Killian staggers to his feet and wipes a bit of blood from his ear. The pressure change whenoneangel appears is enough to damage a human eardrum. Six? I am amazed any of us are still alive.
“Not bad, angel. Not bad at all.”
* * *
I refuseto let go of Zoe. “If I maintain contact with her physical body, it will strengthen my consciousness,” I say, and Killian frowns.
“It might, but it will be harder for me to pull you back along the tether if you fail.”
“You assume I am going to fail.”
“This plan is as daft as they come,” the warlock says. “It will take a miracle for you to be able to separate her from Thorn down there, and that’s assuming you can evenfindher. I know I can pull you back to this realm with the tether. The rest...? It’s a bloody crapshoot.”
I reach for my brother’s hand and hold on tight. “Mad, I have to do this. You understand why?”
He touches his forehead to mine. “I would do the same thing for Killian. And Sin, I forgive you.”
Commander Eve clears her throat. “Will someone explain to me why Sinclair appears to be saying his final goodbyes?”
I meet her gaze. “Because if I cannot rescue Zoe and bring her back with me, I am going to release my hold on the tether and let Hell take me.”
“You will do no such—“
“I will, Grayson. This is my mate. My one true love. We found each other intwolifetimes. Do you have any idea how rare that is? I will not lose her again. If I cannot be with her in this realm, I will suffer alongside her for all eternity.”
“Then you damn well better get her back,” she says. “Because you and I are going to have some serious words about following Bureau procedures when you return, and if you stay in Hell, I just might come down there after you to rip you a new one.” Her voice cracks, and she stalks away, leaving only my brother, his mate, and the angels to watch over me.
“Are you ready?” Killian asks.
I caress Zoe’s cheek, my tears, which I cannot seem to stop, giving her an ethereal glow, almost as if her angelic origins are shining through. “I will find you, my pearl. My one and only. Hold on. I am coming.”
Meeting Killian’s gaze, I nod. “Do it.”
The warlock draws a series of runes in the air, and they glow with his magic, like fireworks hovering six feet above the ground. He begins a low chant, his words too soft for me to hear, and the angels form a circle around us and join hands.
A thunderous crack is accompanied by a light so bright, it burns my eyes, and Killian shouts, “Sin! Get ready!”
The sensation of one’s soul being sucked from one’s body is indescribable. There is pain, of course, but also a loss so great, it dwarfs all but the most intense grief. It is nothing compared to what I felt when Zoe sacrificed herself, and I lean in to the physical and mental anguish, welcoming it, and letting go of my physical form so I can fall into the depths of Hell and rescue the only woman I have ever loved.
Thirty-Three
Sin
When I brought Thorn and Regina to Hell centuries ago, I held each of them in one arm and flew. For an angel, the Underworld is accessible only through a single passage on the way to the celestial realm. A detour, if you will. At least in corporeal form.
Now, I am nothing but consciousness, yet, as I watch myself sink into the fiery depths, I can stillseemy body. Not the distinct, solid form it has in the remains of the power station, but a hazy, diffuse existence, as if I am phasing in and out.
The angelic tether glows around my waist, and I run my fingers over it, feeling the power of those I never thought would help me again.
Fire surrounds me, setting my clothing ablaze, another surprise. How can I feel my leather jacket burning? The soles of my boots melting? My socks bursting into flames?
This is Hell, and anything is possible here.
I grit my teeth against the pain that is only in my mind, but feels every bit as real as when I offered my body to Lucifer in exchange for keeping the most vile demon in existence prisoner. The Devil owes me for his failure. One soul. Zoe’s. And I intend to collect on the debt.
Until I am faced with the sight—and sounds—of my failures. The women I let die, everyone Thorn drove mad with pain and fear to feed his insatiable appetites. They surround me, and it matters little that I know they are not real.
I falter, crying out in anguish as I press my hands to my eyes so I will not have to see. The images are too vivid. Too real. The stench of the underground caverns in Florence. Human waste. Blood. Terror. The feel of the lash against my back. Of the chains he used to bind me, and the iron bars beneath my feet.
