Possession

Chapter Thirty-six

Jim left Nigel where the archangel lay. Not like the guy needed to go anywhere—and Devina couldn’t touch him now that he was gone.

Back at the tea table, he stared at the four empty seats and knew he was getting nowhere wasting time up here. And yet he couldn’t seem to leave, his feelings a complex interplay of guilt, mourning, and anger—

What the fuck?

Far across the lawn, off in the distance, a cloud had gathered close to the ground, something the size of a car or truck. At first it seemed as though it was smoke, but then as it started to move, he realized it was made up of countless—

A swarm.

It was a swarm of what seemed to be black wasps.

And it began to head his way, rushing forward in an accelerating wave pattern, surging with coordinated menace.

Jim bolted, heading for the moat. Thighs pumping, arms up, he ran the shit out of the grass, great strides taking him to the water source—

He didn’t make it.

The impact was like getting pelted with cobblestones all over the back of his body, and then he was engulfed, the stings blanketing him, assaulting him from every angle while he was dragged back from the water that might have saved him. He swung his arms like a crazy man, trying to bat the attack away, but there were so many of them…

He was spun around and elevated, the pricking pain fuzzing out his brain and dulling his response as his feet left the ground. And then there was a great suction, the pull so violent he felt as though his skin was going to go with it.

The swarm left him on a oner, peeling free just as fast as it had attacked.

Coalescing, it became Colin, the archangel. And the fury in his face was epic.

With a roar so loud it registered as agony in the ears, Colin attacked—and it was so not the same as being hit by that cop at the accident scene.

This was a semi-trailer truck knocking him down—and then beating the ever-living shit out of him, fists making contact with his face, his upper body, his gut. Pain stalled his brain, but instinct from a lifetime of fighting brought his arms up over his head. Trying to curl over on his side, he did his best to protect his internal organs—

The first stab penetrated his right shoulder. The second was too close to his carotid for comfort.

The insane bastard had a crystal knife.

And Jim was not going to make it through this.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled.

“You killed him!” the Englishman spat. “You fucker! You selfish motherfuck—”

Jim tried to capture that thrashing wrist, but there was blood flowing now, splashing all over the place, making any grip he could get slip free. The angel was completely out of control, the force of the stabbing increasing with every downward strike as opposed to easing off as energy ebbed.

In the midst of the flapping of his clothes, and the flashing of that clear blade, and the grunting hatred of his killer, he heard something else…

Barking?

Just as Jim was about to lose consciousness, he turned his head. There, no more than four feet away, Dog was going apeshit.

Unfortunately, Colin didn’t appear to hear any of it.

Which was how Jim finally saw the face of God.