I Would Have To Kill You First

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Chapter Twenty-Eight: I Would Have To Kill You First

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It all feels too real. I watch Sam who has a huge smile on his face and triumph in his eyes. It’s all too real. We finally have a huge break!

Ash on the other hand seems to have been released from whatever spell he was earlier under. He blinks rapidly and looks around in momentary confusion. Reality seems to catch up to him because he suddenly leans over the table and grab Sam by the collar, attempting to yank him forward.

“Ash!” I call out, looking behind the isle at the librarian who is oblivious to our noise, then I return to the boys and try to pry Ash’s hand off of Sam.

“What did you do to me?” Asher demands and Sam just watches him with his head tilted to the side as though Ash is merely a fascinating specimen.

Despite his cool demeanour, I can see that Sam is getting increasingly pissed at Asher’s attempt to rough handle him.

“Asher, stop!” I demand, but he isn’t hearing any of it.

“Really, boy, you are just going to hurt yourself.” Sam takes Asher’s wrists and yanks it off his body, after which he pushes Asher backwards, causing him to fall awkwardly onto the chair.

“Sam!” I chastise but he shrugs.

“I don’t fancy people touching me. It’s revolting.” He turns to a mortified Asher whose cheeks are flushed crimson. “Now, be a useful dear and write down the names of the people you saw in the house.”

Asher gets up and smoothens wrinkles off his clothes as he stares between Sam and me. He eventually decides there is no point dragging things with Sam so he walks away, totally ignoring my calls.

I stare at his retreating figure, hoping for him to come back as he is essential to the breaking of this case, but he doesn’t. When he is out of sight, I turn a glare to Sam who is just watching me with a stoic expression.

“I know what you’re thinking, and do refrain from hitting me,” he warns and I let out a strangled sound as I ball my palms into fists.

How can someone be so aggravating?

“You hurt him!” I state in anger and rather than being apologetic, the corners of his lips quirk up in amusement.

“Did I? He hurt himself.”

“No! You did. What did you even do?” I inquire, my curiosity getting the better of me and he shrugs again as though it’s no big deal.

“It’s an Angel’s trick. Though, I use it more than others. We don’t have the ability to read minds, but we can persuade humans to divulge their deepest secrets to us. It’s quite easy, actually. Every human wants to talk, no matter how hard they deny it.”

“Why then was he in so much pain?” I demand.

“That’s all on him. He was resisting. You weren’t in pain, were you?”

I shake my head as I am reminded of the soothing, therapeutic feeling that had washed over me. There was no trace of pain, only blissful serenity.

“Why does it hurt to resist?” I choose to ask and Sam blows out a breath at my question, his patience seeming to run thin.

“Resisting takes mental strength. Something you severely lack. You let people walk over you and do what they want to you. You delude yourself that you’re simply peaceful, but in reality, you just lack mental strength and courage.”

I fold my arms in indignation, jutting out my lower lip in a pout. My action causes Sam to smirk in amusement once more and I release a sigh as I realize there’s no point in sulking.

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