That was what energized her to flail against the current. Struggling fiercely, she fought with all she had, but there was no freeing herself from what had captured her: No matter how she battled, she could not alter her ascension.
Down below, chaos reigned, people racing forward as Tohr dragged himself up off the floor. As he regarded her, his face was a mask of confusion and disbelief—and then he began to leap up as if he were trying to catch her, as if she were a balloon, the string of which he sought to palm. Someone grabbed him as he lost his balance—John. And the Primale rushed to his side. And his Brothers…
Her last image was not of any of them, not even of Tohrment, but of Lassiter.
The angel was beside her, rising as well, the light consuming them both until he disappeared and so did she, until she was nothing at all, not even conscious.…
When Autumn came to once again, she was in a vast white landscape, one so wide and so long that it had no horizons.
Before her was a door. A white door with a white knob and a glow around its jambs as if there was a bright light awaiting her on the other side.
This had not been what had greeted her when she’d first died.
Back years and years ago, when her consciousness had returned to her after she had inflicted that dagger upon her own stomach, she had found herself in a different white landscape, one that had trees and temples and rolling lawns, one that was populated by the Scribe Virgin’s Chosen females, one that she had gone on to live in without question, accepting her fate as not one of her choosing, but the inevitable result of her choices down below.
This, however, was not the Sanctuary. This was the entrance unto the Fade.
What had happened?
Why had she—
The explanation came to her in a rush as she realized that she had finally let the past go and opened her heart to embrace all that life had to offer… thus freeing herself from her own In Between—even as she had been unaware she had been within it.
She was out of the In Between. She was… free.
But Tohrment was down below.
Her body began to shake, rage shooting through her, the anger so deep and abiding she wanted to claw through the door and have a harsh word with the Scribe Virgin or Lassiter’s Maker or whoever the sick bastard was who dealt out fates.
After having traversed the great distance from where she had first started, only to find that the prize was nothing but another sacrifice, she was livid to the point of violence.
Not holding anything back, she let herself go, throwing herself at the portal, beating at it with her fists, tearing at it with her nails, kicking at it with her feet. She uttered curses that were vile and called the holy forces names that were villainous—
When arms shot around her waist and began to drag her back, she attacked whoever it was, baring her fangs and biting into the thick forearm—
“Fucking hell! Ouch!”
Lassiter’s indignant voice cut into her temper, stilling her body until she just heaved to catch her breath.
The damn door was utterly uninjured. Uncaring. Unmoved.
“You bastards,” she hollered. “You bastards!”
The angel turned her around and shook her. “Listen to me—you’re not helping here. You need to calm the fuck down.”
With a force of will, she pulled herself together. And then promptly sobbed. “Why? Why are they doing this to us?”
He shook her again. “Listen to me. I don’t want you to open that door—just stay here. I’m going to do what I can, okay? I don’t have a lot of pull, I may not have any at all—but I’ll give it a fucking shot. You stay right where you are, and for the love of God, do not open that thing. Once you do, you’re in the Fade and I can’t do shit. Are we clear?”
“What are you going to do?”
He stared at her for a long moment. “Maybe I’m finally going to be an angel tonight.”
“Wha— I don’t understand…?”
Lassiter reached forward and cupped the side of her face. “You two have done so much for me—hell, we’ve all been in our own In Betweens, in a way. So I’m going to offer up everything I’ve got to save the pair of you—we’ll see if it’s enough.”
She clasped a hold on to his hand. “Lassiter…”
He stepped back and nodded to her. “You stay here and don’t get your hopes up. The Maker and I have not had the best relationship—I may just get incinerated on the spot. In which case, no offense, but you’re screwed.”
Lassiter turned away and walked into the whiteness, his big body disappearing.
Closing her eyes, Autumn tucked her arms around herself and prayed for the angel to work a miracle.
Prayed with everything she had…
SEVENTY-FOUR
Down below on earth, Tohr felt as though he was losing his ever-loving mind. Lassiter was gone. Autumn was gone.
And a terrible sense of logic was making him wonder why he hadn’t guessed at the mechanisms they’d been working under for the past year.
Wellsie had been trapped in the In Between by him.
And Autumn… had been trapped in the In Between by herself.
Then by loving him, and forgiving not just him but herself, she had been freed—so just like Lassiter, she had been granted what she had not even known she was in search of: She had been given at long last the entrance to the Fade, that which she had been denied when she had taken her own life in a fit of terror and agony.
Now she was free.
“Oh… Jesus…” he said as he let himself fall into John’s strong arms. “Oh… fucking hell…”
Now, like his Wellsie, she was gone from him, too.
Bringing a hand up to his face, he rubbed hard, wondering if maybe he’d wake up from this… like maybe this was just the worst nightmare his subconscious could possibly dream up… yeah, like he’d wake up at any moment and drag himself out of bed to get ready for the Fade ceremony, where in the real world this would not be the outcome…
There was only one problem with that theory: His back was still stinging from the salt and the branding. And his brothers were still milling around, talking over each other in a panic. And somewhere, somebody was yelling. And all around, the glow from candles provided plenty of light to tell who remained in the foyer and who had left.…
“Oh, fuck…” he said again, his chest suddenly so empty he wondered if he hadn’t had his heart removed and not noticed.
Time passed, and shit sank in, and he was taken into the billiards room. A drink was pressed into his hands, but he just let it sit on his thigh, his head falling back as John Matthew comforted Xhex and Phury talked to Wrath and some plan was made for the king to go confront the Scribe Virgin.
At which point V stepped in and volunteered to hit up his mother.
Which was promptly shot down. Only to have Payne’s offer to go with the king accepted.
Blah, blah, blah…
He didn’t have the heart to tell them all it was a foregone conclusion. And besides, he’d already been through the mourning process once—so he had a core competency in recovery, right?
Yay.
For godsakes, what the fuck had he done in an earlier life to deserve this? What the hell had he—
The sound of the doorbell going off was a dim noise behind him. Nonetheless, everyone froze.
Anybody who knew about the mansion was already here.
Humans couldn’t find them.
Lessers shouldn’t have been able to.
And the latter was also true for Xcor—
That doorbell let out its throaty demand once again.