Davina (Davy Harwood #3)(74)

His hand went through hers. He frowned, pulling it back. “I can’t touch you.”

“I know.” She was concentrating on his hand, her eyebrow bunched together. Her mouth turned down and she said, with authority in her voice, “But I’m going to grab you.”

He waited, holding his hand up, and as he held his breath, she started to lift her hand to his. He felt an immense pressure pushing back against him, but he held strong. Davy was breaking through whatever was holding her in.

A gasp.

He heard it in his ear. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Davy.

A reeling sensation zipped around them. An anchor began to sink inside of him. The Immortal knew what they were doing.

“Davy, you have to hur—” Her fingers touched his and the last of his sentence fell from his lips, “—ry.”

That was all the connection she needed. Her eyes closed and he felt the power radiate from her. It was like a blanket coming from her, one thread at a time. It was covering The Immortal around them and he felt a shift in gravity. They were going down.

Davy’s palm fit against his. She tightened her hold on him and grunted out, pain laced in her tone, “It’s working. She’s weakening.”

She kept breaking through the barrier until her other hand was holding onto his, then her arms, her elbows, her legs, her knees, her feet, her waist, then her entire body. They were crashing to the ground. It was The Immortal, not them. He realized that now until he was holding Davy in his arms again. As the entirety of her body fit against his, perfectly and how it always had, he was back in his own mind. He was in his own body and he really was holding Davy.

She opened her eyes. Tears burst forth, and she smiled at him. “Hi.”

Hi. She said hi. Lucas felt a stupid grin on his face. He grabbed her face, rested his forehead to hers, and asked, “Is it done?”

Her smile spread as wide as his and she nodded, bobbing their heads together. “Yeah.” Happy tears slid down her face. “It really is.” She grasped his head too and dipped so her lips met his. One kiss. Two. Three—he couldn’t let go. It’d been so long, so damn long. He groaned, his hands going around her. He pulled her in. He just wanted to hold her and reassure himself that she wasn’t going anywhere anymore.

“I’m here,” she gasped against his lips. “I’m not going anywhere. She can’t break free. She doesn’t have the power. I do. I’ll never let her have it again.”

As they kept kissing and hugging, they began to hear sounds of sobbing. He didn’t want to pull away, but he did with reluctance.

Lily was kneeling on the ground beside Talia. Tracey was next to her, and Wren was standing on Tracey’s other side.

“Momma.” Lily stroked Talia’s cheek. She bent down and pressed her forehead to her mother’s. She whispered, “Momma, I love you.”

“Talia.” Tracey was moaning, rocking back and forth. Her hand went to touch her sister’s cheek, then lifted away. She started to touch her niece’s cheek, but her hand raised once again and began to go back to her sister. She couldn’t decide who to touch and in the end, she merely bent forward and pressed her forehead to Talia’s stomach. She grabbed ahold of her on both sides and cried.

Wren let out a soft breath and stroked Tracey’s back.

“Oh no.” Davy’s hand found Lucas’s. “They’re gone.”

Brown stepped forward. She told Davy and Lucas, “They gave their power to Davy—”

Davy finished, “I needed more. I couldn’t break through the barrier. They gave everything to me so I could and . . . it cost them.” She lifted her haunted gaze to him. “They died so I could live.”

“No.” Brown grabbed one of Davy’s hands. She held it to her chest. “They died so The Immortal would be defeated. If it was another thread-holder, if it was another time, you would’ve done the same.”

“I’m alive, though.” Tears were fast falling down Davy’s face again but the celebration had gone. There were losses to mourn.

“And they won’t be forgotten,” Brown said. She readjusted her hold on Davy’s hand, holding even tighter. “I promise, Davy. They will never be forgotten. We will remember. We will live for them now.”

Lucan joined the circle. His face was a mask. His lips were in a flat line. His eyebrows were fixed. He wore a bland expression before he turned to Brown. “I hate to strike while there are grieving ones here, but . . .” He lifted his eyes to his brother. A smirk showed and a chill sliced through Lucas once again.

He growled, his hands forming fists. “What are you doing, Lucan?”

“Well.” He let out a frustrated breath. “You see, everyone forgot why I was helping. I mean, yes. Take down The Immortal. Hear, hear. All cheers for her demise, but,” he cringed, smiling at the same time. “No one thought about the afterwards, and well . . .” His hand gestured to Talia and to Davy. “I have to strike while I can, and the time is now.”

He stared at Davy, but Brown gasped. Her head flew back and her chest arched up. Her hands spread out. She cried out, “Davy!”

“Brown!”

“There’s pain.” A bloodcurdling scream ripped from her. She cried out, hoarsely, “Something’s happening inside of me. I can’t—oh my God! I can’t—Davy!”