He’d never seen anything like it. From the moment the floor dropped free from Vin and that blast of white light shot up from nowhere, to the electric second when Eddie put the knife to use and then started pulling, it was all so incredible.

God, that knife.

It was the most beautiful thing Jim had ever seen: When the light had hit it, a child’s spectrum of vivid colors had sprung forth, the hues so bright and clear, it was as if his eyes were young again and seeing them for the first time.

But the struggle…he’d been certain Vin was going to die. In the fulcrum of the glow, Eddie had stabbed the man and reached inside his chest and started yanking like he was trying to drag a car out of a swamp. And in response, Vin had screamed from a vast distance, the agony tearing out of his throat as his body had strained.

At that moment, Marie-Terese had lunged forward, but Jim had caught her, instinct telling him she couldn’t get in the way of what was going on, no matter how dire things appeared. Interrupting was not in the playbook: This was surgery for the soul and the cancer had to come out. Even if the man died in the middle of it, the extraction attempt was the right course of action.

Jim held her as loosely as he could, and she ended up against him, nails deep in his forearm as she watched, as helpless as he was to affect the outcome.

It was all about Eddie and Vin and whatever fate was going to roll out.

And then it happened. Eddie started to win the battle—what he was pulling on began to give way, first in increments, then with a final, exploding separation that landed the angel on his ass.

But there was no time for celebration.

As soon as whatever that black shit was got out of Vin, it was free in the air, a vicious-looking shadow that wafted loose—and immediately came gunning for Marie-Terese. Rippling through the air, it pulled itself together, darkened up like it was gathering strength, and faced off at the woman.

Jim shoved Marie-Terese behind him and forced her up against the wall. Working fast with the crystal gun, he popped the plug on its belly and poured what was inside all over her, until it was dripping off her nose and from the ends of her hair.

He wished he had a bucket of the shit.

Wheeling back around, he braced himself as the shadow hurled itself at them. Impact was not a party, the smoky nonentity registering like a thousand bee stings across his skin. Marie-Terese screamed—

No, it wasn’t her. The thing screamed and splintered apart, looking like BB pellets that had been scattered across a floor.