Wicked Nights aotd-1

by Gena Showalter

  “How did you know I was bound to the demon, anyway?” she asked. She’d only just figured it out herself, and she’d told no one. Nor had Zacharel.

  He ignored her question. “Just so you know, a simple stabbing will not kill you, female.”

  “Hey, no one said anything about stabbing!” she said with a frown. But if she did this, how would she go?

  “But you are willing to sacrifice yourself for Zacharel?”

  “Of course.”

  “Even fight Unforgiveness?”

  “Especially that. Why do you want to know?”

  Again, he ignored her question. “Even if Unforgiveness will hurt you before he kills you, yes?”

  “Yes, but I could totally win, you know.”

  “No, you could not.”

  She flexed her biceps. “Do you see these things? I so could.”

  “You could not win with those. It would take something else. Something I am not sure you possess. So why are you willing to risk yourself?” he asked, head tilting to the side. “I do not understand.”

  Easy. “I love Zacharel, and I want to protect him from harm—even harm he would bring himself. I don’t know if he told you about his brother…?”

  A sharp cut of his head in negation. “He did not tell me, but we all know of Hadrenial’s death.”

  But did any of them know exactly how Hadrenial had died? If not, she wouldn’t be the one to tell, so she settled with, “The loss nearly ruined him, and he still struggles with feelings of responsibility and remorse. If he falls, his army—you—will be forced to fall with him, and he won’t be able to live with that.”

  A hard frown greeted her words. “No. He would have told us.”

  This she would have to tell, because it was the only way to make Koldo understand. “He was given charge over you, and his fate will be yours. All of yours.”

  “How do you know this?” Anger pulsed from him, as sharp as a blade.

  “He told me, and you know he doesn’t ever lie.”

  A moment passed in silence. He nodded, as if he’d just made a decision. “You are very brave, Annabelle.” It was the first time he’d ever used her name, and that he’d laced his tone with such respect nearly floored her. “Perhaps you do possess the extra something.”

  In the corner of the room, she spied movement, glanced up and nearly screamed. A serpe was coiled in the far corner of the ceiling, watching.

  Fight-or-flight kicked in—and fight won. She braced her legs apart and fisted her hands, ready.

  But all the demon did was hiss at her, then at Koldo, and slither away.

  “Wait here. I shall return, and you shall have what you desire,” Koldo said—and vanished.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  ZACHAREL WAS SURPRISED by the ease with which he was granted an audience with the Deity, especially considering the recent turmoil in the heavens. Usually, even angels who had been summoned here had to wait.

  The day of punishment had arrived.

  He’d known his recent actions would get him in trouble and he hadn’t cared. Still didn’t. Annabelle had become the most important part of his life, and he would endure the worst of the worst for her.

  At least most of the damage done to the temple had been cleaned away, the grass and flowers tended, the rivers purified. Blood no longer decorated the walls or steps. Lysander’s army formed a gate around the edge of the perimeter, stopping anyone who approached.

  All but him, that is. He sailed through with only a nod of affirmation. He landed on the last step, striding forward without a hitch. To his surprise, Lysander met him at the huge, arching doors and entered alongside him. With his pale hair, dark eyes and wings of the most magnificent gold, Lysander was the standard most angels were measured against. Beauty personified, once cut from the same emotionless cloth as Zacharel.

  “You were expected,” his friend said, voice echoing through the foyer. The domed ceiling was not painted to resemble the night sky, but actually revealed it. Stars twinkled from their black velvet perches, so close stardust danced through the air like diamonds.

  He tried not to let the announcement rattle him. Gaze on a thick column comprised of shimmery crystals, smoothed and polished to reflect all the colors of the rainbow, he said, “I’m…sorry I left you to defend the temple.”

  Lysander slapped his shoulder. “When your woman has need of you, nothing else matters. This I know well.”

  He could only hope the Deity felt the same way. They rounded several corners and finally came to another set of doors. The large, arching entrance was guarded, for it led straight into the throne room.

  “Any advice?” he asked.

  “You are a good leader, with sharp instincts,” Lysander said. “Trust yourself, and you’ll come out of this just fine.”

  The two angel guards, bigger and taller than most, threw open the double doors and Zacharel strode past without his friend. The room was emptied out, no guards, no orchestra, no decorations, only a solid gold throne on top of the dais.

  Upon that throne sat the Deity, and as usual his appearance amazed Zacharel. He looked as innocent and frail as an aged human, with deeply lined skin, silver hair and shaky hands.

  Zacharel bowed his head and dropped to his knees, his wings tucked into his sides. Of all the meetings he’d had here, this was the most important, yet he had no idea how to begin.

  “I am surprised you came without a summons.” The unassuming voice was soft and gentle.

  And yet you expected me, anyway. “I need your help.”

  “And you expect me to give it?”

  “I know I’ve done wrong, but I will not apologize.” He would never offer a token apology again. Like Annabelle, he would stand for what he believed in and never back down. “I did what I had to do to protect my woman, and I would do it all over again.”

  Eyes of the deepest black swirled, oil glistening in the sun. “Did I hear you correctly? You’ll do anything to protect a human?”

