If it cost her life, she would destroy that talisman.
She leapt forward and punched Natasha, hitting the water burned cheek with her fist. As Natasha crumpled with an agonized scream, Claire grabbed for the chain. The protective ward she expected burned her palm. Sucking in a harsh breath, she yanked hard. The chain broke, the talisman sliding off it and bouncing in the grass.
Both of them lunged forward. Claire got there first, fingers closing over the goat’s head—and let out a scream when the knife sliced into her back.
“Mine, demon.” Natasha pried the talisman out of her pain-frozen fingers, jerked the knife free. “And now I have everything I need.”
She staggered toward the altar, Claire’s blood dripping off the blade.
No— Shoving herself up, Claire took a step before her body betrayed her. She fell against the nearest tree, knife torn muscle clenching, blood soaking her shirt, taking her strength with it.
Natasha knelt in front of the altar, lifted the talisman and the blood drenched knife. The ancient Latin raised the hair on Claire’s arms. She dredged up the last of her strength, pushed herself up, and stumbled to Natasha.
Wind blasted her, knocked her off her feet—and she watched with horror as a gate opened in front of her. It swallowed the sun, fire licking the edges of the gaping, unnatural hole that hovered at the edge of the cliff. Keep moving—I still have time—
She crawled forward. Lost in the spell, Natasha didn’t sense her. Until Claire ripped the talisman out of her hand.
“NO!” Natasha’s scream followed the talisman as it flew into the mouth of the gate. Back to Hell, where it belonged.
Claire faced her—and her heart stopped when she saw three figures appear out of the shadows.
Natasha felt them. Her head whipped around, a smile curving her burned lips.
“I will have at least three more to offer, along with you.”
Natasha raised her arms, began a different chant—one that had all three of her friends dropping to the ground in agony.
Claire pushed herself to her hands and knees, breathless and lightheaded from that single move. Please, Father, if you ever listen to the prayers of the damned, hear me now.
Claire gathered herself, got to her feet, and moved behind Natasha. “You are done here, demon,” she said. Natasha whirled. The chant cut off, and Claire felt life, strength flow back into her friends. “Time to start paying for your sins.”
“You first.”
Claire gasped as Natasha plunged the knife into her, the hilt slamming against her ribs. Beyond the rage of the pain she heard Annie scream. Be well, my friend. Both arms wrapped around Natasha, a true death grip. Her cousin fought wildly to free herself, terror replacing the smug in her silvered eyes as she realized what Claire meant to do. Claire smiled at her, dragging her to the gate. Every step jarred the knife, agony blurring her vision. She turned to face the ocean, Natasha still fighting and clawing in her embrace.
“Let’s go home, cousin.”
Closing her eyes, she stepped off the cliff.
SIXTEEN
The two women tumbled into the fire-edged void. With a sound like a giant taking in a breath, the void collapsed in on itself, leaving behind a low hanging sun in a twilight sky.
“CLAIRE!” Annie’s scream echoed in the sudden silence. She leapt forward. Eric caught her around the waist, held on to her when she kicked and clawed. “No—we have to go after her—we can’t let her—Claire . . .” Sobs tore through her voice, doubled her over.
Eric lowered her to the ground, gathered her in his arms. She clutched him, refusing to believe, to think, to feel.
“Hush, Annie. One breath at a time; take it one breath at a time.” Eric rocked her, running gentle fingers through her hair, then down her back in a continuous, soothing rhythm. “She’s gone, honey—no,” he said when she struggled to free herself. “You need to hear this. She deserves for you to listen.”
Annie raised her head, hearing the grief tear at his voice.
Tears slipped down his face, but he gave his attention to comforting her. “You’re right,” she whispered, her throat so tight she could barely squeeze the words out. “Marcus—where’s Marcus?”
Eric eased his grip, gestured with his chin. Annie turned her head and found him. Standing at the edge of the cliff, Marcus stared out past the water, the wind blowing hair around his shoulders. Grief etched lines into his face—lines that hadn’t been there before.
As if he felt their gaze on him, he turned and moved to them. Lowering himself to one knee, he cradled Annie’s cheek.
“Are you all right?” She shook her head, fresh tears blurring her vision. Marcus leaned forward, kissed her forehead. “She sacrificed all for us, took the demon to Hell to keep us safe. Remember that, remember her, and she will never be truly gone.”