MySoultoSave (29 page)

Unusual movement flickered at the corner of her vision. She
managed to turn her head toward it. At the left-hand end of the stage in the
cordoned area reserved for security, there was a churning black mass almost the
size of a city bus. It took her mind a moment to realize what it was—Tempters,
crawling over one another like a nest of spiders, clicking and chattering so
fast that if the sounds contained words, she’d never make them out.

And still, she couldn’t move a muscle. She could only watch
the destruction, with the sinking certainty that this time they’d finish what
had begun the moment Jaeryth entered her life, or maybe even before then.

This time, she would die.

* * * * *

Jaeryth had almost reached the end of the path when a
booming voice started welcoming everyone to Festival Pier, and he let out a
violent curse. He’d been sure he still had a few more minutes. Any second now,
Logan would be on the stage—and quite possibly beyond his reach.

He kept moving, and the voice droned on about emergency
exits and restrooms. Perhaps this would take a while. He hoped.

Daan kept pace alongside him, though the Shepherd’s feet
didn’t touch the ground. Jaeryth envied him the ability. His human legs ached
with effort and his lungs burned in his chest. But he kept going.

And then, at the end of the path, three Tempters
materialized amid gusting swirls of smoke.

He faltered, but soon regained his pace.
They are
incorporeal,
he reminded himself.
I’ll pass right through them.
It
would only feel unpleasant for a moment.

Daan, however, failed to subscribe to the same logic.

“I’ll distract them!” Before the shout registered in
Jaeryth’s ears, a flash of pale, shimmering blue darted ahead of him, straight
at the grinning Tempters.

Jaeryth skidded to a halt. “Daan, no!”

Too late. The little Shepherd barreled at the center demon,
tumbling across the ground with him to phase through the barricade along the
side of the path. The two remaining Tempters dove through after them.

Shuddering, Jaeryth forced himself to move again. The voice
from the stage had stopped and a dark, rhythmic strain filled the air as the
crowd began to cheer.

The show was starting. He’d have to hope that Daan could
handle this fight alone.

By the time he reached the back of the stage, the thunder of
the crowd had tripled in volume. Somehow he knew this was for Logan. There was
an ecstatic quality to the sound, a joyous fever that spilled over everything
like the rays of the morning sun.

He could be too late, but he would not stop now.

The entire stage was constructed of metal beams mounted at
cross angles, forming a three-dimensional grid. There were stairs leading up to
the stage—but they were at the far end, and he would lose minutes running to
them. He approached the grid, grabbed the farthest beam he could reach and
started climbing.

He’d gained only a few feet when sudden silence descended.

Through the jumbled underpinnings of the stage, he could see
the very front of the ground area. The space directly in front of the structure
held not fans, but security guards—the professional variety, with batons and
guns holstered at their waists. As the crowd’s volume increased once again,
this time in anger instead of anticipation, black shadows surged forth from the
gathering and poured into the security area.

Tempters. Piling onto one of the guards, chanting darkness,
urging him to draw and fire. To kill Logan.

Jaeryth attacked the scaffolding. He pulled himself up, beam
by beam, as the muscles in his arms and shoulders burned. By the time he
reached the top, the crowd had started booing.

It took longer than he wanted to gain his footing. An
enormous screen lined the back of the stage, but there was space between the
screen and the nearest support column to slip through. He rounded the corner
and immediately sought Logan. At first he saw only the other band members,
who’d gathered in a loose group around a man wearing a headset. There was
something off about the man, but Jaeryth couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

There. She stood alone at the edge of the stage with her
back to him, looking off to the side at the place where the Tempters swarmed.
With no time to wonder why she wasn’t moving and the others weren’t paying
attention, he sprinted toward her on legs that felt made of rubber.

He had to slow himself just before he reached her, or he
risked pushing her over the edge. Gasping through the fire in his lungs, he
grabbed her around the waist, spun and half-shoved, half-tossed her toward the
back of the stage, where she couldn’t be targeted.

Just as she gave a startled cry, the sharp crack of a
gunshot splintered the air. Tremendous pressure slammed Jaeryth’s back, as
though he’d been struck with a sledgehammer—and searing agony followed.

