Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I held the harp in trembling hands and faced Justice. He was a complete contrast to Rosslyn Chapel. The sun’s light painted the medieval stone walls in shades of rose and amber, and ribbons of mist wove between Celtic crosses and weathered headstones. The chapel’s western face loomed behind him, its Gothic windows dark, like hollow eyes watching our confrontation.

The courtyard stretched around us in a patchwork of ancient graves and uneven cobblestones, slick with morning dew. Some headstones listed to the side after centuries of Scottish winters, their carved angels and death’s heads worn smooth by time and weather. Wild roses and thorny brambles had claimed the crumbling boundary walls, their pale blooms nodding in the chill breeze like silent mourners.

Around the courtyard’s edge, gnarled yew trees cast long shadows across the wet grass, their branches reaching like skeletal fingers. A lone raven called from atop the chapel’s highest point, its harsh cry shattering the stillness. Beyond the stone walls, rolling hills emerged, their heather-covered slopes still shrouded in morning mist.

Justice stood motionless, his immortal presence more ancient and terrible than even this hallowed ground. The sun turned his skin to marble and his eyes to burning embers as birdsong heralded the morning. Perhaps our last together if I failed.

He released a menacing roar, the sound morphing mid-cry from Justice’s rich baritone to the demon’s guttural snarl and back again.

Ravens erupted from the chapel’s gargoyles as he rushed toward me across the dew-slick cobblestones. His movements were a violent dance of grace and fury, one leg stumbling as Justice fought for control, the other striking with demonic precision. Dark veins writhed beneath his skin like living serpents, spreading from his heart in pulsing waves before retreating as Justice pushed back against the possession.

The air crackled with supernatural energy as Damon’s boots crunched across fallen leaves. “Sawyer, look out!”

Let this work. Please, let our love be enough.

My fingers shook against the harp strings, and the first haunting notes rang through the chill morning air. Justice halted between two ancient monuments, his powerful frame seizing. His face was a twisted canvas of war. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the chill, turning to steam as it rolled down his supernaturally heated skin. His fingers dug into the weathered angel statue, leaving deep gouges in stone that had stood for centuries.

His eyes flickered in an agonizing dance, blood red to warm brown, the colors swirling and fighting for dominance like oil and water. “Sawyer…” His voice cracked before a violent spasm bent him double. His spine curved at an impossible angle. Muscles rippled beneath his shirt as they grew and shifted unnaturally. A network of black veins spread up his neck, pulsing and receding like tide marks on sand.

When he straightened, half his face bore his gentle expression while the other half twisted into a demonic snarl. One eye blazed crimson, and the other remained soft brown, tears of blood tracking down his right cheek. “Music won’t cure me,” the demon snarled from the right side of his mouth as the left side whispered, “Help me.”

He lunged forward, one arm reaching with desperate love while the other curved into talons. My fingers danced across the harp strings, and Justice crashed to his knees. His body convulsed as if being torn apart from within. His bones crackled as they shifted, the demon trying to reshape him while Justice fought to maintain his form.

Tears slipped down my cheeks as he convulsed, but I couldn’t stop. Not if I wanted to save him.

“No!” A demon’s howl of rage.

“No!” Justice’s desperate plea.

“No!” Both voices tangled together in a sound of pure agony.

He writhed in the wet grass, his back arching until only his heels and head touched the ground. His fingers dug furrows in the earth, alternately clawing in torment and grasping as if seeking anchor. The veins pulsed like black lightning, turning his flesh into a roadmap of the war within. His face cycled between expressions—love, rage, peace, torment—each lasting mere seconds before being consumed by the next. Blood trickled from his nose, one side red, the other black, meeting at his lip in a marbled swirl.

His shadow split and danced around him, one the sharp, twisted shape of the demon, the other his own familiar silhouette, wrestling for dominance on the dew-soaked ground as my music wound around him like chains of light.

His eyes flickered one final time, blood-red fighting warm brown, before the music reached a crescendo. The chapel’s stones sang with centuries of sacred power, and Justice arched backward as golden light poured from his eyes and mouth. The demon’s shadows tried to hold on, creating horrific patterns beneath his skin, but they couldn’t withstand the combined power of love, music, and hallowed ground.

With a sound like breaking glass and crumbling stone, the demon’s presence shattered. Justice collapsed onto the dew-soaked grass. Steam rose where his fevered skin touched the sacred ground. The black veins faded like pottery cracks sealed with gold, leaving behind a faint, shimmering tracery that spoke of healing rather than harm.

When he lifted his head, his eyes were his own again, warm brown and filled with tears. No demon’s shadow lingered in his expression, no rage haunted his eyes. The sun caught the traces of gold beneath his skin, making him glow like a renaissance painting, restored and more beautiful for having been broken and mended.

“Sawyer, keep your distance.” Damon’s gruff command cut through my hope. I felt his familiar presence move closer, solid and protective as always. My twin brother, ready to throw himself between me and danger, like he’d done since we were kids.

I wanted to run to Justice, to touch his face and make sure this was real, but Damon’s arm shot out in front of me, a barrier as unmovable as iron. I felt him practically vibrating with tension, his silver knife catching the dawn light. Classic Damon. Though Justice was mostly healed, he wasn’t taking chances. Not with his sister’s life.

“Hold up,” he growled when I tried to step forward. The brotherly tone that usually annoyed me now brought a lump to my throat. Even facing down my vampire mate, even after everything we’d been through, he was still trying to keep me safe. “Let’s make sure it’s really him first.”

Tears blurred my eyes as Justice lay on the grass, panting.

Damon’s gruff voice cut through the morning air. “Justice? That really you in there, buddy, or am I gonna have to explain to my sister why I had to gank her boyfriend?”

The threat in his words was real, but I heard what lay beneath them. The pain it would cause him to have to hurt someone he’d come to consider family. Despite his tough hunter exterior, I knew Damon had grown to care about Justice, too. He’d never admit it out loud because that wasn’t the Grant way, but his knife hand trembled slightly, and his jaw clenched against the possibility of having to follow through on the threat.

“Say something only Justice would know,” Damon demanded, and I held my breath. My brother’s arm stayed firm across my path, and I felt the subtle shift in his stance, ready to shove me behind him if things went wrong.

The sunlight caught the lingering gold traces beneath Justice’s skin as we waited for his response, and I found myself praying my brother’s protective instincts wouldn’t be needed this time. That for once, we could have a miracle without paying for it in blood.