I know I would never have done anything with him freely, and I’ve had enough now. I’m done with his games. The more time races on, the less chance James has.

“Are we done?” I ask, ensuring to keep my voice firm and steady.

He looks at me confused. “Meaning?”

“Meaning – have you achieved what you came here to achieve or are we going to sit here forever and a day discussing your delusions? Because if we are, then please just put me out of my misery now.”

He laughs loudly. It echoes around the room. “Yes. We are just about done. We can go now if you want . . . or do you want to stay and watch your boyfriend take his final breath.”

My heart constricts. “Oh no, no, no, don’t kill him,” I say panicked. “Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll come with you wherever you want. Just don’t kill him, please.”

“Nice of you to offer,” he muses, smoothing his hand over his hair. “But you were always coming with me. And he –” he points a finger, and glances over at James, a smile playing on his lips, “well, that’s out of my hands. It’s the blood that’s been trickling into his brain that’s been doing the trick.” His eyes flash victory.

I stare at him James, transfixed. “No,” I whisper, my eyes blurring with tears. I blink them away furiously, angry they’re blocking my vision.

He’s been here dying right before my very eyes and I’ve not done a single thing to help him.

Hold on, baby. Please. I’m sorry.

“And . . . he’s gone. Finally,” I hear Arlo say. He doesn’t bother to hide the glee in his voice. “So you see, Lucyna, you only have me left now. Looks like your all out of options.”

Chapter 25

Bloodied Hands

“Aaaarrgghhh!” Is that me screaming?

It must be.

“It’s okay, Lucyna.” I hear Arlo’s dispassionate voice come from across the room. The sound is like hot needles piercing my skin. “The pain will pass soon.”

Oh God, I’m being crushed. This is agony. Somebody help. Please.

I open my eyes and I’m looking at Arlo. He has his perpetual air of unconcern, calm. He doesn’t look like he's just killed James.

James is dead.

Oh no. No. No. No. No.

I stare blankly ahead, tears flooding from my eyes.

“I’m sorry to cause you pain but it has to be this way,” he says indifferently. “It’s for the best. You’ll see this soon.”

I open my mouth but nothing happens. I’m empty of words. I’m hollow. I’m dead inside.

“We’re leaving now,” Arlo tells me. “I can’t release the bind I have on you as I don’t think I can trust you not to try and run. Not that you’d get far.” He chuckles. “But best not to take any chances –”

And you’d think the next voice I hear would fill me with relief, but how can I feel relief when I feel nothing.

“Let her go, Arlo.”

“Hi, Isabel,” he says, seemingly unperturbed at her appearance. He gets up out of his seat. “Been a while.”

“Not long enough.” She smiles sweetly.

“Touché.” He laughs. “So your here to save the day?” he adds with a sneer.

“And to take you home.” She is watching him as a human being would watch a snake. As I would now.

He laughs again, louder this time. “Really? And you think you can do that?”

As he says this I see other angels appear. Three of them, evenly spaced around the room. I don’t know any of them.

Arlo runs his eyes over them and raises his eyebrows. “Are you really sure you want to do this?” he says to Isabel.

“No, but there’s no other choice. You’re obviously not going to come willingly and I can’t allow you to do this.” She moves a hand in my direction. “So . . .” She leaves her words hanging in the air.

Then, in the blink of my eyes, the room is mayhem and I’m sat on the sofa, paralysed, in the middle of it all.

The energy in the room is so high it could light the whole city for a year. My skin is tingling from it. Arlo is really strong. His target is Isabel, and even though the other angels are all around him, he seems unfazed, able to keep them back with ease. I pray that Isabel is going to be okay.

But really all I care about is getting to James. I might be able to save him if I can get to him. It might not be too late. Because if I don’t, he will be reborn and then I may never find him again. But even if I did, he wouldn’t be James anymore. He’d be different.

Isabel manages to toss Arlo away from her, and the instant she does so he must have lost his focus because I can move. I’m up and off that sofa in an instant. Arlo doesn’t seem to notice that his hold on me has gone or that I’ve moved, because he doesn’t stop me.

When I reach James I drop down onto my knees beside him. I lean over and carefully pull him onto his back, laying him flat. His eyes are closed. There’s blood matted in his hair and on his forehead.

I have to help him. How? CPR. I’ve never done it before. So, do it now. Okay. He’s laid flat. Next tilt his head back. What is it, ten compressions? Fifteen? Anything for God's sake, Lucyna. Just stop wasting time.

I put my hands on his chest and begin CPR, not caring what’s unfolding behind me.

“Six – seven – come on baby wake up – nine – ten.” I stop pumping and blow my breath into his mouth, once, twice. His lips feel cold on mine. I wait a second. Nothing. I start pumping on his chest again.

