Beauty Awakened (Angels of the Dark)

by Gena Showalter

  A monster. A monster just like she used to see as a child, before therapy and drugs had convinced her otherwise. Now she wasn’t sure what to think about Koldo and the monsters and had no idea how to figure it out. There was an overload of information out there, but nothing had jelled with her.

  The right answer would elicit peace; she knew that much. Peace always accompanied truth.

  Koldo would just have to tell her. If he ever showed up again.

  And he had to show up! Did he really know how to heal her heart? If so, could Laila’s be healed, as well?

  The more she wondered, the more hope filled her. To be able to fall asleep and not wonder if she would wake up, or if Laila would still be alive...to never fear losing another sibling. To be able to walk up a hill, holding Laila’s hand, without either of them passing out...to be able to skip and jog and jump...to be able to dance! Oh, to dance. To fall in love, get married and have children. To live, really live, as they’d used to dream, before tragedy convinced them to deal in “reality” rather than “fantasy.”

  Koldo had said he would be visiting the hospital again, but hadn’t mentioned when. If he waited much longer, she might strangle him when he appeared, just to release a little steam. Every day she looked for him so diligently the nurses asked her if she’d like a Xanax or ten to help her relax.

  When has anything good ever happened to you?

  The question wafted through her mind, and she frowned.

  Being optimistic will only lead to crushing disappointment.

  No. No, that wasn’t true.

  You don’t need one more thing to worry about right now.

  Her hands curled into fists. Before meeting Koldo, she might have caved under the weight of those thoughts. She definitely would have battled an upset stomach, paced a thousand miles without ever leaving her chair and frayed the edges of her nerves until her limbs began to shake uncontrollably. Now...

  “I’m not listening to you.” Or herself. Whatever! She had hope for the first time in years, and she wasn’t letting go. She leaned back in the chair at her desk. “He’ll keep his word. He’ll turn up, and he’ll answer all of my questions.”

  The depressing thoughts stopped, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Are you Nicola Lane?” a hard, biting voice asked.

  Nicola blinked rapidly and focused on the beautiful woman in the open doorway. She was tall, slender and black, with a fall of jet-black curls. Shadows consumed eyes the color of chocolate. Koldo’s were lighter, like caramel, and— Wow, Nicola must be hungry.

  The woman wore a black-and-white tailored jacket, a pencil skirt and mile-high stilettos that perfectly complemented toenails painted black-and-white. Everything about her screamed style, sophistication and cold-blooded calm. So, what was she doing here, at the middle-class stress capital of the world?

  “I’m Nicola, yes.”

  “Well, congratulations. I’m now part of your department.”

  Sarcasm on the first day. Wonderful. “Are you Jamila Engill or Sirena Kegan?”

  Frowning, the girl said, “Jamila Engill.”

  “Pretty name.” She wondered what Jamila meant. No doubt Koldo would have known.

  “You have two new hires?”

  “Yes.” Nicola tugged the lapels of her sweater closer together to ward off the chill blasting from Jamila’s attitude. Okay, fine. It was from the overhead vent. “Please, have a seat and we’ll get to know each other.”

  Jamila marched into the office and slammed onto the far chair. Chin high in the air, she twined her hands in her lap and kept her gaze narrowed on Nicola, her back ramrod straight.

  They were gonna have fun together, she could tell.

  Five days ago, her very jittery, very irritable boss told her that he’d decided to hire two more accountants. Shock had nearly drilled Nicola to her knees. She’d been begging for a new hire for months, and every time she had been told to “make do.”

  Currently, she was doing the work of five people. At first, she had managed. After Laila’s hospitalization, she’d begun to fall behind.

  “So...what will be expected of me?” Jamila asked tightly.

  Nicola explained a little about the operating system, and even though she hated sharing personal information with a stranger, she added, “I’ll be as much a help as possible as you learn, but the truth is, my sister is...dying—” even voicing the word was difficult “—and she... Well, I’m being pulled away from the office more and more.” Sooner or later, Jamila would have found out anyway. Phone calls would have come in, paperwork would have blasted through, or coworkers would have mentioned it.

