Thursday morning, well after midnight—day five

“Where are you from, Alton? I don’t remember Eddy ever mentioning you before.”

Ginny had quit grumbling half a block back. Now she looked at him with what had to be more than merely polite interest, and added, “I can’t believe she wouldn’t have said something about someone like you.”

Someone like me?

What could she possibly mean by that?

Lemurian women were nothing like Ginny Jones. She was amazingly self-assured. Confident. He still wasn’t certain if that weighed in Ginny’s favor or not. She’d looped her arm through his at some point while they walked, and her tall, lean body was close enough that he felt her heat and scented her subtle perfume.

Walking down the street in the quiet hours after midnight with a beautiful woman on his arm was an entirely new experience.

So was lying.

He’d never felt so marvelously off balance in his life.

Or so dishonest. “I’ve been here and there,” he said, shrugging as if it made no difference. “There’s no reason Eddy would have mentioned me. We weren’t really close friends. We met in college, but I’ve been traveling since I graduated.”

“I’m jealous.” Ginny flashed him a bright smile. He realized he was smiling back, as if her jealousy were the best thing in the world.

“But why?” he asked. “You live in such a beautiful place.”

She gazed around the quiet neighborhood. “I guess, but it’s all I’ve ever known. I’ve never lived anywhere else. I’ve been to Arizona a couple of times, to Sedona to see my cousins, but Evergreen has always been my home. I keep thinking there’s got to be more out there than a sleepy little town full of people who’ve known me all my life.”

Alton stopped a couple of steps beneath her when they reached her front porch, which put them at eye level. He gazed into her beautiful golden eyes and realized he could easily lose himself in their depths. “There is indeed a wonderful world,” he said. “If you want to badly enough, I imagine you’ll see it one day. But to be honest, I doubt you’ll find anywhere else as perfect as your town.”

Ginny seemed as interested in gazing at Alton as he was in studying her, but then she sort of shook herself, looked down, and dug through her purse. After a minute of pushing stuff around, she pulled a ring of keys out of the bottom of the bag.

When she glanced back at Alton, her beautiful tiger’s-eyes sparkled. “You might be right, but I’ll never know until I have something to compare it to. Thanks for walking me home. It really wasn’t necessary, but you were better company than I expected.”

Alton drew himself up to his full height. “What did you expect?”

She laughed. “I’m not really sure. My first impression was…” She shrugged.

“Was what?” He planted his hands on his hips and glowered at her.

Ginny’s full lips pursed in an angry moue. “Exactly that. I thought you were arrogant and overbearing. I guess I was right, after all.”

Even when she was insulting him, Alton couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his life than Ginny Jones, with her smooth dark skin and thick black hair. Her eyes, though…her eyes were what held him in thrall.

Those amazing tiger’s-eyes with every shade of brown, amber, and gold sparkling in their depths. He’d thought her beautiful the night he saved her, but seeing her like this, cocky and downright rude, hearing her low voice with the rich, honeyed tones even as she insulted him, had an effect on him unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

He wondered if she could hear his heart, thudding away in his chest as if it might pound clean through his ribs. He had to swallow twice to get his voice to work. “You might be right,” he said. “I can be a bit arrogant at times. But I beg to disagree. It was more than necessary.”

As if someone else controlled his hand, he reached out and touched her dark hair. She raised her chin and frowned, obviously confused by both his comment and his gesture.

“I haven’t forgotten you, Ginny. When I saw you tonight, I realized just how much I needed to see you again, so yes, it was necessary that I walk you home.”

He dropped his hand to his side and stepped back before he lost all control and did something even more insane. “Good night, Ginny. Sleep well. Please go inside and lock your door, or I’ll be forced to stand guard.” He glanced at a small wrought-iron chair on her front porch. “I doubt that would make a comfortable bed.”

Ginny burst into laughter. Then, to his utter amazement, she planted her hands on his shoulders, leaned close, and kissed his cheek. “You’re nuts, Alton. Absolutely nuts, but in a really crazy way. I like you. You drive me up a wall, but I still like you. I think. I hope I get to see you again.” She unlocked the door and slipped inside. “Now get off my front porch. Go back to Ed’s and sleep in a comfortable bed. Take your ego and go home.”

