by Page,Selena
The mouths reappeared in the abyss, lapping at the soul-blood dripping from both women. Apparently the damned didn’t discriminate between bad and good, between love and obsession. A soul was a soul, and the abyss scented weakness in the air. Alynia leaped to the side as a black-clawed hand surged toward her, lunging for the blade. Lauren mirrored the move, flinging an elbow into Alynia’s ribs. Alynia grunted and landed hard, the breath knocked from her lungs. If Lauren got her hands on that blade, it was all over. She’d make quick work of Alynia and then go help her psycho husband. If that blade cut through souls while still in their body, what would it do to someone like Iowin?
Someone like, say, Sean?
Alynia flung out her hand, calling upon the sigil. Blue-white light sizzled down the length of the weapon and vanished in a flash of sparks.
Lauren’s hand closed over air.
She never had time to wonder what happened. Alynia brought the blade down between the other woman’s shoulder blades, stabbing deep into her heart. Lauren tried to scream, one hand feebly clawing at the air behind her. But as she had stated so cavalierly before, Iowin was real good at crafting his artifacts.
Even if he was doing so against his will.
And Alynia was the best there ever was at using them.
Magic poured through the sigil and into the weapon, tearing Lauren’s soul into a thousand tiny bits of light. What remained of Lauren’s shell fell limply into the waiting darkness. The abyss welcomed her, greedy little mouths syphoning soul and bone and flesh as easily as magic.
It devoured her in moments.
Behind her, Sean screamed, an incoherent sound of a wounded animal.
"You bitch," Sean seethed, the words ripping from Iowin’s own lips. His body stood, Sean’s eyes blazing in place of his brother’s. "What I’ll do to you will make sinners in hell beg--"
Alynia’s numbed hand reached out again, and the blade burst free of the abyss. It hovered in the air, crackling with the lightning of their sigil. "No. This is my love story, asshole."
Sean’s mouth moved, deadly incantations forming on his lips. She’d never get to him in time, she knew. Even if she threw the blade with all her might, she wouldn’t be able to stop whatever he had in store for her. Her body was soul-battered, her arms all but useless. And there was no iron lid to fling between herself and her death this time.
I love you, Iowin Tintreach. I’m so sorry.
The spirit of Iowin Tintreach leaped onto his own possessed body. The ferocity of it, the sheer anger and rage within that soul was enough to startle Sean. Iowin ripped open the expensive silk shirt, exposing the pulsing metal-like tattoo forged in his own flesh. No, exposing the poisoned ward that locked Iowin from his body, that was the source of Sean’s hold on him. She didn’t need an engraved invitation. The blade sliced through the air, guided by their mingled power, and sank home. The Sean-Iowin thing threw back its head and screamed, shrieked, and tried to tear at the blade eating its power.
Alynia! Iowin screamed inside her. Use the power. Use it. It’s there! Save us!
Us, him, and her. Together. It was a beautiful realization.
Lightning crackled through the room, this time at her command. The bolts slammed into the hilt of the blade, rocketed through the metal of the tattoo, and shattered it. Sean Tintreach shattered with it, exploding into a thousand motes of light, the body collapsing to the ground. Iowin’s spirit vanished. The abyss vanished, taking with it all that remained of Lauren Tintreach.
Out of the sarcophagus, a fountain of silver-white sparks exploded upward, the soul fragments stolen from ShadowBlack. Finally, those pieces of the human heart, the hopes and dreams and fears and joys of his victims, soared home.
"Iowin." Alynia scrambled to her feet, running toward his body. "Iowin!"
Jade eyes slowly opened, a sparkle to them she hadn’t seen in years. "Hey," he whispered, smiling faintly.
Tears fell down her cheeks, relief and terror and everything mixed together. "Hey, yourself," she laughed, slumping down next to him and placing her head on his chest. "Not to be an ungrateful guest, but I think your warding circle is corrupted."
She felt the rumble of his laugh, heard the dark sarcasm thick in his voice. Was there ever a lovelier sound? "Oh, what was your first clue?"
"Iron’s a bad choice. We should get rid of that."
"I’m open to suggestions."
She glanced up, ran a fingertip over his lips. "I’m more partial to silver, myself."
