Good As Dead

Chapter Seventeen

We're at the truck. He's not letting up, and I'm starting to black out, fingers clawing air as much as him when he opens the door. His hand tightens around my throat, just above the collar, and I think he's going to throw me in, but he only slams me against the side. As a fresh wave of pain rolls up my spine, his fingers dig in, still slick with my blood. When he speaks, there's real frustration in his voice. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Then the air falls very still, and the look on his face changes. I feel it too, skin prickling even as I use his distraction to scratch at his face frantically. It works, getting him to let go long enough to slap me. I scramble back into the truck just as light blasts over us, overwhelming the stinging in my face with clean heat. I squeeze my eyes shut against the blinding brightness, feeling waves roll over me, pulling me away from the raw pain of my body, the crushing thunder, and Valentine's screams. Pulling me away from everything.

Eventually, the light narrows to a white disc, fading in strength until I can look without squinting. I blink, slowly realizing I'm staring at the moon, calm and still. Stars glimmer in a cloudless sky, and I feel dirt scrape against my back and legs. Somehow, I got out of the truck. That gets me shaking, wondering if Valentine did it, if he survived the lightning strike, too. But that doesn't seem right; he'd be on me right now.

Thunder still rumbles in the distance, but the air no longer crackles with energy. And as my pulse fades from my ears, I hear a voice, familiar and urgent.

"Phoenix."

It sounds so far away, like the pain throbbing through my body pushes everything else back for miles. My eyelids feel scratchy as sand when I close them, wanting to slip away.

"Phoenix. Stay with me, love." Warmth shoots along my arm, as prickly with panic as the words.

It's too much to ignore, and with a wince, I crack open my eyes. But instead of the moon, I see...

Gideon. Smeared in blood and ash, he leans over me, gaze fixed on my face like I'll disappear if he so much as blinks. "That's it. Stay with me," he repeats.

It's hard to. My lungs struggle to take in air. I feel fingers at my neck, and realize they're mine, scratching at a collar that's no longer there.

"It's gone. I took it off you," says Gideon, words turning tense as he figures out what I'm trying to do.

"Valentine," I manage. "Is he..."

Something flashes across his face, too fast to make out. "I burned him to an ash pile."

I blink, waiting for some sense of relief or glee. Instead, I feel my throat spasm, and mumble the first words that come to mind. "I'm going to throw up."

He gets me on my side before I do, one hand holding back my hair while I retch. His other hand applies pressure to the wound in the hollow above my collarbone, the bite that hurts the most. My neck there feels like it splits open with each motion, but that's not nearly as scary as what comes out of me. Because it's not food or stomach bile; it's black, clot-filled slime.

"He bit me," I choke out, finally realizing the significance. Something I didn't think about earlier, couldn't, not with all my attention fixed on getting away, whether that meant fighting free or disappearing down inside myself. He bit me, and now I'm changing over. My stomach lurches in another dry heave.

Gideon's hand remains steady. "Yes. And you're still bleeding from one of them."

When I feel the warmth of ink join Gideon's fingers on my neck, I try tugging his hand away. "Forget it. It's too late." Something claws up inside my chest, howling over surviving only to be left with this. I think I can even hear Valentine laugh, if I listen hard enough.