  This way, it was out in the open from the start.

  Jamila leaned back in a pose that should have relaxed her. Instead, she appeared more rigid. “I’m sorry.”

  People always said that. Nicola wondered what Koldo the Honest would have said.

  Just the thought of him caused her heart to flutter. She cleared her throat. “Sometimes we have to confront employees who haven’t turned in their books. They’ll make excuses, but you’ll have to stay on them.”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  No flinching, and no paling.

  “Good, then you should do fine.” Unless you keep glaring at me like that.

  “Hey, y’all. I’m Sirena, and I’m reporting for duty.”

  Nicola’s attention shifted to the girl now standing in the doorway. She was taller than Nicola by an inch, maybe two, and wore an ill-fitting black jacket and matching pair of slacks, with a pink button-up top breaking up the darkness. Her hair was long and blond and as straight as a board. Her eyes were as wide as a doll’s, a mix of brown and blue; a pair of horn-rimmed glasses perched on her nose.

  “Oh, my,” she said, shutting the door behind her. She glided to the other chair and eased down, then extended a small gift basket. “This is for you. I was just so excited to work with you, I couldn’t help but show it.”

  How sweet. “Thank you.” Nicola accepted the offering with a smile. A jasmine body wash and a lotion scented with honeysuckle.

  “Look at this place.” Sirena gazed around. “It’s not big, but it’s homey and wonderful, isn’t it?”

  Homey? Wonderful? Not even close. The room boasted plain white walls and a concrete floor painted gray. The only furniture was the desk, Nicola’s chair and the two chairs in front. Not one of the three had a cushion.

  Her first few months in the office, Nicola had hung pictures of her family on the walls, but every time she’d looked at them, memories had flooded her.

  She’d heard her mother shout, “What are you doing, laughing like that? Excitement of any kind isn’t good for you. Do you want to die and send me spiraling into another depression?”

  She’d remembered her father patting her on the head and saying, “Every night I go to sleep afraid I’ll never again see my beloved girls.”

  Well, his fear had come true, but not for the reason he’d thought. His life had been cut short by a drunk driver, and he hadn’t seen them again.

  Pictures of Laila only served to remind her of all she would soon lose. Her best friend, her confidante, her cheerleader. Her very heart.

  “You’ll be able to decorate your cubby however you like,” she said, fighting a quiver in her chin.

  “I can’t wait!” Sirena’s happy tone chimed.

  Jamila stiffened, as though offended.

  A knock boomed from the door. The entrance swung open before she could bid the person on the other side to enter. Dexter Turner peeked his head inside. He had a full head of dark hair and brown eyes that were puppy-dog sweet.

  “Hey, Nicola, I was wondering—” His gaze landed on Jamila, widened, slid to Sirena, widened still more, before finally settling on Nicola. He gulped. “I, uh, didn’t know you had company.”

  “I can leave if you want,” Sirena said, eager to please.

  “You’re fine,” Nicola told her, not wa
nting the women to vacate just yet. Dex had asked Nicola out several times, and she’d always told him no. In high school, she and Laila had been forbidden to date for their own good. Then, after their parents had died and they’d been on their own, they’d both gone a little crazy, going out with anyone who asked.

  Granted, only five guys had asked Nicola. But then, she was glad there hadn’t been more. She had hated every minute of every date. The nervousness had been too much for her, especially since each of the boys had expected her to be more experienced than she was, considering her age. She had stuttered, and she had squirmed in the uncomfortable silences that followed.

  After vomiting before the last one, and nearly passing out during dinner, she had decided not to date until her doctors discovered a way to regulate her heartbeat once and for all.

  Not Laila, though. Laila had flourished under the attention. A few months ago, she’d even made a go of a serious relationship. But the two had fought and fought and fought, and all that strife had put a strain on her body. She’d ended up in the hospital. Of course, when the doctors told her that she would never leave, the guy had walked away and never come back.

