Page 111 of Infernal

“You think so?” I threw him a sidelong glance.

“I mean, I’ve studied them, but I’ve never actually done an exorcism before,” he admitted, never taking his eyes off Malphas as we closed in on him.

Whatever. That was good enough for me.

“No time like the present time,” I said and swung at Malphas, landing a sharp right hook in the center of his jaw. Spit ricocheted from his mouth as he spun around like a ballerina and slammed face-first onto the ground.

“Damn,Tyson. Where’d you learn how to hit like that?”

“Practice,” I grumbled as I ambled to Malphas.

Grabbing his shoulder, I flipped him over and appraised the damage. I doubted he would be out long, so I climbed up on his chest and perched myself there, hoping my weight would at least slow him down when he came to.

I glanced up at Caleb, who was just standing there, taking it all in, as though we had all the time in the world.

“Any day now, Cale.”

“Right. Sorry,” he said and rushed around to my side.

As if on cue, Malphas twitched below me and then quickly regained consciousness. I braced myself, knowing it would only take a few seconds to shake away the fog before he would be frantically throwing fists at my head, and just as predicted, that was exactly what he did. While I’d managed to dodge most of them, he did land a good right at my mouth, evidenced by the warm, metallic taste seeping out of my bottom lip.

“You’re not going to be able to hold him down like this for the whole ritual,” said Caleb, watching as I struggled to contain him under my weight. His eyes darted across the room to Ben. “Dude, come on. Get us and help us!”

But Caleb’s plea was futile. Ben wasn’t going to move even an inch away from Taylor’s side. He was hunched over her body now, crying like a broken child.

“Forget him,” I said, punching Malphas in the throat again. “Just help me hold him down so I can knock him out!”

At my words, Caleb dropped down in front of us and grabbed a hold of Malphas’ shoulders, pushing them flat to the ground as I rained down blow after blow over. I needed to hit him hard enough to knock him unconscious again without permanently disfiguring Zane’s face, or worse, killing him.

It was a fine line to walk, and I was barely teetering on the edge.

“Alright, that’s enough, Blackburn! He’s out. He’s out,” he said when I finally landed the perfect shot. He quickly rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and readied himself to do the ritual.

Reining myself back in, I sucked in a breath as my eyes skirted around the room. I tried not to look at all the bodies scattered everywhere, but it was like trying not to look at a giant pink elephant standing in the middle of the room.

It was impossible not to look, to see the death all around me.

Tears immediately brimmed beneath my lids, blurring out my vision.

“Hey. Stay with me, Blackburn. I need you. I can’t do this by myself,” he pleaded, noticing I was two seconds away from a complete nuclear meltdown. “It’s just me and you and this guy right here. Alright? Focus.”

I nodded, sucking in a lungful of air as I tried to bring my focus back to what we were doing.

“Atta girl,” he said, squeezing my chin. Feeling confident that I wasn’t going to completely lose my shit, he focused his attention back on Zane, softly nudging him to made sure he was still out cold.

“Alright,” he said, pushing out a breath of air. “Here goes nothing.”

And with that, he began the Old Latin incantation that would inevitably—hopefully—cast the demon out of Zane’s unsuspecting body and send him back to Hell with Lucifer.

Even though it was the first time I’d ever witnessed the ritual being performed, I could barely concentrate enough to take in a single word of it in. In the stillness of my inactivity, my mind kept racing back to Trace, to what I had done to him, and with the thought, my gaze would quickly follow.

Grief strangled my throat as I took in his motionless body lying unceremoniously on the ground, a prelude of what was to come, of the unwavering agony I was going to suffer for this. It wasn’t going to matter which waytheywould try to spin it, or how they’d choose to justify it. His blood was on my hands both literally and figuratively, and I would never be able to wash it away.

“Jemma…”

I hadn’t noticed that tears were running my cheeks again until Caleb reached forward and wiped the side of my face with his hand. He was done, the ritual was over, and I hadn’t heard a word of it.

“You did what you had to do, Blackburn,” he said, his voice cracking as though he hadn’t used it in days. He had seen where my eyes had gone, and he knew where my mind was. “You get that, right?”

---