Chapter
Thirteen

In the suck zone of the parlor, Sissy went horror-movie, clawing at the floorboards as she was pulled on her belly feet-first toward the energy swirl. Bracing herself for being ripped apart, she knew that whatever had happened to all those pieces of furniture, wherever they had gone, was going to—

Except then everything went haywire. Okay, more haywire.

The explosion was so great, her body went into a tumble, arms and legs flying through air or space or wherever the hell she was. Pain lit up over every inch of her skin, like she was being flayed alive, and when she went to scream, something entered her mouth and stung like bees.

Except she wasn’t getting sucked in.

She was being thrown free. Violently.

The impact of her hitting the wall was so great she went loose and cascaded to the floor. Her shoulder hurt so badly it had to be dislocated, and God only knew how much other damage had been done. For a moment, all she could do was lie there, but the sudden quiet in the room seemed as dangerous as all the noise had been.

With a groan, she rolled over onto her back and coughed. Her nose and throat were irritated, and as she blinked her vision clear, her eyes felt like they had sandpaper for lids. Gradually, she became aware that there was the strangest sound in the parlor, and it took her a moment to figure out what it reminded her of: sleet. It was just like a subtle chorus of sleet falling inside the house, a hundred million tiny particles hitting the floor.

Sissy pushed herself over onto her side and forced her vision to get with the program. Unbelievable, she thought. The maelstrom Colin and Devina had created was gone as if it had never been, and—bonus!—there was no new national landmark or body of water in its place. The parlor’s windows had all been blown out, however . . . and there was, right in the center of the room, a boulder-like mass that was covered with some kind of volcanic ash.

As if maybe all of the furniture and objects that had been sucked into the vortex had been chewed like gum and spit out.

Considering God only knew what it really was, she checked for the others in case there was more fighting to do: Colin was slumped where he had been originally thrown against the wall. Devina was crumpled in the corner on the floor, her anti-gravity thing not having outlasted the explosion. And Adrian was actually upside down on his head, his legs propped up against a stretch of molding like a drunk trying to do a yoga pose.

Nobody was moving—

No, wait . . . that mass in the center of the room was. And as it turned around itself she realized . . . it wasn’t solid at all—and it wasn’t made of rock. It was an orb of light that was covered in ash. And as it writhed, the gray dust fell from it, revealing something close to a three-dimensional shadow.

Two shadows. Twisted around each other.

Like two people who had had to hold on to each other.

All at once, Sissy’s brain came back online. Her body was slower to get with it, but she had enough coordination to crawl across the now-bare and dusty floor.

“Jim . . .” The tears that sprang to her eyes helped get rid of some of the grit. “Jim!”

At the sound of his name, half of the light separated, pulling free of the undifferentiated mass—and then with a sizzle of electricity, it beelined for Jim’s remains . . . and found home.

The animation was immediate. Jim’s body jumped, arms and legs flopping, that chest expanding as a great breath was taken—

Jim tried to sit up so fast it was like he had jumper cables hooked to his feet—but the dagger Colin had stabbed through his shoulder kept him down.

“Fuck!” he barked, grabbing that side of his pecs with his free hand like he couldn’t figure out why things hurt or were stuck. “Fuck!”

His curse was so loud, it woke up the other people in the room, but he didn’t look around. Those eyes of his went to hers and stayed there.

“Oh . . . God . . .” he whispered. “You’re back.”

“No,” she croaked as her strength gave out from relief. “You are.”

Gritting his teeth, he palmed the hilt of the weapon that impaled him and had kept his body from disappearing. Then he yanked the blade free not only of the floor, but his own flesh.

In spite of all he’d been through, and a now bleeding wound, he scrambled to her and grabbed her so hard, she had to groan—but she didn’t care. He could crush her as much as he wanted.

She crushed him back.

It seemed impossible that she was holding him. That he had returned.

Jim pulled back and cupped her face between his palms. “Sissy . . .”

