Wicked Nights

Page 60

“I’ll be easier to kill, less a thorn in his side. But you do not get to decide this for me, Annabelle.”
“You’d be the stupidest man ever to live if you agreed to this. He’s lying. You know he’s lying. He’ll never willingly release me.” That was just a guess on her part, but one thing she knew: demons were incapable of telling the truth.
“For a chance to free you, I would do anything.”
“No!” The fact that Zacharel would even consider falling upset her. Any other girl probably would have jumped with joy, because such a sacrifice proved beyond words that her man loved her. But Annabelle wasn’t any girl, and she knew everything falling would entail. Not just Zacharel’s ruination, but his men’s, too.
He would never be able to forgive himself. He’d already lost his brother, and the fact that he’d been the one to render the final blow was a constant dagger inside his chest, eternally chafing, never allowing him to heal.
“We’re wasting time,” she said. “I want you to go to your Deity—and not fall!”
“So what would you have me do?”
“Ask him to do something, I don’t know, powerful. Mighty.”
He shook his head, dark hair dancing at his temples. “I am due punishment, not aid. Besides, all he can do is grant me permission to enter hell, and that will do us no good.”
“Punishment?” Her heart skipped a beat. “Why?”
His hold on her tightened, his way of saying, Not now, woman. Later. In answer, she pinched his hand. Her way of saying, I won’t let this go, angel.
She twisted, cupped his cheeks and forced him to peer down at her. “Remember what we talked about?” she asked, letting the words locking Unforgiveness away remain unsaid. “Why it’s so important to go that route? So talk to your Deity, okay? Please. He gave you an army, a promotion. Angry with you or not, there’s got to be something more he can do.”
He opened his mouth—to protest, she knew.
“If you don’t, someone else might find and defeat Unforgiveness.” If that happened, she would die, and Zacharel would blame himself.
Indecision played through his eyes, now a stormy jade. She was manipulating him, and she knew it, but she didn’t know what else to do. She would rather he fought Unforgiveness than lose everything.
“I don’t want to leave you,” he said.
“Please, Zacharel. Do this for me. For us. Koldo will stay with me.”
He massaged the back of his neck. “Very well. I will talk to the Deity, but I cannot promise a favorable outcome.” His gaze slid to the tall, strong warrior beside them. “Stay here. Guard her. I won’t be gone long.”
Yes!
Koldo nodded.
“I love you,” Zacharel said, and kissed her.
“I love you, too. So much.”
He paused for a moment, as though he couldn’t bear to leave her, then flared his wings and leapt through the air, through the ceiling, disappearing from view.
“Do you hope I will kill you while he’s gone?” Koldo asked. “Is that why you sent Zacharel away? You are bound to Unforgiveness, and by dying, you will kill the demon and save Zacharel in every sense of the word.”
“I hadn’t been, no.”
“Why not?”
“Because Zacharel would blame himself—and you.”
“There are ways to ensure he never knows what happened.”
“Are you threatening me?”
A shrug of those wide shoulders.
To save Zacharel from falling, she would do just about anything. Even die. Zacharel would blame himself no matter what Koldo said, and he would mourn her, but he would live a long life. All in all, that seemed like a fair trade. He would continue to lead his men. Eventually he would meet another woman—Annabelle disliked her already—and rediscover love, heal.
“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.”