Nigellus pushed himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily. “I regret many things, Myrial. Time will tell whether this becomes one of them.”
His sword flashed, and Myrial’s head fell from her shoulders with a wet thud. Her body followed, dropping to the ground in a heap. A second, overhand blow from the heavy weapon split her skull in two. Dizziness assailed me at the gruesome sight, only Guthrie’s hand on my arm keeping me upright.
Nigellus didn’t fare quite so well in the ‘staying upright’ department. As though the blow had taken the last of his strength, he staggered and fell, his chest rising and falling like a bellows. “Pack the skull pieces in separate bags,” he said hoarsely. “Make sure they’re well covered with salt, and then dismember the rest as quickly as you can.”
I could hear sirens in the distance—the ambulance, or maybe police drawn to the disturbance in the park now that Edward’s protective barrier had fallen. Guthrie and Albigard moved to deal with Myrial’s body, hurrying toward the van to get the salt. I ignored them, stalking forward to loom over Nigellus—my feet planted wide and my hands on my hips.
“Fix them,” I demanded, pointing behind me at my father and Rans.
“Miss,” Edward said, sounding pained, “he may not have the power, after—”
“Shut up,” I interrupted, something dangerous and unhinged rising up inside me. “Nigellus, fix them!”
Before my eyes, the monstrous demonic form shimmered back to its illusion of humanity. Dark eyes narrowed, staring up at me unblinkingly.
“I will ensure that your paramour survives, Miss Bright.” The normal dark velvet of Nigellus’ voice was pared down to a weak rasp. His shirt hung in tatters.
A chainsaw fired up behind me. I didn’t turn to look. A horrible, tight band was squeezing around my lungs. The thready human heartbeat that had been racing in my ears like a countdown skipped and stuttered as my father’s grip on life weakened. An ambulance wasn’t going to be in time to save him.
“My father, Nigellus,” I said, losing the battle to keep my voice steady. “You have to save him. Please.” It broke on the final word.
A weak cough jerked my attention back to the injured man.
“Don’... wanna be saved,” Dad whispered, the words slurring. “Want to... be with Sasha. Jus’... let me die, demon. Give my life... to someone... more deserving.”
I was on my knees beside him in a heartbeat, clutching at his hand. “No!” I cried. “Dad—goddamn it, no!”
He blinked up at me, light brown eyes growing distant. Edward looked distraught; his kind old face drawn and pale.
“Sir,” he said. “You promised me a death in the time and manner of my choosing. Perhaps this—”
Nigellus cut across him. “He’s already offered, Edward. Darryl Bright, are you certain this is the decision you wish to make?”
“You can’t!” I looked frantically from my father to the demon, and back. “Dad...” The word was half a sob.
His fingers twitched weakly in my hold. “’M sure.” My father’s eyes stared half at me, half through me. “Love you, Zorah. Sorry about... everything. Wanted to... do better...”
I clutched his hand. “Dad, no! I love you, don’t do this—”
Nigellus knelt across from me. “It’s done. Be at peace, Darryl Bright. All will be well now.”
The hand I was holding curled convulsively in my grip and went limp. My father’s eyes slid closed as Edward placed a comforting hand on his forehead. His stuttering heartbeat stilled. A slow breath trickled from his lungs, and he did not inhale again.
In the distance, the sirens wailed, growing gradually closer.
SIXTEEN
I COLLAPSED BACKWARD onto my ass as though my strings had been cut, unable to accept that my father could just be... gone—his soul reaped by the demon crouched across from me. “No,” I murmured, my head shaking back and forth slowly in negation. “No, I... no.”
Nigellus breathed in slowly, his eyes closed like someone testing the bouquet of a fine vintage at a wine tasting. The sound of the chainsaw rattled into silence. Edward met my gaze, two tears spilling over to run in zigzag trails down his deeply wrinkled face.
“I’m so terribly sorry, Miss,” he said, his voice laced with that devastating kindness, which had so disarmed me when we first met.
I gulped in air, only to choke on it—an awful, ridiculous noise. Everything inside me felt like it was on the verge of flying apart, even as I grasped at the broken pieces. My mind was an engine revving too fast for too long, until it threatened to shatter, the pieces exploding in all directions.
Nigellus’ dark gaze fell on me like a heavy weight. Then it moved to take in the details of the chaotic scene around us. “We must hurry now,” he said, as calmly as though people weren’t running around stuffing dismembered body parts into bags of salt... as though Rans wasn’t lying still and pale on the ground a few steps away... as though my father wasn’t dead—
“Miss...” Edward said again. He slowly eased Dad’s body to lie flat on the ground.
A bloody hand closed on my shoulder. I twisted away from it with a startled gasp before registering that it belonged to Guthrie. He looked down at me with concern that I couldn’t accept or deal with.
I was in the middle of an eight-acre clearing, but invisible walls were threatening to crush me as they closed in. “Don’t,” I croaked, crab-crawling backward.
The expression of worry on Guthrie’s face grew deeper. He looked positively haggard after the night’s events. I wondered if I looked the same, or even worse. Nigellus had risen to his feet when it became clear that I wasn’t going to start screaming hysterically, or attack him, or whatever it was he’d been worried I might do.
I watched blankly as the demon crouched next to Rans’ body. He brushed fingertips over the
