Immortal by J.R. Ward

“Anyone got a pad of paper around here—and a pen?”

    Hours later, as Sissy flipped through the pages of the ancient book, she was relieved to find that the words scribbled on the thick parchment were as easy to read as something between the covers of a Nancy Drew. What was not so hot was that, even with the increase in comprehension, she wasn’t finding anything on Purgatory.
    Most of the passages seemed to be the ramblings of a twisted mind, the commentary loosely integrated and focusing on the nature and composition of souls, the origins of physical life, the layout of Heaven, the balance between sin and virtue.
    And the statistics were just plain weird. Why would anyone care to number the stones of some castle up in the sky? The Manse of Souls, it was called?
    So, yeah, the pad of yellow paper remained blank beside the book, the blue Bic pen unused. But still, all the getting-nowhere was kind of useful: She hadn’t thought of lighting anything on fire for however long she’d had her nose in the book.
    Letting out a groan, she stretched her back and eyed the fireplace. When a soft snore percolated up next to her, she glanced at Ad. He was out like a light, his head back on the cushions of the velvet sofa, his bad leg extended at a strange angle with its boot kicked to the side—as if the bones of his calf had healed together wrong.
    Jim had left about ten minutes ago, stomping out and taking the black cloud over his head with him.
    Sissy pushed the book away, got to her feet, and cracked her right shoulder. Then she walked out of the parlor, intending to go to the kitchen and grab a quick bite—but her plan changed as she caught a flash of red through the windows on either side of the front door.
    â€œWhat the . . .” In fact, there was a red glow . . . emanating through seemingly every piece of glass around the house.
    Rushing for the door, she yanked the heavy panels open.
    It was as if someone had dropped an ink bomb on the property—only it had frozen in place on the free fall, forming a blanket around everything: On the far side of the transparent curtain of red, she could see the ugly lawn, the noontime sun, the sidewalk and the street . . . as well as Jim standing off to the left, his palm raised and glowing even brighter, as if it were the source of the illumination.
    â€œJim?” she said.
    His head lifted and his eyes opened. After a moment, he dropped his arm and came through the stain in the air, stepping right past the barrier he’d created.
    â€œWhat is this?” she asked in wonder.
    â€œMore protection.”
    â€œFrom what.” But like she really needed to ask that?
    â€œDevina. She’s already gotten in here at least once.”
    A chill went through her. “When?”
    â€œThe other night.”
    As he walked up onto the front porch, she put her hand on his arm. “In the house? How?”
    Jim pointedly moved himself out of range and laughed with a bitter edge. “She turned herself into you. How ’bout that.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou heard me. She was you, everything from your hair to your eyes to your . . .” His blue stare went to her mouth and stayed put until he seemed to shake himself out of something. Then he leaned in, his heft dwarfing her, his tired eyes nonetheless sharp as knives. “Look, when I say I don’t want you in the middle of all this, it’s for a good goddamn reason, okay? I don’t want to lose you again—and I sure as shit don’t want to be thrown off my game by worrying about you.”
    Sissy frowned, thinking back to—
    â€œWhen I came and knocked on your door,” she said, thoroughly creeped out. “And you were shocked to see me. That’s when she did it. Didn’t she. That’s when she became me.”
    He turned away and started walking back into the house.
    She grabbed his arm again. “What did