She closed the door. He waited until he heard the sound of the dead bolt sliding into place. He hoped it was a good strong lock, with demons running the streets. He had to be certain Ginny would be safe. He stared at the door a moment longer. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he raised his hands and sent a powerful compulsion toward the woman behind the door.

Sedona. You really miss your cousins in Sedona.

With the satisfaction he’d done what he could to get Ginny out of harm’s way, Alton trotted lightly down the stairs and headed back to Ed’s house. He wasn’t quite sure why he was smiling.

Sending Ginny away until the demon threat ended was a good idea, but offering to walk her home had to be one of the stupidest moves he’d ever made in his life. He sighed. There was something about Ginny—something that wouldn’t let go of him—and he had to admit, he liked the feeling.

Of course, there was no future for the two of them. None at all, not for an immortal Lemurian and a human woman. He’d be a fool to try and see her again, but as that cautionary thought entered his head, he swung around in midstep, walking backward so he could see the place where she lived.

The little duplex sat dark and quiet. She wasn’t staring out the window, watching him walk away. He grimaced, going over their brief conversation. She was probably wondering what kind of idiot had just walked her to her front door.

A lacy white curtain twitched ever so slightly. Alton grinned like the idiot Ginny probably thought he was…but that had to be her peeking through the window. She was watching him.

No doubt about it. Whistling, Alton turned around and headed toward Ed’s house. Definitely one of the stupidest things he’d ever done, but knowing that probably wouldn’t stop him from trying to see her again.

Once she came back from Sedona.

 

They’d paused in front of her dad’s house, and when Eddy glanced down at Dax’s strong fingers wrapped around hers, she realized she needed a moment alone before she lost it altogether. First she checked the slashes that had torn through his shirt and into his skin.

They’d closed completely. Dried blood stained the shirt and his back, but he was okay. For now. She rested her palm against his chest. “Check on Dad, will you? I need to see if I can find my baseball bat. I think it’s in the garage.”

Dax stared at her for a moment, and she prayed he wouldn’t notice how her hands trembled.

“Do you need it tonight?” He squeezed her fingers over his heart. “I know you’re tired. We both are. Let’s look in the morning. I’ll help you find it.”

She shook her head. He probably thought she was nuts, but she felt frantic, and frightened beyond belief. Time was speeding by much too fast, and he was going to be gone in just a couple of days—and she didn’t know if she could handle it.

“I lost my crowbar,” she said. She forced herself to take slow, even breaths. “I didn’t have it tonight, and I don’t know where I left it. I felt naked without it.”

“It’s late, Eddy. C’mon inside. You don’t need it tonight.”

She shook her head again and tugged her fingers free of his grasp. “You never know. I might. I need to find my bat. Really. It’ll just take me a few minutes.” She raised her head and stared directly into his dark brown eyes. She knew he didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

But at least he tried.

She hated feeling powerless, hated the fact her world was spinning out of control. Hated knowing there was nothing she could do to change things. Nothing she could do to keep Dax.

But maybe she could find her damned baseball bat. It was good, solid ash, a Louisville Slugger her dad had given her the year she turned twelve. She’d hit more than one homerun with it. Her coach had bragged about her fantastic control, that when she connected, she didn’t just hit it out of the park, she’d been able to place the hits.

Which was exactly what she needed now. Fantastic control.

She gazed up at Dax. Finally he nodded his head, leaned over, and kissed her quickly. He trailed his fingers through her messy curls, as if there was something else he wanted to say, but whatever it was went unsaid.

He sighed when he turned away, but he went into the house. Eddy watched him until the door shut behind him. Then she walked to the garage, opened the door, and slipped into the darkness. She shut the door firmly behind her and hoped like hell she could keep from crying.

Her emotions were all over the place, but she had to hold herself together. Dax needed her strong, not blubbering over things that couldn’t be changed.

She couldn’t hold him here past his allotted seven days, but she could at least find the stupid bat. That much she could do. She took a deep breath, and then another. The lump in her throat was still there, but the stinging in her eyes eased.

Two more days. How was she going to make it without him when he was gone? A shudder rippled through her body, a mere prelude to the pain waiting for her. She’d meant what she’d said to her dad, though. Even knowing how short their time together would be, she’d never regret loving Dax.

What she was always going to regret, though, was losing him. A tear escaped her left eye and burned a trail over her cheek. She brushed it away, angry at herself, and, unaccountably, with Dax, which was definitely stupid and wouldn’t do her a damned bit of good.

