“You can’t hurt me, either,” the man said, and she turned to find him still hovering, watching her. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t know what sorry means, yet,” she said, her voice a snarl. She leapt back to her feet and flung herself at him. It was rage, pure and simple, and the detached part of her mind knew it, but she did it anyway because that cold, rational part of her was long gone, buried under the howling grief for Jon. He was the one. The only one who ever—
Suddenly there was a hand around her neck, gripping her throat, squeezing hard, firm and choking the life’s breath out of her. Her feet were suspended off the ground, and she fought for a grip on the arms attached to the hands around her neck, hoping to get something—anything—out of them. Willing her power to work, mostly.
“I didn’t know you were married,” the man said quietly, and his hand stayed tight around her neck. “But your husband was mine. He defied me, he knew he had crossed me, and he had to know that on this day, the day I met him again, the penalty was going to be utter horror.” The man looked past her at the flaming wreckage of the Agency. “Combine that with your little shakedown operation here, and I had the perfect reason to destroy this whole place.” He adjusted his grip and Sierra took one breath and one only before he tightened his grip around her neck. “I understand you’re angry, but now you’re just being foolish. I could crush you with minimal effort. I could break you with less trouble than a normal person would have cracking a walnut shell. Just ask Erich Winter—he took one look at me and ran, and I haven’t seen him for over a hundred years.” He loosened his grip. “Cross me, and you’re just asking to die. Push me, and I’ll push you over the edge. Come at me for revenge, and you’ll die for no good reason. You can’t fight me, you can’t hurt me, and you damned sure can’t stop me from doing anything.”
Sierra felt his grip reverse, turning her head around. She hung in his arms, his hands holding her by the scruff of her neck, ten feet off the ground. “I’m sorry about your husband.” He shook her head, forcing her to look down at Jon’s body, empty-eyed and lifeless, staring up at her. “But you need to think clearly. You have a child to worry about, after all.” He spun her around, and she felt gravity shift, felt her feet touch the ground. “His child. Your child.” The man smoothed out her collar, and let her go. Sierra fell to the ground, felt the pavement hit her backside when she landed. “Maybe it’ll be a little girl like you.” He smiled faintly. “Maybe she and I will meet one day.”
He seemed to grow smaller in her sight. It took her a moment to realize he actually was drawing away, hovering out of her reach. “I’m going to leave now. I’m sorry for your loss.” His face grew hard. “But don’t make me take more from you. I’ll be watching.” With that, he flew straight up, disappearing into the low-hanging clouds that covered the night sky. Sierra could see them burning with light from the fire.
I’ll be watching.
She felt a bitter taste of disgust in her mouth and leaned over again toward Jon’s body, felt it cold under her hands. The burning was gone, the fire he let her feel sometimes when they’d touch skin to skin for too long. She pulled her hands back, touching her own neck. She could feel the bruising from where the man had grabbed her. No one’s ever done that to me before. No one. Never. Not even Dad ...
“Sierra?” The voice was cold, the accent Germanic, and she looked up to see him coming toward her—Winter. Erich Winter. “I saw you talking to him. Was it you? Did you tell him where to find us?”
I’ll be watching.
She thought again about the hands on her neck, the tightness in her throat. She thought she felt a quiver in her belly. Maybe it’ll be a little girl like you. Sierra felt the cold chill run through her even as she looked past Erich at the fire raging in the remains of the Agency building.
Maybe she and I will meet one day.
With a loud, groaning crack the upper floors gave way and came crashing down, sending the building into a flaming destruction, a burning mess throwing clouds of smoke and debris across the parking lot. Winter disappeared in the dust and smoke, as did Jon as she staggered back. She thought about fighting her way back to him for one last touch, one last kiss, anything.
I’ll be watching.
Touch hadn’t been the thing that they’d built their relationship on. The smoke covered her, the dust concealed her, and she made her way, as quietly as possible, to the edge of the parking lot while everything was obscured. One thought pounded in her head with the blood, even as the pain from where he’d gripped her faded with every step. She crept off into the night, mind outracing her body by a factor of ten.