Page 101 of Lourdes & the Mafia
“Lourdes!”
My gaze snaps to Kane. His brows are pinched together, frustrated and worried.
“Ramiel,” I whisper. “He hurt Ramiel.”
“Who did?”
Darkness rises at our feet.
“Where is he?”
I don’t know where he is. I want to say those words, but I bite my tongue. I want to reach for Kane, but I know what will happen if I do. Never before have I wanted so badly to touch someone. I turn to Lorenzo instead.
I don’t know what propels me. It feels like instinct. Or maybe it’s… my magic. It hums in my body. My body hums, because the magic is me.
And I am it.
“Let me show you…” I grab his hand and he writhes as the vision I just saw zaps into him and he sees what I did. When it ceases, he gasps and turns sharply to Kane. Silent words pass between them and I wonder if they’re using some sort of mind link to communicate.
Before I can ask, the darkness crests higher.
And we’re swallowed in its depths.
My feet land on the ground with a hard thud, vibrating up to my knees and skull. I gasp as the dark night curtains around us, the light of the moon just like in my vision shining down on a single figure that lays on the ground.
Ramiel.
Blood pools beneath him.
The fallen angel is nowhere to be seen.
We run towards him and I drop to my knees at his side, my skin soaking through with his blood.
That fissure of light in the form of a spear protrudes from his chest. It electrifies around his body, and beneath it, he’s still.
So still.
“Ramiel!” My voice cracks. I go to reach for the thing, but a shadowy grip entraps my wrist before I can touch it.
“Don’t,” Kane warns. “Don’t fucking touch it.”
“Kane, we can’t just fucking leave it there!” The hysteria is rising in my voice. I can feel it just at the tip, ready to spill over. And Ramiel is still, barely breathing.
In my mind these men have become a nearly invincible force, men to be reckoned with. To see one of them felled, lying in a pool of his own blood is disturbing. My heart pounds, and I want to grab the spear and rip it from his chest, toss it far away from him. Fuck that weapon that was used against him.
“We aren’t,” Kane says, a hard edge to his voice. “Lorenzo?”
“On it.”
“Get us there.”
And then Kane reaches across and grips the lightning spear within his palm. He screams as it scorches through his palm, and the darkness sweeps up around us at the same time he rips it out. He screams his pain, blood bursting from his fingertips as he tries to toss the weapon aside.
Moments later, we’re gone from the darkness and somewhere else entirely.
I barely pay attention to my surroundings, though. As we land, Lorenzo darts forward quickly, his hands hovering over Ramiel’s body. The blood he lost seeps back into him, the flesh at his chest knitting back together.
The smell of blood is sharp. Dizzying.
