The Lost Souls (The Holy Trinity #2.5)(41)

There wasn’t any more he could do. Nico was fresh out of more.

“Get in the trailer,” he ordered her.

Becki turned to him, her cheeks wet with tears, her nostrils flaring with heavy breaths. “No,” she said bitterly.

He snapped. “GET IN THE FUCKING TRAILER!” he bellowed.

“When do I get to make my own decisions?” she screamed.

He advanced on her. “You are a woman,” he bit out. “You have never made your own decisions, and you never will. You may not legally be my wife, but you are still my wife, and despite what you might think, I’m pretty sure Hockey agrees with me.” He pointed toward the woods. “I’M ALL YOU’VE GOT LEFT!”

“Don’t do me any more favors!” she spat.

Nico’s teeth clenched. He was going to slap her, tell her it was time to shut her damn mouth, order her into the trailer, order her to start loving him back, order her to—

They moved so fast. Too fast. He barely had enough time to comprehend that Becki had just been tackled to the ground when he was barreled into. Ducking fangs and claws, fighting for his life, he was forced to hear Becki’s pained, fear-ridden screams, but was unable to help her.

The Skin atop him suddenly burst into white flames, and Nico shoved with all his strength, sending the shrieking monster flying off him and across the pavement. Despite the burning pain all over his body, courtesy of the talons that had slashed him repeatedly, he surged to his feet, ready to help Becki, ready to kill the monster that had attacked her.

Nico blinked at the Gaje girl holding a knife in each of her shaking hands, and at Hockey, beside her, who was bending down and lifting the dead Skin’s body up and off…

Becki.

“No!” Nico screamed, tripping over his own feet as he attempted to reach her.

That was when he saw it—the gaping wound in the side of her neck, exposing muscle and tendons, and dark blood pooling in a growing circle around her head.

He knew he was screaming. He was yelling and screaming and crying, but he couldn’t hear himself. It was all a mess, a heart-pounding, blood-burning mess of emotions and words and begging God to save her life, but he was too late, and prayers were no good.

She was gone. Just like that, in the span of seconds, Becki was gone.

And it was all his fault. He’d forced her into marrying him, he’d killed Tobar to keep her, he’d taken her out of camp, away from the protection of their people, and he’d put her in harm’s way.

All for what? To keep her? And instead, he’d lost her.

He’d f*cking lost her.

Dropping down beside her, he shoved Hockey out of his way and gathered her body in his arms.

“Don’t leave me!” he screamed, crushing her to him. “Don’t you f*cking leave me!”

“Nico!” Hockey yelled, frantically trying to pry Becki from his arms. “Nico, get away from her! Nico! Damn it, frate, she’s going to turn!”

Nico’s thoughts came skidding to a stop. She would turn. She would turn, she would wake up, he could have her back…he could have her back…he could have her back.

He shoved Hockey backward. “Don’t touch her!”

“Nico,” Hockey said quietly, “you can’t let that happen. Don’t let her turn.”

“I can’t lose her!” he shouted. “I can’t lose her!”

“It won’t be her,” Hockey continued. “I saw it happen to Shandor, frate. I saw him—”

“SHUT UP!” Nico roared. “And don’t touch her!”

In his arms, Becki began to twitch. First her fingers, then her arms, and soon she was convulsing so violently, Nico couldn’t keep a good hold on her. Becki’s mouth suddenly opened and a pain-filled, agonizing wail pierced the air.

“She’s turning!” the Gaje girl screamed. “Do something! She’s turning!”

But Nico wasn’t listening. He was staring into her eyes. Her black eyes.

“Frate,” Nico breathed, reaching for Hockey. He grasped the man’s forearm and shook him. “It’s magic,” he whispered. “Look…it’s dark magic.”

“I was too far away from Shandor,” Hockey said. “I never saw…”

This wasn’t a disease gone awry. It wasn’t a Gaje government conspiracy. Hell hadn’t come to Earth in the form of human beings. This was magic, a curse. The whole damn world had been cursed with dark Romani magic. And Nico knew magic. He breathed magic. He was magic. He knew that this was fixable, that it could be reversed if you found the source.

“She’s not dead,” he said, grabbing Becki’s hands, trying to hold her still while she thrashed through her change. “She’s just cursed. They’re all just cursed. We find the person responsible, we kill the curse, and Becki will turn back—”

Becki went still.

“Fat??” he breathed.

Her eyelids flew open, revealing glowing red eyes. Her mouth opened in a feral snarl, and—

Boom. Becki’s head bounced back against the pavement, and once again, her body went limp. Her newly red eyes faded back to their soft caramel hue, and a small trickle of blood leaked from the single bullet hole in her forehead.

Trembling, Nico looked up at the Gaje girl standing above him, the smoking gun still in her shaking hands, still aimed at Becki.