Immortal (Fallen Angels #6)(70)
Author: J.R. Ward

“Do you remember the verses?” Eddie asked.

Jim answered by beginning to speak in a foreign language, slowly and carefully.

“Nice accent,” Ad muttered as he stood by the window.

“Close your eyes, Sissy,” Eddie said. “Don’t look. No matter what happens, don’t open your eyes.”

For no good reason—other than the fact that she was losing her mind—she had a split-second Raiders of the Lost Ark moment, a quick mental snapshot of Harrison Ford and that actress who had played Professor Ravenwood’s daughter tied to a stake before the golden box was opened by that French archeologist.

Don’t look, Marion …

God, she wished this were a movie. With a happy ending.

Jim was the last thing she saw before she lowered her lids. He was standing over her, staring down from his great height, his lean face grave as a preacher’s over somebody’s pine box.

Which seemed pretty damned apt.

I love you, she mouthed to him.

He didn’t lose his rhythm, but dropped down and caressed her cheek. Which was an I love you, too, if she’d ever heard one.

“Not your fault,” she whispered.

Instead of waiting to see if he denied that in some way, she closed her eyes. Tried to breathe. Felt her heart pound so hard, she had a headache from the pressure … or maybe that was the tub.

The vibration began so subtly, she thought it was just her own case of the trembles. But then it spread out from her torso, growing in reverberation, clearly something other than herself. It was shortly after that that a breeze began to blow across her in spite of the high sides of the tub, her forearms goose-bumping even under the sweatshirt, her nose tickling, her hair ruffling. Had someone cracked that window over—

No, she was turning. Spinning. Slowly.

It didn’t stay that way. The speed changed, doubling and redoubling until she was flying around the pivot point of her belly button, centrifugal force lengthening her legs and shoulders, trying to pull her thin, straining her joints as she fought the draw. Nausea twisted her guts like a rope, and the pressure in her head became so great, her skull felt like it was going to break open.

Just as she knew she was going to be torn apart, right at the very moment she was going to lose consciousness … all at once, everything stopped.

Abruptly, she was no longer spinning; she was floating, light as a feather on a gentle draft, all the pain gone. And then her eyesight returned—even as her lids remained locked down, she saw a brilliant white light emanating from beneath her, her body cutting a path through the illumination.

Jim’s face appeared over her own, a strange warping making him seem right next to her and very far away at the same time. His lips were moving, that unfamiliar language entering her mind not through her ears, but some kind of psychic connection.

Don’t move, Sissy, he said to her without interrupting the flow of his verses. You can’t move even an inch.

All right, she thought back to him.

That was when he raised a crystal dagger above her chest.

Oh … shit. This was going to hurt.

Bracing herself, she nonetheless lifted her sternum, offering herself up to whatever was going to happen. She’d rather be some version of dead than live with Devina somewhere inside of her, growing roots like a poisonous weed, choking out the essence of her and leaving her body full of evil.

Do it, she thought at Jim. Do it hard.

She could have sworn a sheen of tears licked into both of his eyes. And then he hesitated, as if strung between two impossibles.

Do it, Jim. It’s all right … I want this to happen. Better to be dead than have her in me.

With his teeth clenching hard, he blinked once and drove down with all his strength.

The pain was so great, she screamed until she had no voice left. And then she nearly blacked out as Jim dragged that blade down her torso as if he were gutting a fish. As a great cavern was created, Jim reached into her with his bare hands, probing, searching.

And she screamed. Screamed … because that was all she could do. Screamed … even though she couldn’t breathe. Screamed in spite of the fact that she could not think or—

Jim pulled on something, and it had to be her spine, she thought, because her battered body strained all over—it was as if he were trying to separate her from herself.

No, it was not her spine. As she lifted her head and stared through her closed eyes … she saw that it was some kind of black, oily mess, like part of Devina’s wall had somehow ended up inside of her—and the evil was refusing to yield. The harder he yanked, the tougher it adhered, until she began to jerk up out of the tub with every pull.

She was going to die.

As her breathing grew so labored she began to black out, she fought to stay with Jim. Focusing on him, she called on all her strength.

And lost the battle.

Lost … herself.

Jim leaned so far into the tub that Adrian and Eddie both latched onto him, as if they were afraid of losing him. Probably a good idea, given the way his back was straining until his shoulders trembled and his thighs burned.

But the evil didn’t shift. Didn’t budge. Didn’t move. Goddamn it, it was supposed to—it was supposed to get yanked out like it had in the first round. Eddie had gotten it free of Vin diPietro—

“Let go, Jim!” Ad hollered. “Let it go—we’re going to lose you—”

“Fuck you!”

Jim dug his heels in even harder and—

His grip began to slip, and he knew without being told that Sissy would not come through another attempt; they had one shot at this.

And he was failing. Grip slipping, oh, God, the grip, his grip …

Someone was screaming. Him. He had gambled and lost—again. He had let her down—again. He was losing another woman he loved … again—

Two sets of hands reached down and joined his on the black mass, one from each side of him.

Together, they all pulled. Him and Adrian and Eddie. They all pulled together, the strength brought to the fight not just one plus one plus one, but exponentially more powerful.

The evil began to shift. He felt the give, barely perceptible at first, but then … yes, yes.

“Harder,” he barked. “Fucking harder!”

He could sense the heat rolling off the other angels as they put all the strength they had into the fight, and sweat popped out all over his own face, running down into his eyes. Just a little more … if they could just put a little more—

The sound as the darkness ripped free was like the squeal of eighteen wheels across pavement, burning his ears until he cringed. And just as before with Vin, a black seething form ripped away and took flight, screeching around the ceiling like a bat out of a cave.