“Come on James – three – you can’t leave me here alone – six – seven . . .” Tears are streaming down my face. I wipe them away on my sleeve. Tears are an added irritation I don’t need. Right now, I need to concentrate on saving James. I breathe into his mouth again. Once, twice.

Then I hold my own breath.

Nothing.

“No! You’re not leaving me!” I bang my fist on his chest. “I saved you once before. I can save you again!” I begin pumping harder down on his chest. “One – two – three, you’re not leaving me, not after all of this. Not after everything I’ve gone through to be with you. Come on, James! This isn’t you! You’re a fighter! Fight, baby, fight! Nine – ten.” I blow as much of my warm air into his lungs as I can. I stare at his face, willing him to breathe. “Breathe, James,” I plead. “You can do it.”

Nothing.

“NO!” I drop my head on his chest, gripping my fingers into his t-shirt. “Please don’t give up!”

And then I’m angry. Angry with him for giving up, angry with me for letting this happen, angry with the God for not stopping this from happening.

I beat my hands on his chest. “Wake up!” I cry. “Fight to stay! Don’t let him win!”

I stare down at his unmoving face, my chest heaving up and down, the words cutting up in my throat and a sudden calm washes over me. I notice I’m crying again and my tears are dripping onto his t-shirt, spoiling it. I dry my face with my hand. Then I pull his limp body up onto my lap. I try to wipe away the blood on his forehead with my hand. It smears.

His blood is on my hand. I stare numbly down at it.

This is my fault. He would never have died if I hadn’t been so selfish. If I had just left him alone in the beginning, Arlo would never have done all of this. He would still be alive now. James died because of me.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper as I trace my finger around his face. His perfect face. He looks so peaceful, like he’s sleeping.

Did you know, James? Did you know you were going to die? You didn’t cry out for help or say 'stop', or scream, or anything. You were just so silent. So quiet.

My eyes move to the picture of James and Max on the floor. I wipe my bloodstained hand on my t-shirt, and reach over and pick up the broken frame. I tip the shards of glass out onto the floor.

I study James’ face in the picture. He looks happy. He was happy, before me, before I came and ruined his life. Before I ended his life.

This pain inside me is a burning agony filled with a sense of loss and regret which is never going to go away. I can’t change any of it. I can’t take it back. How am I supposed to go on living like this without him?

How did all those people I used to see when I was a Bringer do it? How did they go on? I press my arm across my chest trying to contain the wretchedness I feel. I can barely breathe. Nothing will ever make it go away.

Funny how when I was a Bringer, all I wanted was to be able to feel, and I remember how I used to wonder what was worse – to feel the agonising pain of loss or to have never felt it at all. At least now I know the answer.

And it’s clear to me what I have to do.

I smooth James’ dark hair away from his beautiful face and press my lips to his one last time. “I love you,” I whisper.

I rest him gently back to the floor and place the photo of him and Max on his chest.

Then I rise calmly to my feet and walk into the still ongoing fracas, right into the direct line of fire.

Chapter 26

Live Forever

So this is what dying feels like.

It’s nothing like I thought it would be. I feel like I’m being pulled through a wind tunnel backwards and at high speed. It shouldn’t be like this, should it? Or maybe I’m being reborn. Maybe this is what rebirth is like. Of course, I won’t die like a normal person – meet my Bringer, go to Heaven. I’m like James.

James.

Oh God, it hurts. It hurts too much. The sooner this rebirth happens the better. Then I won’t remember anything.

Wait, didn’t I do this before, choose to forget. Isn’t that taking the easy way out? Am I a coward? Probably. I know it’s harder to stay and fight but I can’t do it, not without him.

Well I guess it’s too late now anyway.

I knew the instant I was hit. I walked straight into the fight between Arlo and Isabel. The look in his eyes, the moment he saw that his bolt of energy aimed at Isabel had hit me, was poetic. I’m glad it was him that killed me. He’ll feel that pain forever – unless Isabel couldn’t overcome him and he finds me again. Oh God, what if he finds me and then I won’t know it’s him or what he’s up to. Oh no, what have I done? I should have waited to see if Isabel was okay, I shouldn’t have just left her or the other angels there with him. But if I had stayed and Arlo overcame them, I would still have been his. He would have taken me with him. Maybe it really is better this way. I had it right first time. Or maybe there was no right way. Honestly, I don’t know and I don’t care, I just want to stop feeling this way. Why haven’t I forgotten yet? And what is that light? Where am I?

I blink open my heavy eyes.

I’m still in James’ living room and I’m back sitting on the sofa.

Is this Heaven? Was I allowed back in after all? Have they forgiven me my misdemeanors and given me another chance? My heart lifts. If so, they couldn’t have got my version of perfect more right. James’ home. My haven. I feel so close to him here, surrounded by all his things. And they’ve got it spot on. Everything looks just like it used to before Arlo tore it all up. The only thing missing is James.