Her heart was hammering so much, there was no opportunity for it to beat faster—even though she had the sense that he was going to kiss her. Hell, considering everything that had just happened, the fact that his stare shifted down to her lips and his strong arms maneuvered her into position seemed . . . like a pretty damned good idea.

Because she wanted it, too. She needed to feel him up close and all over—like that was the only way her mind could grapple with the fact that he was actually here.

“Sissy.” His voice was almost too deep to register. “I’ve gotta tell you something—”

“Get the fuck away from him,” the demon bit out.

In spite of the fact that the parlor was powdered with gray dust, Purgatory’s existence and any experience over there disappeared completely as Jim stared into Sissy’s eyes.

The vow he had made, the realizations that had come to him, stuck around, however.

Cupping her face, he got choked up not because he didn’t know what to say, but because there was too much to get out—and he said her name a couple of times while he tried to direct traffic in his brain.

In the end, he decided to lead with the big one . . . even though the only woman he’d said those three words to had been his mother—so he was beyond rusty.

Except he didn’t get that far. Just as he started speaking, the one person he never wanted to see or hear from again piped up.

“Get the fuck away from him.”

As he looked across the parlor, the extent of the damage they’d done registered dimly—the place was trashed, great holes in the lineups of the bookshelves, windows broken, drapes shredded. Plus ninety percent of the furniture was somewhere else, natch. But none of that mattered as he watched Devina get to her feet.

The fact that the demon was in the house at all was a surprise, given the additional protection spell he’d put up—then again, maybe the thing hadn’t survived his second “death.” Oh, wait, make that third. And yet, even though her presence wasn’t a good thing, it was amusing to see her look so disheveled, her brunette hair a ratty mess, her leather pantsuit smudged with ash, streaks of oozing black on her face and shoulders from where she’d been cut.

What was not a shocker or funny at all was how pissed off she was. Those shark-like eyes of hers were glowing in an unholy way, and her talon hands were curled into claws. She wasn’t looking at him, though.

She was focused on Sissy.

And what do you know, that was a match to his ignition, lighting him up from the inside. Shuffling his woman behind him, he got to his feet and faced off with his enemy.

“What the fuck are you doing here, demon.”

Her eyes swung over to his. “I’m the reason you’re out, asshole.” She pounded on her chest. “So show some respect.”

“Actually, it was a group effort, bitch.”

At the sound of Ad’s hoarse voice, Jim became aware that there were two other people in the room: the other angel, who was trying to unpretzel himself over by the windows, and Colin, who was still pretty out of it.

“Jesus,” Jim breathed. “You didn’t use her to—”

“Get away from him!” Devina lurched forward. “Get away from my man.”

Yeah, screw that, Jim thought. In spite of the fact that his body felt like it had been through a meat grinder, he was more than ready to hit her. Just haul off and clock Devina so hard she—

A rhythmic sound broke into the room, strident and loud enough to get even the demon’s attention. And it was as Jim twisted around to look behind himself that he realized who and what it was . . . and how he’d managed to find Nigel in that dusty, torturous place.

Dog, who was not actually a dog, was parked between the doorjambs of the parlor, his scruffy little body braced, his muzzle working as he barked at the demon.

It was that noise he’d heard in Purgatory, Jim thought. That beacon that he’d followed in a place with no compass points and no destinations.

Holy shit, the Creator Himself had been the one to lead him to the archangel.

Snapping back to attention, Jim found Devina frozen in place, clearly caught between a jealous urge to rip Sissy limb from limb and a serious sense of self-preservation.

“But it’s not fair,” the demon bitched. “It’s not fucking fair.”

Dog kept up with the barking, like he was talking at her. And then Devina looked at Jim, her expression changing into something that seemed a lot like hurt.

With four deliberate steps across the bare, dusty floor, she came up to him, raised her hand over her shoulder, and slapped him so hard both of his ears rang.

“You are too cruel,” she said numbly. “And you do not deserve me.”

One more nasty glare at Sissy and the demon was gone, poofing it out of the room.

“Well, that could have been worse,” Ad muttered. “Although, man, we’ve so lost our security deposit on this place.”