  He nodded. “My human.”

  Trembling fingers tapped against a weathered chin. “You say that now, but I wonder…. You thought you would come here, state your case, ask for what you desire, and that would be that. Well, once upon a time, I would have allowed such a thing. But no longer. I cannot baby you forever.”

  Baby? “I am a warrior,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “I know I am due several whippings first, and I willingly accept them.”

  “You are due, yes. You took responsibility of Annabelle, and yet you allowed harm to come to her on more than one occasion. You even caused her harm yourself. Then you sat back as she harmed others.”

  “Yes. And I accept whatever you decide to do, but I ask that you help me, too.”

  A pause.

  Such a thick silence.

  Then, “You desire my help with Annabelle even though she is a demon’s consort?”

  “She is not a demon’s consort,” he gritted out. “She is mine.”

  Unperturbed, the Deity continued on, “And you wish for me to help you challenge the demon who thinks to take her from you.”

  “A demon who has harmed many humans in his quest to reach her.”

  Another bout of silence, just as thick but now so heavy Zacharel’s shoulders drooped under the weight.

  “Much has changed for you since we last spoke,” the Deity said.

  “Yes,” he repeated. His heart drummed erratically.

  “Tell me, Zacharel, what you have learned.”

  This, he did not have to think about. “I have learned the value of human life. I have learned the value of love and commitment. I have learned to place another’s needs before my own.”

  “Have you truly?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s find out, shall we. Tell me, Zacharel. Would you sacrifice yourself for your Annabelle?”

  So casually asked, but with the Deity, there was always a purpose. “I would.” No question.

  “Would you sacrifice something dearer even than t
hat? Would you sacrifice your brother’s life to save her?”

  He frowned. “My brother has no life to give. He is dead.”

  “No. He lives.”

  Zacharel…had no response to that. Like the angels, the Deity would not lie. That meant… That couldn’t mean… Could only mean…

  “True death is not what you think, angel. A spirit cannot die.”

  “But the Water of Death—”

  “Is not what you think, either. Your brother is alive. He survived.”

  Hope filled him. Joy filled him. So fervently had he prayed for something like this. “More than the water, I also burned his body.”

  “And his body was put back together.”

  Hadrenial was alive!

  They could be together, he thought. They could fly together. Talk and laugh. His brother could meet Annabelle, and they could be a family. They would be a family.

  “I ask again,” the Deity said. “If both Annabelle and your twin stood before you now, if you could only save one life, whose life would you choose?”

  In a single heartbeat, his hope withered. His joy fled. “Why would you ask me to make such a choice? As punishment for my crimes?” he asked, stomach twisting painfully.

  “You have hurt several humans though you knew better. You saved a human at the risk of your own life. You are due both a punishment and a reward.”

  A punishment and a reward. He could have his brother, or he could have Annabelle, but not both. Hadrenial, the most beloved of the angels, so pure of heart, so caring and kind, Zacharel had been humbled. Or Annabelle, who was just as caring and kind. Hadrenial, whom he had missed with all of his heart. Annabelle, whom he craved with the whole of his body. Hadrenial, whose life was cut short by torment and tragedy. Annabelle, who challenged and confounded him at every turn.

  “And if I cannot choose?”

  “Then I will choose for you, for there cannot be life without death, or action without consequence. This you know.”

  His hands fisted. “What of me? Take my life, and allow the pair of them to live.”

  “When no such choice was given to the humans you allowed to be slain?”

  A question that was really a statement. There would be no changing the Deity’s mind. There never was. “May I see him?” he asked. “Will you tell me how you saved him? I removed his love.”

  “There is more to man than a single element, Zacharel. You took his goodness…but left what was festering.”

  “I left nothing.”

  “You left Unforgiveness.”

  Was he implying… No. No! Yet even hearing the word was a blow to the gut. “Where is he?”

  A light appeared in front of Zacharel, growing brighter…brighter still…until he worried he would be blind for the rest of eternity. “Look, and see. Your brother and your woman.”

  * * *

  ANNABELLE SPENT FIVE MINUTES alone. That was it. Just five. She had no idea her entire world would change before the sixth ticked past—when Koldo reappeared in the hotel room.

  A grinning demon stood at his side.

  “Unforgiveness,” Koldo said, shoving him in her direction.

  Instinct caused her to scramble backward. She reached back and grabbed…a lamp, she realized when the “weapon” was in front of her, the cord jerked out of the socket. Her knives were on the nightstand, and the nightstand was far from her reach.

  “What are you doing, Koldo?” she demanded. “What’s going on?”

  “Hello, Annabelle,” the creature said. “Don’t you remember me?”

  “I wasn’t talking to you, demon. Koldo?”

  “He cannot leave this room, but then, neither can you,” Koldo said. “I made sure of it.”

  “At my request,” the demon said, his grin widening.

  “I brought you to her, as you demanded, but I will not bring Zacharel here.”

  “That is not—”

  “Your plan, no. Do not think you will be able to leave on your own. My cloud now surrounds the outside of this room and it will ensure you remain.”

