"Mine,” Jasper whispered harshly, and lunged at her.
She hit him with every ounce of kinetic power she had. It wasn't enough to do anything more than thrust him away. Panting harshly, she watched him rise. Ignoring the bright beat of pain smashing at her temples, she hit him again.
This time he slammed to a halt. The link between her and Michael flared to life. His thoughts caressed hers, and their powers combined.
Now, Michael whispered.
Together, they thrust Jasper skywards, holding his struggling body up to the bright sunshine. He screamed, his white skin flaring red as he began to burn. Again energy pulsed, a thin strand of power wrapping tightly around Jasper's throat. Fear washed around them, his struggles becoming more violent as dark flames began to lick around his arms, his hands.
Nikki dredged up the last of her reserves, battling to hold her share of the psychic cage. The strand of power snapped tight, and there was a sickening crack as his neck was broken. Jasper's eyes went wide with shock an instant before death took his soul to eternal darkness. It was over.
The last of her strength ebbed away, and she dropped wearily to her knees. Everything hurt—her brain, her body and her heart, but it was worth it. Jasper was dead.
With the strength of the psychic cage gone, he flopped back to the pavement. His skin was slowly darkening, slowly burning where Monica had burst into flame. But it didn't matter. His neck was broken, and he would not rise again. The sun was only finishing what she and Michael had started. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. They'd won—together they'd won. She reached out to link but it was little more than a void—as if Michael had never been a part of her. Fear slammed into her heart. She pushed upright and staggered to his side. He didn't move. She dropped to her knees and frantically felt for a pulse.
Nothing. No pulse, no sign of life.
"Damn it, Michael, don't you dare die on me!"
She rose and grabbed his arms, dragging him back towards her house. Every muscle was screaming by the time she reached the stairs. She hesitated, looking up in despair. Six stairs. It was all that stood between her and home, and they'd never appeared such a mountain before. He was too heavy to carry, too much dead weight...
If she gave up now, he would die. Just like Tommy, just like her parents. She reached for kinetic energy. Warnings beat through her mind—she'd done too much, pushed too far. If she kept pushing, she might lock her mind in an eternal band of pain, never able to use her gifts again. She closed her eyes and reached regardless. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered if Michael died. Energy came. She opened the door, then lifted Michael up and thrust him through. The world spun drunkenly. She grabbed the banister, holding on tight. Gritting her teeth, her breath little more than wheezing gasps, she eased him to the floor. She didn't know how much time he had left. She had to hurry if she wanted to save him.
She slammed the door shut then staggered over to the shattered window, pulling the blinds closed. If he was to have the slightest chance of life, she had to make sure there was no bright light to weaken him further.
She knelt by his side and picked up his hand, holding it close to her chest, close to her heart. Reaching forward, she gently brushed dark wisps of hair away from his closed eyes.
"Come back to me, Michael."