“I can’t help it,” I said, devastated, shrouded in grief and shock. Even now, he thought of me. Not himself. Something cracked inside, crying from within, weeping into my chest.
He seemed to shake himself, to break free of something I couldn’t see. Then his stance changed, shoulders set back in sheer determination. My stomach sank, abdominal muscles going taut. I knew the look, recognized it, even though I didn’t want to.
Denial.
Please, not this. Never this.
“I’m not leaving.” He lifted his head, no longer entranced by what awaited him, glowering at it instead. “I’m not ready.”
I closed my eyes, drawing on strength I didn’t have, knowing I’d heard him correctly but needing to be sure. “What did you say?”
“I’m. Not. Leaving.”
I don’t know how he did it, how he turned his back on the light of Heaven, but Paine did. He approached me—me and the empty casing that was once his body. His dark eyes were intent, his jaw set in a hard line. This was the Paine I knew and loved, protecting what he cared for no matter the cost.
That was the problem.
More pain slammed into me as I fought with what I wanted and what he needed, emotions raw and unfiltered. He’d give up his chance at peace if he stayed, stuck in limbo. It wasn’t fair to him, not after all he’d suffered, to make him suffer more. In my heart, I knew it.
You have to let him go. You have to set him free.
“You have to.”
“No, I don’t,” he corrected, continuing toward me.
Panic set in, a true fear that he’d be stuck here. I’d seen aimless spirits. I knew what he’d become. He’d be unable to connect to anything, his sole purpose to find some semblance of peace. However, there might not be anything left for him here, a way to have the vengeance he longed for. If Disco and I didn’t make it out alive, Paine would be just as he was now—a lost soul—trapped in this pit of shit.
“Yes, you do,” I whispered, afraid of taking control, of using the only thing I had left to ease his passage. I didn’t want to force him to cross, to make him find peace. My gift wasn’t meant to be used that way. I didn’t want to use it that way.
“Don’t tell me what I have to do.” He pulled his lips back, but there were no fangs. He wasn’t a vampire any longer, only a spirit needing peace.
“Don’t hate me.” I knew he could hear my desperation, because alarm flashed across his face.
“Then don’t make me,” he warned, eyes narrowing. “It’s my choice.”
Shit. He was going to make me do something I didn’t want to do. To force my hand. How unfair was that? Wasn’t it enough that I’d lost him? Did I have to face this, too?
“Then make the right choice.” Please, please, please make the right choice. I don’t know how much more I can take. “Don’t make me do it for you.”
I waited, hoping he would listen and knowing he wouldn’t. He took another step in my direction, and I had no other choice. Calling on my necromancy had never hurt so much. The price had never been so high. As the power stretched over me, I knew Paine felt it, could see and feel what I intended.
“Don’t,” he repeated, but his confidence was gone.
“The light is beautiful, isn’t it?”
I solidified the comment with my will, redirecting him toward the rays I couldn’t see. I’d never forced a spirit across—had never had to—and I found it was easier than I thought. His body trembled as he attempted to fight the words, struggling as he turned his head.
“Listen to the glory that is Heaven, of those who are welcoming you home.” More power hummed between us, making my skin itchy, radiating outward. “They are waiting for you. They want you to come to them.”
“Please.” Paine never begged, so I expected what came next: a furious scream. “I won’t stay. I’ll find a way to come back. I will come back.”