aura into her body. Forcing magic into a human was not something I liked to do on a daily basis, but this woman was almost as bad as Mom and Rhea. She did not deserve my sympathy.

She struggled to breathe, and I loosened my hold on her neck. Dark marks appeared under my fingers.

Oops, I'd used much more force than I expected. Too bad.

“H-his name,” she gasped, coughing under my hold, “His name is Demetrius Kara.”

Finally, I released her. She coughed violently, clutching her throat.

“Is he a sorcerer?” I asked.

To my utter surprise, she snickered under her breath. Judging by her reaction, I realized I had been right all along: Demetrius was not a sorcerer, but something else.

Something worse.

Danielle added something else, but I was too lost in my thoughts to listen. My theory had been right after all.

Damian was in fact, half-demon. Rhea had forcefully awakened his dormant stage after she’d stabbed him.

Demetrius Kara.

I wondered what he was like. Was he imposing, tall, intimidating?

Was he really my biological father? If that were the case, that would imply that I had the same demonic blood coursing through my veins. Half sorcerer and half demon.

What a disgusting mixture.

Danielle did not seem to know what I was referring to. She would have been of no help to my situation.

Besides, I did not want to inform her of my origins. Not only would that set the sorcerers on my trace, but they would track her down as well. Much as I did not like her, I did not want to be the one at fault for her upcoming death. For all I knew, Damian probably felt a twinge of affection for her.

Maybe.

Danielle rambled on an on about the Earl, the Serpent Clan and her demonic children. I was familiar with the Serpent Clan. Rhea used to tell me stories about them before I went to bed.

Of course, after hearing about them, it was impossible to sleep.

The Serpent Clan.

Just thinking about them petrified me to the core. If I believed my family was bad, those creatures were on a whole other level.

Suddenly, the connections came together in my head.

Demetrius was the Earl of the Serpent Clan, a group of fallen demons who had splurged evil and horror to the world for centuries. Since Daphne had died before realizing what she was, there was only Damian left to take over. Wait, no.

I had to add myself to that mixture.

Knowing that each of the Earls had dozens of children, in order to grow the possibility of seeing one outshine the rest of them, it was safe to assume that Daphne had, in fact, been killed because the Earl saw her as weak. Insignificant.

The Earl had more than one child to assess them and see who was worthy enough of living and possessing power.

Which implied that there was only Damian and I left. In the end, he would make us fight against one another, I could bet my middle finger on that.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

I had saved Damian before the hitmen killed him. No…were they really going to kill him? Had it all been a ruse, some sort of test to determine whether I would crack and disobey the sorcerers?

Most importantly, why in the world had my family been conspiring with the very same monsters they grew up fearing, for centuries?

My head was pounding. Not just from the blow I had received on my head, but from all the new information.

Interviewing Danielle had left me with more questions than answers.

As she rambled on and on, I stood up and excited the room, via teleportation magic.

I landed in a river. Drenched from head to toe, I crawled out, annoyed at my inability to use the spell correctly.

Teleportation was the last spell I wanted to use, twice in one day, mind you, since it always left me in a terrible state of fatigue. My body was demanding for sleep, demanding to recharge its power.

Although, if I succumbed to it, who knew if I would wake up the next day.

I would have to go and find some other place to sleep for the night.

A single location popped into my head, and the shame I felt was overwhelming.

Oh, well.

Guess I was going to have to break into Damian's apartment again.