whirled around him, and she could no longer make out his frame.
Anthony was being burned alive.
Skye tried to jump up to rescue him, but an unseen weight pushed her back down. Her heart leapt in her throat as she watched the fire turn bright red, twirl, and like a reverse tornado, rise into the sky with a sickly, deafening scream.
Anthony’s body lay faceup on the stone path. She crawled over to him, her limbs like lead.
He was staring at the sky, his dark eyes searching. His clothing was scorched and reeked of smoke, but his hands, his face, his limbs had no burn marks. How could that be? How could he have survived the fire unscathed?
“Watch out!” He rolled and flung his body on top of hers. From the corner of her eye, she watched the fireball come back down from the dark sky, heading straight toward them. She tried to crawl away, but Anthony pinned her down, his entire body covering hers in a protective shield.
The flames hit the roof of the chapel like a comet. Glass exploded from every window. An unreal screech surrounded them as the fire spread into every nook, every room, every corner of the building.
Except the courtyard where they lay.
Hot air filled her lungs and all she wanted was to escape, but Anthony held her still.
“Don’t move.” His lips were on her ear, but she could barely hear him over the roar of the flames.
What was happening? He grabbed her wrists when she struggled to escape, held them tight against his chest. His heart pounded against her hands. Power and fear radiated from his body. He completely covered her, shielding her, her face buried in his neck. He murmured something that might have been a prayer or a plea.
In the middle of destruction, she’d never felt so completely safe.
A cry surrounded them, and suddenly all the air in the courtyard disappeared with a violent whoosh!
She gasped, straining to breathe against Anthony’s chest. He still held her, but now she fought for air. Air…
He covered her mouth with his and pushed air into her lungs.
Suddenly she was off her feet and being carried through the courtyard. She clung to Anthony’s neck until he eased her into the passenger seat of her Bronco.
She looked over his shoulder at what had been the mission. Smoke rolled from the windows, out the chapel door, rose from where the roof had once been, filtering into the dark sky. Not a flame could be seen, just smoldering ruins. Yet less than ten minutes had passed since she first saw the flames.
It couldn’t have gone out on its own. Could it? There had to be a logical explanation, something the fire chief would be able to explain to her.
But she had no logical explanation for what she had seen. That Anthony had been wrapped in flames, completely immersed, and yet he knelt here before her, without a mark.
He touched her face, his large hands surprisingly gentle. “You’re okay.” It was a statement, not a question, but she nodded.
His thumb brushed against her lips. She stared into Anthony’s dark eyes and knew she had a crime she couldn’t handle alone.
“I lost the journal,” she whispered.
Anthony reached into his shirt and handed her the journal. “I picked it up when you ran from Rafe’s room.”
“Did you know what was going to happen?”
He shook his head. “But I’ve seen it before.”
“What? Spontaneous combustion?” She tried to make light of it, but neither of them smiled.
“No, that fire was most certainly set by one of the people responsible for summoning Ianax.”
Skye ached in disappointment. Not because she wanted to believe in evil spirits, but because he wasn’t being consistent. “First demons, now humans? You’re messing with me, Mr. Zaccardi.”
“Demons can’t set fires or do anything without a person to help them. They may be able to control those humans who have already given up their souls, they may even be able to temporarily control humans against their will. Possessions. And the most powerful among them can use
Anthony was being burned alive.
Skye tried to jump up to rescue him, but an unseen weight pushed her back down. Her heart leapt in her throat as she watched the fire turn bright red, twirl, and like a reverse tornado, rise into the sky with a sickly, deafening scream.
Anthony’s body lay faceup on the stone path. She crawled over to him, her limbs like lead.
He was staring at the sky, his dark eyes searching. His clothing was scorched and reeked of smoke, but his hands, his face, his limbs had no burn marks. How could that be? How could he have survived the fire unscathed?
“Watch out!” He rolled and flung his body on top of hers. From the corner of her eye, she watched the fireball come back down from the dark sky, heading straight toward them. She tried to crawl away, but Anthony pinned her down, his entire body covering hers in a protective shield.
The flames hit the roof of the chapel like a comet. Glass exploded from every window. An unreal screech surrounded them as the fire spread into every nook, every room, every corner of the building.
Except the courtyard where they lay.
Hot air filled her lungs and all she wanted was to escape, but Anthony held her still.
“Don’t move.” His lips were on her ear, but she could barely hear him over the roar of the flames.
What was happening? He grabbed her wrists when she struggled to escape, held them tight against his chest. His heart pounded against her hands. Power and fear radiated from his body. He completely covered her, shielding her, her face buried in his neck. He murmured something that might have been a prayer or a plea.
In the middle of destruction, she’d never felt so completely safe.
A cry surrounded them, and suddenly all the air in the courtyard disappeared with a violent whoosh!
She gasped, straining to breathe against Anthony’s chest. He still held her, but now she fought for air. Air…
He covered her mouth with his and pushed air into her lungs.
Suddenly she was off her feet and being carried through the courtyard. She clung to Anthony’s neck until he eased her into the passenger seat of her Bronco.
She looked over his shoulder at what had been the mission. Smoke rolled from the windows, out the chapel door, rose from where the roof had once been, filtering into the dark sky. Not a flame could be seen, just smoldering ruins. Yet less than ten minutes had passed since she first saw the flames.
It couldn’t have gone out on its own. Could it? There had to be a logical explanation, something the fire chief would be able to explain to her.
But she had no logical explanation for what she had seen. That Anthony had been wrapped in flames, completely immersed, and yet he knelt here before her, without a mark.
He touched her face, his large hands surprisingly gentle. “You’re okay.” It was a statement, not a question, but she nodded.
His thumb brushed against her lips. She stared into Anthony’s dark eyes and knew she had a crime she couldn’t handle alone.
“I lost the journal,” she whispered.
Anthony reached into his shirt and handed her the journal. “I picked it up when you ran from Rafe’s room.”
“Did you know what was going to happen?”
He shook his head. “But I’ve seen it before.”
“What? Spontaneous combustion?” She tried to make light of it, but neither of them smiled.
“No, that fire was most certainly set by one of the people responsible for summoning Ianax.”
Skye ached in disappointment. Not because she wanted to believe in evil spirits, but because he wasn’t being consistent. “First demons, now humans? You’re messing with me, Mr. Zaccardi.”
“Demons can’t set fires or do anything without a person to help them. They may be able to control those humans who have already given up their souls, they may even be able to temporarily control humans against their will. Possessions. And the most powerful among them can use
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