~ Jax ~
Jax opened his eyes. At first, all he could make out were blurred splotches of light and dark, patches of good and evil blinking across his irises. At first, all he could hear were shouts and cries and grunts of pain. But after a moment, the confusion cleared. Jax looked up from where he lay on his back against the slightly damp ground, realizing there were two sets of arms clasped in the air above his chest, two sets of voices that were speaking louder than the rest.
Pandora’s face was silhouetted by the sun, but he recognized it through the shadows, recognized the determined knot of her brows, the stubborn line of her lip, the bright gleam in her eyes promising that she would find a way to do the impossible.
“I’ll figure it out, Naya. I’ll figure it out,” she muttered, over and over, edge of her tone slightly crazed as she stared at her friend. “I can do this. I can. I just need time. I just need a second, a few more seconds, and I’ll figure out how to get rid of it, how to get rid of him.”
“Okay, okay,” Naya soothed. The medium’s eyes still glowed opal. She clutched Pandora’s biceps, and Pandora clutched hers, hovering in the air above his torso, unaware he’d opened his eyes.
Jax took the moment to glance around. He had no idea how much time had passed since the cliff, how long he’d been on the ground. Clearly, not very much. The three of them were surrounded by a protective ring of titans-turned-vampires being controlled by the necromancer at his side. The sound of battle still filled the air. Snaps of lightning. Crackles of fire. The ground trembled beneath him as shock waves pulsed out of sight. Everyone who was still alive was fighting.
And Jax intended to do the same.
In the only way he knew how.
The only way he could.
A tear slipped from Pandora’s cheek and dropped to land on his, as though it had spilled from his eye. Jax wiped it away, then rubbed the droplet between his fingers until the wetness dissolved. Pandora didn’t notice. Her eyes were closed. Her face was scrunched in panicked concentration.
“Come on, come on, come on,” she mumbled.
Jax knew what she was doing—searching for the shadow kiss, trying to remove the stain from her soul.
“I’m not sure how much longer I can hold him,” Naya urged, quiet but strong, voice steady.
Pandora shook her head, refusing to hear. “No, I need more time. You have to, Naya. You have to. We need more time.”
“I know,” the medium murmured.
Then she looked down.
Her power-filled eyes were so bright they nearly blinded Jax. And though her amber irises had disappeared in the brilliant glow of her magic, he knew she was looking at him, could feel her attention like a knife to the gut, piercing.
Time.
There was no more time.
The sounds of the apocalypse rang in his ears. Screams. Cries. Shouts. Snarls. The world was falling apart around him, lost in the evil Samael had unleashed. And there was only one way to stop it, one way to give Pandora the time she needed to remove the shadow kiss from her skin, one way to delay the end of the world for at least one more day—a day that could make all the difference.
Jax lifted his hand.
He stretched for the knife tucked against Naya’s hip.
She’d brought that weapon for a reason, and this was it. Their unspoken agreement from the week before, more binding than words would ever be. If the medium felt his touch, she didn’t flinch. Her gaze bored down on his, pure ivory. An apologetic wrinkle crinkled the corner of her eye, but she made no move to stop what she must have known was happening.
He closed his palm around the handle.
He slipped the blade free.
It felt weightless as he positioned the point above his heart.
“I’ve got this. I’ve got this,” Pandora continued to mumble softly, attention turned completely inward, eyes closed, unaware.
“You can do this,” Naya whispered, voice edged with despair.
Because the words weren’t meant for Pandora.
They were meant for him.
Jax knew it in his heart—a heart that thundered inside his chest, like fists pounding in protest, fighting for a few more seconds of warm life.
The shadows pulsed at the edges of his thoughts.
Ebony tendrils stretched, pulling free of Naya’s hold.
Samael wouldn’t be controlled much longer.
Jax’s hands trembled, poised to strike.
His thoughts rushed back to the promise he’d made Pandora a few weeks before, the last one they’d ever share in their tree house that was now no more. Before they escaped the enclave, she made him swear that if they didn’t find a way to kill Samael, he’d put a knife through her heart and end it. He’d said yes, but he never believed it. He knew he’d rather let the world burn than kill her. And if the point of this knife had been aimed at her heart, he knew he never would have found the strength to act. But it wasn’t her life or her choice, not anymore.
It was his.
And to save the world?
To save his people?
To save Pandora?
He could do this.
He would.
Jax took a deep breath, hands no longer trembling but eerily calm as he shifted his focus to her. For a moment, everything seemed to stop. Pandora’s eyelids fluttered open. Those sapphire irises found his and flashed with warm love. A smile widened her lips.
“You’re awake,” she murmured softly.
Jax let the sound of her voice fill him with the courage he needed.
His muscles clenched.
His closed fists plunged down.
Steel slid beneath his skin, but he hardly felt it as he held her gaze for one moment longer. And then her focus jumped a foot down his chest. Her mouth opened in horror. A scream tore its way up her chest.
“Jax!” Pandora cried.
He twisted the blade before she had a chance to slide it free.
The ache flashed searing hot, blinding him for a moment.
At the back of his throat, liquid began to pool, a copper tinge on his tongue.
“Jax!” Pandora repeated, hands flying to cover the wound on his chest. She tried to contain the blood leaking free, but there was too much.
“Dory,” he rasped, trying to say her name, but it came out as more of a cough.
There were so many things he wished he could say. That he was sorry. That he never wanted to betray her trust like this. That he’d had no choice. More importantly, there were so many things he wanted to tell her. That she couldn’t run this time, couldn’t hide away and forget who she was. That she needed to live, for them, for their love. She needed to chase her dreams, needed to make everything they’d been through mean something.
But his body was weak.
The words wouldn’t come.
He lifted his arm, but it flopped back down, lifeless. Pandora grabbed his fingers and pressed them to her cheek, holding his gaze, which had already started to grow fuzzy.
“Jax,” she pleaded. “No, stay with me. Don’t you dare close your eyes, Jax. Don’t you dare.”
He’d spent so much of his life heeding her many orders, it felt unnatural for his eyelids to slip closed as she demanded he keep them open.
Yet there was nothing he could do.
The world went dark against his will.
But not with shadows. They were gone.
This was something different.
Something peaceful.
It was the hollow depths of his guitar.
The spot where the air vibrated, bouncing and colliding and oscillating unseen, so that from the darkness, a beautiful melody was born, a song he knew exactly how to sing.
Querida, he thought as the music swelled, blossoming into a bright-blue light.
Querida, querida.