Something told Jim not to go any farther.
He did, anyway.
Reaching out, he put his imaginary finger on the imaginary forehead of the primary DelVecchio -
The moment contact was made, a live-wire jolt shot into him, stopping his heart and jerking his body. Then, as if he were a tuning fork, a reverberation took root - and took over. Beginning with the fingertip and vibrating down his hand and his wrist and his arm, what started as a subtle tremor became so violent, he literally shook apart ... until there were two fingertips, two hands, two wrists, two arms, with him going between the extremes like a flag ripping back and forth in a gale-force wind.
He was vaguely aware of someone yelling his name, but there was no chance of responding. He was in a fight for his immortal life, the blurring threatening to destroy him - and he was just about to lose his grip on himself completely when the DelVecchios separated until they were distinct identities linked together only at the hips and lower body.
The one on the right was smiling, and it was not the detective. It was the older DelVecchio from the newspaper article, the one with the stained soul and the evil acts.
The son of a bitch was loving this destruction.
Fucking hell ... Jim had a terrible feeling he was not walking away from this.
Adrian knew the shit was going to hit the fan the instant Jim's hands started to vibrate around the badge.
Not normal.
And then streaming black smoke curled up out of the cupped link of Jim's palms, coalescing and then encasing the angel's grip on DelVecchio's shield. The shaking started as nothing more than a slow back-and-forth, but quickly that motion evolved into a violent rattling until the badge dropped out of Jim's hold, and bounced on the short-napped carpet.
For a split second, he thought that was going to stop it, but the smoke no longer needed the external source: Jim's own hands and arms had become the base from which the quaking infection sprouted.>
"If it gets to his heart, we've lost him," Eddie ground out.
Which was the cue to get moving. Adrian and his best friend leaped up at the same time and went in opposite directions. As Eddie gunned for the connector to their room, Ad jumped on the bed behind Jim. Bracing himself, he knelt down and locked his arms around that big chest, positioning the grip as high as possible, to form a physical barrier against the onslaught.
He knew the moment the tide hit him - icy cold wafted across his skin, so frigid it registered as a burn. Opening himself up, he gave the rush a different area to contaminate, offering another target ... even if it meant sacrificing himself.
But the shit wasn't interested in him; he was barely a speed bump as the tremors headed downward for Jim's pecs.
The saving grace they needed was that solution of lemon, white vinegar, hydrogen peroxide, and witch hazel, and good thing Eddie was always prepared. He came flying in from their room with a bucketful of the stuff, moving so fast it sloshed out, splashing his leathers and his World Wildlife Foundation T-shirt.
The angel swung back and then hit them with a splash, soaking their upper bodies along with the bed. And then it was cue the evac: with an ear-numbing screech, the evil took off in rush, leaving only a stinky smolder that wafted off Jim's wet head and chest. In the wake of the departure, the savior collapsed forward, going so limp the only thing that kept him on the bed was the hold around his torso.
"Easy there," Ad muttered, as he lay the guy out flat.
Jim opened his eyes and blinked like he wasn't sure what he was seeing.
"It's the ceiling," Ad provided. "How you doing?"
"I didn't get ... any intel ... from Veck."
"And guess what - you're not trying again."
"What the hell ... was that? I feel like I've been in a turbine."
Eddie sat down next to them, settling Dog on his lap. "Devina's already in DelVecchio at a very deep level."
"Goddamn it ... can she not cheat? Just for once." Jim fingertipped the front of his wet shirt, pulling the second skin free of his chest. "And shit, I feel polluted."
Adrian went to the bathroom and grabbed some towels. When he came back, he draped one over Jim and did a little work on his own head.
He didn't mind a hard fight, as long as it was a fair one - and this business with Devina going outside the rules was getting ridiculous. Meanwhile, Jim had all but sold himself to that demon for information, and to top it off? Nigel, their coach, didn't seem in a big hurry to throw a protest upstairs.
The whole thing sucked ass.
Reaching down, he snagged the badge and shoved it in his pocket. When Jim looked like he was going to protest, it was a case of whatever-buddy: "Sorry. You're going to need some time before the stank is fully out of you. Touch this now? We're going to have the same problem all over again, only worse." He pointed his finger right into Eddie's face. "And f**k. You."
'Cause it was obvious there was going to be a round of no-you-don'ts from the angel.
"I'm just going to take the badge back." Kinda. "DelVecchio wakes up with it go and he's going to feel like he's losing more of his mind. You want that? Good. Glad you agree."
Before either one of them could tune up again, he went into his and Eddie's room, and stripped down - with a struggle. Leathers were tough to get off in the first place, but with the lemony wash? Like frickin' glue.
"Swear to me," Eddie said from the doorway, "that you will not touch him. In any way."
Adrian pulled on a fresh pair of fatigues and snagged the badge from his other pants. "Swear to God."
The sound of someone trying to cough his liver up was exactly the conversation ender they needed. Jim was in for a hell of a ride, and although Eddie didn't look like nursemaid material, the bastard was great at it - something Ad had learned firsthand.
"I'll be back before you know I'm gone." Adrian smiled. "Trust me."
Eddie just rolled his eyes and went back into the other room, no doubt to hold a wastepaper basket under Jim's heaving.
In the blink of an eye, Adrian was on the front lawn of DelVecchio's little slice of home-sweet-home. The wind had come up and was blowing from the north, and the cold, crystal-clear Canadian air that came from over the border tingled in his sinuses.
No reason to knock. He just shifted himself into the living room, where DelVecchio was still asleep on the couch.
Placing the badge on the floor next to the guy's gun and holster, Adrian knelt down and reached out a hand. Passing his palm over DelVecchio's face, he lulled the man into an even deeper sleep, soothing the poor bastard.
The resulting trance revealed the truth: unfettered by consciousness, the extent of Devina's possession was obvious: she was all over every inch of him.
They might be too late already, Ad thought as he started to circle his hand over the guy's head.
"Hey, my man," he whispered. "I want you to go back to last night. Into the woods. Go back to the woods. Into the woods by the motel. In and among the pine trees. You've parked that bike - which, P.S., would it kill you to go old-school? A Beamer? Really? You might as well be straddling a Cuisinart." When DelVecchio's brows twitched, Ad figured a debate on motorcycles could wait. "You've parked that Eurotrash POS and you're walking through the forest. You're looking for Kroner. You're waiting for Kroner. Tell me what you're doing."
Ad kept up with circling. "Talk to me. What are you doing - "
"I'm going ... to kill him."
The words were soft and spoken through a mouth that barely moved.
"With what," Ad prompted. "Tell me everything, buddy."
"My ... knife. I have ... my knife with me and I'm ... waiting... ." DelVecchio frowned again, but this time it seemed more like he was staring off into the distance even though his eyes were closed. "I know he's going to show."
"And when he does - what do you do?"
While Ad waited for the answer, he prayed for a miracle. He'd seen the report on the news so he knew that someone had done a serious number on that Kroner character. If somehow it could be anyone other than Veck, at least they'd be headed in a better direction.
"I palm my blae ... and I step forward. I'm ... going to kill him. With my knife." The guy's right hand twitched at his thigh, then formed a fist as if gripping a dagger. "I'm going to - There's someone else here."
DelVecchio held his breath and didn't move at all on the couch, just as he must have done out in the woods.
"Who." When there was no reply, Adrian wanted to shake the guy's box of marbles to clear up the cognitive jam, but instead just continued circling his palm. "Who is it?"