"Oh, Jaden." He opened his arms and she fell into the embrace. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his jaw over her hair and just savored the miracle of her.
Then the gates of hell opened.
Loomis shouted a warning as gunfire erupted around them. Provost rolled and scrambled, leaving Loomis alone and bleeding.
Brian's first shot, hands full of Jaden, only nicked the Judge, who'd freed a hand and was punching the panel of the chair-elevator. The chair began to sink into the floor.
He fired again, but the bastard only smiled. A smug, immortal expression that turned Brian's gut inside out. He loosed his weapon on the chair, disabling the electronics and slowing the Judge's escape.
Slowly, he trained his weapon on the Judge's brow, envisioning the end result. Positive. Permanent.
He pulled the trigger.
"No!"
Someone screamed. Jaden? The Judge? He wasn't sure.
Jaden launched and felt the bullet tear through her side. More gunfire and voices erupted, the sounds popping and ricocheting from every angle. She wouldn't let Brian kill the Judge and with him, their chance for life. Pain blinded her, but it beat the tragic frustration of knowing she'd have to live again. Knowing she'd face this damned demon again.
Just once, she'd wanted the normal life of those around her. The regular, mundane aches and pains. It apparently had been too much to hope for.
Her vision clearing, she saw the Judge circling her, a long, familiar blade in his hand.
"That's mine," she hissed, coming to her feet with a grace born of a thousand lives as a warrior.
He laughed, morphing into his true demonic form: tall and muscled with leathered skin smelling of sulphur and death. "Come try and claim it."
The change fueled her. She recognized this would at last be the true and final battle. Everything fell away. Her pain, spectators, victims. Nothing mattered but winning.
They engaged in the fatal dance and she let him get cocky. He taunted her, inviting her to meet hate with hate. He lunged, she blocked. He speared, she dodged. He had the advantage of reach with the longer blade, but she had two daggers, agility and a secret in her favor.
She alone knew who'd forged that weapon.
The sword slid past her face, splitting the air with a rush and leaving a fine line of blood in its wake. She smiled, sensing the beginning of the end and spun in closer, grazing his sword arm on the way.
Even the demonic would bleed and blood made for a loose grip. Furious, the demon attacked. Jaden lowered her daggers to absorb the lethal strike as she made her choice.
"I have chosen love."
It didn't even hurt. Just a flash of metal disappearing into her chest. An agonized scream and it was done. At last.
In the eerie quiet of the aftermath, she sensed a presence from her past. Comfort, concern and assurance all blended in the dark recesses of her mind. Her heart at peace, Jaden wanted to sink into the glory of it.
But someone was calling her name and she felt his touch.
Brian.
"Jaden? Can you hear me?"
Her vision hemmed by the darkness, she reveled in the strength of his voice. He was alive. "Mmm-hmm."
"Stay with me."
"Mmm. Touch me..." she managed.
He did. "Hang in there. Cleveland called reinforcements." His fingers combed through her hair. His hand pressed into the raw wound. "God, I'm so sorry."
"You shot me."
"Did not. You jumped into the bullet. And dropped your guard. Why, Jaden?"
True enough. "To finish." She felt different, free. "Won't lose you." Never again.
And that's what she'd never said aloud. She needed to tell him she couldn't bear to ever live without him. Someone came between them to dress her wound. She clung to Brian and tried again to get the words out.
"Shh. I'm right here. Let them help."
"You help more. I love you. More–" She struggled for breath. "More than I hated him."
Other voices crowded in on them, but she heard only his, felt only his hands. "I love you, too."
His lips found hers and the darkness slid back a notch. She could breathe deeply again. Vague, familiar warmth spread over her. Not the heat of blood leaking from her body. This warmth bubbled from her soul.
Happiness, she decided.
At last she felt more than today's hurts and the pains of battles centuries past. She felt joy.
True, timeless, joy.
"You failed."
The evil entity, which had most recently been a judge, stood mute. What could be said? What excuse offered? After a thousand years, the world had been his for the taking and she'd won the final battle. He still wasn't sure how.
"You allowed love to grow. You underestimate its power."
The punishment would be severe, he knew.
"Away from me. There will be another way."
Jaden studied Brian's face as he lay next to her on the hospital bed. "So what did they decide?"
"Officially, it's cardiac arrest."
She chuckled. "Even without a body?"
"A minor technicality. Everyone present holds high level clearances. All trained for silence. I don't think anyone wants to discuss it anyway."
"That bizarre?"
He nodded. "I shot, you dove. The CRIA officers fired a suppression pattern." He shrugged. "I don't get it. He wasn't wounded." His brow creased. "The way you fought. Oh, God. You scared the hell out of me."
"I'm sorry. It was the only way. He had to think he'd win." She kissed the frown off his face. "It's past time to thank you."
The frown returned. "For shooting you?"
She laughed, free and clear and she liked the sound. "No. For making victory possible. You helped forge that sword for me, as a wedding gift...before our lives were so rudely interrupted."
"But how?"
"Love." She whispered the word against his lips. "Pure and simple. The sword carried it and I finally trusted you enough to open my heart." She kissed him soundly. "Love is the only thing evil cannot overcome. Thank you." She kissed him again. She couldn't get enough of him. "Thank you for believing, for loving. For my very life, Brian."
"See. I told you so," Quinn said pointing to Jaden and Brian. "They're all over each other again."