  A low growl erupted. “What game are you playing? One word from me, and the females in my charge will be savaged. Do you hear me? Savaged!”

  “That’s a lie. They’ll be rescued before that happens. And by the way, you didn’t think of everything,” Koldo replied easily. “I did. Annabelle, he’s all yours.” And with that, he vanished, leaving Annabelle a second time.

  A moment passed before she was able to orient herself, to look past her fear and her confusion and the sudden burn in her chest. When she finally realized who—and what—she faced, she released a shrill scream. “You!”

  Here he was, her parents’ killer, except he was even bigger than she remembered him. Taller, far more muscled, but still with that barbarian’s face and a vampire’s fangs. Horns on his shoulders, dripping poison, she was sure, and a tail swishing between his legs.

  “Do not worry, mate of mine. I won’t make you suffer just yet. I’ll play with you first. The fun stuff will begin when Zacharel swoops in to the rescue. And he will. Koldo will not be able to stop him.”

  “I’m not your mate.” A violent tremor threatened to rock her off her feet, the burn in her chest intensifying. Steady. Calm. Can’t let emotions get the better of you. “So you’re Unforgiveness, the coward who sends his minions to fight for him, huh.” Better.

  His fangs elongated as he said, “You’ll pay for that, and so will Zacharel. Where is he, by the way? Not far, I hope.” He looped around her, much as Zacharel had once done, studying every inch of her. A hungry predator who’d just spotted prey.

  She turned with him, never letting him have her back. “He’s busy doing something important.” Subtext: you’re not. “This is between you and me.” And I will come out ahead. I have to.

  “This was never between you and me. I waited centuries to strike at Zacharel, and wasn’t sure I’d ever have the chance. Then your worthless druggie of a brother summoned me into your home and I scented you. Imagine my surprise. I knew instantly who you were to me…who you’d be to Zacharel, and so I exchanged a portion of your spirit with mine, then sent others to torment you until his notice was gained. I’m a very patient male, you know.” His tail swiped out, intending to knock her ankles together and her body to the ground.

  Because of Zacharel’s tutelage, she expected the action and jumped up, throwing the lamp at him, slashing his cheek before shattering on the floor.

  He stilled, rubbed the now black spot. “That wasn’t very nice.”

  “Neither was your lie. There’s no way you could know what I would come to mean to Zacharel.”

  A wide grin bloomed. “Isn’t there?” There was just enough venom in his voice to drill through her doubt.

  “No.” Still he circled her, again and again. She wanted to leap at him, to attack and get this party started, but she had to work her way to the nightstand first.

  “What if I told you that I was Zacharel’s brother? His twin? His other half?”

  One inch…two… “You’d have a better chance of convincing me that you’re Santa Claus.” Even though his claim solved the mystery of the essentia—why Zacharel had seemed to touch her before ever having met her.

  That tail whipped out a second time, faster, harder. “Perhaps I am. I so love leaving little presents behind…like the bodies I left for you, all those years ago. Your parents, yes? Killing them was so amazingly sweet.”

  Might vomit. But at least she managed to gain another inch.

  “I could have left them alone, you know, but I wanted you trapped in one location. I knew you would be blamed and locked away, ready to be rescued by a beautiful dark-haired angel. And so you were.”

  Might sob. “What do you gain from all of this?”

  “Vengeance. Zacharel killed the man I used to be. I woke up in hell, forced to live with the very beings responsible for my torment.”

  “No,” she repeated. “You lie!” That tail came at her once, twice, but she managed
to jump both times. Zacharel had done the same to her, so she knew to leap backward, out of the way of a third strike.

  She saved herself from injury, but she also put herself farther away from her blades. Dang it. There had to be another way. The burn—

  The burn! She could have more than hands. She could have claws. And if she could have claws, she could have fangs, wings and horns of her own. All weapons of destruction.

  She might have a chance of winning.

  Part of her wanted to stop trying to subdue her fear and anger and simply unleash them. Fine, more than a part of her. But she wouldn’t do it. She would not fight evil with evil. That wasn’t who she was or who she wanted to be.

  I can do this. I can. She launched herself into the demon’s body.

  He hit the ground and rolled, smashing her, but her hands were free and she rammed her fist into his throat. He rolled again, placing her on top, but he didn’t leave her there. He grabbed her by the wrist and tossed her over his shoulder. She hit the far wall, plaster raining around her, pain shooting through her.

  Not out yet. Up she jumped and raced toward him. He met her in the middle. She bit at him. She sliced at him with her nails. She swiped up pieces that had broken off the lamp and cut at him. She kicked at him. She fought with every ounce of strength she possessed—more than she’d ever before exhibited. All the while, he was a snarling animal, with no rules to hinder him, no hesitation to lessen the damage he caused. No considering a better path. And yet, still she managed to give as good as she got.

  A few times, he tried to kiss her and once even succeeded. He touched her in private places simply to taunt her. Each time, she managed to maintain her cool, causing him to explode in anger.

  Those explosions actually aided her. He forgot to block her punches, too focused on getting his hands around her neck to choke her.

  “Look at you,” he taunted, circling her now.

  “Check a mirror,” she taunted back.