"Silver’s a good choice," he murmured, wincing slightly as he shifted onto his side to peer down at her. "But I’m thinking a double band of gold." He captured her left hand in his, and gently caressed her ring finger. "What do you say, Nia?"
She snorted, a smile flirting at the edges of her mouth. "I think you’re trying to slap me with true love and call me Samantha."
His eyes practically glowed with delight. "Is everything always dark humor and sarcasm with you?"
"Only when it comes to you."
Chapter 11
They found Father Alejandro Sanchez in the shadows of Marta’s statue, one neat hole piercing the chest of his robes right above his heart. One didn’t need a team of specialists to understand what had happened. Lauren had a gun. He’d attempted to stop her. They’d struggled for the gun, and she’d won.
Iowin’s fingers closed over the rosary, and he whispered a word of power. The entire fight displayed itself before them, and they mourned as they watched her slit his throat with the blade. But not before he’d touched the rosary to her forehead, uttered the words of prayer for her forgiveness, and through that syphoned one tiny confession from her insanity-driven mind.
A phone number and a name: Donovan. Donovan of the Foundation Group.
That was all they had to go on. Sometimes, that was all they needed.
Father Alejandro’s face held a kindly, peaceful repose, the shadows of Marta’s wings extending around him as if they were his own. Protecting his body or guiding the man to his just rewards, Alynia wasn’t sure. But what she did know was that someone had forgiven him along the way--she’d forgiven him along the way--and she’d bet good money that against all odds he was in heaven. It was written that in death all was forgiven, and somehow she knew he’d found his redemption just as he’d said he had. Through Marta’s forgiveness, and his forgiveness in himself.
She’d been wrong about the man, and the only apology she could give was to close his eyes one last time. Lauren Tintreach was dead, beyond the bounds of any justice Alynia could dish out in his honor. And the small, lopsided smile on her lips contrasted with her tears. The odds were also good that Lauren and Sean were on their way to their just rewards without the benefit of a winged guide. That would have to be enough.
That, and the rising sun throwing soft blues and purples across the statue. Colors of nobility and courage, almost as if in his honor. He was a warrior until the end, and her arms wrapped around Iowin as he bowed his head and wept.
Iowin took her hand in his, squeezing softly. "The police will be here any moment."
"I know." She squeezed his hand in return. "I never did check in with them. I’m surprised it took this long to get a warrant to enter. I wish we could tell them the truth. Father Sanchez deserves that much."
"Can’t we?"
She lifted an eyebrow. "Come again?"
"Lauren Tintreach killed Father Sanchez and disappeared. We have the gun she used. We have no idea where she is. We didn’t see it happen. That’s the truth of it."
She mulled that over a moment. "And this ‘Foundation Group’ was their contact?"
Iowin turned the rosary over in his hands before slipping it around his neck. "What contact? We didn’t find anything."
The corner of her lips lifted in a lopsided grin. "Is that an invitation to hunt?"
Those eyes she’d loved so much, that always showed everything he felt, glittered with newfound hope. "You said you were the job. Let’s go be the job, then."
&n
bsp; She rose up on tip-toes, kissing him gently. "I forgive you, you know."
"For what?"
"For not forgiving yourself until now."
He glanced away, up at the statue of Marta and at the cathedral behind them. "I don’t know if I have yet, Nia."
"You’ve started, Iowin." She took his face in her hands, drawing his eyes back to hers. "It’ll take time, but we’ll make it happen. Redemption isn’t a path we should walk alone. Father Sanchez taught me that. That, I think, is the best monument to his memory and Marta’s that we can ever build."
His mouth found hers again as the sun truly rose, chasing away the shadows of the past and promising a new day.
Up Next:
Miriam Caprice gets her story in:
DIRT & DESIRE
Available October 2016
About the Author
Selena Page is the author of the Caprice Chronicles, a paranormal romance series centered around a family of cursed witches and warlocks. Her heroes are hot, her heroines are sassy, and the spellbinding chemistry that results will blow your mind.
A foodie, knitter, and lover of daring bodice rippers, Selena writes from her beachfront home in Galveston, TX, and spends her spare time relaxing in the sand and playing in the waves with her viking husband and her three corgis by her side.
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