Chosen at Nightfall (Shadow Falls #5)(21)

"Will you die to save him?" A grin filled his aged gray eyes. "Which one will you save first?" Mario studied her as if amused, definitely not afraid, and apparently so occupied with tormenting her that he didn't see Derek coming at him again. And neither did Kylie, or she would have stopped him. Stopped him before someone died.

The moment Derek crashed into Mario, the man reached for Derek and tightened his gnarled fingers around his neck. Kylie surged forward, her fury, her need for revenge strong. Wrapping one hand around Mario's throat, she used her other hand to peel the old man's hands from Derek's neck. The second she felt Derek slip free, she used both her hands on the rogue's throat.

"Let go!" the voice echoed in her ear at the same time the ghostly cold shimmied down her spine.

"Stop!"

Kylie ignored the spirit. This was so not the time.

She heard Derek gasp for air. Now it was Mario who could not breathe. She felt his tendons rollbeneath her tight grasp. Her goal was simple. Stop him. Stop him now and forever. All she had to do was squeeze a bit tighter.

She would crush his windpipe with just a little more force.

She would send him to hell where he belonged.

Her mind went to Ellie, who Mario had taken too young from this world. She thought of this man's grandson, who had died knowing his own blood had brought him to his death.

Mario deserved this death.

A thought raked through her mind. Killing wasn't easy. Not even when it was the right thing.

"Let him go!" the spirit yelled. "You are blind. Nothing is as you see it!"

She could see just fine, thank you! She tightened her hold on the old man's neck, trying to convince herself to finish what needed to be done. The raspy sound of Derek bringing air into his lungs echoed behind her. Mario's arm swung at his sides, trying to find something to hang on to. Trying to find life.

She heard Derek blurt out her name, his voice hoarse, but she ignored him. Ignored everything but the fact that she was about to take a life.

Suddenly, a sick feeling filled her stomach-as if something was terribly wrong. And that's when she saw Mario. Standing several feet back and smiling. Her breath caught and her gaze cut to the face of the person she was in the process of killing.

Lucas.

Mario's laugh echoed around her.

Panic shot through Kylie like raw pain. She released her hold around Lucas's neck. He fell into a heap on the ground, but Kylie didn't remove her gaze from Mario.

Lucas shifted at her feet. Tears filled her eyes at the realization of how close she'd come to taking the life of someone she loved.

"I should kill you now," Mario said, "but it's so much fun to see you suffer."

Kylie's next intake of air shuddered in her lungs.

"Oh, he lives, but for how long?" Mario asked, his tone expressing the excitement he felt at the pain he'd caused her.

The wickedness in the man seemed to flavor the air. She had no idea how Mario had traded places with Lucas, but what mattered was stopping him from doing more. And if she couldn't think of something quick, he would take her down. And she wouldn't go down alone.

Her blood raged faster, the air she breathed tasted carbonated with emotions raging though her like viruses. Then fear, like a liquid trying to drown her, rose in her chest.

Her pulse raged with horror that this was a battle she could not win. For one second, she accepted defeat and mourned. Mourned not for her life, but for Derek's and Lucas's. They had come here to save her, and now would die for their efforts. And then others would follow. Mario wouldn't stop.

A voice seemed to come with the wind. You are not alone. Ask and you will receive.

Were the death angels here? She focused on Mario, but prayed for assistance. Prayers without faith, her heart seemed to whisper. Doubt filled her and echoed in her soul. If the death angels were going to help her, would they have not already been there? Why would she feel so alone, so unprotected? Would they not have offered her help before she almost killed one of her own?

Like a flash of lightning, she remembered the dead at the gate, and something Holiday once said floated through her mind like a thought she needed to grasp on to. Sometimes I think all the dead are my deathangels.

Kylie drew in a breath of hope. Help me. The plea echoed in her mind. Be my death angels.

A loud, bone-chilling creak echoed in the dark. The gate started to open. The squeal of the rusty metal being forced to move rang in her ears. Then the dead came barreling out by the hundreds. Male, female, young, old, they all came running, their hands outstretched. Their eyes haunted. But their expressions didn't beg for help, they offered it.

The icy feel of their presence burned her skin. The air in her lungs seemed too cold to breathe. But even in her pain, she saw she wasn't alone. And that offered her hope. Hope she clung to.

Mario's face, old and wrinkled, grimaced in anguish. Pain, perhaps the same cold ache filling her body, reflected in his gray eyes. He slung his head back and roared. Steam rose from his mouth and danced above his lips. He caught his breath and bolted backward a good ten feet.

As if the distance offered him a reprieve, his gaze turned to her. Kylie tightened her eyes and saw his pattern. He was for sure a chameleon. Oddly enough, with her vision slightly unfocused there was something about him that felt different. Familiar in a different way. The thought seemed important, but like a storm cloud that promised to return, it blew past.