Something Wicked: HarperImpulse Romantic Suspense (20 page)

His teeth rattled in his head as their bodies impacted at the shoulders. His hands grabbed Watkins’ upper limbs and threw him onto his back. He landed a hard punch to the man’s jaw.

“Grrrrrrr!” Watkins’ groan was close to an unearthly growl, his features twisted into something ugly.

His left hand pushed against Dylan’s chest. He quickly lifted his right hand. Dylan glimpsed the hypodermic needle before it sank into his skin. Groaning, Dylan punched his knee forward, connecting with Watkins’ groin. Watkins lost his grip on the needle and doubled over in pain.

Too soon he clambered to his feet again.

Dylan had just pulled the needle out of his arm and flung it across the aisle’s carpet when Watkins roared and launched toward Dylan again. Light glinted off a knife clutched in his right hand.

The boom of a gun echoed loudly in the theater.

Watkins’s body fell forward onto Dylan before sagging limply to the floor.

“Collins, you okay?” McCormick called.

Pushing away from the lifeless body beside him, Dylan scrambled on his knees toward the needle. The plunger handle was still up, the vial still full of liquid. He rubbed at the slight sting in his arm. Close call. Too close. His chest sank in relief.

A SWAT team member was perched on the balcony on the other side of the room, his rifle aimed at where Watkins had fallen. Some of the SWAT team had also entered the orchestra area below.

“I’m fine,” he called back, drawing attention to where he stood. He squinted toward the stage. “Alexandra?”

No response.

Dylan found the stairs, hurried into the lower section, and approached the stage.

She was still standing there, staring straight ahead, looking out to where the audience would sit, not moving. Probably in shock.

“Alexandra, are you okay?”

She turned her head and looked at him. The force of that malicious stare startled him.

What the—?

Unnatural black eyes watched him.

Eyes that did not belong to the woman he knew.

Get. Out. Of. Me.

Alexandra directed all of her energy toward pushing the old woman as far away as she could manage. Pain ripped through her head, and she flattened her ears with both hands and squeezed, trying to release some of the tension. A scream of agony spilled from her mouth as tiny claws tore at the insides of her body.

The pain. It was too much. She doubled over, falling to her knees.

Alexandra struggled to stay conscious. There had only been two times when entities had tried to enter her body. She recognized the familiar tingling, the intense pressure. The old woman, the demon, whatever it was, was trying to overtake her.

No!

As the pain lapsed, she realized with surprise that she was standing again. Forcing herself to focus on her surroundings, she saw Dylan watching her, approaching carefully as if she were a rabid animal he wanted to corner. McCormick and some other officers in black stood not far away, staring at her, eyes widened. No one reacted to her cries for help. No one rushed forward when she sank to the stage in agony.

Hadn’t they heard her scream? Seen her pain?

“Alexandra?” Dylan held out his hand, palm toward her. “Can you hear me?”

Yes.

The word formed in her mind, but she was unable to push it past her lips.

Oh, heaven, please help me.
She was under attack, mind and body, and not winning.

This shouldn’t be happening. She had stopped this in the past. Her grandmother had taught her how to protect herself from possession.

Oh, no. Of course.

Alexandra had been drugged, weak. She hadn’t awoken and closed herself off from contact the way she normally did. She hadn’t placed any veils of protection or said any prayers. She’d been afraid, panicked, not thinking clearly. That had left her vulnerable, and that’s exactly what this entity had wanted.

Her arm lifted without her permission. Her finger pointed at Dylan.

“I don’t want you here.” Her voice. She’d spoken the words, but they weren’t hers.

“Hey, Alexandra, you okay?” McCormick asked as he shuffled forward.

The young officer hadn’t moved more than six feet before he jerked backwards unnaturally. Alexandra watched, open-mouthed and helpless, as his body was flung away from the stage. He fell unconscious in the aisle.

A SWAT officer to her left lifted his gun, but it was flung from his hands. He, too, was tossed back by an unseen force.

The other men in the theater retreated then, hiding behind seats or heading for the exits, calling, “No one enter the theater. Draw back.” Dylan held his ground. His eyes were round with a mixture of wonder, disbelief, and fear as he stared at where McCormick lay unmoving.

Please, Dylan, leave!

She did not want him getting hurt. This entity was more powerful than she’d dared imagine, made more so by Alexandra’s abilities. It had the power to manipulate its environment. It had the power to harm.

Get. Out. Of. Me!

Alexandra summoned all of her strength and pushed. She could feel the demon struggling to maintain its hold over her.

She stumbled sideways and saw the old woman crouched on the stage, her black eyes gleaming with malicious intent as she growled at Alexandra.

Alexandra swallowed. She didn’t take her eyes off the creature, but she said, “Dylan, please.”

She heard her voice murmur the plea. She was temporarily in control.

