Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark #1)(29)
Author: Gena Showalter

They converged on him en masse. Ducking, diving and twisting, Zacharel worked his way through them. Two more bodies fell, erupting into flames as they plummeted toward the earth. Twelve remaining. They did not fight honorably, but then, he knew that about them and knew how to counteract their moves.

“I must let you go,” he said to Annabelle. “Do not relax your grip.”

“Got it.”

When four swarmed him at the same time, swiping out, he rolled through the sky, releasing Annabelle as announced to block the two demons coming at him from the left, while using the sword to behead the two demons coming at him from the right.

Shocking him, she unhooked one leg from his waist and kicked at the demons he’d blocked, the sharp heel of her boot nailing one in the eye.

“Annabelle!”

“What? I didn’t relax my grip,” she said. “Not with my hands.”

A demon latched on to her ankle before she could right herself, and she yelped.

Zacharel swirled his wrist back, then sliced forward, going low…lower…moving with the demon—finally destroying him. Another head tumbled through the air, black blood spraying.

“Behind you!” Annabelle shouted.

He spun quickly—but not quickly enough. Demon claws meant for his neck swiped out and connected with the side of one wing, causing a sharp lance of pain to echo through him…and freeze the appendage in place.

Zacharel gritted his teeth as he plunged through the daylight. Annabelle released a shrill scream of terror. Every bit of his strength and determination were needed to force the injured wing back into motion. At first, he failed to hold it steady. Finally, though, he caught an air current and jerked to a stop.

“That was close,” she said, clearly battling an urge to vomit.

Too close. “The end result is all that matters.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Stay alive.” No other angels were in sight. Either they were engaged in their own battles elsewhere, or he had been unsuccessful in summoning them.

“Well, you, too.”

The demons found them, once again attacking from every angle. His sword blazed through the air, and because he wasn’t as fast as before, another set of talons soon managed to slice through his wing.

Down he fell and this time, there was no stopping his momentum. A tendon had been severed. Annabelle’s ponytail slapped at his cheeks, his lips, the inside of his mouth.

“Zacharel!” The force of the wind even managed to rip her from his embrace, her body tumbling end over end.

Cackling with glee, several demons followed her.

Zacharel thought fast. The Deity’s angels could die physically because of bodily injury, yes. Impact would splatter his organs, no question, but even still he might regenerate. Annabelle was human. There was no question about whether or not she would regenerate. She would not.

He tucked his good wing into his back, and arrowed toward her. She faced the ground, away from him, her hair flying behind her. He closed the distance in a matter of seconds, withdrew throwing stars from the pockets of air where he’d stored them and nailed every demon reaching for her.

Shrieks of pain echoed as hands were detached, and one by one the beings fell away from her. Almost there…so close…contact! Zacharel wrapped his arms around her and tucked her into his chest.

Her elbows pounded at him, and her legs kicked at him. “Let me go, you sick, disgusting piece of—”

“I’ve got you,” he said, and in that moment he knew. There was only one thing he could do to ensure she lived.

Instantly she calmed. “Zacharel?” Twisting, she wound her arms around his neck. “Thank the Lord!”

“Yes. It is I.” He produced his vial containing the Water of Life. Only a single drop remained, but this was a matter of life and death. He didn’t allow her to question or deny him. He simply tipped the rim over her lips so that the droplet could find its way into her mouth. “Drink.”

Eyes wide, she swallowed. There. No matter what happened next, she would live. She might wish otherwise, but she would live.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THIS IS IT, THE END, Annabelle thought, a delicious warmth flooding her, fizzing in her veins like champagne and completely contradicting the sense of hopelessness screaming through her mind. Wind whipped through her hair, cut at already chapped skin. And…and…oh, mercy, a sharp pain tore through her chest, her heart squeezed by a cruel fist. The warmth and fizz were forgotten. She went rigid, released a cry of pain.

“Easy now, Annabelle.”

“What’s wrong… What did you do… Argh!”

“The water can hurt you as it heals you.”

Horrid demons, causing all of this. “But I’m not…injured.”

“You must be. Adrenaline could have hidden whatever was wrong.”

“Can you…land us?” Ohhhh, but she could barely speak through the agony. Those demons must have done more than scratch her.

“No. I cannot. Impact will hurt, and I will not lie, that hurt will be the worst you have ever experienced.”

Won’t scream, won’t scream, really truly won’t scream. “Any good news?”

“The hurt will not last. Soon you will feel nothing, I vow it.”

“Because…I’ll be…dead.” Breathe, just breathe. But even that caused the vise grip to tighten on her heart. Sweat beaded over her skin, while her blood thickened to ice crystals. Impact would actually be a relief, she decided.

“I have ensured that you will live.” Zacharel’s arms were strong bands around her, offering comfort. One of his wings enveloped her, as if to offer a cushion when they landed. His other wing flapped in the breeze, ready to rip free at any moment.

She wished her heart would just go ahead and jump out of her chest. Whatever he’d fed her had to be worse than any landing and… Ohhhh, another wave of agony crashed through her.

Yes, this was it. The very end. After all the battles she’d survived, all the hardships, she hated that she was going out this way. With such a bang, har-har. She hadn’t had a chance to visit her parents’ graves. She hadn’t destroyed the demon who’d killed them, because he had never returned for her, and trapped in the institution as she’d been, she hadn’t been able to hunt him. Not that she would have known how. She hadn’t gotten to tell her brother goodbye, even though he wouldn’t have said a word in response.

The ground loomed ever closer. So green, so lovely, making a mockery of her forced calm. Her eyes burned, teared. Her chest constricted. Closer…any moment…