I’ve failed. Xavier is going to die here, and then I am going to die here, and Sam and Dean won’t ever know what truly happened to me. And my father will have lost me again, and everyone I love in my life will be heartbroken. But then—
A boom crackles through the air below.
Dragon cries out in agony.
I look down as the swings revolve and see Lilith Duprey standing just beyond where Dragon was, a gun in her hand, the barrel smoking. Dragon lies crumpled under the controls, most of his body out of view.
“Lilith!” I call out. “Stop the swings!”
She reaches forward and slams her hand on a red button in the center of the console. I hear the motor die away, and the swings slow down. Xavier’s hands and feet are tied together, but he is reaching up, trying to grab the rope around his shoulders.
“I’m going to bring you down,” Lilith calls, and I feel the jerk of the swings lowering. When they do, Xavier slips further, and he clutches at the rope just before it slides up around his neck.
Chapter Forty-Two
“Stop!” I scream. The swings cease to move, and I yank on the metal bar that holds me in the swing. It moves up the chains easily, and I grasp them just below it and hoist myself until I am standing in the leather seat.
“What are you doing?” Lilith cries from below.
“I don’t really know,” I tell her, releasing the chain with one hand for a moment to let the bar drop and then grabbing it again. I repeat the action with the other side, and the bar drops all the way down to the seat. I place one foot on it and steady myself.
Xavier is hanging all the way across from me, one hand between the rope and his neck, his feet curled up under him like a frog to give him the slack he needs to get his hand up there. He is sputtering and in obvious pain but is still mumbling and looking over at me.
“I’m coming, Xavier,” I call out, judging the distance to the swing beside me. I don’t need to go all the way around; I can just cut across, but it still requires moving from swing to swing, high in the air. And Xavier doesn’t have much time. Whether his hand is between the rope and the front of his neck or not; it will cut off his circulation and then choke him to death.
I take a deep breath and let go of the chain with my left hand. As evenly as I can, I reach out to grab the swing closest to me. It bounces off my fingertips. I nearly fall and grasp hard with my right hand to hold myself up, cursing under my breath.
My feet push down into the swing, and I rock a little, and a thought dawns on me. I keep the rocking going, and in just a couple of movements, I am touching the swing next to me.
Reaching out, I grab it and pull it with me on the backswing. As soon as I rock back again, I take the leap, clamping hard and jumping from one swing to the next. Both hands hold onto the chain tightly as I get my feet into place. I made it.
Only a few dozen to go.
“Just hold on, Xavier,” I call out, trying not to let panic fill my voice. He has only a minute or two left before the pressure will be too great. I can’t take my time.
I swing to the next seat, and then the next. If I wasn’t so petrified for Xavier and for my own safety, I would feel like Tarzan, going from tree to tree. As it is, all I can think about is what happens if I slip, or worse, if Xavier does.
I am two swings away from him when I can make out a few of the words he is saying for the first time. I half expected a prayer or some mantra to keep him focused. Instead, it sounds like numbers. Statistics.
“Seventy-two percent chance at twenty feet, roughly sixty-six at twenty-one feet,” he’s muttering.
I make my way to the swing beside him and wrap my legs around the chain as to not lose my grip. I wrap my hands around the rope and tug, but I can’t lift him without leverage. The pull on the rope also tightened it around his neck, and Xavier gags below me.
“Untie me,” he sputters, his eyes finding mine.
“You will fall, Xavier. It will kill you.”
“Not from this height. Untie me. Seventy-two percent chance of survival. Untie me.”
I look at the noose behind his neck. Even if I could reach it easily, it would take a few minutes to unravel it.
“I can’t,” I say. “But I have an idea.”
I reach under my shirt to my bra, a special pocket on the side of one cup that hides a small but sharp switchblade. I pull it out. Xavier looks at it with awe.
“Sam insisted I carry more than one weapon,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice conversational. Keeping Xavier and myself calm is the most important thing. One wrong move and we both go down without warning.
“You two love each other very much,” Xavier says, his voice becoming labored now. He tries a smile, but it doesn’t form.
I try to smile too. “We do,” I say. “Are you sure about this?”
“Seventy-two percent sure,” he says matter-of-factly. “Sixty-six if we are twenty-one feet up.”
“I don’t like this,” I say, placing the blade on the rope, just under where it is tied to the chair.
“Neither does the rope,” Xavier counters. The part of me overwhelmed with thousands of emotions at once wants to laugh, but I keep my focus.
I saw until I feel the rope start to give way. Xavier looks up at me, and a wry smile
