Rapture

Chapter Fifty-three

Ultimately, it had been the moonlight that had shown the way.

As Matthias had stood and talked with Mels, he had kept his eyes steadily on her, because it was crucial that she believe him, and he knew he wasn’t getting another chance. Indeed, he had never spoken more truthful words, in spite of the fact that some of them sounded crazy, and in so many ways, his life would be complete only if by some miracle she could believe what he was saying.

And then he had had the chance to tell her he loved her. To her face.

It was more than he had hoped for or deserved.

Except as he did, the moon peeked through the clouds, throwing shadows onto the ground, shadows of trees, branches, cars…people.

Including the operative in black who had crept up to the edge of the forest.

And was lifting his gun and leveling it across the driveway.

Matthias’s first move was to get Mels out of the line of fire, and as she hit the fine gravel, he heard the first shot strike the garage. The second discharge was going to be deadly—but not to her.

Jim was standing unprotected by the rental car, as obvious a target as a goddamn dartboard.

Matthias reacted in an instant, throwing himself in the way of the second shot, becoming a human shield to protect the other man. Sailing through the air, he somehow timed the jump and the trajectory perfectly.

As he felt the bullet break into his sternum and strike his heart, he thought, Well…here it was.

His final moment on earth.

And it felt right, so right. He had done such ugliness, such evil, over the course of decades, but at least he was ending on a high note, a right note—giving Jim enough time to out his gun and pick off the assassin.

Which he would do. Heron was one of the best. Always had been.

He was going to take care of business, him and that deadly roommate.

And Mels had heard the truth, even if she couldn’t believe it.

In the brief, rushing weightlessness as Matthias returned to earth, his eyes went to the sky above. He was going back into the pit of Hell, so he figured he might as well enjoy the view of Heaven one last time—

God, that moon, that beautiful, shining moon with its pure white light that bathed all parts of this drama—

The gravel drive jumped up and grabbed him. As he landed, his vision grew preternaturally clear so that he saw what he had known would happen: Jim palming his forty, waiting one breath, then two…and when the shooter popped his head out to check the carnage, Heron pulled the trigger and picked the other man off, nailing him in the cranium, blowing him back flat.

It was a crack shot that could only have been made by an expert.

And it meant that Mels was safe.

Lying flat on his back on the ground, Matthias turned his head to his woman. She was fighting against some kind of hold on her, her arms stretched out as if she were trying to reach him.

The second Jim yelled, “Clear!” she broke free of whatever had been keeping her stuck and scrambled over.

Matthias felt her take his hand, and as he looked up into her face, she was more beautiful than the moon.

He smiled at her, and then saw that she was crying. “No,” he groaned. “No, you’re fine—”

“Get an ambulance,” she shouted.

It was too late, but he appreciated the thought.

Funny, shouldn’t he feel pain? He was dying; he knew that by the way his breathing was getting difficult. But there was no agony, not even discomfort. Instead, he felt giddy, his brain buzzing.

On the verge of death, he was totally alive.

He squeezed her hand. “I love you….”

“Don’t even think about it,” she barked.

“It’s how…I feel….”

“No, the dying thing. You are not dying on me.” She jerked her head up. “Call nine-one-one!”

“Mels—Mels, look at me.” When she did, he smiled in spite of the knowledge of where he was going to end up. “Just—let me see you….You’re so beautiful….”

“Damn you, Matthias—”

“Yes, I am.” Damned, that was. “Listen to me—no, just listen. I want you to wear your seat belt…wear it…promise me—”

“Screw you, stay with me and make me.”

“Wear…it….”

“Don’t leave me,” she moaned. “Not now, not when…I’m so confused…”

“Wear it.”

Turned out those were his two last words, and she was the final thing he saw: An abrupt suffocation took over, his cells starving for what they weren’t going to get, the chaos jamming his brain, stealing from him the last moments he had with her.

And then it was done.