Well, damn it all, Eddy. That’s just too bad.

She could argue with herself all she wanted, but it wouldn’t save Dax. She flipped on the light and stared at the neat rows of shelves filled with boxes and bags. One thing about her dad—even with all the stuff he’d collected over the years, it was always organized.

“Now where is that blasted baseball bat?”

 

Dax stared out the window at the dark garage for a moment longer before walking from the kitchen into the front room. He’d fully expected to find Ed already in bed, but Eddy’s father was sitting alone, sipping a glass of brandy, with Bumper snoring at his feet.

He acknowledged Dax with a brief nod of his head, but he appeared lost in thought.

Willow popped out of Dax’s pocket, zipped across the room, and found her favorite spot on Bumper’s curly back. Dax figured she must be exhausted, as she only left a smattering of blue sparkles floating in the air with her passage. He watched her settle herself close to the sleeping dog before he sat down on the couch across from Ed’s recliner.

“I thought you’d be asleep by now,” he said.

Ed shook his head, but his focus was on the dark amber liquid he held in front of his eyes. “No. I couldn’t sleep until I knew you two were home safe. Where’s Eddy?”

Dax shrugged. He knew it would take him years to understand the way women thought, and with only a couple of days left…“Looking for her baseball bat. She lost her crowbar. I don’t know why she had to find the bat tonight. She’s exhausted.”

Ed chuckled. “Be right back.” He struggled to get out of the chair. It was obvious he was hurting after so much activity. He left the room for a moment and then returned with an empty glass, poured it half full of brandy, and handed it to Dax.

“She’s looking for her Louisville Slugger, I’ll bet.” He took a sip of his brandy. Dax tasted his. It burned like fire, but tasted surprisingly good.

“Is that her bat? Why does she need it tonight?” He stared into the glass and wished things weren’t quite as complicated as they’d become.

“Because it’s something she can find. Something familiar that belonged to her when life was good, when her mother was alive, when demons weren’t running amuck. Dax, all our lives have been turned upside down in the past week. None of us, save you, know what’s going to happen next.”

Dax took another sip before he asked, “What do you mean?”

Ed settled back in his chair. “You have a finite life span. In a few more days, no matter how the battle on Earth between human and demon plays out, your role in the fight will end.” He sighed, and spoke very softly. “I’m gonna hate to lose you, boy. Already you feel like the son I never had, and it’s going to hurt like hell when you’re gone.”

His voice was much firmer when he nailed Dax with a hard-edged glare and added, “But it’s not going to hurt me half as much as it is my daughter, no matter how brave she tries to be. She loves you. I honestly believe you’re the first man she’s ever really loved, and I hate to think of what my little girl will go through when you just wink out of her life.”

It took every bit of strength Dax had not to look away, but what Ed was saying was true. Painfully true. “I don’t know what…”

“No.” Ed set his glass down and leaned forward. “There’s not a damned thing you can do differently. All you can do is love her for as long as you’re here. She asked me if, knowing her mother would die so young, would I have still wanted to love her. I realized then that I wouldn’t give up those few short years with Eddy’s mom for anything. That woman was the best thing that ever happened to me. Maybe you’re the best that will ever happen to Eddy. I hope not. I hope she’ll find love again someday, after you’re gone. After enough time has passed—but she’s right. You go after love. You hold on to it with both hands and your heart, no matter how briefly it lasts, no matter how painful the end might be. It’s too precious to waste a moment. I hope you and Eddy hang on to every second you’ve got.”

He tipped his glass and emptied it. Then he stood. Stronger this time. More sure of his step. “And right now, young man, you’re wasting what little time you’ve got with my daughter, sitting in here yammering with her old man. Go help Eddy find that bat of hers. Let her know you love her enough to help her wrestle her own demons along with yours.”

Dax stood as Ed left the room. He held the glass of brandy up to catch the light. Then he glanced at Willow. She appeared half asleep, nestled snuggly in Bumper’s thick coat of curls. “Rest, little one,” he said. “Stay with your friend. I’ll be with Eddy.”

Willow flashed a tiny flicker of blue light. Dax finished off the last swallow of brandy and turned out the lights as he left the room. He met Alton at the kitchen door. “Is everything quiet?”

