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Arik hated that she blamed herself, and though what he really wanted to do was take her into the bedroom and make her forget everything but how her body responded to him, he sensed that she needed to get something out in the open.

“Go on.”

“Remember how The Aegis lost Deliverance a few hundred years ago?”

He scowled, wondering where this was leading. “Yeah… and they don’t even know how they lost it.”

“That’s because they didn’t lose it. I stole it.”

Limos waited for Arik to get angry. Freak out. Give her a disapproving look. Something. Instead, he merely watched her. With unflappable patience. “I’m guessing there’s an explanation.”

“Yes,” she replied, “but it’s one you won’t like.”

“Try me.”

Somehow, his calm, nonjudgmental reaction was worse than if he’d flown off the handle. At least then she wouldn’t have to worry about him getting mad. As it was, the longer he showed faith in her, the worse it was going to be when she let him down.

She could stop now, make up some cover story, but what if she was right and Deliverance didn’t work because of what she’d done so long ago? Arik might be able to help. God, she hoped so.

“Remember how you pointed out that I turn self-destruct seheight=ive sometimes?” That still rankled. It might be true, but she didn’t like being so transparent to anyone. Not even Arik. “Well, around the time the Templars were falling into disfavor, the world was in turmoil. The various crusades had left the Middle East in crisis, and in Europe, crops were failing thanks to what scientists now say was a climate change. By 1300, the people were starting to starve.” She shivered despite the warm temperature, remembering how dark that time had been for everyone, including herself.

“I fell into a self-destructive depression, and all I wanted was for the Apocalypse to start. There was talk of it among humans, the first major fears about it since Christianity had taken root. Since then, every generation thinks they’re ushering in the end of days, but this was really the first time there was a mass consensus, you know?” No, of course he didn’t. He hadn’t been there. It was weird talking to someone so… young. “So anyway, I was all gung-ho for it to happen and get over with.”

“So you stole the dagger?”

“Yep. Took it from the Templars. The Daemonica said that Reseph’s Seal would break first, so I figured that if I had Deliverance, I wouldn’t have to worry about Ares or Than trying to kill Pestilence. So I kept it until 1317, when The Aegis, blaming me for the Great Famine, performed a spell that summoned me.”

Arik frowned. “Wait… if they… we… can summon you, why did Kynan have to use Reaver to contact you guys a couple of months ago?”

She turned away and gripped the railing so hard that her fingernails left dents in the wood. “Because I destroyed the knowledge of summoning after that.” She glanced over at Arik, but his expression was still carefully neutral. “See, they captured me by freezing me with hellhound venom, and I had Deliverance on me. They took it, and they spent a week or so torturing me for information. Eventually Reseph found me. He never got angry often, but when he did, very little could stop him. He killed every Guardian in the keep where they’d held me. When he finished, I had to admit that I’d stolen Deliverance, and now that The Aegis had it back, I was worried the account of it would show up in their records.”

She’d lied to Reseph about why she’d taken the dagger, though. She’d told him she hadn’t trusted The Aegis to keep it safe, and Reseph, being so trusting, had believed she’d taken its security into her own hands.

“So what did you do?”

“We searched out every Aegi who knew of my connection to it, and we… took care of their memories.”

He stiffened, because yeah, sore subject. “I see.”

“It took some time, but with Reseph’s ability to go back farther into someone’s memories than any of us, we took care of almost everyone involved. The problem was that the person