He fell to the floor and relief nearly eclipsed the pain.
She was safe. He’d kept his promise.

It was all right to die now.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The sound of the gunshot still echoed through Logan’s head.

She hadn’t seen the man who’d saved her life. By the time
she realized what was happening, he was already down. Now she stood on
trembling legs and approached the figure in the security coat and cap, lying
facedown and motionless in the center of the stage. The closer she got, the
faster her pulse pounded in her throat.

The man groaned softly and the fingers of one hand flexed.
Wild hope zinged through her. Maybe the guard had been wearing a bulletproof
vest or something. She didn’t think she could bear the idea of a stranger dying
for her. Rushing the rest of the way, she knelt beside him and gently removed
the cap.

He wasn’t a stranger.

“Jaeryth!” His name emerged a strangled sob. “Oh God, no…”

His eyes fluttered open, but they didn’t focus on anything.
“Logan,” he whispered. “Safe.”

“Yes. Yes, I’m safe.” She barely noticed the tears streaming
from her eyes or the gradually diminishing rumble from the crowd. Beneath the last
traces of daylight, she could see a small, ragged hole just inside his shoulder
blade, and only a trickle of blood. It looked so insignificant. He could still
be all right.

But her heart screamed that he wasn’t.

Someone must have called 911 by now. She had to get him
turned over, see how bad it was. If he was bleeding, she could hold a compress
on him or something until an ambulance got here. She crawled to his side and
slid a hand under his shoulder. His body stiffened at the touch. “Okay,” she
said. “It’s okay. I’m going to try to help you. Can you move at all?”

“Don’t know.” His lips barely moved.

Steeling herself, she reached across him and gripped his
arm. It would be easier to roll him toward her instead of shoving him away.
“Here goes,” she murmured, and pulled.

He let out a garbled cry that wrenched her heart, but he
shifted along with her efforts, until he was on his back with his head in her
lap. He was pale and shaking, with eyes closed tight and teeth bared in a
grimace.

A thick pool of blood glistened darkly on the stage floor
where he’d lain—and the front of his shirt was drenched with the stuff.

He was not okay.

“Jaeryth…” She stroked his damp hair as coldness stole
through her. He shouldn’t have been here. He was going to stay away from her—but
she’d asked him to come. Kobol must have delivered her message.

She might as well have shot him herself.

His eyes opened, his gaze fixed on her. A ghost of his
crooked smile surfaced. “Dying.”

Her breath hitched hard. “Help is on the way,” she said in a
breaking voice. “Police. Paramedics. They’ll save you.”

“No.”

He lifted a trembling hand and she slipped hers into it,
sobbing. “I love you,” she whispered. “Always.”

His body relaxed on a sigh. His lips parted and he said
something she couldn’t make out.

She gave his hand a desperate squeeze. “Jaeryth! Don’t leave
me. I didn’t hear you…”

He shuddered all over and his eyes fluttered closed.
“Sing…for me.”

“Sing,” she repeated dully. Her throat clenched and panic
flooded her instantly. She was choking. She wouldn’t be able to give him what
he wanted—and he was slipping away fast.

The final blush of light vanished from the sky, cradling the
world in darkness. Logan drew a single, shivering breath. And she began to
sing.

“Every night in my dreams

I see you, I feel you…”

Though tears tracked endlessly down her face, her voice
emerged steady and strong. She’d always thought this song was a little too
mushy to perform—no self-respecting rock audience wanted to hear “that song
from
Titanic
”—but the haunting ballad captured the essence of her soul
and poured it out in musical form.

After the first few lines, it dawned on her that her voice
was louder than should have been possible without a mic. But she didn’t have
one, and the power was still out.

She finally realized that the audience had fallen utterly
silent.

For one crazy instant, she thought they’d all left. She
couldn’t see a thing out there. The night and the blackout combined everything
into solid, ink-black emptiness. Then a tiny pinpoint of light flickered into
existence. More followed in rapid succession—ten, a hundred, a thousand and
more, orange and blue and white and green, bathing the rapt faces of the crowd
in a pale glow.