Alton nodded. “Ginny’s home safe. I took a swing back through town on my way here. Nothing is stirring. I drew my sword, and there was no reaction, no sense of demonkind. I’m wondering if we’ve gotten all of the ones that crossed over, other than the gargoyle. I hesitate to go after him until we’ve all rested. I don’t think either of us has the power to take him on our own.”

Dax nodded. “I agree. Willow and Bumper are asleep in the front room. Ed’s gone on to bed.” He nodded toward the garage, where a pale light glowed through the window on the small side door. “I’m going to get Eddy. We’ll be in shortly.” He rested his palm on Alton’s forearm. “Sleep well, my friend. Thank you.”

“You, too, Dax.” Alton nodded. “Tomorrow we go after the gargoyle. Again.”

Dax watched Alton enter the house. Then he quietly opened the door to the garage. Eddy didn’t appear to hear him. She sat on a wooden box near the rows of large shelves in the back. She had her back to Dax and held a large book in her lap. A smooth, wooden baseball bat lay on the floor beside her. She’d clipped a shop light to the closest shelf, and it spotlighted the place where she sat and the book she looked at so intently.

“Eddy? What is that?” Dax squatted down beside her and realized she was gazing at a book of photographs.

“It’s one of my grandmother’s old albums. See?”

She pointed to a picture of a little dark-eyed girl sitting in the lap of a powerful-looking elderly man. A sweet-looking woman who could have been an older version of Eddy stood beside them with her hand on the man’s shoulder. Everyone was smiling, their eyes alight with what had to be love.

“That’s me when I was about six,” Eddy said, pointing to the little girl. “That’s my grandfather holding me, and that’s Gramma standing beside us. She died the year after my mom passed away.” Eddy glanced up at Dax. There were tears in her eyes. “Grampa died years before when I was still a kid, and when Mom died, it was like a light went out of Gramma. She just sort of slipped away, but she was already pretty old. She and my grandfather were married for almost sixty years.”

“You still miss her, don’t you?” He brushed her hair back from her eyes. She nodded and smiled at him, but she was biting her lip and he knew she struggled not to cry. Always so brave, so intent on putting on a strong face for him that it made his heart ache to see her grieving now, to know she would grieve even more when he was gone. “I love you, Eddy. No matter what happens, I will never forget you.”

She touched her palm to the side of his face and leaned her forehead against his. “I won’t ever forget you either, Dax. I love you so much.” She shook her head. A tear landed on the back of his hand. “I never imagined falling in love with anyone like this, not this hard, this fast.” She took a deep breath, closed the album, and carefully put it back in a large, plastic box. Then she replaced the lid and made certain it was on tight.

Dax reached for the box and picked it up before Eddy could. She didn’t say anything, but she pointed to an empty spot where it belonged. Dax slipped the heavy box back on the shelf and reached for Eddy’s hand.

She slipped her fingers into his, and they left the garage together. Eddy turned out the light and locked the door. She was yawning when they reached the bedroom, but the tears in her eyes were gone. She held tightly to her baseball bat with one hand, and just as tightly to Dax with the other.

They showered together. Dax helped Eddy rinse her hair, and she carefully scrubbed the blood off his back and shoulder. He held her beneath the soothing spray while she cried for a few minutes. He had a feeling that tears didn’t come easily to her, that she rarely showed any kind of weakness to anyone. The fact she felt comfortable enough to be herself with Dax told him more than mere words might ever say.

They stepped out of the shower, and he grabbed a towel off the rack to dry her silky skin. She brushed her teeth; he shaved. It all felt terribly domestic, and he was struck with the fact that less than a week ago he’d never done any of these things.

He’d never shaved, never showered, never bathed with a woman, yet his body seemed to know everything. How to use a razor, how to brush his teeth and tie his shoes and eat with a fork and knife. He knew the language, knew what things were, knew how to interpret his feelings, his fears, his needs.

And he knew how to make love to Eddy. He paused and stared at himself in the steamy mirror. White shaving cream covered his chin and throat, and his hair was slicked back from his head. It looked almost black in this light, though he knew it was really a very dark brown. There were even a couple of gray strands in it, though he knew he wasn’t very old, even by human standards.

