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The buzzing in my ears continues and I’m afraid to open my eyes, afraid of facing Lucifer in his domain. His promises were not lost in the transition, and cold bites into each and every layer of my soul.
The steady cadence of waves breaks through the buzz, along with the distinct sound of sobbing. I blink my eyelids open and my vision clouds. It takes me a minute to understand I’m not looking at fog, but drifts of smoke, and as the light wind shifts, stars peek out of the haze. The wind deepens the chill in my bones.
My focus shifts to the whispered prayers falling from Bridget’s lips. Kneeling next to me, her hands are clasped in prayer, and her bow and arrows lay discarded to the side. A steady stream of tears flows down her cheeks from behind closed eyelids. I try to move my arm to wipe them, but it’s just too heavy to budge, so I stare, helpless to offer any comfort.
My gaze moves a few paces beyond her to CJ and Valerie in a tight hug. My brother’s back faces me, but his shoulders shake in the clear posture of grief. Chief Gallagher is on the phone asking the forensics staff to come along with the medical examiner.
A dull ache forms in my chest as well as within every inch of my body, and my lungs clench as if I have been underwater for far too long. That familiar burn grips me and I force an inhalation. The cold air tingles as it fills my oxygen-starved lungs.
My first attempt at speech is only a soft wheeze and I close my eyes, gathering my strength.
“Who died?” I say loud enough to draw attention, but my voice sounds like I swallowed a shovel full of gravel.
Bridget’s eyes snap open, wide enough for me to think they might just shoot right out of her head. CJ spins out of Valerie’s arms, facing me with tear soaked cheeks. His eyes are just as wide as Bridget’s.
“And send an ambulance,” Chief Gallagher says into the phone before he ends the call.
They all gather around me as if they are witnessing a miracle.
“You did,” CJ says, and his voice is raw from the kind of crying tied to grief. I should know. I’m the king of emotional disasters.
I turn my head, look at the bodies still strewn across the lawn, and then turn back to Bridget, Valerie, and CJ. Valerie squats and takes my wrist, with lips pressed together in doubt. After a minute, her eyes widen and she glances up at CJ.
“He has a pulse, but it’s weak,” she says and then drops her gaze to me.
“I was dead?” I’m still trying to catch up with the conversation.
Bridget still hasn’t moved and her face is now paler than it was before. Her gaze drifts down my body and back, as if she does not trust what she is seeing and hearing.
“My healing mojo didn’t fix everything,” she says. “You had lost too much blood...” She trails off and closes her eyes, putting the back of her wrist to her forehead. Her hand is covered in blood. “I tried CPR, but...” She blinks her eyes and a tear rolls down her cheek.
I move my gaze to the starry heavens above and then turn to Bridget as a memory surfaces. “You were the one who caught my spirit,” I say.
She finally nods, but it is very slow, cautious, and her gaze jumps to my dead doppelganger a few feet away.
“How are you alive?” she asks, and she is the only one who has fear quaking her voice. “You were dead, like, no pulse, no breathing, dead. For at least five full minutes before Valerie stopped trying to revive you, dead.”
I really want to say ‘sometimes we come back’ but the fear radiating from her is enough to chill out my warped sense of humor. CJ’s smirk tells me he’s in my head, but he has the courtesy of not repeating my thoughts. That familiar connection settles my nerves.
My fingers tingle and I wiggle them back to life, focusing on Bridget and her nearly hysterical question. She’s on the edge and I want to reach out to her, but I have a feeling she would freak out more than she already is. I move my shoulders in a shrug because I have no explanation, especially since Valerie said her healing powers were useless.
“It might have been Raphael’s grace,” CJ says and I meet his gaze. “I had to try something. I wasn’t ready to let you go.” He looks up at the sky, blinking. When he seems to have his shit together, he continues. “Uriel’s grace brought Valerie back, so I figured my best bet was giving you the grace of your great grandfather.” He presses his lips together. “It didn’t take right away, either,” he adds, swiping at his eyes as he glances out over the ocean. “Needless to say, I didn’t take it too well, so... you might have a broken rib or two.” He gives me that cockeyed smile and I let out a soft laugh.
“I can deal with broken ribs,” I say to the clouds above me.
“You are still in rough shape,” Valerie says and I turn to her before following her gaze to my chest. It’s covered with thick tacky blood, imprinted with her palm print where she tried chest compressions to revive me. Blood oozes from the welts where Lucifer’s nails had sunk into my skin. I look beyond my chest, expecting to see my abdomen sliced open, but no scar remains where Lucifer gutted me.
I push up on my elbows and wince with pain as my midsection screams at me. My muscles still feel like they had been run through a wood chipper, but I force myself to focus and rotate my right ankle, bracing for pain that never comes. I lower my head back to the ground and pull my feet in, raising my knees, thankful that the last of the damage the demons did no longer exist. I sigh, thankful for small victories, but based on how I feel now that the numbness is receding, I have a feeling I might be in for more than just outpatient services.
“You are probably going to need a transfusion,” Valerie says.
I nod and refocus on Bridget. Now that I can move, I reach out and take her hand, studying her. “Valerie fixed you up, too?”
She gives a little laugh and a nod. “The glass cut me up pretty badly.”
Chief Gallagher steps into view and squats, running a hand down his face. “I have no idea how I am going to explain all this.” He glances around at the carnage and shakes his head. “But I’ll figure out a way.”
I give him a small nod. Any more than that makes my stomach clench and the world spin. My eyes slip closed and Bridget’s grip on my hand tightens, snapping my lids back open. I look at the fear carved in her face.
“I’m not dying again,” I whisper. “I’m just in a hell of a lot of pain.” I squeeze her hand gently, and her lips stretch into what she hopes is a smile, but all I see is a grimace. I try on a smile of my own. “I promise.”
“Mom!” April’s shrill cry rings from the house.
“She shouldn’t see this,” I say but the girl is already running across the yard, dodging the dead bodies, followed by CJ’s kids.
She skids to a stop next to Bridget at the same time CJ’s kids fall into Valerie and CJ’s arms. Behind them, Naomi and her children follow slower, scanning the carnage as their faces go pale, and in the rear come Austin and Paige, looking as shell-shocked as I am sure everyone else is.
The slow realization that the people we have been tasked with protecting for the past fifteen years would never need our services again crawls into my mind, and I trade a glance with CJ. He presses his lips together and nods. While we both mourn the loss of Steve and Jennifer, and a hole in my chest remains for Sam, I can’t help but embrace the hope filling my senses.