Concrete Savior (32 page)

Casey’s mouth twisted. “Does that mean what I think it does?”

Brynna hesitated, not sure whether telling him the truth would help or hurt. Ultimately she had to be honest. “Jashire still killed her husband.”

“Oh, God,” Casey whispered. “I’m so
sorry
. If I hadn’t—”

“No,” Brynna cut in. “Don’t you see? Jashire never intended to give Gina back her husband. She never intended for
anyone
to come out of this unharmed. She thrives on pain and suffering . . .” Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “And most of all,
guilt
. That’s what you feel, isn’t it, Casey? Guilty?”

“Oh, yes,” he murmured. “I am
so
guilty.”

“But you’re
not
. You were used by someone who knew exactly what she was doing. Who never wanted any of this to come out good.” She lifted her chin. “And I know you’ve talked to her—how did she sound in that last conversation? Did she tell you that you were worthless? That it was all your fault?” When Casey didn’t answer, Brynna knew the truth. “Of course she did. Because her final victory is to have you end your life.”

“But why?” he asked. “Why would she want that?”

“Why would Glenn Klinger and Jack Gaynor do the things they did?” Brynna asked, instead of answering. “Why would Danielle Myers snap like she did? She wasn’t evil. She’s just a mentally disturbed child stuck in a grown-up’s body. Jashire used Gina’s ability to see all these things for her own poisonous purposes.” She didn’t think it would fly if she told Casey that Jashire was a guilt demon. He wouldn’t believe that any more than he would believe Brynna herself was one.

He lifted his head as a slight breeze drifted across the rooftop. “There’s more to come, you know.”

Brynna frowned. “What?”

“There’s that last guy, Tate Wernick. Remember? You and Detective Redmond tried to stop me on Navy Pier, but I’d already done my dirty work.” He laughed bitterly. “And it was so absurdly
easy
this time—all I had to do was stop him from getting into an argument with that other guy, that tourist. Gina told me the man had a knife in his pocket and Wernick would get stabbed, bleed to death right there before anyone could help him.” Brynna tensed when he suddenly slapped the side of his own head hard enough to make himself sway on the edge. “I just fell right into it, didn’t I? Like Jashire said, I wonder what great and wonderful things
he’s
going to do.”

“He won’t be doing anything.”

Casey’s head turned back in her direction. “Excuse me?”

“Gina warned us about him, Casey. He was arrested downtown late this afternoon,
before
he could hurt anyone.” She left out the part about the truck bomb and that Wernick was also hospitalized with second- and third-degree burns. None of that would do Casey any good right now.

His eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.”

Brynna shook her head. “No, I’m not. I don’t have any reason to lie to you—nothing to gain or lose.”

“Jashire told me you were just like her.”

“I’m sure she did,” Brynna said calmly. “Do you think that after all this, she’d want me to be up here and trying to talk you into living? Do you think she’d want you to believe me when I say your life
is
worth something, that you have better times ahead of you? Or would she be happier if you shut me out and killed yourself?” Casey was silent. “You know I’m telling you the truth. Don’t give her this victory, Casey. Don’t let her win.”

Casey looked at her narrowly. “What are you going to do?” he asked. “Jump out here and try to stop me?”

“No.” Brynna’s voice was level. “Could I make it? Yeah, I probably could. Do I want to? Yeah, I do. Should I?” She paused, then shook her head. “No. It’s all about choice, Casey. It always is. What you do here, if you decide to end your life, that’s your choice. Sure, your judgment could have been better, but everyone can say that at one time or another. Your mistakes are bigger than most, but you based your decisions on bad information—you were deceived. Do you really want the last decision of youe to be this?” She stood and walked calmly toward him. He tensed. “I’m not going to grab you, Casey.” She stopped a couple of feet away and held out her hand. “Take my hand, Casey. Choose life.”

Casey hesitated long enough for her pulse to thicken with apprehension. Dear God, was he actually going to do it anyway? Had she not been convincing enough?

And if he did and she jumped forward to stop him—because she knew she would, if only because instinct would overrule her—was she then any better than he had been when he’d done his rescues?

When Casey finally did reach out and her fingers entwined with hers, she resisted the urge to snatch at his wrist and pull him to safety. Instead, she forced herself to wait, holding her breath the entire time. After a long ten seconds of simply standing there, hands together, Brynna exhaled as Casey stepped down from the edge.

She had seldom had the honor of touching a live nephilim, and hardly ever under good circumstances. Doing so now was a delight—not only was she immediately surrounded by that sweet sea breeze scent that was natural to him, the contact sent a tingle of well-being through every part of her, like the calming effect from stroking a soft, warm puppy. She took it in and enjoyed it without comment, and they walked hand-in-hand back to the stairs.

At the doorway, he stopped and looked at her. “I’m okay now,” he said. “Thank you . . . for everything.” When Brynna hesitated, he squeezed her fingers. “I’ll be okay,” he repeated. “I’ll figure it out. I think I said it before, I always had the feeling I had something big to do in my life. That feeling’s still there. It got kind of smothered by everything that’s gone on, but my head is clearing. Something big still waits for me in the future, I’m sure of it.”

Brynna let him go, watching as he descended the steps and finally went out of sight.

Then she settled herself on the rooftop to wait.

