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“The old bitch was holding on to this just for you,” he says, eyeing it. “It’s better than the one Alfred would have used. Less sharp. It’ll last longer that way.”
He moves toward her, licks the edge of the blade and smears the flat of it between her breasts, leaving a streak of blood there.
It takes all I have not to rush him, but if I move now, he could kill her. Just push that knife right into her stomach and end her life. Willow squeezes her eyes shut, but I realize it’s not her bleeding. He must have cut his own tongue. The bastard is sick.
“Caleb. Please. Don’t.”
“I like hearing you beg, witch. And maybe once upon a time, I’d have saved you. I tried. You can’t say I didn’t try. But you chose your fate, and it’s too late for you. It’s time for you to repent. One pound of flesh at a time.”
28
WILLOW
Caleb drags the knife down to my belly, and a flash of lightning in the sky illuminates the malice in his eyes.
“You spread your legs for him,” he snarls. “And now I’m going to cut his spawn out of you.”
Strength, Elizabeth’s voice whispers in my ear. Remember who you are, Willow.
My fingers wrap around the blade, and I close my eyes for a moment, channeling her the same as I did once before. An angry, howling wind whips around us as the heavens open up, and another barrage of rain falls, more violent than the last.
“I am a Wildblood.” My voice begins as a whisper, growing stronger with every syllable. “A descendent of Elizabeth Wildblood. A witch you cannot kill.”
Caleb’s mocking laughter grates at my nerves, but I return my focus to the power rising within me. It’s a force of nature no mortal man can rival. I recognize the energy as Elizabeth’s, and there’s no question she is here for her reckoning.
Thunder explodes across the sky, rumbling all around us. As the ground shakes beneath him and he nearly stumbles, a frisson of fear radiates through Caleb as his eyes dart around suspiciously.
“What are you doing?” he growls.
I meet his gaze, and whatever he sees in mine provokes a terror in him like I’ve never witnessed.
“Where is your deity to save you now?” The question spews from my lips in a voice I barely recognize as my own.
Caleb tries to wrench the blade from my grip, and when he can’t, he seems to recognize that his strength is no match for Elizabeth’s. Blood drips from my palm as I squeeze, the blade severing my flesh but not my will.
A silent struggle ensues as rain pelts my skin, and I balance precariously on the crumbling foundation of Salomé’s demon angel.
“She’s possessed!” Caleb screams. “Come help me. Now.”
The other men rush to join him, and at their periphery, I sense a different energy approaching. The energy that can only be the man I love.
“Willow!” he screams for me.
I keep my attention forward, trained on the enemies before me as they descend.
“Stay back!” My voice reverberates off the forest trees, echoing all around us as the ground again shakes from another thunderous boom.
It’s then that I see him, that I fully meet Azrael’s gaze, and I have never seen such fear. The idea that he might lose me terrifies him, but I feel nothing but a strange sense of calmness as I reassure him.
“Stay back,” I issue the decree once more.
He freezes momentarily, trying to understand, but something in him recognizes Elizabeth in me. And it all comes full circle at that moment.
The dreams, she whispers.
He recognizes her from the dreams, and without knowing how, I understand. I have clarity that this moment has always been fated, that he would recognize her within me. This exact moment in history has already been written, and we are little more than observers watching as it unfolds.
Azrael charges at the men and begins tossing them aside like ragdolls as he tries to get to me. His strength is unyielding, rivaled only by my own at the moment. He is as he was intended to be. A fallen angel. A man not truly of this world. My dark protector and my light all the same.
Caleb recognizes this, and his acknowledgment has him releasing the blade. It seems to unfold in slow motion, and I’m captive to the noose around my neck as he takes a step away and raises his gun. He takes aim at my husband. My life. My very breath.
Azrael doesn’t back down. He meets Caleb without fear, harnessing his fury as he prepares to sacrifice his life for mine.
“Azrael, no!” I call out, escalating panic making my foot slip from the foundation.
A gunshot rings out as I teeter over the edge, trying and failing to keep my balance. My first instinct is to reach for the rope, but the knife falls from my grip as I do. My body drops, jerking as I latch onto the rope above, leaving me dangling beside the statue. The rough fibers dig into my neck, choking me, and terror grabs me by the throat as I attempt to alleviate the pressure. Just as I’m making some progress, I catch a glimpse of Azrael collapsing to his knees, blood seeping through his shirt, and a silent scream unleashes from my lips. An unholy curse. The same words Elizabeth once repeated on Proctor’s Ledge, but this time in reverse.
