And alive.
Tears welled in her eyes. She might yet get the chance to live a normal life. Zane too. She wished with all her heart she’d get the chance to hold him again, to crush his lips to hers, to say the words that filled her heart.
The thought pushed her tears over the rims of her lids. Salty streams coursed down her cheeks over her lips. She didn’t wipe them away, didn’t want to. The fact she could cry felt life-affirming and reassuring. She wouldn’t come so far and not find a way to escape.
But first she’d have to move. Achy and stiff, she rolled her head to the side, catching sight of Savard.
Slumped with his head resting against the passenger door, he filled the footwell. A bloody lump protruded from his forehead. In short order, he’d sport a big, purple goose egg. Provided he wasn’t dead.
Elbow jammed into the driver’s door, she groaned and pushed toward the console, intending to sit up so she could check his pulse.
Upright in the driver’s seat, her gaze locked onto the winged being staring at her through the windshield.
All her relief turned to stone-cold fear. Most of it not her own. Luciana rotated inside her, over and over like a poisoned parasite desperate to cling to their host. In a small voice, she heard prayers to be saved.
The very thought of the demon child hiding within her induced dry retching.
Once again, clutching the steering wheel, she bent forward. Choked coughs burned her throat and filled the car with the sound of gagging.
Without warning, the driver’s door swung open.
»»•««
“Get out of my way.” From behind him, Zane heard Baalberith bitch at Swift. “Or I swear to God—”
“Seriously, Pops? You can’t swear to God, not anymore. And swearing to Satan is—let’s face it—useless. If it wasn’t, he’d be here. Helping. You. Out.”
In the seconds Zane thought Swift ran out on him, like he’d done to Jesse on so many occasions, the tough little Brit sneaked up on his old man. The moment the demon engaged with his son, Zane hit the road, running at full tilt toward the car.
He stooped and reached across Delphine’s body to unfasten the safety belt. The very fact she’d buckled in almost assured him Delphine owned control. Almost. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re all right. Please tell me you’re Delphine.”
No words. She flung her arms around his neck and buried her face against the skin below his ear.
He wrapped his arms around her and spoke against the tender flesh where her neck curved into her shoulder. “I need to hear you say it. To know it’s really you.”
She grazed her cheekbone along his jaw and tilted her head back to meet his gaze. Up close, her lashes looked wet, and he noticed the tacky dampness left by her cheek. “Delphine. I’m Delphine. For reals.” Her body jostled as she extracted her legs from the footwell and then twisted to hug him tighter. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”
“Not more than I’ve been worried about you.” He flattened his palms on her back and stroked along the column of her spine, comforting while being comforted. The position awkward and with time slipping away, their embrace felt all the more precious.
“I thought I’d never hold you again. Thought I’d never—”
“Shh.” He cradled the back of her head and held her in place, contracting his arms around her ribs, unwilling to relinquish the moment to reality. “Just one second more.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her lips grazed his ear, and a shiver tickled under his skin, traveling to all points at breakneck speed. “I shouldn’t have taken matters into my own hands. I should have consulted you. I should have—”
The passenger door opened with a subtle whoosh, and she stopped talking.
Without letting her go, Zane glanced up to see two big hands thrust inside and grab Savard under the arms.
Boone.
“Don’t need extra baggage. It’s gonna be tight in here as it is.”
The French councilman’s body slunk up and out of the door. With a thump, Savard hit the road. He groaned.
“Adios, asshole.” His brother dropped into the passenger seat. “Enough, you two. He loves you. You love him. And I’d love to get the fuck outta here.”
Not the way Zane would like for Delphine to hear those words, but his brother made a good point. They’d already lingered too long. “We should get going,” he said, but she’d already broken their embrace.
He kissed her lightly on the lips before letting her pull away.
Boone slung his left leg over the stick shift. “Let’s start her up.” He turned the key and laid on the gas pedal.