The old woman lunged for her, and Alexandra braced herself for the attack. They both tumbled to the stage, hands and claws ripping and pulling at each other.

Pain lanced through her abdomen. Alexandra screamed. She didn’t know if she could hold the entity off for much longer.

***

Dylan couldn’t find the will to move.

Alexandra fell to the stage as if she’d been hit head-on by a linebacker. He saw no one on top of her, but she seemed to be fighting someone.

What the devil was going on?

Zach. Connor. He needed their help. This was beyond his comprehension.

Forcing himself to run up the aisle rather than jump to the stage and help her, he stopped at the first officer he saw. The man was peeking over a seat, watching the stage. Dylan grabbed him by the shoulder. “Use your radio. Tell them to let Zach Collins and Connor Manning into this theater. Do it! Now!”

The officer’s voice trembled as he rattled off the information.

Dylan rushed back toward the stage. Another ear-piercing scream tore from Alexandra’s body.

“Alexandra!” He leapt onto the raised floor and carefully moved toward her writhing form. “What can I do?”

“I can’t!” she yelled in response. “Oh! I can’t win this.”

The bang of wood striking wood as a door slammed against the wall drew his attention toward one of the side entrances. Zach jogged forward, Connor not far behind him. One of the FBI agents entered more carefully, his gun drawn at the ready.

“What’s happening?” Zach demanded.

“Get up here!” Dylan called to them. “She’s being…possessed or something.”

Zach took the stage steps two at a time until he was beside Dylan. They both stared at the woman rolling around. Her right hand lifted to her neck and a trail of blood appeared as she scraped at her own skin.

Dylan sprang forward and wrenched Alexandra’s arms behind her back. “Grab her legs.” Zach quickly knelt and pushed her flailing legs to the floor. “We need to secure her.”

Zach looked sideways and swore. “What’s
that
? A pentagram?” He muttered a curse.

Damn, but Alexandra was strong. It took all of Dylan’s effort to keep her from wiggling from his hold. “Connor, what do we need to do?”

Connor’s face was pale as he took in the gravity of the scene before him. He dropped a bag to the stage at his feet and retrieved a leather-bound book. “Keep holding her down. Whatever you do, don’t let her go.” He opened the book and began reading. Dylan didn’t understand the words. They sounded foreign.

Alexandra roared with agony.

***

Oh, it hurt.

“Shhhh,” Dylan whispered in her ear. “Fight it, Alexandra. You’re strong. You’ve got this.”

She felt his warmth surround and comfort her. The pain subsided and every cell in her being went numb.

She felt oddly disconnected from the situation now. It was as if she were a casual observer, watching the scene unfold.

She saw Dylan and his brother holding the old woman—not an old woman at all, but a long-limbed grotesque creature. Its skin was black, and its face was contorted like a gargoyle’s.

“He’s right, ya know?” She turned her head and saw George standing beside her spirit form. “Yer strong enough to defeat that thing. We’re all here to help ya do it. If ya don’t—”

Rebecca stood beside him, her expression terrified, but resigned. “I’m so sorry, Alexandra. This is all my fault.”

Alexandra shook her head. “No, it’s not.”

“It is.” Rebecca nodded. “That…thing manipulated me to get closer to you. When it saw you—”

“Wait. The demon was attached to you?”

“I first saw it before you arrived. It somehow knew I was the mother of a sensitive, so it attached to me. It waited for an opportunity to get near Zach, but—”

“I was the medium, so it preferred me.”

“Every time I tried to warn you, it stopped me. It could control every word I said. It made me feel sick, as if I were alive again and still dying. I’ve felt so…helpless.”

Two other people Alexandra recognized stood around the stage. Ghosts she’d encountered since she’d come to Charleston. The Reaper’s victim, Candice Christopher. The confederate soldier who’d visited her hotel room. There was also a gray-pallored woman dressed in a red dress. That must be Nettie, the woman who haunted this theater.

“If I don’t fight it, then what?”

“You’ll be joining us, love.” George reached for his collar and tugged. “Worse, that thing will still be running amuck. Who knows what’ll happen then.”

“Aren’t you all still afraid of it?” Alexandra asked. She was. She was terrified. Perhaps remaining with George and Rebecca, trapped here on the other side, was the easier alternative.

“We’re afraid for
you
,” Rebecca answered.

“Besides, we’ve got help now,” George agreed, tipping his hat back and nodding toward the living people a few feet away. “That scrawny fella is weakening it. Don’t ya see?”

Connor’s voice echoed around the theater as it grew louder with each phrase he uttered in Latin. “I command you to leave this dimension. I command you not to harm this woman. Be gone!” He flung water from the bottle in his hand toward Alexandra’s torso.

The evil being screeched in protest and shook its head the way a wet dog would do if sprayed.

Alexandra’s earthly body writhed against Dylan and Zach’s hold, releasing a similar pained sound.

