shoulder the next. “This was your plan?” he bit out.
He shifted her near a body lying prone on the ground.
Montevista. Felled like a cut tree with his eyes open and sightless. The whites swallowed by black.
“Damn it,” she breathed, hating that she’d been right. She grabbed the Mark’s shoulder and rolled him into her lap on his back. She brushed his dark hair back from his forehead and hunched over him protectively, linking her fingers with his and holding his hand to her chest. Alec shifted Sydney over a split-second later.
From their position on the opposite side of the pool, she watched in horror as Satan reaffirmed his dominance.
“You want what’s mine, Asmodeus?” the Devil hissed. His claws rent through the demon’s torso, eliciting screams so agonized tears came to Eve’s eyes. Through the lacerations in his mortal skin, Asmodeus’s true shape could be seen. The monstrous many-limbed body writhed and sizzled within the torn flesh. Smoke poured from the widening cavity and filled the air with the stench of rotten soul.
“It will cost you,” Satan crooned with his lips to the demon’s ear as if they were lovers.
The Prince of Hell threw the decimated body into the swimming pool like rubbish. The water shuddered in response, bubbling red and churning, boiling and hissing steam. A geyser erupted from the center, spewing into the air in a twenty-foot tower.
Eve looked at Satan, who smiled his gorgeous smile. Dressed in black velvet vest and pants, he was classically and elegantly beautiful.
Something flitted across his features. A wince, then widened eyes. He clutched at his chest, hunching over with a groan.
Montevista’s hand tightened on hers with a pained gasp. “Eve.”
She jolted in surprise, then looked down at her friend. Montevista’s powerful body began to shudder. His eyes were his own, no longer black.
“Only way,” he wheezed.
The necklace draped inadvertently over their clasped hands, awakening the Mark in him and freeing him to summon the dagger now impaling his heart.
“No!” Reaching up, Eve caught Reed’s wrist. His gaze moved from Satan and settled on Monte- vista. “Oh shit..
“Take him to the tower. Hurry.”
Reed hefted the Mark into his arms and shifted, disappearing in the blink of an eye.
“Eve,” Satan snarled. His arm snapped out toward the pool, the veins bulging along the rigid muscles.
The earth shuddered and groaned. The water in the center of the pool twisted into rope and arced onto the cement, forming the outline of a man whose endless arms extended in a desperate grasp for Alec.
The Devil’s form flickered, his face contorting with savage rage and frustration. Then he faded completely. There one moment, gone the next.
Eve lunged into the Nix’s path. He caught her, laughing, hauling her across the pool and up against his chest.
“Fuck you,” she bit out, ripping the amulet from her neck and shoving it fist first into his torso. He instantly gained form, materializing into a man as nude as the others had been. Her hand pulled free of the closing flesh, leaving the necklace behind inside him.
346 s. j. DAY
He fell on her, writhing. She drew back her fist and decked him, sending him rearing upward with a violent arching of his back.
“Freeze! Police!”
The Nix clawed wildly into his mortal chest, struggling to excise the necklace.
A gunshot reverberated in the semienclosed space. Followed by another. The Nix jerked with each impact, screaming an inhuman sound as two holes appeared in his torso. Blood spurted onto Eve. He fell to his side, convulsing before shuddering into stillness.
Eve twisted to look behind her.
Detective Ingram kneeled beside his fallen partner with Jones’s gun in hand. As his gaze met hers, his pistol arm fell to his side. A trail of blood marred his temple and the side of his neck.
“Are you okay?” he asked, swaying.
“Detective…”
His eyes rolled back in his head. He slipped into unconsciousness, slumping to the ground before she could reply.
“Holy shit.” Eve rolled painfully to her stomach.
As she regained her feet, the pool continued its roiling boil. She stared at it, unblinking.
When Gadara burst from the depths in a flurry of dirty and tattered wings with Riesgo cradled in his arms, she was too numb to be surprised. The archangel landed on both feet, then fell to one knee. Riesgo lay in his embrace with arms splayed wide and head lolled back, breathing shallowly. The picture they presented—that of wounded angel protecting frail humanity—struck her with a message of faith and benevolence as nothing else in her life had ever done.
“Alec,” she croaked.
He