Possession (Fallen Angels #5)(80)
Author: J.R. Ward

The angel stopped abruptly, his head ripping around to her.

“I—I’m sorry,” she said, holding out his cane. “You left this downstairs. I thought … you might need it.”

There was a good distance between them, twenty feet or so, but she saw the tears on his cheeks before he swept them away with a brisk hand.

“Leave it there,” Adrian answered in a voice that cracked.

“Who is that?” she asked.

“None of your business.”

“Is it your brother?” A man like that wasn’t going to be upset over just anybody, and that certainly wasn’t a woman under there. Way too big. “Is it?”

Adrian turned back to the shroud. “Close enough.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“So am I.”

Sissy was careful with his cane, laying it on top of one of the chests and making sure it didn’t roll off. It seemed like the only way she could take care of him.

“Did she take him from you?” she asked.

No reason to specify the “she.”

“Yeah, she did.”

As Sissy stared across what seemed like miles as opposed to yards, she found the tableau of loss painful to look at. This was what her family was living through, her mom and her dad, her sister … her friends, her roommates and teachers at Union, her old teammates.

All because of that demon.

How many? she wondered. How many lived with the aftermath of what she had done?

She remembered Jim sitting in that bathroom, weeping by the tub.

“Was he an angel, too?” she asked gruffly.

“More like a saint.” Adrian reached out and tugged at the sheet, smoothing the tiniest wrinkle. “Eddie was the very best of all of us. That was why she killed him.”

“When did this happen?”

“No more than a week ago.” Adrian rubbed his face again. “I was right beside him, I should have heard or seen … something. It just happened so fast.”

“I need to help.” As his head came back around, Sissy crossed her arms over her chest. “Whatever it takes to get her, I need in on it.”

The angel stared at her for the longest time. Then he returned to his friend. “I’m getting an idea why Jim thinks you’re special.”

“Wha …?” She couldn’t have heard that right.

“And if you want to go after Devina? You want to ingest that poison and maybe die again from it?” He nodded. “That’s your right. I won’t stop you.”

Sissy exhaled. “Thank you.”

“Not something you should be grateful for, honey. Now … if you don’t mind?”

“Your cane’s right here.” She laid a hand on it even though he wasn’t looking. “Right here.”

“Thanks.”

Sissy whispered her way down the steep stairwell and closed the door silently. Then she tiptoed back to her own room.

Inside her skin, she was not quiet, however.

Her anger was roaring.

Chapter Thirty-six

Jim left Nigel where the archangel lay. Not like the guy needed to go anywhere—and Devina couldn’t touch him now that he was gone.

Back at the tea table, he stared at the four empty seats and knew he was getting nowhere wasting time up here. And yet he couldn’t seem to leave, his feelings a complex interplay of guilt, mourning, and anger—

What the f**k?

Far across the lawn, off in the distance, a cloud had gathered close to the ground, something the size of a car or truck. At first it seemed as though it was smoke, but then as it started to move, he realized it was made up of countless—

A swarm.

It was a swarm of what seemed to be black wasps.

And it began to head his way, rushing forward in an accelerating wave pattern, surging with coordinated menace.

Jim bolted, heading for the moat. Thighs pumping, arms up, he ran the shit out of the grass, great strides taking him to the water source—

He didn’t make it.

The impact was like getting pelted with cobblestones all over the back of his body, and then he was engulfed, the stings blanketing him, assaulting him from every angle while he was dragged back from the water that might have saved him. He swung his arms like a crazy man, trying to bat the attack away, but there were so many of them…

He was spun around and elevated, the pricking pain fuzzing out his brain and dulling his response as his feet left the ground. And then there was a great suction, the pull so violent he felt as though his skin was going to go with it.

The swarm left him on a oner, peeling free just as fast as it had attacked.

Coalescing, it became Colin, the archangel. And the fury in his face was epic.

With a roar so loud it registered as agony in the ears, Colin attacked—and it was so not the same as being hit by that cop at the accident scene.

This was a semi-trailer truck knocking him down—and then beating the ever-living shit out of him, fists making contact with his face, his upper body, his gut. Pain stalled his brain, but instinct from a lifetime of fighting brought his arms up over his head. Trying to curl over on his side, he did his best to protect his internal organs—

The first stab penetrated his right shoulder. The second was too close to his carotid for comfort.

The insane bastard had a crystal knife.

And Jim was not going to make it through this.

“What the f**k are you doing?” he yelled.

“You killed him!” the Englishman spat. “You f**ker! You selfish motherfuck—”

Jim tried to capture that thrashing wrist, but there was blood flowing now, splashing all over the place, making any grip he could get slip free. The angel was completely out of control, the force of the stabbing increasing with every downward strike as opposed to easing off as energy ebbed.

In the midst of the flapping of his clothes, and the flashing of that clear blade, and the grunting hatred of his killer, he heard something else…

Barking?

Just as Jim was about to lose consciousness, he turned his head. There, no more than four feet away, Dog was going apeshit.

Unfortunately, Colin didn’t appear to hear any of it.

Which was how Jim finally saw the face of God.

Chapter Thirty-seven

This time, Cait put her clothes away properly. Washed off her makeup and moisturized. Brushed and flossed and clipped her fingernails.

She was tired, but wired, as she and Teresa had called it in college.

Eventually, there was only so much pre-bed primping a girl could do before it was time to get under the sheets and commence the great ceiling stare-off.