Not yet.
All I could think of was her. As I lay there, immortal magic molding back together this fleshy body, her face remained in my mind. She had come back. She had come after me. Damned stubborn woman. Couldn’t obey to save her own life. But she’d come back as if she…as if she could protect me. As if she could fight beside me.
That alone made a little warmth come back to my chest. She was foolish as hell, but she — she loved me.
She’d said it.
It was almost laughable, because why would a woman so vibrant, so alive, love a monster from Hell? Why would she risk her life to come back for me, or offer her soul when I’d already given all I could to protect her, when I had nothing more to give in return?
Love. Because she…loved me.
How simple and silly that sounded. A four-letter word wasn’t enough to describe the desperation in me, the craving, the need to get back to her. It wasn’t enough to describe the absolute fury I’d turn on those who had taken her from me, who had dared to put their hands on her. And if they’d killed her…
I’d destroy them all. I would hunt them down, every last one, every human who’d ever dared to give allegiance to the Libiri. I’d make them all beg for mercy, and give none. The murders that had earned me my reputation would be nothing in comparison to the slaughter I’d unleash on them.
I had to believe she was still alive. I had to believe I still had time to save her.
The downpour was heavy, but I could finally move my fingers and toes. Everything ached, but my movement was returning. I was just so weak, so goddamn weak.
The rain smelled like the ocean, and that made me afraid. The God’s influence was growing. If It didn’t already have her…It would soon.
Something brushed among my mind, soft, almost like the call of a summoner but gentler somehow. It was a feather’s touch in comparison to a summoner’s deep, piercing hooks. A nudge, a caress against my deeper being.
It took me a few moments to realize it was my name being called in the way that only a demon’s hidden name could be: someone was writing it.
I’d given it to Rae, and although I had no guarantees that Jeremiah hadn’t found it hidden in her clothes and taken it, something told me that this wasn’t Jeremiah’s doing. It was too tender, like the touch of her hands on my chest when she’d cleaned my wounds, or the way her eyes looked up at me from the bed, or the way her lips curved in that eager smile of hers. It was soft, like outstretched hands, like a whisper. “It’s yours.”
My eyes opened wide. I was…warm.
Not just that, but my blood was on fire in my veins, my heart like a coal in my chest. I was breathing deeply again, even though my lungs ached. I was getting stronger, somehow.
“…if you can hear me…it’s yours.”
I tried to get up too quickly, and my legs buckled under me. I knew it was her, and knew it was her hands writing my name. I tried again, and was able to get to my feet, gasping as my healing accelerated painfully, and I could feel every new cell as it formed, every interlocking fiber of muscle pulled tight.
I knew what this was. I knew why I could suddenly feel her touch my mind as I could touch hers, why I could hear her voice, feel her as if she was right there.
She’d done it; she’d given her soul to me. Every passing second bound us more tightly together, locking her vibrant mortal soul into mine. I could feel her like a thread, binding tighter and tighter around me and tugging, desperately tugging, trying to draw closer.
She was alive. She was out there and alive.
And I wasn’t going to lose her.
With every passing second, I was getting strong. Strong enough to walk, then to run. Strong enough to find her scent, strong enough to follow the tug of her soul on mine. I’d steal her from the hands of God Itself if I had to.
“You’ve come to me at last, Raelynn Lawson.”
My mind couldn’t comprehend what my eyes were seeing. Despite not having my glasses, somehow what lay before me was perfectly clear. The being that had arisen from the black pool was both incomprehensibly large, and only as tall as a man. It was constantly morphing, growing and shrinking, an amalgamation of color, light, and absolute darkness. It should have been impossible; no Earthly being should have been able to take that form. When It spoke, it was with a voice that was as ancient and cold as bleached bones.
It was the voice that haunted my dreams. The voice of God.
And God was both painfully beautiful and horrifying beyond words.
The sound of Its feet padding slowly across the damp stones toward me made me shudder, and I had to cover my eyes because I couldn’t bear to look at It. I wanted to run, to hide. I would have flung myself into a pit if it meant being able to get away. But I couldn’t move. Even raising my hands to cover my eyes felt life an enormous effort, and keeping them covered was even worse. I couldn’t bear it. My hands fell back trembling to my sides, and my burning eyes wouldn’t close even when tears flooded down my face.