The car whined and sputtered.
Undeterred, he tried again. Same response from the car.
“Fried. Guess we’re hoofing it.” He peered past Delphine. “How’s the gunshot wound, bro? You fit to run?”
“Shot?” Delphine blanched ghostly white.
He stroked the worry lines etched on her forehead with his fingertips, leaving a smudge of his blood. A reminder they needed to get going. He spoke fast. “I’m fine. Not a big deal. And I can run, but we need to ditch Luciana first.”
He cut his sights to Swift, still waging a war of words with Baalberith. Somehow he’d maneuvered the demon to turn his back on the car.
“Worry about that later,” Boone said. “Let’s leave.”
“How were you shot? Savard was with me.”
Boone jumped in, answering for him. “Swift did it with Zane’s holy water revolver so he could wash the ring in his blood. Good thing too. Now he’s able to tap its power.”
Delphine scanned Zane from neck to waist. Didn’t take her long to find the wound. “Oh, Cowboy.” The sweet nickname rushed out on a worried breath, sending healing tingles into the torn skin.
“It’s nothing. Far from fatal.” He redirected the conversation to more important questions. “Can you still feel Luciana?”
“Yes. She’s recessed and dug in deep. No talking, but I feel her watching and thinking.”
“You need to expel her before she devises a way to hang on.”
“Doubt we’ve got that kind of time,” Boone said. “We can come back later when that blowhard’s returned to his lair.”
“No,” she said, lids dropping over her big browns. “Swift. Watch the ring. Watch the ring.”
Again, Zane looked over at Swift. Arm extended with his ring hand fisted, he stomped toward Baalberith, who retreated as if in fear—as if touching his precious LOC insignia would hurt him. Their steady trajectory would land the demon on the hood of the car in less than a minute.
Boone followed his gaze and then exploded with panic. “What’s he doing? We’re in here. Baalberith could easily reach inside and take—”
“Get out.” Zane ordered his brother. “Stand clear. Swift’s got a plan.”
“What plan?”
“I don’t know.” He studied Delphine’s intense expression where her brow furrowed above delicate twitching lids. “But she does.”
The back of Baalberith’s legs struck the nose of the sports car, and Boone bolted out of his seat, cursing. From the side window, Zane could see his brother stop and turn, gun in each hand.
Good.
Delphine gasped and her eyes snapped open. Irises the color of flame stared back at him.
Apparently, Swift’s plan failed already.
Chapter Forty-Two
“Luciana.” Zane hissed her name with hate, but shook with fear. The demon had overpowered Delphine again, and his heart all but split in his chest.
“Get out of my way, Cowboy. Or you’ll be sorrier than you are now.” Forcefully, she jabbed him in the open wound with her elbow and took off, her sure feet pounding the road.
Pain radiated from his side, pulsating across every nerve in his body. He winced in anguish, more from the loss of Delphine.
“Luciana!” Baalberith hollered to daughter. “Help me!”
Without a word, without a glance over her shoulder, the d
emon’s daughter dashed toward the Paris Gate.
Zane gritted his teeth and stood. Panicked, angry, and flat out sick of plans that didn’t work, he took off after her at top speed, using every ounce of his energy reserves.
One way or another, he’d free Delphine of her evil stowaway this very moment.
All he had left in his arsenal was a forced soul tap. At least, he wouldn’t have to worry about Delphine forgiving him for violating the sanctity of her soul. He’d never see her again after he extracted Luciana.
From this moment until his death, he’d deal with the demon one on one. Total torture, but he’d make damn sure Luciana hated her new prison just as much as he hated being the turnkey.
Striving with all his might, his legs pumping harder than ever before, he caught up. Arms outstretched, he lunged and grabbed.
Luciana dodged.
He missed and came to a stuttering halt.
Niall guarded the Paris Gate, his ghostly form expanded in both width and height.
