The last of the Deganites had reached the door and was climbing through. Cassandra had crawled to Bergman and was rolling him over. He winced and grabbed his side, saying something to her that caused her to turn him further and grab at something he'd been laying on.
Cole had moved to Vayl's side, where they both fought to force the Tor to release my body. Cole delivered a flurry of blows to the Tor's mid-section, at least one connecting soundly enough to break her arm, elicit a high-pitched scream. Vayl leapt onto the Tor's back and sunk his fingers into her throat. Frost crackled up her chin and across her face. He dug deeper and the frost turned to ice. No more sounds escaped her throat, not even when he broke her jaw with one powerful blow of his fist.
My body dropped to the floor, bouncing slightly before it settled into the ooze. Cole immediately went to work, inspecting wounds, searching for a pulse. But Vayl stayed put, hacking away at the Tor's tentacles with bloody fists. I realized he could see me, that he knew…
The Tor-al-Degan was eating my soul. Slowly. With the relish of a connoisseur.
Once I'd thought maybe I was crazy, and the fear of losing my sanity, losing myself had dogged every breath, dictated every action. Worse than an infestation of cockroaches, a cancerous tumor, the loss of my family… the feeling had left me unwilling to rest, unable to find peace. That had only been fear. This was real.
Second by second, the Tor was ingesting the best, and the worst, part of me. I was losing myself inside the horrifying red hell of the Tor's gaping maw. I struggled. I fought. I prayed. I tried desperately to tear myself free. But the slow torture of my ultimate destruction went on. And though I had no voice, I began to scream and scream and scream…
A voice rang across the room, Cassandra's deep, rich tones washing across me like warm, clear water. She'd come forward to stand by Cole as he worked furiously over my cooling body. In her right hand she held the pyramid, the key. And in her left hand she held the Enkyklios, echoing the words as she heard them from the small vision of a Seer who had stood in a long distant past and saved the world for a time.
The Tor bellowed and shook her head, denying the power that had suddenly appeared, demanded her allegiance. But Cassandra would not relent. And moments later I was free. Flying. Soaring toward that stained glass rainbow of a lifeline and following it straight to the top.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
"You know, I thought I was headed to heaven," I said as I looked out the window. The skyline of Las Vegas glared back at me. I stood in a lavish suite, definitely high-roller territory, surrounded by plush furniture, satin curtains and so much marble the room could've doubled as a mausoleum.
"Some would tell you you're already there," said my companion.
I would've pegged him as a fighter from the start, even without the crew cut and the upright bearing. I recognized those eyes, had grown up around men with the same look. Only battle will do that, only pitched battle and the death of men you love like brothers.
I also recognized him from our last encounter, when he'd mended my broken neck on the blood-stained floor of a house that should never have been called 'safe.'
The guy, this warrior had smiled when I showed up and he'd said, "There you are," as if we'd prearranged my appearance in the middle of his hotel room. He'd left his perch on a black leather bar-stool and come to shake my hand. "Hello, Jasmine, my name is Raoul." Spain bronzed his skin and flavored his accent, but his manner was pure American military.
"I'm dead, aren't I?"
He'd cocked his head to one side, as if sizing up the new recruit, "That remains to be seen."
I'd gone to the window then, confused and somewhat depressed, pretty sure I'd been relegated to the eternal Between. Below me, Sin City sparkled like a Desert Queen's tiara. Too bad the stones were fake.
"I guess some people would like to spend eternity gambling and watching showgirls strut across the stage," I said. I turned from the window and dropped onto a couch that made every bone in my unbody sigh with pleasure. "Shoot, I wouldn't mind spending a couple of weeks doing that myself."
Raoul settled onto a matching couch that met mine at a 45-degree angle. I suddenly realized this room was arranged the same way I'd done the furniture in Diamond Suites and Bergman's safe house. Yes, and in that long ago place where Aidyn had destroyed my life.
"Have I been here before?" I asked.
He nodded.
"And David? Has he been here?"
"In a way."
"Oh."
"You're not supposed to remember."
"Hmm."
"Are you okay?"
"Should I be?"
He smiled again. "Probably not."
"So, why am I here?"
He looked surprised, as if I should know. "You're a hero."
I was beginning to get the idea. "Look, I didn't save the world back there. It was Cassandra."
"Despite the fact that it's a very catchy phrase, there is no such thing as an army of one."
"What exactly is it that you want?"
He gave me that don't-play-dumb-with-me look that you just hate to see when you're stalling. But to my surprise, he gave me an answer. "You're sitting in headquarters, soldier. It's time to re-up or retire. It's your call, of course, but we'd like you to continue your work."
I jerked my head toward the window. "Funny place for a headquarters."
"We try to stay close to the front."
"Then you should be in Miami."
"The battle there has been won."
"But not the war?"
"You did not defeat the Raptor, though you were right to believe he was behind the plot to begin with."
"Was he ever even there?"
"No. He is a canny beast. You won't catch him easily. But I digress. You need to make a choice."
I nodded. It was time to move on, then, one way or another. I could retire. The word "rest" hovered out there like a green velvet dressing gown. But I'd seen what it had done to Albert and there was no reason to think I'd be any more content. Plus, my retirement would leave Evie to cope with the cantankerous old man. I'd never see her baby girl. I'd never hear Dave's story, which must be as remarkable as my own. Bergman and Cassandra would probably kill each other. Cole would become a bitter old man. And Vayl… Vayl would wander the earth, alone, longing for his sons. Longing for me.
I looked Raoul in the eye. "I'm in."
"Excellent." He nodded at me and a mystical wind rose in the room, knocking over lamps, shattering vases, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut tight.
When I opened them again, Cole's face was inches away, his breath still warm in my mouth, his fingers pressing against my neck. When he felt the blood move once again inside me, a blissful look of triumph settled over his face.
"She's back," he said, looking over his shoulder. Cassandra and Bergman hugged and gave me thumbs up. Vayl knelt beside me, a wide smile stretching his face to new limits, making him look happy and pained at the same time. "Jasmine, I am so glad you're here." I thought about it a minute and nodded. "Me too."
Acknowledgments
I should first recognize my husband's part in this whole scheme since, when I finally confessed to him my secret love of all things vampire, he didn't laugh and say, "Good Lord, Jen, how old are you?" Nope, he said, "Then maybe you should write a vampire novel." To which I replied, "It's all been done already." And he said, "Not by you." So, thanks babe, without your encouragement, I'd never have dared this book. Big thanks to my agent, Laurie McLean, for taking a chance on me and giving me the kind of full-out support and honest feedback I have come to deeply appreciate. Thanks also to my editor, Devi Pillai, whose humor, patience, insight, and constant barrage of questions have helped me elevate this work to a level I couldn't have imagined when I first sent it to her. For their insights into weaponry and military information I must acknowledge Ron Powell and Ben Rardin. Any mistakes I've made in either arena are my own. And special you-brave-soul hugs to my readers for taking on the daunting task of reviewing a raw manuscript and offering honest feedback to its nail-biting author. Love to you alclass="underline" Jackie Plew, Hope Dennis, Ron Powell, Katie Rardin, and Erin Pringle. Most of all, thanks to you, Reader, for climbing out to the edge of this limb with me. I hope you enjoy the view!