  “I’ll just catch you later,” Dex said, and shut the door.

  Several beats of silence passed.

  “Is he yours?” Jamila asked.

  “Nope,” Nicola said. “I’m single.”

  “Well, I think you two would make an adorable couple,” Sirena said, her hand fluttering over her cheek as if she were flushing. “Just adorable.”

  The phone rang, and Nicola picked up the receiver, grateful for the distraction. “Nicola Lane’s office.”

  “Miss Lane?” A strong male voice. Familiar.

  “Yes,” she said, her heart suddenly pounding erratically.

  “This is Dr. Carter at County General.”

  Dread spiked, and she experienced a rush of dizziness. “What’s happened?”

  “Nothing good, I’m afraid. Your sister has taken another turn for the worse. How soon can you get here?”

  * * *

  WHAT DID I DO to deserve this? Koldo had spent the past six days with Thane. An eternity, surely. A punishment, definitely. They had traveled to the Downfall, Thane’s place of business. A palace of iniquity, to be sure. One that would have been visible to the human eye if not for the cloud surrounding it. But it had to be this way. Only the Most High, Sent Ones, angels and demons operated in the spiritual realm. Other supernatural creatures, like the ones Thane entertained, would have been unable to visit otherwise.

  The entire place was in the process of a very slooow descent toward the earth, moving a mere inch a day.

  Falling.

  As the members of the Army of Disgrace might at any sign of misconduct. Symbolism at its best, he thought. But then, wickedness of any kind caused a separation with the Most High.

  The club would eventually end up in hell.

  Won’t think about that.

  Other than successfully completing the three demon-killing missions Zacharel had assigned the entire army, Koldo and his companions hadn’t left the club.

  Thane and fellow angels Xerxes and Bjorn lived there, and Koldo wasn’t certain how they were allowed to maintain their status as Sent Ones. But he now knew why they had been given to Zacharel. More than using a new woman every night, they fought whoever angered them with brutal intensity—and nearly everyone they encountered angered them.

  Now the four of them were in the bar, sitting in a shadowed corner. Different immortal races wandered about, drinking and dancing, their hands wandering. From the trouble-happy Harpies to the scream-happy Phoenix, and everything in between. Vampires, shape-shifters, the Fae and countless others.

  The snake-shifters were considered the most dangerous, with the Phoenix a close second. But the race that topped them all? The race no one ever considered, because everyone liked to pretend they were nothing more than a nightmare? The Nefas.

  Koldo was very glad no one knew about his father. Gladder still no one ever would. Even the Sent Ones who had rescued him from the camp all those centuries ago had no clue about his origins.

  “Having fun?” Thane asked him.

  “Why am I here?” he demanded.

  The warrior tossed back a shot of vodka. “Haven’t we gone over this? Because Zacharel commanded us to stick together, and I refuse to live in one of your hovels.”

  Koldo’s frustration level spiked. He was to have a permanent babysitter now? No. Absolutely not. He refused. Something would have to be done. “What about our mission? The one you couldn’t tell me about? The one you had to show me?”

  “I never said there was a mission.”

  Must not kill a Sent One.

  “But if I had told you I wanted you to come to my place and enjoy yourself,” Thane continued, “you would have said...”

  “No.” Never.

  “And there’s the reason I implied there was a mission.”

  Koldo banged his fist into the table, earning several what’s-up-with-the-angry-beast glances from nearby patrons.

  His gaze swung to Bjorn, who sat on Thane’s right. “Is he always this tricky?”

  “Are you always this curious?” was the irritating reply.

  Bjorn had dark hair and tanned skin veined with the same gold that wove through his wings. His eyes were a rainbow of colors, from the lightest of blues to the darkest of greens, with shades of pink and purple thrown into the mix.

  His name was Scandinavian for bear. Again, another perfect fit.