The most annoying, irritating, yet charming trait about the shade—no one could pass through the Gate as long as he guarded it.
Not even the daughter of Hell’s most notorious Fallen Angel.
She screeched and then circled toward the woods.
“Looks like she’s trying an end run,” he said to Niall.
“I don’t know what an end run is, but she won’t slip between me and the portal if that’s what you mean. I’m spread fairly thin, but density is not an issue. Did Delphine let you know what to do next?”
“No. Once Luciana took over Delphine, whatever plan Swift devised—”
“Is still in play.”
“What?”
“Releasing Luciana is the plan. The first step toward expulsion. Acting as the link between oracles has its benefits.”
“Then clue me in.”
Before the shade could reply, Swift hollered out from behind him.
“It’s over, Luciana.”
He swiveled around, hoping with all his heart, whatever scheme had been set in place succeeded. He just wished he knew his part.
With Baalberith in tow, Swift swaggered toward them. The collar and manacles no longer in place, he appeared the epitome of control, even with his nose askew and the bruises on his face and neck. He held out his fisted hand where the ring gleamed from his middle finger and led his demon father by an unseen tension.
“As the new master of this ring, I command you to leave Delphine’s body and return to your home in Hell.”
Her phony laugh echoed all around them as if she’d projected through a speaker system. “You command nothing and no one. Least of all me.”
“Look, sis.” Voice calm, Swift gestured with the hand not holding his father in place and shrugged. “We can do this nice or not so nice. Your choice.”
“Whoa! Hold on.” Zane approached, but kept his distance. “That’s Delphine in there too.”
“She’ll be safe,” Niall whispered behind him. “I promise.”
The click of heavy shoes in a measured step came up on his left. He turned his head to see Luciana sashaying passed him. The demon’s visage overlaid Delphine’s features. Spiked hair, short red dress trimmed in brass chain links, tall black boots with chunky soles, lips painted the color of dried blood.
Brazen as ever, she strolled right up to Swift. “I like what you’ve done with Dad. Obedience suits him. And the ring suits you. Have you thought through all your options?”
“I’m a doer, not a thinker.”
Not true. Everyone understood Swift pretended not to think, keeping expectations low.
Buying his lie, she continued talking in her smooth, persuasive alto. “I’m sure you realize wearing the ring will corrupt your soul. Self-correct all that pious righteousness you inherited from your whore of a mother. You could rule here if you possessed the intelligence. Or had someone willing to teach you.”
“Like you?”
“We could do it together. Bond as a family.”
The hesitation, the hard swallow, the shadow from Swift’s rutted brows, conjured up visions Zane hadn’t experienced since a teenager. The visions that convinced him he’d be of more service working the field.
One of their own would abandon the Society for a taste of the other side. He felt the truth of it more acutely than the pain throbbing in his side.
Despite his loose cannon reputation, until today Zane never suspected Swift. Though unpredictable and eccentric, he’d always had a reason for his outlandish actions.
A moment passed in silence. Swift averted his gaze over his sister’s shoulder and locked onto Zane. Serious. Flat. Unnerving.
“I rather fancy the ring, I admit.” His gaze never moved from Zane’s face. “But I’ll not rule here or anywhere. When I’m finished, this ring is trash.”
“You can’t destroy it,” Baalberith said.
“Says someone who never tried,” Swift yelled over his shoulder. “I’ve kept my part of the deal, Pops. Now you keep yours.” He ducked, dropping to his knees.
The mighty demon roared and shot out both arms. He splayed the fingers of both hands. The air between them distorted until his extravagant suit appeared tailored of swirling moonbeams. He curled his fingers inward, and Luciana began to move, the overlay of her true being separating from Delphine’s body.
Delphine swung around to face him, trying to aid the separation.
But not enough and not in time.
The demon keened and struggled, twisting until she disappeared within, her hold appearing stronger than ever.
Delphine’s feet skidded on the stone road, sliding backward toward Baalberith.