“WHERE’S MY NEPHILIM?” JASHIRE
demanded.

Brynna hadn’t been waiting long, a quarter of an hour at the most. Still, fifteen minutes could make a big difference when you came in expecting one thing but finding another. Right now Brynna could tell the other fallen angel was furious by the way her eyes were flashing yellow and red and the fingers of her fists were clenching and unclenching. Every time her hands opened, her fingernails lengthened

“Your nephilim? I’m sorry—I didn’t see your name tattooed on his forehead.”

“I suppose you’ve also talked to—”

“Gina Whitfield. Yes.” When Jashire said nothing, Brynna added, “We told her that her husband is dead. I don’t think she’s going to be as easy for you to manipulate in the future.”

“Damn you!” Jashire paced back and forth in front of Brynna on the rooftop. “You ruined
everything
.”

“Sorry. No—wait. I’m not.”

“You’re going to be.”

Jashire changed suddenly, slipping back into her demonic form as quickly and easily as water pouring out of a pitcher. There wasn’t much time to think about anything else but Brynna still had that millisecond to feel that same sense of appreciation for Jashire’s beauty that she inevitably had. Her form, Brynna thought, had always been so much more beautiful than any of the forms that Brynna could take. It was no wonder that Lucifer occasionally amused himself with Jashire or for that fact, any of the others. When Brynna saw herself, in any form, she didn’t see a particularly attractive female. She was tall and lean, small-breasted and hard-bodied. Jashire, on the other hand, was curvaceous, soft on the eyes and soft to the touch. And, of course, Lucifer had never been monogamous. But neither had cared about the other’s flings through the ages, be they male or female.

Her nostalgic thoughts splintered as Jashire swiped at her with her sharp claws. She missed when Brynna leaned back, and it was a good thing; otherwise Brynna might have been gutted from sternum to pelvis. The tar surface of the roof was hot beneath Brynna’s shoes and foul-smelling in her nose, an incongruous contrast to the luxurious blue of the sky overhead, the same sky that perpetually worried her because of its natural openness.

But that was nothing she could think about now, not with Jashire headed toward her in a form much stronger, sturdier, and infinitely more deadly than her own breakable human one.

Brynna changed, going instinctively into the build she felt was best suited for this rooftop battle. As she had the first—and only—time Redmond had seen her change, this body had strong, massive wings, long limbs, and deep-set golden eyescovered by protective third eyelids to keep her vision from withering under the heat of Hell itself. Her lips were so deeply red they were nearly black, their edges melting into the dark pigment of her skin. A pointed fingernail the color and hardness of a ruby tipped each elongated finger. Ironically, the remnants of her human clothes still clung to her body, the top held on by the sleeves although the base of her wings had ripped through the garment’s back. She could feel the heavy muscles of her thighs straining against the denim jeans and her height had increased so much that the bottom edges had become nearly a foot too short. Her shoes had been squeezed off her feet, punctured by toenails that matched the bloodred nails on her fingers.

Jashire leaped at her and Brynna met her in midair, her powerful wings scooping up the smaller demon and lifting her just enough to turn her before flinging her away. Despite everything, she still had no true desire to hurt Jashire, and certainly no wish to kill her. Although Jashire had been indirectly responsible for so many human deaths, it was not Brynna’s place to condemn and certainly not to pass judgment or punish. All she really wanted was for Jashire to go back where she came from.

Jashire tumbled to the rooftop and screamed in frustration. She picked herself up and ran at Brynna again. Three-inch talons extended like rapiers from her fingers. Brynna swatted Jashire aside but still felt the streak of pain as two of Jashire’s nails raked across one arm. Jashire snapped at the air where Brynna’s arm had been a moment earlier with teeth that had elongated and re-formed to points inside her mouth. Brynna knew that if she got close enough, Jashire would do her best to rip her apart. All demons liked to bite when they fought. After all, all those jagged teeth were natural weapons.

If Brynna had thought Jashire would be an easy opponent, she had sorely miscalculated, and it was a painful reminder not to underestimate the inhabitants of Hell. She and Jashire circled each other on the roof. The sun beat down, bright and hot and miserable, but it was still worlds apart, literally, from Lucifer’s kingdom. She didn’t know if Jashire wanted to kill her—she rather thought she did—but Brynna did not feel the same. Even after all the injuries she’d sustained thus far in this battle, she could tell by the tense set of Jashire’s shoulder that the female demon was about to leap at her. She prepared herself for the impact, but suddenly Jashire pitched backward instead, her scarlet-colored eyes going wide as her gaze cut to something above Brynna. Despite the visual warning, Brynna had no time to react before a body, heavy and incredibly hot, slammed her to the black, filthy surface of the roof.

Hunter!

She had grown so very careless, or she would have never let Jashire catch her on this roof. Bad enough that she had followed Casey up here, but she should have lured Jashire back into the building, even at the increased risk of battling in a smaller space. Perhaps Jashire had even known what would happen. Maybe she had revealed Brynna’s whereabouts or the probability she would try to save the nephilim to Lucifer so that he would send one of his soldiers to retrieve her. But the whys and hows of it all didn’t matter—right now all that counted was surviving. And surviving did not necessarily stop at staying alive. It meant getting away from the Hunter so that it did not drag her back to Hell.