Vision gone, body still, senses of taste and smell finished.

He still had his hearing, though.

Mels’s voice wrapped around him. “Stay with me….”

God, he wanted to; he truly did.

That was not, however, going to be his destiny.

As the operative dropped to the forest floor like a side of beef, Jim lowered his gun, ready to kick his own ass. He and Adrian had been so wrapped up in the drama in front of them, neither one had paid any attention to the assassin creeping in through the forest.

Then again, if they had intervened…Shit, who could have ever guessed Matthias would take a bullet for someone?

“Adrian, get out there,” Jim hissed.

Ad nodded and disappeared. Seconds later, the angel sounded an all-clear from the periphery.

“Call nine-one-one!” Mels said from where she was crouched, holding Matthias’s hand.

This was the real crossroads, Jim thought. And Matthias had passed.

They had won—

Mels jerked up and glared at him. “We need an ambulance—”

From up above, a shaft of light pierced the sky, shining a hundred times brighter than the moon’s illumination: It was Matthias’s reclamation, the rays pouring down from the heavens like a waterfall, eclipsing his body where it lay.

For a moment, Jim just watched the process, the shimmering echo of Matthias’s body pulled up in the centrifuge, drawn from the flesh, headed for the Manse of Souls.

He had done it.

The motherfucker had done it.

That moment when Matthias had chosen someone else’s life over his own, when he had thrown himself into the path of that bullet—even though Jim wouldn’t have been affected—was the crossroads and the free will…and the victory.

“He’s dying!” The sound of Mels’s voice ripped him back into focus. “He’s—”

“Dead,” Jim said grimly, lifting his hand in goodbye to his old…friend, he supposed.

“No, he is not!”

Refocusing, Jim went over and got down on his haunches. “I’m sorry, but he’s gone.”

The woman snapped out a hand and grabbed Jim’s shirt, her face that of a tiger, teeth bared, eyes gleaming. “He is not dead.”

She dropped her hold and went for her own phone—

Jim snagged the thing out of her hands. “He’s gone—I’m so sorry, but he’s not with us anymore. And you need to get out of here—”

“What the hell are you talking about! Give me my goddamn phone!”

“Mels—”

She launched herself at him, and he let her go, let her get her energy and anger out as she struck him with her fists. Eventually, he stilled her by turning her around and holding her back against him, just so she didn’t rip one of his eyes out.

When she finally quieted, she was breathing hard, and sobbing.

“He’s gone,” Jim said roughly. “And I’m really sorry. I’m so damned sorry for you. But you’ve got to listen to me. You have to leave—you do not want to be a part of this. He told me what he gave you—so I know you get it when I say it’s not safe for you to be involved in what’s going to happen next. Go home and get cracking on the information—that’s how you’ll be safe. As soon as you blow the cover and the story’s out in the open, the organization will crumble. But until then, it’s business as usual, and that means you’re exposed. Go home. Do your work—and do it fast.”

The woman sagged against his forearms and just hung there, loose in his hold, her head tilted in the direction of Matthias’s body.

“You know I’m right,” Jim said gently. “And I’ll take good care of him. I promise.”

Abruptly, Adrian stepped out from the tree line. “You’ll never believe who I just ran into. Nigel.”

Jim frowned. “I didn’t sense him.”

“Neither did I. But he was here.”

To keep Devina away? he wondered. Or maybe that was the real reason he and Adrian hadn’t sensed the assassin’s approach?

“Is he gone?”

“Yup. Didn’t say anything. Just gave me a wave and disappeared.”

Okay, the why’s and wherefore’s of his boss were not what was important right now. “Ad, I want you to drive her home.”

“Roger that.”

“Mels?” Jim turned her around. “You have to go. It’s not safe for you. Go and do what you can.”

“He can’t be gone….”

“He is. You know he is. Trust me, he’ll be treated good. Now go on…let Adrian take you home so you’re safe. I can’t have both of you dying on me.”