  Jaw locked, Koldo looked to Xerxes.

  Xerxes, Persian for monarch. The male had long white hair pulled back in a jeweled torque. His skin was the color of milk and lined with scar after crisscrossing scar, each in jagged patterns of three. Arresting, yes, but it was his eyes that truly held a person’s attention. They were a bright ruby-red, and glowed with an endless rage matched by few.

  I’m one of the few.

  “Are they always this cryptic?” Koldo asked him.

  “Are you always this annoying?”

  All three males chuckled at their own ridiculous wit.

  Koldo refused to envy their friendship, or their complete ease with each other. He’d heard they’d met inside a demon fortress, each a prisoner—each tortured. He’d had no one during his own years of anguish, and perhaps that was why he preferred his solitary life. The fewer people privy to his secrets, the less likely he was to face betrayal.

  “I’ve introduced you to many beautiful females, hoping one of them would entertain you—and free me of the burden of you,” Thane said, tossing back another vodka. “You’ve refused them all. Why?”

  “I have no interest.”

  “Have you ever been with a woman?” Bjorn asked.

  “No.” He’d had no desire. He still didn’t. Except...every day since he’d come here, Zacharel had granted Koldo an hour-long break from Thane. He’d spent the first half of that hour with his mother, resisting the urge to hurt her, and the second half with Nicola, watching, hidden from view.

  He would ensure no demons were following her. He would wonder what she’d look like if she laughed with all of her heart, carefree, and his blood would heat in the strangest way. A tingling heat. Almost...electrifying. He would begin to step into the natural realm, catch himself and back off. What if his presence caused her heart undue stimulation? What if he hurt her? He had the hands of a killer, after all.

  So, he would remain in the spirit realm. But the tension within him had gotten worse. The hum of anticipation had gotten stronger.

  He had no idea what to do, what to think.

  Even still, he was eager to speak with her, to at last discover what conclusion she’d drawn about him. How was he to kick things off, though?

  Your sister is going to die, but I can help you save yourself.

  I’m a Sent One. Heed my words.

  I’m a cold, hard man. I’ve done terrible things. But have no fear, I won’t harm you.

  “A virgin
,” Xerxes said with a tinge of...envy? Surely not. He motioned to a female. “We must change that.”

  Smacking bubble gum, a blonde Harpy approached the table. She wore a sequined bra and spandex shorts, her hair braided at the sides in two perfect ropes. “What’s up, guys?”

  “We want you to give our friend a lap dance,” the scarred warrior said. Then, to Koldo, “I bet you can’t resist that.”

  Her gaze slid to Koldo. She was a pretty little thing, with wide green eyes and freckles scattered across her nose. He wasn’t into freckles. “You want me to cozy up to this guy?” she asked, hitching her thumb in his direction.

  “Yes,” Xerxes replied, deadpan.

  “He looks like a cold-blooded killer.”

  In Koldo’s case, looks were not deceiving. “You don’t have to—”

  “So of course I’ll give him a lap dance!”

  Wait. What? “No, thank you. I don’t want—”

  “Whoohoo, this is gonna be fun.” She fist-pumped the air. “Are you prepared to soar?”

  “We’re already in the skies, sweet,” Thane said, clearly fighting a wave of amusement.

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatevs. He knew what I meant. Didn’t you, Killer?”

  “I would rather you not—” Koldo began, only to be cut off again.

  “Move the table,” the girl said, rubbing her hands together. “I want to get this party train out of the station the right way. And that’s my way, in case anyone missed my meaning.”

  Koldo pinched the bridge of his nose as Bjorn and Xerxes stood to obey the Harpy. Before the warriors could get started, he stiffened.

  Not because of their intentions, and not because of the Harpy. Deep inside, where instinct sizzled and crackled, he experienced a sudden knowing.

  Nicola was in trouble.

  “I have to go.” He jumped to his feet, accidentally sending the table toppling the floor.

  “Well, that’s one way to do it,” the girl muttered.