in the middle of the road with a complete stranger, not to mention tried to butcher her. Israfel turned back to Asher and studied him for a long while. He stayed quiet while she did.
In the end, she clambered inside the car. Never having been in one before, her attention was immediately drawn to the many lights on the dashboard and unusually shaped instruments laden with chrome and plastic. Asher shut the door behind her and took his place behind the wheel. He made a three-point turn in the dusty road then headed back in the direction from which he’d come. As they drove away, Israfel turned around in the supple leather seat to look out the rear window at her mother’s retreating form, now no more than a speck in the road. When Mamma disappeared altogether, Israfel faced forward again.
She turned to Asher. “What’s a ’bomination?” she asked.
Asher’s handsome face broke into a smile, although Israfel thought he looked a trifle sad. “Not you, dear child. Not you.”
Chapter 7
As she traveled the winding path of her memories, Justine’s chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths in semblance of sleep, although part of her remained alert, conscious of her surroundings. At the sound of conversation in the hallway outside her door, her eyes flew open. A door slammed shut nearby and the murmuring voices stopped abruptly. She closed her eyes again and returned to her past...
* * * *
In the car with Asher, Israfel spoke little, her anxiety mounting with each mile Asher put between them and Oskaloosa. The sights tossing by outside her window and the unfamiliar landscapes unfurling around her did little to distract her from worry. The roadway they traveled was congested with cars, and she stared in awe at the many structures on both sides. Every time they passed through a town, she studied the pedestrians moving from one building to another. What would it be like to live among so many people? Until today, the only others she had encountered in her young life were the odd travelers who had taken a wrong turn and ended up at the farm, and even those she had observed only from a distance. Mamma always made sure she was locked in her room on the rare occasion she heard an approaching car. Now she’d left the only home she’d ever known with this man who called himself Asher. What would be in store for her in this place he was taking her to—Savannah?
Asher drove along at a steady clip and, for the most part, didn’t try to draw her into conversation, although he smiled kindly at her from time to time. They had traveled for just over an hour when he pulled the car off the highway.
“We should get you something to eat. Do you like chicken?”
The mere thought of food caused her to salivate. “Yes.”
He parked the car in a large paved area in the middle of a cluster of buildings. Behind their glass windows, crowds of people sat around tables, eating.
“I’ll be right back,” Asher said.
He entered the building directly in front of the car and she watched him through the glass as he lined up with the others. A few minutes later, he returned, carrying a large paper bag in one hand and balancing two drinks in the other. Back in the car, he drove to a nearby grassy area where they got out and walked a few feet to a rickety wooden outdoor table.
When he placed the food in front of her, she dove into it, driven by hunger and the mouthwatering smell of grilled chicken. Israfel quickly polished off the meal and, when she was done eating, Asher helped to clean her face and hands with a moist towel.
Not far from where they sat was an old swing set. He must have noticed her staring at it, because he asked, “Do you want to go play for a few minutes before we get back in the car?”
She nodded shyly, slid off the bench seat and made her way over to the swings.
* * * *
Asher studied the dark-haired child as she walked away. She was rail-thin, her face dirt-streaked, her hair filthy. Bruises of varying stages bloomed on her arms and legs. Her knees, hands and face were scraped from the gravel road where she’d almost met her death. Whatever had happened to her in her young life, and he could only imagine what she had suffered at the hand of her unstable mother, it had not managed to crush her spirit. She walked with her head held high and natural grace. Her eyes were arresting—deep jade, coolly appraising and fringed with velvety black lashes. She was also intelligent. He had heard it in her voice, seen it in the way she’d sized him up before leaving with him. Silently he thanked the fates that had led him to her. Thinking about what that madwoman would have done had he not intervened sent a cold shiver up his spine. It was as if he’d been meant to save her.
His brow creased as he thought about the phone call and the late-night visit he’d received from Jared Crow yesterday. He’d never heard of Crow, but some quick investigation following his initial phone call revealed Crow to be a man of substance, the owner of a large company called Biodome, and someone to be taken seriously. Still, when Jared Crow had arrived last night with details about the young girl, Asher had refused to take him seriously. Instinctively, he thought Crow suspect. There was something distasteful about the man, aside from his sightless left eye. Asher intuited Crow had an ulterior motive in approaching him about the girl. When Crow had told him the child in question was a member of the fallen race, one of the Nephilim, Asher had scoffed.
An expert in the field of paranormal studies, Asher and his associates, Jackson and Madison, had previously taken in others who displayed extraordinary psychic or physical abilities, and who had been ostracized from society as a result. This was the reason Crow had approached him about taking in the girl. But, although well versed in the legends surrounding the Nephilim, Asher was not prepared to concede that a member of the fallen race could be in existence.
“My source regarding this matter is unimpeachable,” Crow had insisted.
“And who is your source?” Asher had done his best not to stare at the man’s unpleasant-looking eye.
“That is not something I am at liberty to discuss with you. However, you are certainly under no obligation to believe me. My enquiries resulted in information that you would be best equipped to handle a child with her unique abilities. If you do not wish to undertake the care of this child, I will find someone else who will.”
Crow had risen to leave at that point, but Asher had called him back. The man seemed too sure of himself. Although Asher couldn’t believe the child was Nephilim, he had sensed he’d be making a mistake if he did not at least investigate the matter.
“I suppose it would do no harm to make the trip. Just to check out the situation, that is.”
Crow smiled. “Speak to the mother. Observe the child. Then judge for yourself.”
Despite what Crow had instructed him to do, Asher hadn’t made the trip with the intention of kidnapping the girl. He’d merely wanted to see and talk to the child and her mother. However, he hadn’t counted on the girl being in mortal danger.
The mother had convinced him of nothing, other than she was a religious fanatic, one who had not been able to accept the fact the child’s father had run out on her. Still, there was something about the knowing look in the woman’s eyes when she had told him to “ask her about the cat.” What had she meant by that?
He glanced up to see Israfel, not on the swing but crouched, touching something on the ground. He walked over to her and saw right away what it was. The sight of her petting a dead bird repulsed him a little.
“Israfel.”