They were holding up lighters. Cell phones. Key chain
flashlights. Anything and everything that gave light.

Logan sang. For the crowd, for herself, but most of all for
Jaeryth, who lay dying in her arms. Who’d gone against everything he’d ever
known, and sacrificed more than any human being ever could, to save her—to save
them all. If this song was all she could give him in return, she’d damned well
make sure it was the best song ever performed.

She felt something forming deep inside her, a ball of pure
warmth that calmed her racing nerves. As the music flowed, it drifted up
through her body, infusing her heart with its heat. The pulsating sensation
entered her throat. Whatever it was, it felt so real and solid that part of her
expected to choke on it. But it flowed smoothly upward—and left her lips as
visible rays of golden light that rained on Jaeryth’s still form and soaked
into his chest.

The light kept coming with every word she sang. As the last
notes vibrated through the stillness and the final scrap of brilliance entered
Jaeryth’s body, he jerked and went rigid as stone.

Then he drew a great, gasping breath. And opened his eyes.

Somewhere beyond them, the crowd burst into frenzied cheers.
Blackness swallowed the world again as the phones and lighters went out. But
for Logan, there was nothing except Jaeryth—warm in her arms and alive.
Somehow, miraculously, alive.

She’d done it…completed her awakening. And she still had
Jaeryth.

He was stirring, trying to sit up. “Whoa. Take it easy,” she
whispered. “Don’t move too fast. I’m not sure how this is supposed to work, but
you might not be a hundred percent just yet.”

“Logan?” His voice was much stronger, and laced with
confusion. “I am not dead. How did this happen?”

“I don’t know.” She was still crying, though the tears
stemmed from pure joy. She squeezed his hand in the dark. “It’s a miracle.”

“A miracle,” he repeated in rasping tones.

An electric hum surrounded them and light flooded the stage.
Someone must’ve gotten the power back on. Tex, Reid and Blue stood in a loose
semi-circle off to the side, gazing wordlessly at them. No one spoke, as if
they were afraid to break whatever spell had allowed this to happen.

“Can you get up?” Logan said gently. “The whole world is
staring. I think they’re worried about you.”

He gave a slow nod. It took a few tries, but they both
managed to stand. Then Jaeryth slid his arms around her—and gave her a searing
kiss that set her blood to boiling. He drew back a fraction. “I never thought
I’d get to say this to you myself,” he murmured against her lips. “I love you,
Logan Frost. With every fiber of my being.” He kissed her again, this time with
infinite tenderness. “Never forget that.”

And eight thousand people cheered.

* * * * *

Jaeryth stayed exactly where he was as activity returned to
the stage, desperate to hold Logan as long as he could. Though he still ached
everywhere, the fiery anguish that had resided in his chest was gone and he
could breathe without choking on blood. And something fundamental had changed
inside him, though he had no idea what or how.

He could see the blood that had drained from him—too much
for a human to lose and still draw breath. There was no doubt that she’d
performed a miracle.

She’d manifested. She was truly safe. Hell would not come
after her again, and he was pleased that he’d played some part in ensuring
that.

But now, Samael would come to claim him.

He wouldn’t bring it up and spoil her happiness. She was
radiant. The most beautiful thing in all the world. He wanted to remember her
like this, in the darkness to come.

Logan shifted in his arms and stared at his chest. “So, are
you…”

“Completely healed.” He smiled at her. “And you?”

“Oh, I’m fine.” She glanced around the stage. “I have no
idea what we’re supposed to do now, though. Nobody’s leaving. Shouldn’t they
evacuate or something?” Her brow furrowed. “You know, I haven’t heard any
sirens, either.”

“Perhaps no one called for them.”

“Somebody gets shot and not one in eight thousand people
calls the cops? I don’t buy it.”

She did have a point.

Jaeryth looked out at the crowd. The lights around the
perimeter of the audience area had been turned on, but it was still difficult
to make out individual people. He concentrated on the closest section. While
most of them remained enrapt, frustration and anger were beginning to surface
on a few faces—and he soon saw the cause of it. Tempters still circulated among
them, whispering and grinning, fueling a new flame of outrage.