“Richard! Please, don’t!” Lawrence lurched into a sitting position. Blood ran from his shoulder. He’d been hit by the bullet intended for Jett. The woman sobbed.
“Consorting with demons?” Richard sneered at Drew. “Unforgivable.”
Jett exploded into a demon-fire torch, successfully distracting Richard. Jett leaped on the human. A gunshot went off and pain exploded from Jett’s leg. The agony brought relief: Drew hadn’t been hit. Jett sank his fangs into Richard’s neck.
Jett straightened when Richard stopped writhing and twitching. Extinguishing his flames, he turned his head to find Lawrence, free, Richard’s gun aimed steady in Jett’s direction. Andrew had freed his grandfather. The kid knelt by his mother, working on the cord around her ankles with a pair of scissors.
“Demon. I never dreamed I’d see you again.”
“I brought your grandson home,” Jett said, forcing a calm voice. He could leap on Lawrence and tear out his throat. In that moment, he didn’t give a damn if Lawrence managed to shoot him in the process. He did care that the woman and Drew would see. It was bad enough he’d killed the pastor in front of them.
The woman had fainted.
“Yes, you did. Thank you for that.” Lawrence scratched his chin with his free hand. “So unpredictable. I doubt I’ll ever understand demons.”
“Because you’re blinded by your bigotry.”
Lawrence turned deep red. “Don’t you dare talk to me that way.”
For a moment, time seemed to reverse and Jett felt the cold air of the lab on his skin, felt the sting of the leather from the whippings he’d receive after speaking out of place. A hard blink brought Jett back to reality. Lawrence no longer held any power over him, even with that gun.
“What the hell was that?” Jett jerked his chin toward the body.
“That was Richard Elks. Pastor. Demon hunter. Poacher, though his religion motivated him, not money. I hired him for his skills and enthusiasm. But he turned on me when he figured out I wasn’t in it to kill the archangels but to use them to heal the sick. He accused me of doing the devil’s work.”
“Well, you’re no saint, that’s for certain.”
“You’re just a demon, what do you know?” Lawrence’s eyes narrowed. “The only goal I ever had was to ease human suffering. I failed to find a way to harness the rapid healing ability you, as a demon, possessed, so I turned to the archangels. When I learned of Raphael, I knew I’d found the answer.”
“Raphael is not a tool to be used. Neither are the infants. You’re a murderer and a monster, everything you accuse demons of being.”
“You do not talk back to me, demon. Remember your place.”
“I’ll talk to you however I damn well please, and you deserve a far more violent death than the one I can give you in front of your grandson.” Jett leaped off the floor.
Lawrence fired the gun.
Ignoring the pain that exploded from his leg, the same leg that had already been shot once, Jett grabbed the human by the shirt and hauled him out of the room. He dragged the struggling piece of shit down the hall and into the kitchen.
“You had me kidnapped during an attack that killed my father. My mother has never recovered from her grief. You treated me like animal. You sent more men to the colony recently, murdering and kidnapping again. If there is a hell, there is a special place in it for you.” Trusting that Andrew hadn’t followed, Jett made a fist and struck Lawrence in the jaw.
And struck him again.
And again.
“I can’t even begin to make you suffer the way you deserve.” Jett delivered another satisfying punch. “I just want to be done with you. I’m going to kill you and move on with my life. You never broke me.” One last punch.
Lawrence slumped against the wall and sank to his ass on the floor.
Jett, not wanting him to die quickly from a bite, grasped the bastard’s neck and squeezed.
The skin on Jett’s arms prickled. He must have stepped too close to a mental edge, facing Lawrence like this, because he had the distinct sensation of heavy hands on his shoulders. Warm, comforting hands.
“Juneau.”
Jett released Lawrence’s neck and spun around, searching for the source of that voice, as the human gasped and choked.
“Jett.” Drew stood in the little archway between the kitchen and hallway.
Jett forced back a string of profanity. “Go help your mother.”
Drew’s lip trembled.
“Drew. Go.”
“No!” Drew shouted, staring beyond Jett. “Grandfather, don’t!”
Jett turned back to Lawrence. The bastard had a small gun in his hand. He pointed it at his own head, not Jett.
“If I’m going to hell, I’ll see you there, demon. But you don’t get to kill me.”
He pulled the trigger.
Jett dove for Drew, shielding the child’s view. Drew wailed. Jett held him, carefully keeping his body between the boy and the corpse.
His vision swam and the floor tilted. What the hell?
He leaned back, blinking, shivering. He sat in a pool of blood. The bullets he’d taken to the thigh must have clipped an artery.
The sensation of heavy hands on his shoulders returned. The lights flickered. Or was that his vision? He couldn’t tell.
“Juneau,” a voice said. Deep, male, familiar.
Impossible.
“It’s not impossible. I’m here, son. You can hear me, this close to death.”
Was he hallucinating? He removed his jacket and tore his shirt, unable to shake the strange presence. Had to be a side effect of bleeding to death. He tied the fabric around the top of his leg, as tight as he could. “I’ve been this close to death before.”
“And I was waiting for you to join me. But you survived, and you will survive again.”
Jett pulled out his cell phone but paused. What was the point? No one from Sanctuary would get to him in time.
A dry laugh escaped his lips. Well, Lexine’s dream had been wrong.
What he would give to hold her one more time.
“Jett?”
In his daze, he’d nearly forgotten the kid was there. “Go to your mother.”
Drew shook his head. He grabbed Jett’s jacket and pressed it against the wounds.
“You’re a good kid.” Jett leaned back against the kitchen island. He sent a text message to Lark as the invisible grip on his shoulders tightened.
“Lawrence is dead. I’m not going to make it back. Give Raphael my apologies, and send Lexine my love.”
“Juneau,” his father said again. “In my office, there is a safe behind my journals. The code is your birthday and the contents are intended for you. I love you, son.”
Jett shuddered, the cold overpowering. “I love you, too. Sorry, but I think I’ll be seeing you soon.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Lexine held her breath, waiting for Raphael to speak.
“There isn’t time to tell the whole story, but I’ve seen it,” she insisted. “He’ll die on that godforsaken mosaic floor.”
Raphael shut his eyes.
“Please.”
Wren came over. He whispered, “We can’t.”
“But—”
“I don’t wish Jett ill, at all, but his job…”
Lexine’s heart hammered. Yes, his job was to die for them if need be, not the other way around, and he was on a mission meant to protect them. But that didn’t mean they shouldn’t do every possible thing to keep that from happening. Right? She covered her mouth with her hand.
Raphael opened his eyes, his silver gaze sharp. “He’s not just our Guardian. He’s a friend.”