Free Awakened by P.C. Cast

known Father had returned from the Otherworld the instant it had happened. How could he not have known it? He’d been with Stevie Rae. She’d felt Zoey become whole again just as the knowledge of his father had come to him.
    Stevie Rae … It had been less than a fortnight since he’d been in her presence, spoken with her, touched her, but it seemed that their time together had been an eternity ago.
    If Rephaim lived for another century he would not forget what had happened between them just before Father had returned to this realm. The human boy in the fountain had been him. It hadn’t made rational sense, but that didn’t make it any less true. He’d touched Stevie Rae and imagined, for just a heartbeat in time, what could have been.
    He could have loved her.
    He could have protected her.
    He could have chosen Light over Darkness.
    But what could have been was not reality—was not to be.
    He’d been born of hate and lust, pain and Darkness. He was a monster. Not human. Not immortal. Not beast.
    Monster.
    Monsters didn’t dream. Monsters didn’t desire anything except blood and destruction. Monsters didn’t—couldn’t—know love or happiness: they weren’t created with that ability.
    How then was it possible that he missed her?
    Why this terrible hollowness in his soul since Stevie Rae had been gone? Why did he feel only partially alive without her?
    And why did he long to be better, stronger, wiser, and good, truly good for her?
    Could he be going mad?
    Rephaim paced back and forth across the rooftop balcony of the deserted Gilcrease mansion. It was past midnight and the museum grounds were quiet, but since the cleanup after the ice storm had begun in earnest, the place was becoming busier and busier during daylight hours.
    I’m going to have to leave and find another place. A safer place. I should leave Tulsa and make a stronghold in the wilderness of this enormous country. He knew that was the wise thing to do, the rational thing to do, but something compelled him to stay.
    Rephaim told himself it was simply that he hoped now that his father had returned to this realm, he would also return to Tulsa, and he was waiting here for him to come back—to give him a purpose and a direction. But in the deepest recesses of his heart he knew the truth. He didn’t want to leave this place because Stevie Rae was here, and even though he couldn’t allow himself to contact her, she was still near, reachable, if only he dared.
    Then, in the middle of his pacing and his self-recriminations, the air around him became heavy, thick with an immortal power that Rephaim knew as well as his own name. Something tugged within him, as if the power that floated in the night had attached itself to him and was using him as an anchor to pull itself ever nearer.
    Rephaim braced himself, physically and mentally, concentrated on the illusive immortal magick, and willingly accepted the connection, not minding that it was painful and draining and filled him with a suffocating wave of claustrophobia.
    The night sky above him darkened. The wind increased, battering Rephaim.
    The Raven Mocker stood his ground.
    When the magnificent winged immortal, his father, Kalona, deposed Warrior of Nyx, swooped down from the heavens and landed before him, Rephaim automatically dropped to his knees, bowing in allegiance.
    “I was surprised to feel that you remained here,” Kalona said without giving his son permission to rise. “Why did you not follow me to Italy?”
    Head still bowed, Rephaim answered. “I was mortally wounded. I have only just recovered. I thought it wise to await you here.”
    “Wounded? Yes, I recall. A gunshot and a fall from the sky. You may rise, Rephaim.”
    “Thank you, Father.” Rephaim stood and faced his father, and then was glad his face didn’t betray emotions easily. Kalona looked as if he had been ill! His bronze skin had a sallow tint to it. His unusual amber eyes were shadowed by dark circles. He even looked