Mels allowed Jim to lead her over to the car she’d arrived in, and after he opened the passenger-side door, he settled her in the seat. Given her docile act, it was pretty damn clear that shock had taken over—so they had to move quick, before she snapped out of it and put up another fight.

Before he shut her in, he leaned down. “There’s someone you need to talk to. Isaac Rothe—he’s one of us. You can find him through Childe with an E in Boston. Tell him that Jim Heron sent you, okay?”

She nodded, but he wasn’t sure she’d really heard him.

Except suddenly she reached out and squeezed his hand. “Please don’t…leave him somewhere anonymous. I mean…”

“I’ll take care of him properly. I swear to you.”

Looking into her eyes, Jim passed a hand over her face, sending her some peace to comfort her in her sadness.

Oh, man…he could feel the love she had for Matthias, and he ached for her. Was grateful for her, too. After all, what was the old adage? The love of a good woman…

It made all the difference, didn’t it.

He had been right: Matthias had been the soul, but she had been the key.

“I swear to you,” he said again. “Now go and do what’s right.”

Shutting the door, he banged on the roof and Ad backed the car out, doing a K-turn at the end of the drive and heading off.

Left alone, Jim pivoted around and looked for Nigel, but the archangel was nowhere to be seen or sensed. There was just the forest…and the two dead bodies on the gravel.

Matthias had gone to Heaven.

Wonder if the fucker was surprised? Then again, he’d made everything right on his way to the exit, and he’d done the ultimate—sacrificed himself for someone else.

On the scales of justice, he had a lot to make up for, but mere moments ago, he had given it all for another….

As Jim went over to his old boss’s body, he couldn’t believe how far the man had come. Then again, Hell was clearly a transformative experience. And so was love.

Kneeling down, Jim said softly, “If you had told me we’d be here…I never would have believed it.”

Truth really was stranger than fiction.

Jim rubbed his face and let himself fall back until he was sitting on his ass beside the man who had defined things for him for so long. In the silence, he became acutely aware of his breathing, of the way the air entered his nose cool, and came out his mouth warm.

He passed his palm over his face once more. Did it another time.

Overhead, the moon made another appearance, light raining down on the scene until he had to shut his eyes. For some reason, he didn’t want to see anything of this moment, just couldn’t bear it.

He had won the round, sure—but Matthias was still gone, and that struck him as a loss, and resonated deep.

And Adrian was still suffering. And Eddie was still gone. And him?

He was empty. So very empty—as if those orgasms he’d had with Devina had flushed the last part of his soul out.

Except he needed to pull it together—he had to get rid of the bodies.

Glancing over at the operative, he didn’t give a shit where he stuffed the remains. His old boss, on the other hand, gave him a brain cramp. Where could he take Matthias? After all, it was a gift to the departed to treat what they had left behind with dignity—even as their souls soared free, it was important. And the man had saved his life…at least as far as Matthias had known.

Guess they were even—

Abruptly, a summoning came from up above, Nigel and his band of dandies calling him heavenward so he could see the flag he’d earned fly at the top of the great wall—along with the other two.

No, he thought. He wasn’t going.

Fuck them and the game.

Shutting down the draw, he kept himself stuck on terra firma—to hell with the archangels, to hell with Devina, to hell with the Maker.

He wasn’t playing right now. Maybe in a minute, an hour, a day, he would come back online, but at this moment? Fuck ’em all.

He was going to take care of his dead in the only way he could. That was all he knew.

With a curse, he forced himself to shift to the side and push his arms under Matthias’s knees and shoulders. As he began to lift, Jim felt as dead as the other man—and knew it made no sense. He was now three up in the war. One more win and he could close this bizarre chapter in his life down and move along.

He should have been celebrating—

Matthias jerked wildly and drew in a huge breath of air.

“What the fuck!” Jim hollered.

And dropped the man like a bag of mulch.