He’d wrapped a towel around his waist, and it hung low on his hips. A dark trail of hair ran from his belly button to his groin, and the snake tattoo ran through the trail. The thing had been quiet since the battle this evening, though he was always aware of its existence. The glow was gone, but it hadn’t hurt since the fight with the gargoyle. The gaping jaws remained poised over his heart, and the beady eyes were fixed and lifeless, but he’d seen them sparkle with intelligence, had felt the tongue lash between his fingers. He’d seen the head pull away from his flesh and strike at his throat.

The demon’s curse wasn’t gone. Not by a long shot. It waited patiently, ready to strike when his defenses were down, which meant he needed to remain alert to it at all times.

He rinsed the razor in the sink and took another careful stroke along his jaw and down his throat, and then another. He actually enjoyed the ritual of shaving, the way the lather felt so cool on his skin, the slide of the razor over bristles that hadn’t even existed earlier in the day.

Usually Eddy stayed in the bathroom to watch him, but she was so tired tonight, so dejected, she’d gone on to bed. He finished shaving and cleaned the razor. Then he rinsed out the sink and wiped it down with an extra towel, wondering, even as he performed the simple tasks, if the man whose body he owned had done the same things.

It was so easy to forget that he wasn’t the original resident of these parts—these hands and feet, this strong back, and these wide shoulders. That his pair of legs had carried another man, these hands had probably made love to other women.

The only woman Dax wanted was Eddy. He rinsed his face once more, dried his skin, and looked at the man in the mirror. He’d grown accustomed to this face, to this body. He hardly thought of it as borrowed.

Hardly thought of himself as demon.

He didn’t want to think of the fact he only had use of this body for a couple more days, but that was the truth, and he hated to waste a moment. Not when he could be lying beside Eddy. He glanced over his shoulder. The bedroom was dark, which meant she was already in bed. He draped the towel over the shower door and turned off the bathroom light.

Then he quietly crawled into bed beside Eddy. He lay there for a moment, listening to the soft, even sound of her breathing that told him she slept. Then he rolled to his side and pulled her unresisting body into his arms.

He immediately grew hard and aroused. The merest touch was all it took when he was around her, but he ignored his body’s reaction. It was enough to hold her. Enough to feel her body close to his, to hear the soft puff of her breath, the steady beat of her heart.

With Eddy’s small sounds soothing him, Dax drifted off to sleep.

 

His dreams in the past had usually been nightmares of his life before coming to Earth. Fire and fights and the fear of death, terrible battles with hideous creatures of the night—the kinds of creatures that once were common in his life.

The kind of creature he once had been.

Tonight, though, was different. He was aware he was dreaming, though it had the quality of memory, not imagination. He was Dax, yet he wasn’t. He struggled to hold his balance on a strange, flat boat in rough seas. He was surrounded by other men, all of them wearing the same uniform. Round metal helmets covered their heads; heavy, olive green uniforms gave little protection from the wet and the cold. He was holding a rifle, and he was terrified, absolutely scared to death, but it was okay, because everyone else was just as frightened. Some of the guys were seasick, and they’d been heaving their guts over the side of the boat. He wondered if they were too sick to be as scared as he was.

It was early in the morning, and he knew the date was June 6, 1944, and he was off the coast of Normandy, just one of tens of thousands of men making the landing on Omaha Beach.

He could see the beach ahead, and the heavy fortifications they’d have to go through or over. The boat lurched, the front opened up, and salty spray hit his face and soaked his uniform, but it didn’t matter. Like lemmings going over a cliff, they all raced out into the icy sea, carrying their weapons, weighed down by heavy packs loaded with way too much gear and ammunition. The water was deeper than they’d been told to expect, but he was taller than most and it hit him at his chest.

Fear drove him through the pounding surf. He saw one of the smaller guys floundering beside him, held down by his heavy pack and ammo and the big rifle in his arms. Dax grabbed him by the arm and hauled him along, all the way to shore, where both of them hit the cold, hard sand to avoid the hail of bullets whizzing by their heads.

He crawled on his belly and made it as far as the first set of barricades, but when he looked around, there were more bodies than live soldiers scattered around him. The little guy he’d helped was with him, just a few feet back and doing his best to stick close.

There should have been tanks with their heavy weapons covering them, but he couldn’t see if any tanks had survived the landing. The noise was indescribable. Gunfire and screams, and the horrible cries of dying men. Waves crashed with booming thunder, and the air shook with explosions as big shells fell all around. Confusion reigned supreme. It was Hell on Earth, and there was no hope.

