Now he was torn asunder, bloodied and weak, barely able to stand. But still triumphantly dragging their nemesis into the void. He had no doubt the FBI were behind him. The only thing to do was push on, forward, ever forward, and fulfill Kaylie’s destiny. She was to be the Greatest Sacrifice, and Doug had stolen her from their grasp, throwing the universe out of balance.
The sun needs the moon; the tides, the shore. The trinity of Eden had been disturbed for too many years, and now he was going to bring harmony back to their world.
He stumbled into the opening, eyes momentarily blinded by the light of his sun. Curtis was lying on the altar, dressed in flowing white garments, her hair a blaze of red against the cool gray stone.
He dropped the sullied one onto the floor and rushed to his maiden. Wiped the hair back from her face. Realized she was bound, hand and foot, tied onto the sacrificial space. Between her legs was the child Rachel, eyes closed, skin pale as wax, her head resting on Curtis’s womb.
“My love, what have they done to you?”
Curtis looked at him, saw deep into his mind, as she always had. “You have done this. Remember this always. I am the light and the resurrection. Never forget me, Adrian. I will be your salvation.”
He kissed her, heard her words, momentous whispers, growing louder and stronger, and smelled the fire, coming closer, burning his lips and hands and hair, her fire, her lovely, deathly fire, consuming him.
“You have done well, my love,” she whispered, and the men came. They flooded into the chamber from both sides, shouting.
“You take the right side, I’ve got left, I’ve got left.”
“Lock down that south spot. Kill his egress.”
He spread his arms wide and faced them, shielding Curtis with his body.
“He’s moving. Stop him.”
“Firing, firing, firing.”
The bullets seared into Adrian’s flesh, a burning pain so intense he screamed in agony, and he knew there would be no recovering from this.
Curtis was watching him with eyes wide, her arms still bound, as he fell to the floor, first on his knees, then onto his side, knocking the breath out of him. Blood seeped from several wounds. Their eyes locked, and he ceased to know the passage of time. He was safe within her mental embrace.
Her sunlight spilled into the chasm, lighting the air on fire, and as his vision began to dim, the glamour fell away from the woman he loved. He saw the truth. Her skin was gray and wrinkled, the elasticity of youth forever gone. The lovely strawberry blond color he’d so loved, the one he’d sought to recreate over and over, from the first girl he took, little Kaylie Rousch, to the last, Rachel Stevens; the color that made the little girls look like the daughters he and Curtis would have had, was dulled to a buttery patina, heavily laced with gray. Her lips drew down toward her chin, not in pain, but in age.
She was old and wrinkled and no longer the carefree, brave woman who had kissed him after watching him try to kill a girl and forgiven him afterward. But she was and always would be beautiful to him. She gave him his soul, his freedom, kept him from becoming a raving lunatic. Gave him boundaries, and cared for him. Gave him a home and love and guidance. She’d led them to where they would be. Shared her beliefs, the one true way. Her death would be the harbinger of the apocalypse, which was the reason they needed to keep her alive, through the sacrosancts.
The light began to fade, he couldn’t see her face clearly. An FBI agent, the big dark-haired one who’d shot him, lifted the child from her very womb and cradled her in his arms. Another tended to Curtis, unbound her hands and feet, helped her to a seated position then to stand. She looked toward the door, turned away from him and did not look back. As she walked away, each step took a piece of his heart with her.
He saw Lauren then, his blue-eyed girl. Her inner sun glowed, a fire that could never be dampened, and she blessed him with the nod of her head, and her lips formed a single word. Father.
No matter what happened to them, their daughter would live on.
The flash of prescience gone, another man came to him, the detective. He kicked the gun from his hands, knelt and pressed his fingers into Adrian’s neck.
“Sam, come here, hurry.”
Then she was touching him, pressing on his chest hard, over and over, her lips against his, her sweet breath pushing air into him, air his body would not accept.
His last caress. He used her air, spoke the words he needed to be forever shriven.
“I did not kill Doug. He was my friend. My only true friend.”
Eyes staring, Adrian’s head slumped to the side. The pain disappeared, blackness enveloped him and despite the woman’s frantic attempts, his chest ceased to rise again.
Chapter
59
XANDER TOUCHED SAM’S shoulder with his good hand. “He’s gone,” he said.
She heard Jordan mutter, “Good riddance.” But she wanted to cry. Feeling a life slip away under your own hands, watching that light dim, made her ache with bitter sorrow, even if the soul she’d failed to save was black with evil.