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I yank my attention that way, eager for a glimpse of her bright scrubs.
We gargoyles live in shades of grey. She’s all rainbows and vibrance.
A bright hoodie covers most of her pale skin, and her long dark hair is bound in a bun. I’ve dreamed of dragging my claws through those strands. Her tight clutch on a collapsing box and the way her purse strap hangs over her shoulder to rest between her breasts? That has me flinching. She shouldn’t live a life of fear when she does so much to help others. I wish we could snatch her away to safety now and not be stuck waiting on the dealing demon.
Jace curses and launches from the roof.
My stomach lurches. We don’t break from hiding—ever. A quick scan of the scene below has me forgetting the rules and leaping to follow him.
A man comes at Rosemarie. Dressed in black with slivers of tanned white skin showing, he reaches for her purse even as she tosses the box in his direction.
“Let go,” she yells and struggles, clutching the strap tighter.
A quick blow to her face and the glint of steel in his hand has me rushing. We can’t lose her. But we’re too far away. It all goes so fast. Faster than a lightning strike in this realm, faster than a sure soul’s crossing in ours, faster than we can fly.
The man shoves her, and she falls hard. No. Her head thuds against the asphalt.
In the next racing beat of my heart, I take the man to the ground, rolling in a tangle of arms, legs, and wings. His knife clatters to the concrete. The need for violence pours through me, a sensation I haven’t felt in a century. I’ll rip him to pieces.
My pulse pounds in my head, and my vision tunnels to rage and retribution.
“He’s out. Leave him,” Jace says.
I can’t. I won’t. He dared touch our queen, our potential mate. He caused her pain, signing his own death warrant.
Jace blocks my path. “She needs us.”
“The bastard deserves to pay in blood,” I argue.
“Agreed, but not now. She’s hurt.”
I snarl. “More reason to kill him.”
“Brother, control yourself.”
His harsh words break through my fury. I lost control. Me—the one who is always restrained. Jace is the twin with the quick temper who makes rash decisions. Not me.
I shove my feelings down so quickly that my breath whooshes out in a rush.
Streetlights in the distance flicker. My body goes heavy. Shit. The sky has gone to pinks and blues. Dawn’s almost here. We’ve run out of time.
Jace skims a worried look over our queen. “Rosemarie?” he calls.
She doesn’t answer, doesn’t wake up.
The fear in his gaze tugs at me. I put that fear there when I failed to save him before, failed to save our candidate. He still grieves to the point he won’t say Dyphena’s name. She should’ve been queen, presiding over the Bridge of Souls for the last century and still in her rule. Not forever adrift in the River of Souls.
I let everyone down.
I won’t again.
Not this time.
“Go now,” I tell him. “I’ve got her.” With my emotions locked away, I gather Rosemarie in my arms. She’s so slight, so delicate. Her body goes limp against mine, all tempting curves and sweet surrender that I would cherish if I wasn’t losing my mind with worry.
Pulling the shadows tight around the two of us, I fly her in a zooming rush toward the emergency room entrance, triggering the motion-sensor doors as I lay her on the ground. I can ask Truman to wipe any video recordings of us, to access her medical records so we can monitor her care. But it’s not enough.
I cradle her head, wishing I could do more. “Soon,” I whisper. “You’ll be with us soon, and I’ll cut off the hands of anyone who dares to harm you.”
