“You know, I figured you might try something like this,” he continues. “But I never thought you’d be stupid enough to bring her with you.” Rector draws himself up and walks toward Aspen. She brings her gloved hands up and assumes a defensive stance, even though Kincaid tries to hold her in place. “Such a wicked little rose.” Rector brushes the side of her face, and for some reason, she lets him. Though her quick breaths tell me she won’t tolerate his touch for long. “Such beauty. But your thorns sting, don’t they?”
“Take your hand off me, old man,” Aspen spits. “And help me lift that shelf off Dante.”
Rector lets his hand fall away. He grins. “Or?”
“Or I’ll kill you.”
“Aspen,” I croak, “get out of here.”
“Not happening,” she responds, her eyes locked on Rector. “Not without you. And not without Charlie’s soul.”
In a flash, Rector snatches the chain from Aspen’s neck. It breaks with an audible chink.
Aspen’s face goes slack with shock. Rector loves to do this, to take what’s important from those he’s harassing. I’ll never forget that the last time we met, he had my red sneaker on his gnarly feet and my father’s penny in his palm.
Aspen’s eyes narrow like she’s decided something. “Take it. I don’t want that noose anyway.”
Rector’s smile widens. He reaches for her gloves.
Aspen becomes enraged.
She bites at his shoulder and growls. But Rector manages to peel them from her hands as Kincaid restrains her. I’m surprised Aspen doesn’t do more damage, but then I notice her injured arm again and wonder just how bad it is.
“Don’t take them,” Aspen pleads. “Please give them back.”
My heart twists, and my mind threatens to click off. I try again to lift the shelf, but the blackness comes on stronger. I have to get out from under here. I have to end Rector.
“Hold still,” Rector orders me without turning away from Aspen. “And you, my wicked little rose, have been a very bad girl.” He holds her palms up to examine them closer. “Seems someone thought you shouldn’t be such a wild thing. Can’t say I disagree.” Rector nods to Kincaid, and the younger collector falls to the ground, bringing Aspen with him.
Rector pulls back his leg and slams it into Aspen’s side.
She screams.
41 
The Summoning
The sound of Aspen crying breaks what’s left inside of me. “I’m going to slaughter you, Rector,” I roar. “I’m going to break you in two.”
“Strong words for a liberator taken down by a shelf,” he responds before throwing his fist into Aspen’s stomach.
Aspen writhes against Kincaid, and her screams rattle my head. Kincaid wraps his arms and legs around her body tighter, locking her in place.
Rector hits her again. And again.
Visions of the night Rector did the same thing to Charlie dance through my memory. And though I love Charlie, seeing him do this to Aspen doesn’t hurt any less. She is my friend, the sister I never had.
She is a piece of me.
And each time Rector makes her cry out, my spirit is crushed a little more.
Soon there’s nothing left but darkness crouched within my chest. It floods every part of my body, and raw rage provides me a burst of adrenaline. I shove against the shelf with everything I have, and it moves—a little at first, and then more.
This gets Rector’s attention. “I was not going to kill her, you know. She just needed to be tamed a bit.” Rector brushes off his black slacks and runs a hand over his shaved head. “Are you trying to get a little breathing room down there?” He chuckles, and the sound raises the hairs on my arms. “Dante, do you know how sweet it felt to collect your girlfriend’s soul? I could almost taste her inside me.”
My rage burns brighter.
The pain in my legs and hips is forgotten.
“What I really cannot wait for is the girl herself.” Rector sucks on his bottom lip. “She is so deliciously innocent. I dream about the moment our soldiers bring her in. Once we have her here, I’ll make her mine, you know. I’ll make her my princess.”
My hands curl into fists and red fills my vision.
Kill him—kill him—kill him.
“I can’t wait until the first moment our lips touch,” he continues. “Until I lay her down in my bed and show her what it means to be a demon’s bride.”
I can’t take it a moment longer.
I use every bit of strength I have left and shove the shelf as hard I can.
It isn’t enough.
Rector kicks me in the ribs, and I bite down to keep from screaming. My energy is gone. Aspen is pinned to the floor. And Rector is standing over me like a tornado, as if every movement makes him stronger.
I close my eyes and listen to my heart whomp-whomp in my ears. The sound of my pulse seems to beat her name.
Charlie.
Charlie.
Charlie.
The darkness ebbs away as I picture her face in my mind, her bright, eager eyes and the swell of her pink lips. The way she looked the first night we were truly together, and the zooming noise she made while spoon-feeding me tomato soup. The sight of her in that sexy ballerina-inspired dress, and the way she fought against Blue to come with me here, blood staining her chest. She is my reason for breathing, the only reason I would trek back into hell.
Since the first day I met her—her cheeks reddening like strawberries—I knew she was different. Her laugh made me want to smile again, and her touch had me questioning everything. She’s the girl who fed her lunch to raccoons, who dug Skittles out of her pocket. She was unfashionable and socially awkward and easily the biggest nerd I’d ever met. And I fell madly in love with her. Even now, as every minute passes, my entire being aches for her more. To watch the way she radiates kindness. To see her smile. To kiss her.
A burning smell fills my nose.
I don’t recognize the scent at first, but when I do, my eyes snap open. Rector looks the same, so I know it isn’t him.
It’s me.
Like a crash of lightning, something Kraven said strikes my very core: “You have to call on the purity inside of you.”
But nothing inside of me is pure.
Nothing except my love for Charlie Cooper.
Pain rips through my body. I twist side to side in agony, and my back arches off the ground. My muscles tear apart, and my teeth grind together so tightly I’m sure there’s nothing left of them but dust. Something pops in my chest, and then I’m splitting open. My skin is tearing apart, and I’m going to die. I’m going to die because I don’t know how to control this, and instead it’s controlling me.
Everything stops.
The pain ceases, and the ringing in my head quiets. I’m standing upright. Rector is backed against the wall, horror shadowing his face. Kincaid has released Aspen, and the two of them cower near the floor. Everyone stares at me, eyes wide and mouths open.
Instinctually, I flex my back and feel a weight shift behind me. It’s the same way I move my arm, a simple command from my mind. But this isn’t an arm. Or a leg. Or even an open hand.
It’s a wing.
I curl the right one around my body so that I can see it, and I gasp. It isn’t waxy like Rector’s was, and it isn’t sterile white like Kraven’s. Instead, it’s something in between. An ocean of black feathers covers my wing, so dark they’re almost blue. I pull the left one in front and inspect it. They are the same. When I understand what this means, that I have accomplished the impossible, an incredible, unbridled power rushes through my veins.