He knew with a certainty he’d never known before that he would die today.

The enemy had the superior position, high up on the bluffs, hidden from sight. The infantry coming ashore were nothing more than ducks in a pond, and he was just one more duck.

He would die today, but not yet. He refused death, refused to even consider his end before he’d accomplished something worthwhile. He couldn’t stay here, and damn it, their mission was to storm the beach, to take the bluffs and wipe out the mortars, to get rid of the machine gun nests and the artillery. If he was going to die on the beach at Normandy, he’d be damned if he’d die before his work was done.

He wasn’t sure how it happened, but somehow he managed to get beyond the first barricade and then another, and another, and the next thing he knew, he was at the base of the bluffs. The smell of death made him want to vomit, and the unrelenting noise made it impossible to think.

So he acted. There was no one else near him, at least no one alive. He looked to his left, where the little guy from the beach had been, and there was a body lying in the wet sand. He thought it was the one he’d saved, but half the kid’s face was blown away and it was hard to tell who he’d been.

All he knew was that, just moments ago, whoever that kid was had been as young, as alive, as he was now.

There was nothing he could do for the kid. Not now. He’d done the best he could when he pulled him from the water. Given him ten more minutes of life. He hoped the bullet that found the soldier had made for an easier death than drowning in the cold waves with a full pack on his back and a rifle in his arms.

He turned away from the body and began to scale the bluff. His fingers slipped on the cold, rough rocks, and he left a trail of blood behind wherever he’d grabbed hold. Hiding behind rocks and brush where he could, trusting to blind luck when he couldn’t, he managed to slowly but steadily make his way up the rugged face.

Somewhere above him was the machine gunner sending death down on the men below. Probably the same one who had killed the kid he’d pulled out of the water. That knowledge gave him a sense of duty even more powerful than what he’d felt when he started up the cliff. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to take the nest out. He’d avenge at least one young man who’d lost his chance at life.

Voices drifted around him, and while he didn’t know the language, he recognized the accent. German. There were German soldiers close enough for their voices to carry, which meant they couldn’t be any more than a few feet above him.

His focus narrowed. He recognized that this was more than a dream. This was happening now, or at least in what he accepted as now. The burning streak of pain along his shoulder was the trail of a bullet that could have killed him, the rocks beneath his hands, cutting into his palms, were real, and that kid lying on the beach below had lived and breathed just as he did.

Pulling himself hand over hand, he ignored the sixty-plus pounds on his back and slowly worked his way across the face of the bluff. There was a lip of rock to one side, and he managed to get around it. Somehow he ended up just above the group of three men firing on the troops below. He grabbed his sidearm. His rifle was gone, and he had no idea where he’d lost it, but the Remington Rand forty-five felt good in his hand, and he’d kept it dry during the landing.

He aimed carefully, taking his time with the first shot, and his target dropped without a sound. Before the other two had a chance to react, he shot the second soldier, the one manning the gun. It happened so quickly he didn’t have time to consider what he’d done, though he was surprised that their deaths meant so little to him. He aimed at the third man as the fellow whirled around with a pistol in his hand.

For the briefest of moments, he stared into eyes as blue as his were brown, into a face of a man even younger than he was, and he saw fear. Absolute terror that he would die today.

So be it. At least Dax knew he wouldn’t die alone. He felt nothing when he pulled the trigger. He didn’t see the young man die. No, he was too busy dying himself.

The slug slammed into his forehead, just below the curve of his helmet. There was no pain, no sense of loss, no feeling at all. One moment he was alive and aiming his weapon at a kid no older than he was.

The next, he was sitting upright in the big bed next to Eddy, and his heart was pounding and his breath rasping in and out of his lungs. Eddy was beside him on her knees, eyes wide, hands reaching for him.

He shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts, but his death was too immediate, the sense of loss too close merely to brush away. He took a deep breath, then another, breathing slowly, steadily. Assuring himself he still lived. That he was Dax and he slept beside Eddy Marks and, for now at least, all was well.

“Dax? Are you okay? I heard you thrashing in your sleep. You must have had a nightmare, but…”

He took another deep breath and reached for her. Eddy tumbled into his arms, and he sat back on his heels, holding her as close as he could.

