Part 9 (1/2)
What would it be like? To be truly free? Not grieve, not regret, not constantly question her own competence, her job. Herself.
She'd always been alone, but she'd pretended. First that her mother wanted her, then that her father loved her. She was a lie. No one would miss her if she disappeared. No family, few friends, and those she had-who? She couldn't remember even one close friend. There had to be someone . . .
”Skye.”
She shook her head. Her imagination talking to her.
”Skye, stop.”
Stop what? she tried to say, but her words sounded funny. Who was calling her, anyway?
”Skye!” The voice was commanding. Gruff.
Step forward. Peace is only a foot away. Do it, Skye.
Her father's voice, calm, quiet. You let me die. You didn't even look for me.
She stared at the s.p.a.ce above the sea. He was there, right in front of her. So real she could touch him. Have him hold her like when she was little. Tell her stories, his wonderful stories about princesses who flew like the birds. Love her again.
”Daddy, I'm sorry.”
He held out his hand.
She held out her hand.
”Skye, come home.”
”I miss you, Daddy.”
She stepped forward. The ground disappeared. She was falling, falling-
Through human eyes, Ianax watched Sheriff Skye McPherson walk along the edge of the cliff, much too close to the edge. A smile across the face of the body he'd fought to possess.
Die, weak one. Die.
He sent a bolt of energy across the s.p.a.ce and created the image of her father.
She reached out for him.
Pain exploded in his head as the soul trapped inside chanted a prayer. His eyes glowed, turned inward, and he saw the human soul inside the physical body he possessed. Ianax sent a sharp snap of energy to silence the plea, and the soul went quiet.
The human had fought him fiercely, but after he had rid the body of all protective s.h.i.+elds, he'd been able to gain a foothold. Just enough to subdue the human conscience and take over. But an unwilling possession was a constant battle, and energy surges to quiet the consciousness drained him. The momentary high of possession would quickly diminish. He needed to find another body, one that wasn't as emotionally strong, but first he had things to do.
”I need that journal. Where would she keep it?”
He searched the memories of the human trapped inside and looked in two places before he found it. He picked up the journal and his human hands burned.
”Argh!”
The b.a.s.t.a.r.d had protected the journal from those acting on Ianax's command. The mild irritation at being slowed down was replaced by a spine-chilling shriek of excitement.
You can't stop me!
Using ancient chants from his master, he rid the journal of all protective elements. He picked it up, flipped through the pages, wanting to see what they knew of how to defeat him.
The pages were blank. The ink itself had been blessed, and with his spell he'd removed it.
In a rage befitting Satan himself, the book flew across the room, pages shredding in midair.
”I'll have your soul in my teeth yet, Raphael Cooper!”
He left the cottage, feeling around for Skye McPherson's soul. He would claim her, now.
But he couldn't find her.
Then he saw him, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who'd interrupted his gathering of souls at the mission.
He wanted nothing more than Anthony Zaccardi's soul in his black gut. But Satan had other plans for him.
Impatience was only one of Ianax's vices.
CHAPTER NINE.
SHE BEGAN TO TUMBLE OFF the cliff when someone grabbed her hand.
”Skye!”
She screamed, kicked, scrambling, trying to climb up the sheer rocky slope. What had happened? Where was she?
Had she just walked off the cliff? No. Yes. Was she losing her mind?
”Help!” she shouted.
”I'm going to pull you up.”
The wind picked up. The salty spray from the violent waves cras.h.i.+ng below dampened her near-naked body. Her free hand, her feet, tried to grab for purchase, but rocks continued to fall beneath her kicking legs.
”Give me your other hand!”
It was Anthony. He clutched her wrist with one hand. His other hand was reaching for hers. He was lying flat on the ground to keep from falling over the edge with her.
She swung wildly, kept reaching for him. The wind blew at her, pus.h.i.+ng her from his seeking hand.