Dark Angel (Casteel 2)

forward to sweep Julian into his arms. Go to your

room, Heaven. Stay there until I come and have a

chance to talk to you." He carried Jillian to her

bedroom, and I watched him lay her carefully on her

ivory satin spread, and only then did her mute anguish

find its voice.

Over and over she screamed! Hysterical rising

and falling screams that buckled her back and flailed

her arms, and as I stood there almost paralyzed by

what I'd brought about, I watched the youth peel from

her face as if all the time she'd worn a mask of onion

peelings.

I turned away, appalled by what I'd done, overwhelmed with grief to have destroyed what had been

so carefully cultivated.

In my rooms I paced the floor, forgetting everything but Troy and his welfare. On occasion my

thoughts flitted to Jillian and what havoc I'd wrought.

Then Tony was rapping on the door and coming in

without waiting for my response. He saw that I was

packing my suitcases and winced. "Jill is asleep now,"

he informed. "I had to force her to swallow a few

sedatives."

"Will she be all right?" I asked worriedly. He sat with a certain kind of indifference on the

frailest of my silk brocaded chairs, elegantly crossing

his legs, taking pains to tug up his trouser legs and

keep the creases sharp. And only when he'd seen to all

the little details only a man of impeccable taste

thought important did he smile in a crooked ironic

way. "No, Jill will never be 'all right.' She hasn't been right since the day your mother ran away. She had always refused to talk about that last day . . and only

now do I have all the pieces together."

Quickly I sat down in the twin chair to his,