Part 19 (1/2)
She struggled to open the door, an unG.o.dly scream echoing around them in the night sky. Coughing out smoke and taking in as much air as possible, she dragged Juan off the porch.
The house was engulfed in flames. She couldn't see the sky through the smoke, but something looked off. The fire itself was red, the flames dense. The house seemed to be shrinking in front of her.
Anthony.
She ran up the steps and through the open door. Anthony was lying on the floor, unmoving. No, no, no! He'd saved her life. Again. She wasn't going to let him die, not when she had so much to tell him.
It took all her strength to drag him out. The smoke weakened her, the fire burned her skin. She glanced at Corinne Davies, unconscious. She couldn't see her daughter Lisa through the smoke, on the far side of the living room.
She couldn't save them. She didn't even know if she could save Anthony and herself.
”You are mine!”
The flames danced and whispered, a cacophony of heat and flames and burning wood and falling timber, but all Skye heard was the call of the demon.
”You are mine. You are mine. You are mine.”
Skye didn't stop. She used strength she didn't know she had to drag Anthony from the burning house. The porch collapsed as they crossed it, and Skye rolled down the stairs with Anthony. He grunted when they landed on the sandy soil.
”Anthony!” She crawled away, dragging him, feeling the house pulling her back. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the face of evil in the flames as an inhuman scream echoed through the night.
With a deafening roar, the house collapsed into itself, and nothing but the smoldering foundation remained.
Sirens pierced the air. ”Anthony, Anthony, talk to me,” Skye whispered, her voice hoa.r.s.e and dry from the smoke.
”Skye,” he murmured. ”My Skye.”
She cried with relief. She kissed him, her hand touching his chest.
The blood.
She ripped open his s.h.i.+rt. A deep cut sliced open his lower abdomen. He'd lost so much blood already. It coated his s.h.i.+rt, her fingers. She pressed her hands on the wound, but it didn't stop the bleeding.
”No, no!” She couldn't lose him. ”I'm sorry.”
”Do. You. Trust me?” His speech was labored.
”Yes, of course. I'm so sorry I didn't believe-”
”Water in my pocket.”
”I don't-”
”Hurry.”
She reached into his pockets. In one was a plastic bottle half full of a clear liquid. Water?
”Pour it. On the wound.”
”I don't think-”
”Trust, my Skye.” He coughed.
Hands shaking, she unscrewed the cap. She smelled the liquid. Nothing.
She poured it over his wound. Before her eyes, the wound stopped bleeding. It seemed to . . . shrink.
”I don't understand,” she said.
He reached for her, pulled her into the nook of his arm. ”My faith, your trust.”
She relaxed in his arms. The sirens were closer, the lights of the rescue vehicles cutting across the cliff where the Davies house used to stand.
”Don't leave me,” she whispered.
”Never.”
She took his hand in hers, brought it to her lips. ”I thought I'd lost you. I'm so alone, Anthony.”
”Not anymore.”
She turned her head, looked at his face. ”What is this, Anthony? I feel complete. With you.”
He smiled. ”We're complete together. I love you, Skye.”
”You live in Italy.”
”I live with you.”
Realization hit her, but she didn't want to believe. Didn't want to be hurt. ”But your life-”
He kissed the top of her head. ”My life is with you. My soul belongs to you while I walk this earth. I am what I am, warts and all, but I am a man who believes in fate, a man who believes I came here for a reason. To save you.”
He kissed her again, his lips stealing her loneliness.
”I was a lonely man,” he whispered in her ear. ”Until I saw you.”
Skye had never felt truly at peace, until now, lying in the nook of Anthony's arm, being held, and holding.
Maybe, maybe she could believe in love.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
One week later.