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Just as I was about to force myself to tell Dev to stop, he sprang, knocking into Remy and pile-driving him back against the tomb behind them. Remy grunted and brought an elbow down on Dev’s back, causing the air to rush out of Dev’s lungs in a whoosh. Dev recovered and tried to take Remy to the ground, only to be shoved off and punched in the face. Dev’s head snapped to the side, but he somehow remained standing and kicked at Remy, catching the other man in the midsection and sending him back once again.
Remy slashed out with the dagger, the blade glinting in the low light. As if in slow motion, I heard the swish of steel against fabric, undercut by a squelching sound of severed flesh that turned my stomach. When Dev drew in a sharp inhale, I knew he’d been cut, but I wasn’t sure where. They were too far away from me now. And being restrained and weak, I couldn’t lift my head enough to catch more than vague impressions of what was going on.
I felt so helpless. The man I loved was battling for his life. Fighting formine. And I couldn’t do anything to help. I tried to pull against my bonds, but I was too weak, couldn’t even free myself an inch. Grunts and dull thuds continued as the two fought, and I worried that Remy would hit something vital in Dev with that knife. But would I even be alive to find out? I felt my body giving in to defeat. Saw the shadows creeping in at the edges of my vision. Just as I was about to say something, at least tell Dev how I felt before I died, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and saw a commotion at the door.
I turned my head to see Larken, James, Paxton, Dakota, and Schuyler rush through the door, the latter holding a gun.
Was I imagining things?
“Freeze, motherfucker,” she called and pointed the handgun at the grappling pair, her stance steady and aim true. The guys stopped fighting long enough to look up, and I finally heard the blade hit the stone and skitter across the surface. Dev must have disarmed Remy in his surprise.
Just as I was about to relax, I saw more movement near the door and looked over, only to have my stomach drop and my breath freeze in my lungs. Four people entered, but it was the one in the front that metaphorically stopped me in my tracks. Black and purple braids that hung to her waist. A leather miniskirt and a bustier. Glowing umber skin.
Reagan.
It was Ray.
And I couldseeher.
Until everything went black.
Chapter 27
Dev
It took maybe five minutes from the time the gang finally entered the mausoleum before Remy was face-down on the stone floor, his hands and feet secured with zip ties that James had in his pocket from wrapping up and securing the equipment.
After checking on Hanlen and making sure Lark had her, I turned to the petite, raven-haired woman standing next to me, her aim still true on Remy as he lay on the ground, her stance easy and loose. I gently reached over and placed my hand on hers, exerting just a bit of pressure to let her know it was okay to lower the gun. “Sky, you can relax.”
It was like someone had flipped a switch. Her posture changed and she rubbed the heel of her hand still holding the gun against her forehead and hair. “What the fuck? What the actual ever-loving fuck?” She flipped a switch on the side of the gun and lowered it to her side, still full of frenetic energy—I could see it sparking through her aura. She paced, wiping the palm of her free hand on her jeans as she did.
I looked up at the rest of the crew. Everybody had had some pretty creative things to say when they saw who held Hanlen, and I was afraid I’d have to hold a few of them back from actually trying to kill him. As it was, James still knelt with his knee in Remy’s back—probably none too gently—the bigger man struggling but not able to do much given the way he was restrained. We couldn’t hear the bullshit he spewed either, since Lark had ripped off the silk scarf she wore almost immediately and threw it to James to tie it around his head as a gag and then went straight to Hanlen to do a quick healing spell. It wouldn’t be enough to heal her completely, but itwouldgive her some relief and stabilize her until we could get her some medical attention.
I caught Padre crossing himself again and figured it was his way of dealing with the evil we had been confronted with. One of our own—someone we had worked with for five seasons of our show, cared about, treated as family—was a deranged serial killer. He’d murdered two of my family members and one of my friends. Had stolen a sick and elderly man from his wife and Hanlen. He’d drained Dustin Reynolds and who knew how many others and left them to rot in the city. And all for what? To . . .become? Whatever the hell that meant.
I looked at Wren and Findley wrapped in each other’s embrace and wondered what this meant for them. For us. Would they remain on this side of the veil, or would they finally cross over? The evil had a name now. A face. His power was gone. He would be spending the rest of his life behind bars—if a jury of his peers didn’t give him the death penalty. I could see a good defense lawyer trying to use an insanity plea to get him off, but he was lucid and totally in control, and that was scarier than anything.
I couldn’t think about that right now. Snapping out of my shock and seeing that Remy was contained, I finally rushed to Hanlen. Lark had untied her and removed the blood-draining device, but she still hadn’t regained consciousness.
“We called the police and an ambulance,” Dakota said as she came up next to Lark. “They should be here soon.”
“Good, that’s good,” I said, not sure what else to say. I brushed Hanlen’s hair away from her face and took in her pale complexion and the cuts and bruises Remy had left on her body—one of which was deep enough that Lark had said she was afraid to stop putting pressure on it. I wanted to murder him. I wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp for even daring to touch her. To harm her. She wasnothis. She was mine. And I really hoped that she felt the same.
Gunnie walked up to my left and stared down at Hanlen. “Will she be okay?” she asked, and I let out a breath at hearing her voice.
“Physically? I think she’ll be fine. Mentally . . . only time will tell.”
“That’s fair,” she said and reached out before dropping her hand, realizing that she couldn’t touch Hanlen. “I . . .” she started, and I looked at her. “I think she saw me before she passed out.” She looked up at me then. “Is that possible?”
That surprised me. “I’m not sure. Idoknow she’s sensitive, at the very least. Why do you say that?” I asked.
“She just looked right at where I was standing, and I saw her eyes widen before she sucked in a deep breath. And then she was out. Actually, I think she might have sensed me even earlier than that. I checked in on her at The Ravisan when she first got here and found a malevolent spirit taunting her. She probably thought she was dreaming when she woke to that nightmare, but she definitely knew we were there. That’s actually when I infused a bit of my soul into the necklace.”
“Interesting. Well, we can delve into that more when she wakes again. You did good.” I looked up and spoke a little louder. “You all did good. So good. Thank you all for being here. For helping. For being amazing.”
Everybody nodded or said something in return, but before we could talk more, the place was flooded with police and EMTs and those of us not injured—or at least not severely—were ushered out to the lawn to answer a bunch of questions. When they finally wheeled Hanlen out on a gurney, I told Stephanie I’d finish my statement later and jogged to catch up to the paramedics. I didn’t give them a chance to tell me that I couldn’t ride with her since she wasn’t family. I simply jumped into the back of the ambulance and dared them with a death glare to say anything.
The guy just shrugged and hopped in after me, and the woman got behind the wheel and headed off, lights and sirens blaring. While Hanlen was still unconscious, I held her hand gently and whispered encouraging words, surrounding her with healing energy and hoping for the best.
