Her form . . . was solid.

It was her. He had willed her to him. And there she stood. Livia.

Bram stared, seeing Livia for the first time as an actual woman. Not a ghost or the hazy shape of her memories, but alive, and entire.

Her skin was olive-hued and burnished, her hair an opulent brown. And her eyes. Dark and sparkling and wise beyond measure. Wicked, too. Hers was a wisdom not limited solely to the mind.

When he saw grass flatten beneath her sandaled feet as she approached, his heart pounded. She did not glide or hover, but walked, her lush hips hypnotic beneath the silk of her gown. They stared at each other, he on one bank of the stream, she on the other. The stream itself was less than six feet across, so that, when he looked upon her, he could see the rise and fall of her chest, the wonderment that parted her lips.

“You are truly here?” Disbelief and hope tightened her voice.

She sounded different, as well. Her words came from actual breath, and were far richer and more potent than he could have believed.

“I’ve come for you.”

“No one leaves this place.”

“You will.” He held out a hand for her.

He could only reach as far as the middle of the stream, his arm outstretched, his hand open and waiting.

For a moment, her gaze moved back and forth between his hand and his face. Then, slowly, she reached for him.

His breath refused to come as he watched her stretch out her hand. For so long he had wanted to touch her. To feel her skin against his. He’d never wanted anything more.

And then, at last, her fingers touched his.

The contact of skin to skin roared through him like a lightning storm. Only the brush of her fingers against his, and the pleasure was so acute he fought to remain standing.

Her fingers moved down the length of his, until their palms met, and they clasped each other’s wrists.

He felt her pulse beneath his fingertips, and his throat ached. He tore his gaze away from the sight to look up at her face. Her eyes glistened.

Yet this was not enough. Still holding tight to her wrist, he stepped into the stream. Icy water flowed around his boots, and the rocky bed was slick, but he barely noticed. He pulled her toward him.

She gasped as she plunged forward, splashing into the water. And gasped again when their bodies met.

The stream twisted away, leaving them standing upon the ground. This, too, shifted beneath them like a restless animal.

He didn’t notice. He felt her, touched her. His mind stilled. His heart raced.

The length of her body pressed against his, warm and firm and living. Her arms were around his shoulders, pressing him tightly to her, and all he could do was simply feel her. In this vale of death, he knew only the sensation of Livia touching him and her in his arms. Made all the more wondrous and agonizing because it was their first and last time they would ever feel one another.

She pulled back enough to gaze up at him. “There is only one way to reach this place—death.”

“You did not die to come here.”

“But you did.”

He nodded once, brief and clipped.

She clenched his shoulders. “Gods. Why?” Her throat worked. “Why would you doom yourself?”

“If one of us needs to be alive, it must be you.”

“Don’t you understand,” she cried. “They will come for you. The demons. They’ll drag you to Hades. There’s no escaping them.”

“I’ve already felt them at my heels. If I can outrun them a little longer, long enough to get you back to the realm of the living”—he smiled faintly—“then everything is as it should be.” He threaded his fingers with hers. “It was my intent to find you and bring you back. I’ve accomplished one of those goals. Now it’s time to realize the other.”

“Nobody has ever returned.”

“You will.”

“But you shall not.”

He remained silent.

“Damn you,” she choked, pressing her face against his chest.

He held her close, cupping the back of her head. If they could only stay like this. If only they had more than this moment. It would have to sustain him for what was to come.

And so it would.

Bram tensed as screams like rusty knives punctured the quiet. Even the creatures perched in nearby trees muttered in fear at the sound.

“Flee,” Livia urged. She held up her hand, and glowing energy danced between her fingers. “I’ll attempt to hold the demons back. You might conceal yourself, find some other realm in which to hide. Please. I cannot watch them drag you away.”

He stepped back, her fingers still threaded with his. “I’ll run, but I’m taking you with me. I will see you back amongst the living. And then . . .” He made himself grin. “Hell will have to contend itself with a true Hellraiser.”

Bram didn’t know what the creatures were that intended to haul him to Hell—whatever they were, they’d be damned unpleasant, and he had no intention of letting them succeed in their goal—not until he’d gotten her safely to the other side. With Livia’s hand clasped in his, he raced over the twilight hills.

Shadows and gloom spread over the landscape, oppressive in their absoluteness. This was a place in which the sun never rose. The ground radiated no lingering warmth, the grass and trees were fed by darkness.

Even with the creatures in pursuit, there was a physical tug within himself, pulling him down into the underworld. He gritted his teeth, fighting that demand.

Yet as Bram’s heart pounded, he felt the heat of Livia’s skin. And he heard the enraged pursuit of large, leather-skinned creatures. Their shrieks echoed over the hills, their fury a palpable thing.

Dark shapes gathered at the corners of his vision, and then he saw them. It would have been better to have remained ignorant of their appearance. They stood eight feet tall, and resembled putrefying corpses, their flesh hanging from their bones or else pulled tight in a decaying bloat. Some had patchy hair, but others’ skulls gleamed through a web of skin, and their eyes were burning green orbs stuck into the sockets. Claws and serrated teeth ensured their prey would not escape.

Livia would be free. And then he’d contend with the demons.

“Where are we headed?” she gasped.

He did not break stride. “To find a way out.”

“If this can happen, it will require an actual door.”

“Know of any doors?” All he saw were hills and more hills.

“No,” she panted. “Hold—the gemini use doors in the vault where they keep souls. The vault lies just beyond the Ambitus.”

“Then we need to find that vault.” He helped steady her when the ground buckled. The demons’ growls sounded as they too fought against the unstable ground.

“Your soul is in it,” Livia said. “But when the demons get hold of you, your soul’s also pulled into Hell.”

“Going there, anyway.”

“Not yet,” she shot back. “We can use your soul as a beacon, have it lead us to the vault. Use our thoughts to find them both.” She chanced a quick look behind her. “Concentration’s difficult.”

“Has to be now.” Bram kept his body moving, fighting to stay ahead of the demons as well as stay upright whilst the ground continued to reform itself beneath him. His mind and purpose, however, worked to find his soul’s presence.

Everything was chaos and darkness. The Devil had possession of his soul, yet Bram almost doubted it existed. But he felt Livia’s certainty, her belief in him, and, as they ran, he joined his thoughts with hers. Her presence filled him.

To his shock, he began to sense something. What was it?

“Yes,” she encouraged. “More.”

There—a gleaming warmth he instinctively recognized. His soul. A shock to feel it, when he’d been so sure it didn’t exist. But she’d brought him to it.

“Cleave to it, hold fast,” Livia urged.