“I dreamed my death,” he said, surprised that the dream remained as clear now as when he was living it. “Not as I am now, but my death as a soldier on the beaches of Normandy. This body, the man who lived in it, was a soldier who landed at Omaha Beach. He was terrified. He knew he would die that day. Tonight, when I dreamed, I was with him when he died.”

“Oh, Dax.” Eddy cupped his face in her palms. “How horrible. I’m so sorry you had to…”

“No.” He shook his head. Then he turned and kissed her palm. “No, don’t be sorry. I think he’s with me. Not just his body, but his soul as well. I thought the Edenites had given me an empty shell, but I feel his spirit, here.” He pressed his hand to his heart and felt tears well up in his eyes, but he had to explain to Eddy, had to tell her what he’d learned.

His dream, if that’s what it was, had changed him. It had changed everything. “I’ve sensed him before, but not as I do now. I know him. He was such a brave man, Eddy. He knew he faced death, yet he didn’t quit. He saved the life of another young man, who was killed by a bullet a few minutes later. When that happened, he threw caution to the wind and climbed up a bluff near the beach, and he managed to kill three men who were manning a machine gun. They were Germans, young men like he was, following orders, but they were the ones mowing down the American soldiers. The ones who had killed the one he’d saved. The last man—a boy, really—that he shot put a bullet in his brain. He died bravely, and he died fighting. He was following orders to the very end.”

Dax stared into the darkness, wrapping those feelings around his body, absorbing everything he’d experienced. “Eddy, when it happened, at the very moment of his death, he was no longer afraid.”

“What is it you’re trying to tell me, Dax? This isn’t just about a dream, is it? I don’t understand.” Eddy leaned back in his embrace so that she could look into his eyes. She was sleep rumpled and warm in his arms. Her hair stuck out on one side and lay all squished flat on the other. She was the most beautiful, most precious thing he’d ever known.

And she deserved the truth. “I’ve been afraid of failing, Eddy. So afraid. I’m not as strong as the demon gargoyle. Maybe I’m not as crafty, either, but I’ve got you. I have Alton and Willow, your dad, and Bumper—even my demon self is still part of me. Together we make a formidable team, but all along I’ve felt as if I didn’t have what it was going to take to win the fight. When I dreamed tonight, when I felt the strength of the man who first lived this body’s life, I realized he was sharing his courage. He was letting me know him so that I’d understand what it meant to die bravely. He’s sharing that with me.”

Eddy wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him close for a kiss. When their mouths finally parted, she smiled against his lips. “I’ve never doubted you, Dax. You’re the only one who thinks you can’t win. I know better. Those Edenites wouldn’t have chosen you if they’d had any doubt. Let’s go back to sleep. We’ve still got a few hours before morning. When we go after the gargoyle tomorrow, you will win. I don’t have any doubt at all.”

She kissed him again, and he realized he wasn’t nearly as sleepy as he’d thought. When her hands slipped around his waist and traced the bumps along his spine, it seemed perfectly natural to lay her down and stretch out beside her.

But when he made love to her, he couldn’t stop thinking about the man who’d died on Omaha Beach. A man who’d gone into battle terrified, yet faced death bravely. A man who had followed orders, even as they led him to his death.

Dax needed to remember the orders he followed. His death was a given. His duty was to remove the demons from this small town, to ease the pressure of evil against good before a tipping point was reached. He was well on his way to accomplishing that mission. As much as he loved Eddy Marks, the mission was for the good of all, and he must not fail.

Failure was not an option. He was destined to die at the end of his week, no matter how the battle against the demons played out, so he’d better be damned sure that the outcome was what he wanted.

He would win, no matter what, because he had no fear of death. Just as the one who’d first inhabited this body had known his own death was imminent when he went against the enemy, Dax knew he’d be gone by the end of the week. That was the deal.

Ed Marks was right—Dax knew what to expect. There were going to be no final surprises. The only surprise, in fact, had been Eddy.

He realized then, as their bodies reached that final peak together, that it wasn’t death he feared, not the failure of his mission, not pain, or the demon gargoyle and his curse.

No, he’d thought his only fear was leaving Eddy in a world that was no longer safe. It was worse. It was something he couldn’t change, no matter how the battle on Earth ended.

He feared moving on to whatever might come next without her. He could face the demon and whatever it might do to him, and he could face him without fear, but eternity without Eddy scared him more than death.