Immortal (Fallen Angels #6)(17)
Author: J.R. Ward

“Jim…?” She walked forward. “Jim?”

Suffocation followed. The kind that made her feel like someone had their hands around her throat. Or maybe a rope. Abruptly, she reached up to grab at that which wasn’t there, opening her mouth so she could breathe.

Fucking hell, she was now the salesguy from the hotel, her access to air cut off by an unseen force.

Except it wasn’t suffocation in the true sense. This was … an emotional pain so great it literally robbed her of the ability to inflate the lungs she pretended to have.

“Jim!” she screamed, the dots connecting to a terrifying conclusion.

Vaporizing her physical form, she entered the HVAC system ductwork and shot through the innards of the building, expelling herself into the open air through a vent and shooting off in the direction of that old house he stayed in.

Faster, faster, faster …

She knew the very moment he left the coil of the earth: A lancing agony overtook her soul, sure as if she had been cleaved in half.

Storm clouds gathered in her wake as she landed on the front lawn of the property he rented, and she rushed for the front door—

The barrier she hit was a brick wall that didn’t exist, an invisible, impenetrable force field that repelled her so hard, she fell back on her ass. Looking up in panic, her frantic mind couldn’t figure out what the fuck it was—but then she caught sight of a subtle red glimmer. The bastard had locked her out with an additional, stronger spell.

Except it didn’t last.

With Jim’s life-force having been extinguished, his protection spell lost its source and gradually peeled free of the house, retreating from the roof and freeing up from the walls.

The inevitable recession was like watching him die in front of her, seeing his life slip away.

“Jim…” she groaned as the last of it disappeared.

Scrambling to her feet, she ran forward and went to the windows of the parlor. With shaking hands, she leaned into the bubbly old glass and cupped her palms, peering through …

The moan that rippled up through her tight throat was a release of agony. Across the parlor, Jim lay in a shambled sprawl on the floor, his arms and legs helter-skelter, as if he had fallen back without trying to stop himself or protect against the impact. Silver blood was everywhere down his chest, a gaping slash in his throat the cause of the tidal wave.

There was a crystal dagger in his right hand—that was stained with more of that mercury-like substance that filled his veins.

Clearly, he’d taken someone with him.

Such a hero, she thought as she teared up.

And yes, opposite him, Colin the archangel was a shadow of his powerful self, his face drawn in horror, his body straining as if he were in physical conflict—except there was no one coming at him. There had been, though—his face was bruising up and there was silver blood on his hands. The room was also trashed, lamps knocked over, tables overturned, sofas out of place.

Jim had been in the process of fighting with the archangel. Maybe over her honor? That was so like her Jim … but it shouldn’t have ended like it had.

And she wasn’t the only one who felt that way. That dumb whore Sissy Barten was screaming at the top of her lungs as she went over and took Jim’s head into her lap, and across the way, Adrian the angel was looking like he’d seen a ghost. Or maybe the Grim Reaper.

The only bright spot was the obvious agony of that girl, and Devina took a moment to absorb the incandescent pain. It was the only balm she was going to have for a long, long while. The shit was going to be useful, too.

But not now. Now, it was all she could do to keep from breaking down.

Splaying her fingers out, Devina leaned in until her forehead touched the cool glass. “My love…”

Some animal was loose and going crazy in the parlor.

Oh, wait—it was her, Sissy thought.

With her mouth wide-open and her lungs working with a seemingly endless supply of air, she was making a noise that was part lioness, part atomic bomb detonation. Staring at Jim’s lifeless body, cradling him against her, getting stained by his silver blood, she unhinged—

And lunged at his attacker.

Without conscious thought, she scrambled over the floor like a crab, launching herself at Colin, who remained stunned stupid either by her having smashed him on the head or because of what Jim had just done to himself.

She went for the eyes.

She didn’t get close. He grabbed her wrists and flipped her onto her back on the floor, straddling her and pinning her arms over her head.

“Fuck you!” she spat at him, fighting against the hold, kicking with her legs, thrashing around. When she tried to bite him, he somehow kept her down while freeing one of his hands—which he clapped on her jaw to hold her head in place.

He didn’t hurt her. Just let her wear herself out.

It felt like a year until all she could do was heave for breath underneath him, and still he sat over her calmly, as if he’d put no effort into any of it at all.

As water hit her face, she couldn’t figure out where it was coming from—

The man was … crying. From out of the strangest-colored eyes she had ever seen, tears were falling drop by drop and landing on her cheeks. And before she knew it, her own were mixing with his, a great wellspring of emotion bursting out and taking over where the anger had been raw as the wound Jim had given himself.

“I have lost, too,” he said in a proper English accent. “I am without as well.”

“Why did you kill him,” she moaned, even though that was not what happened. “Why—”

“I am sorry for your loss.” His voice cracked. “I am so sorry…”

She turned her head and looked at Jim’s body through waves of tears. His face happened to be tilted in her direction, and for a moment, it was as if the two of them were staring at each other—except there was no life behind his eyes.

Colin loosened his hold. Backed off a little. Backed off a lot.

As the man, angel, whatever he was moved away from her, his legs flopped around like he meant to stand up, but didn’t have the strength or coordination. Then he rubbed his face … as if maybe that would change what was across the floor from him.

“You wanted to kill him,” Sissy said grimly. “I don’t know why you’re so fucking surprised at this.”

“Whate’er has he done to himself,” the angel whispered.

From over on the sofa that had been thrown against the wall, Adrian cursed. “He went there to get Nigel back.”