“No!” Zane lunged, both feet leaving the ground, his arms spread wide. He tackled Delphine, turning as they fell. He landed square on his wounded side, protecting her from crashing on the hard stones.
He couldn’t hold back a yell. The impact induced a shot of pain that connected his oblique muscles to his brain. He rolled onto his back, sheer will keeping his arms locked around Delphine.
“Are you, okay?” Her voice was tender amidst the chaos.
“As long as you hold on, yeah.”
“I’m never letting go.” She slinked her arms up his chest and linked her fingers behind his neck.
Under the demon’s power, they continued a bumpy progression over the cobblestone road. The demon maintained his hooks in Luciana and Luciana clung to Delphine.
Zane scrabbled the heels of his boots against the cobblestone road, hoping to anchor into a wedge between the rocks. Any foothold for any period would buy them time. Even seconds could make a difference.
He might as well have been sliding on ice.
“Looks like I’m getting a bargain.”
Zane didn’t need to see Baalberith’s face. He felt the smug stare settle over them like a blanket.
“Three for one. Unless the Hell Runner can’t tolerate a little—fun. Let’s test your devotion, shall we?” A lightning bolt landed a fraction short of his wound, but he felt the charged ping sting into his side. A direct hit promised excruciating pain.
Delphine squealed and squeezed him tighter.
“Swift!” Zane screamed. “Do some ring magic?”
No answer. His worry about the Rebel Runner returned full force, but his worry for Delphine overrode all else.
The image of Luciana surfaced once again, wavering in and out. He couldn’t determine if that meant Baalberith was pulling her free or he was losing Delphine.
Another bolt hit far too close. Another sting like a burning arrow burrowed into this thigh.
The pain didn’t matter. The demon master with his outstretched arms loomed close.
Back to Plan A. Soul tap.
With one arm firmly anchored around her waist, he gripped the back of her head with his hand.
In the next second, Luciana materialized over Delphine. Wide-eyed as a scared child, her gaze locked onto his.
No hesitation. No revulsion. No regret.
Zane captured her mouth, sealing his lips over hers before nudging his tongue into the warm, moist depths. His stomach quivered, and his chest ached worse than his side.
Their last kiss. He only wished he’d been looking into her eyes and not the demon’s before he plunged.
Her breath battered his cheek with quick breaths. Her tongue caressed his with familiar ardor. Tightening her grip around his neck, she pressed against him from breast to ankle, all the soft spots, molding to fit against him.
Suddenly, her body jerked as if in seizure. She gasped against his mouth, breaking their kiss. “Cowboy.” He felt her lips form the words better than he could hear her. She clung to him, her elbows digging into his shoulders.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered and clutched her tighter. He’d never let go. Baalberith could torture him through eternity and he’d always hold her steady.
A thud crashed on the road at his side, and a spray of water soaked his shirt.
Another judder from her, like a shiver that wouldn’t quit. He pressed the back of her head, guiding her face to the crook of his neck while he cradled her against him.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Wet. Wet. Wet.
A cacophony of sound exploded all around them.
Whoops and hollers like a rider bucking a bronco. Running feet pounding the pavers. The blast of holy water pistols.
A screech wrought from agony lit the air. The sound of true fear.
The bellow of Baalberith obliterated any other noise. “Leave! All of you! Now!” His command buffeted the air above them.
Boone yelled, “Come on. Help Zane and D.”
Eyes open, the beam pulling them toward the demon disappeared, and the constant rumble beneath him ceased.
More shots fired, but he couldn’t see, couldn’t get a handle on the action. All he knew for certain—they were free.
“Delphine.” Zane shook her shoulder and rolled them while he talked. “Time to go.” He’d carry her to the safety of the Paris Gate and then return to help the others escape.
“What’s going on? I’m soaked.” Her gaze cut away from him, darting in all directions.
Dream Breakers, Oath Takers Page 33