“You’re temporarily freed from its grip, Alexandra.” Rebecca slid her hand in hers. “But if you go back over there, and you fight it, you can force it out into the open. You can make it vulnerable again.”

“I’m not strong enough.” Grief swamped her at the sad realization.

Rebecca’s hands gently framed her face. “Oh, Alexandra, that’s just not true.” She pushed the hair away from Alexandra’s forehead. “Think about it. What are the things that evil thrives on? Hate. Fear. Anger. Indifference.” Rebecca’s lop-sided smile was at odds with the situation, but comforting nonetheless. “Use the opposite to defeat it. Courage. Love.”

Her attention strayed to Dylan. He had one arm wrapped around the creature’s torso, the other curved under its arm holding its face still, determined not to let go. Even so, he murmured soothing words in its ear. She strained to hear them.

“I’ve got you. We’ll get through this. Fight it, Alexandra. Do it for me, baby. Come on.”

Love.

Rebecca was right. She did have love for Dylan, but enough to do this?

Yes.

She wasn’t alone. She didn’t have to fight this monster on her own, but it all hinged on her. She knew that, just as she knew she had to go back inside her body and fight, no matter how painful it was.

“Once it’s outta ya, we can grab hold of it and let the scrawny kid do the rest.” George forced a crooked smile. “Whadaya say, love?”

She straightened her shoulders and turned to her dead friends. “Each of you, I need you to all repeat what Connor is saying. We’ll magnify its message, weaken this thing even more.” She moved to step forward, but the long skirt of her dress tangled around her calves. She bent and ripped at the material until it tore in a line above the knee. She tossed the extra red material at George. “Can you use that to restrain it in this realm? Will it work?”

His grin kicked up a notch. “Atta girl. Guess we’ll find out.” He turned to the others. “Ready?”

Rebecca’s voice led them as they each began repeating the words Connor now chanted.

“We drive you from us, whoever you may be, unclean spirits, all infernal invaders, all wicked legions, assemblies and sects…”

The evil being shrieked and began struggling harder. Its right leg jutted out and connected with Zach’s chin, but he didn’t let go, stubborn as ever. Alexandra closed her eyes and said a silent prayer.
God, please give me the strength to do this.
Then she took a running leap and hurled herself onto the demon’s body.

Suddenly, she was on her back being held by Dylan again. The beast’s claws tore at her neck and the pain threatened to drag Alexandra into darkness. The demon’s teeth gnashed at her face as she struggled to hold it away. It shifted its focus to Dylan and Alexandra watched, helpless, as her own fingers dug into the skin at his arm, drawing blood. He yelled in pain, but didn’t budge.

That was it. This thing had messed with the wrong woman.

Get. Out!

Concentrating all of her mental powers into her hands, Alexandra shoved at the being’s chest, sending it sprawling backward onto the stage.

George sprang into action, looping the red cloth around its neck from behind and sliding the material down until its arms were pinned to its side. Its body was becoming transparent. It was weak. It struggled against George’s hold, but he held fast.

The demon tilted its head back and howled in rage.

***

A strangled gasp emerged from Alexandra’s mouth that didn’t sound like any of the other sounds she’d been making since this ordeal began, and Dylan feared he was hurting her. He refused to loosen his grip, even when she turned her eyes up toward him and he saw her clear, familiar blue gaze staring back at him.

“Alexandra?”

“Dylan,” she managed, but her voice was husky and weak.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I knew you could do it.”

“Not…over…yet.” She barely managed to get the words out. Gasping for breath, she seemed to get a second wind. More clearly, she whispered, “You need to let me go. I need to get up.”

Was this a trick?

“It’s me, Dylan. Promise.”

Reluctantly, he loosened his arms. He exchanged a pointed look with Zach, who also let go of her legs. Connor paused his speech and took a step closer.

Turning onto her side, Alexandra struggled to her knees. “Keep going, Connor.”

The younger man’s features became taut as he started chanting again. Alexandra’s voice joined his, repeating the words. She pushed to her feet and stared at an unseen presence to the right of where Zach now stood.

“Be gone, evil spirit!” She yelled the words and then flinched before falling to her knees again. Dylan rushed to her side.

“Alexandra?”

“It’s gone.” Her chest rose and fell on deep breaths. “It’s gone.” He tugged her into his arms and squeezed. She lifted her head, looked around, and her face brightened with a smile. “They’re all safe. We all made it.”

With a groan, her body went limp against him.

“Alexandra?” He lowered her to the floor, felt for a pulse. It was weak, but there.

“Is she alright?” Zach hovered over his shoulder.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Dylan shouted to no one in particular.

The FBI agent who’d been hanging back and watching lifted his radio and ordered medical assistance. The gray-haired man stepped around the pentagram drawn on the stage but couldn’t seem to take his gaze away from it. “Detective Collins, what in the hell just happened?”