“Xavier!” I cried out in relief. “Thank God, you woke up! How’s your head? Everyone’s so worried. We need to get back and tell them you’re okay.”
“My head?” he asked, the consternation on his face deepening. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the accident! Maybe you have a concussion. Wes, let me off this thing.”
“Beth, I’m fine.” Xavier scratched his head. “Nothing happened to me.”
“But I thought—,” I began and then stopped short. Not only did Xavier look fine but there wasn’t a mark on him and no evidence of an injury. He looked exactly the way he did when I’d left him, in jeans and a fitted black T-shirt. I saw Xavier’s posture shift subtly into a more defensive stance. His ocean blue eyes darkened as understanding dawned.
“Beth,” he said slowly. “I want you to get off that bike.”
“Wes?” I tapped him lightly on the shoulder, suddenly aware that he hadn’t spoken a single word for the entire duration of my conversation with Xavier. The bike was still vibrating beneath me and yet the person in front of me remained motionless, his gaze fixed ahead.
Xavier strained to take a step forward, but something prevented him and he remained rooted to the spot. He tried to keep his voice level, but I couldn’t miss the undercurrent of urgency.
“Beth, did you hear me? Get off now!”
I planted both feet on the ground in order to appease Xavier, but when I tried to shift my arms from around Wesley’s waist, he suddenly revved the engine and the bike shot backward. I had to clutch him even tighter to avoid falling off.
Until that moment I still thought the whole thing was an elaborate hoax on Wesley’s part that Xavier failed to find amusing. Then I saw Xavier run a hand helplessly through his hair and watched his forehead crease in anguish. I saw a look in his eyes I hadn’t seen since that fateful afternoon in the cemetery when he’d been incapacitated and I’d been captured before his very eyes. He wore that same look now — the one that told me he was desperately searching for an escape, even though he knew we were cornered. It was as if he were facing off against a poisonous snake that might strike at any moment and the slightest wrong move could be fatal. Wes spun the bike in random circles, enjoying the anxiety he was causing. Xavier yelled out and tried to run forward but an unseen force held him back. He gritted his teeth and hurled himself against the invisible barrier blocking his way, but it was no use. The bike careered tauntingly in all directions.
“What’s going on?” I cried as the bike finally stopped and settled into the dust. “Xav, what’s happening?”
We were closer to Xavier now and in his eyes I could see deep pain, but also anger and intense frustration at his inability to help me. Now I knew I was in real danger. Maybe we both were.
“Beth … that’s not Wes.” The words chilled me to the core and filled me with defeat. I tried letting go of Wesley. I was ready to throw myself off the bike, but I couldn’t move my arms. They seemed to be pinned by an invisible force.
“Stop! Let me off!” I pleaded.
“Too late,” Wesley replied, only it wasn’t Wes anymore. His voice was now slick and smooth, a polished English accent clearly detectable. That voice had haunted my dreams for so long, I would have recognized it anywhere. The body I had my arms wrapped around began to shift beneath my fingers. The broad, muscled chest and well-defined arms shrank to become leaner and colder to the touch. Wesley’s broad hands became slender and turned bone white. The backward baseball cap flew off to reveal lustrous black locks that danced in the wind. For the first time he twisted his face around to confront me. The sight of him so close made me sick to my stomach. Jake’s face hadn’t changed a bit. Black shoulderlength hair contrasted sharply with the pallor of his face. I recognized the narrow nose that drooped slightly at the tip and the cheekbones carved out of rock that had made Molly once compare him to a Calvin Klein model. His pale lips parted to reveal small and dazzlingly white teeth. Only the eyes were different. They seemed to pulse with a dark energy, and as I looked into them I saw that they were neither green nor black as I remembered but a dull shade of burgundy. Just like the color of dried blood.
“NO!” Xavier shouted, his face contorted with despair. His voice was swallowed by the wind on the empty highway. “GET AWAY FROM HER!”
What happened next was a blur. I knew Xavier was somehow released from his immobility because I saw him sprint full speed toward me. My arms too became free and I tried to wrestle myself off the bike but felt a searing pain in my head and realized that Jake was now holding a fistful of my hair. He was maneuvering the bike singlehanded. I ignored the scalding sensation and struggled harder, but my efforts were useless.
“Gotcha,” he purred. It was the sound of a contented predator.
Jake twisted the throttle hard and I heard the engine roar to life like an angry beast. The motorcycle bucked and lurched unsteadily forward. “Xavier!” I cried just as he reached us. We simultaneously outstretched our hands and our fingers nearly met. But Jake violently veered the bike so that it slammed into Xavier’s side. I heard a heavy thud as the metal slammed into his body. I screamed as Xavier was thrown backward and rolled limply onto the side of the road. Then I couldn’t see him anymore. The bike sped past, leaving him lying in a cloud of dust. Out of the corner of my eye I could see people starting to make their way up to the road, attracted by the commotion. I only prayed they’d find Xavier in time to help him.
The bike hurtled up the deserted highway that uncoiled before us like a black whip. Jake was driving at such breakneck speed that when we rounded a bend we found ourselves almost parallel with the ground. Every fiber in my body yearned to return to Xavier. My one true love. The light of my life. My chest constricted to the point where I couldn’t breathe when I thought of him lying motionless in the dust. My pain was so all consuming that I hardly cared where Jake was taking me to or what horrors awaited. I just needed to know that Xavier was okay. I tried not to allow myself to consider the worst although the word dead rang in my ears, clear as a church bell. It took me a moment to realize that I was crying. My body convulsed with huge, wracking sobs, and my eyes burned from the scalding tears.
There was nothing else to do but call upon the Creator, praying, begging, pleading, bargaining — anything to make him protect Xavier. I couldn’t have him ripped away from me like that. I could survive emotional turmoil; I could survive the most intense physical torture. I could survive Armageddon and holy fire raining down upon the earth, but I could not survive without him. A strange thought entered my head: If Jake had killed Xavier, Jake would have to pay. I didn’t care what divine laws forbade it — I would seek retribution for my loss. I was willing to pardon any crime, but one against Xavier, and so help me, God, Jake would get his comeuppance. I wanted to scratch and tear at the body in front of me — to punish him for once again infecting my life with his black presence. I felt contaminated even being near him. I considered flinging my weight to the side and trying to topple the bike. I knew that at the speed we were traveling, we’d probably both end up smeared across the asphalt, but I was desperate.
Before my thoughts could rage further out of control, something happened — something I could never have imagined, not even in my most twisted nightmares. It should have terrified me; the very idea of it should have knocked me into unconsciousness. It was so unfathomable that I felt nothing but a sickening feeling that seemed to come from my core and spread like poison through my body. The highway defied gravity and suddenly reared up in front of us. A deep, jagged crack appeared in its center. The highway was splitting open. The crack widened like a hungry cavernous mouth, waiting to swallow us up. The wind that whipped my face grew warmer and steam rose from the broken asphalt. I knew instinctively what it was from the feeling of hollow emptiness that emanated from it. We were heading straight toward a gateway to Hell.