Hovering near the door, Katie rolled her eyes. "Why is he so stupid?"
"He'll outgrow it," Cleveland promised.
Her doubtful expression made Jaden laugh. She patted the bed. "Come here, you two." They hopped up and she enveloped them both in a big hug. "How are the bravest kids in the city?"
Katie blushed and Quinn smirked.
"They're still intrigued with tracking two particular frequencies," Cleveland said with meaning. "Loomis gave them your Trident II."
Brian chuckled, removing the tag he'd planted on Jaden the day before. She did the same and handed them both to the kids.
When the new family departed, Jaden snuggled deeper into Brian's warmth. It may have taken a thousand years, but it was worth the wait. She'd found her way through victim, past survivor, to the brilliant reward in the arms of her soul mate.
The End
Enjoy this preview of Book Two of the Shadows of Justice series, Invasion of Justice:
Chapter One
He forced the lock with a custom security card General Hawthorne would envy–under other circumstances. Pride swelled as the new idea formed. He'd guarantee admiration in the General's eyes before this night was over.
Each silent step brought him closer to the target. His pulse quickened and he paused until he'd harnessed the adrenaline. This was his proving ground and there was no room for error.
At the lab, he swiped the card again and then offered his eye, the modified one, for verification. He tucked the card away and paused to enjoy the soft hiss of the door opening, etching every moment into his memory.
A man only got one first.
He noticed the target's hunched shoulders, glasses pushed high on the forehead, eyes hovering over the microscope. Those cells in the dish were deadly, but not in the way the genetic engineers intended.
He slowed his breathing for the final approach. Damn, he could practically see the black death cloud. His lips curled. He could almost smell the blood. His fingers twitched in anticipation of the slick, sticky feel.
He struck the nerve center on the target's neck, sending him to the floor in a heap, leaving the priceless cells in their dish. Pulling a miniature hypodermic from his pocket, he drew the substance from the dish and injected it into the target. He pressed his fingers to the jugular and waited, counting the prescribed ten pulse beats.
Then, with reverence born of training, he unwrapped the sacred blade and began the fun part. A man should enjoy his work, after all.
Indianapolis, IN May 2096:
She came awake in a rush, her hands fisted and slippery.
"Lights," she croaked, terrified what the light would reveal. She sighed, her first deep breath in how long? Her hands glistened with sweat, not blood. It had been so real.
Too real.
She scrambled to sit up, bracing herself against the cool scrollwork of her mahogany headboard. It wasn't the first time she'd been in the mind of evil and she knew what would follow.
Looking to the phone, a retro 1900's antique landline connected to her modern cell card, she waited.
And waited.
Long enough to wonder if it had only been a dream. She scrubbed at her face and decided the link had been too strong, too nasty to have been a mere nightmare.
When the clunky contraption rang, she jumped for it.
"Petra Neiman."
"Yeah, I've got a tangled mess for you," the caller stated.
That she knew. As if ritual evisceration could be anything less. She wanted the who and where of it.
The nameless voice who made these calls obliged. "Kincaid wants you in Chicago immediately. A dead Jane Doe is likely connected to a solid lead on two recent kidnappings."
She almost corrected him. It was a murder, high profile, with no secondary crime, in a seaside genetics lab. She'd smelled the humid tang of saltwater on the assassin's clothes.
The revelation startled her. Not even she maintained a sense of smell during a dream.
"Ms. Neiman? Are you there?"
"Yes. How long until the car arrives?"
"Thirty minutes."
"I'll call my assistant."
"Um...Special Agent Kincaid insists you come alone."
Special Agent Kincaid should get a hobby that didn't contradict her needs. "Then I'll need a videographer."
"He says whatever you need will be on site."
"Fine. I'll be ready." There was no point in beheading the messenger. She dropped the receiver back into the cradle and stared at her ceiling.
Yes, she'd be ready. But she knew she was only marking time until the call from the coast came in.
* * *
The flight into Chicago was uneventful, but Petra's talents were nearly overwhelmed upon landing. Almost as soon as the wheels settled, a heavy darkness pressed in on her. She had to disagree with her new assistant's opinion; having "evil radar" was not the ultimate asset.
In the government-issued black transport van Petra closed her eyes and opened her mind. The city vibrated with a nasty presence that didn't mind being known.
She shivered. Awareness at this level was a two-way street. The malevolence fueling the criminal Kincaid sought knew Petra was in town.
As the transport pulled up, she prepared herself for the known and unknown of the process. She would read the crime scene, interview witnesses, and gently tap their emotions for details they didn't often realize they'd left out. But even expecting to uncover the weird or surprising didn't always mute the shock.
"Thanks for coming," Kincaid said with a smile. The Special Agent in Charge of the Central Region Investigation Authority looked past her into the van. "Where's Kelly?"
Petra held her expression in neutral, but sent Kincaid a meaningful look. "Out tracking down real glazed donuts. Where's the videographer you promised?"
Kincaid's eyes narrowed, but he too reserved comment for later. "There's someone on site that can help us, I'm sure."
Petra nodded and took her first hard look at the area. The Hammond Street docks had once thrived with cargo train activity. Now, the prime location for loading and unloading boats and trucks was a deserted, nightmarish collection of worn and rusting parts.
Except the tracks. She walked closer to the original-style double rail and ties. The rails gleamed, even in the poor evening light. "I've heard of train collecting, but not true to life models."
"My thoughts too. This is some operation we've bumped into."