Boom! Boom!
A sharp sting in both her shoulders, jerking her backward, to her knees. There was a gush of warmth down her torso. Her arms fell to her side, too heavy to hold up, but somehow she maintained her grip on the gun. All she had to do was lift it and squeeze the trigger, and this would be over.
“Don’t worry,” Driana said. “Neither was a kill shot. But the cops should have heard them, should be leaping from their car right now and racing inside any second.”
Lift…lift…inch by agonizing inch…breathing through the pain. “Thank you, demon, because now a third and fourth shot won’t matter.” Finally Annabelle had the gun in the air. Praying her aim would be sufficient, she hammered at the trigger.
Boom! Boom!
Driana reacted as she had, jerking backward. Blood sprayed across the hallway walls, her throat torn open, now a gaping mass of crimson and meat. Her head lolled to the side, her gaze fixing somewhere behind Annabelle.
Dead, she was dead.
Annabelle hadn’t meant… Had only hoped to… What had she done? Pure evil had stolen her parents from her, and now she’d stolen this girl from someone else—from Brax.
A green-and-black mist began to rise from her body, a monster quickly taking shape. It had ruby-colored eyes, a skeletal face and stooped shoulders, and it hissed at Annabelle, baring fangs dripping with thick, yellow liquid.
If she’d had the strength, she would have screamed. Below, the front door crashed open. Male voices shouted instructions at each other and warnings for whoever had the gun. Footsteps slapped against the floor. Another hiss, and the demon shot through the ceiling, out of view.
Annabelle dropped the weapon, and labored to her feet, searching for a way out. Dizzying sickness consumed her, hazing her surroundings.
Zacharel appeared in front of her, his features tight with concern. He may not have been here, but he must have been close by. Must have heard the shots, too. His arms slid underneath her, and in seconds, they had cleared the house and were in the air.
She rested her cheek on his strong shoulder and closed her eyes. “My brother?”
“Is alive. I should not have left you alone. I am sorry. So sorry.”
“I killed her.”
“I know.”
“Her demon got away.”
“I know that, too.” He eased her down onto something cold and flat. A bed, she realized, blinking open her eyes. She was in a motel room, her brother seated on the bed across from hers.
Though her vision clouded more with every second that passed, she could see that his eyes were swollen from tears, his cheeks were scratched and bleeding, and he was shaking uncontrollably. She tried to sit up, but Zacharel held her down.
“What happened to him?” she managed to get out.
“I showed him that monsters do, in fact, exist.”
“And the b-bastard dropped me o-out of the s-sky,” Brax said through his shudders. “T-twice.”
Zacharel ripped her soaked T-shirt from her body with a single tug of his hands, then slid her bra straps aside more gently. How they’d managed to remain intact, she might never know.
“You’ll notice I caught him twice, too.” With barely a breath, her angel added, “The bullets went all the way through.”
That was a good thing, she hoped.
Brax rubbed at his shoulders, as if in sympathy. “Wh-who shot you?”
“Your girlfriend,” she said, a wave of cold blasting her, beginning where the wounds originated, then spreading through the rest of her, making her shiver, keeping her awake.
“Driana?”
“Do you have another girlfriend?” Zacharel snapped. A long while passed in silence while he stared down at her, his eyes bright with determination.
“But she would never… She’s…” Shock increased Brax’s trembling. “Is she okay?”
Don’t tell him. Stay silent. “I’m sorry, but she’s dead.” He deserved to know. “I shot her.”