“No. He came down with pneumonia and died in the hospital last year. It’s just menow.”
“What did your father say about what happened with your Grandfather?”
“He told me I needed to learn to control my power.”
“And didyou?”
“I thought so. Until a few yearsago.”
He played with her hair, running the soft strands through the fingers of one hand while holding her close with the other as he digested all she had just told him. Something about what she’d said happened with her son wasn’t jiving for him. As she drifted off to sleep in his arms, he ran over it all again, determined to figure out what itwas.
While he mulled over her story, Dante had his own demons banging on the door. But he’d slammed that slab of steel in their faces hundreds of years ago, and he wanted to keep them in there. So he spent the time before sunrise worrying about her. It sufficed well enough to keep his own memories atbay.