Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark #1)(76)
Author: Gena Showalter

“A cloud…can’t give a human…wings.”

“Well, you are more than human, aren’t you, naughty girl? You belong to a demon.”

Calm…“I belong to myself.” Drawing on every ounce of strength in her being, she jabbed the tip of the pitchfork at him.

He hunched his body and twisted out of the way, rendering her attack ineffective. Flashing his too-sharp teeth, he said, “No need to play rough. I’m not going to hurt you…much.”

Again she jabbed the pitchfork at him. This time he wasn’t fast enough. Contact. The prongs sank deep into his thighbone, the long handle vibrating from the force. Only, he was not the one to scream and drop to his knees as agony overwhelmed him. She was. The muscles in her leg…torn to shreds, surely.

His chuckle rebounded from the walls. “Do you really think I’m stupid enough to give you a weapon that could harm me?”

“Yes,” she gasped out. “I really do.”

He took no insult. “The beauty of the pitchfork is that the one who wields it feels the injuries it causes. Tell me if this hurts.” He jerked the prongs from his thigh.

Another scream left her, a black mist fogging her line of vision. Not because of her thigh—though yeah, that was beyond awful—but because of her chest. Whenever she received an injury somewhere else, razors seemed to scrape at the burn there, as if Zacharel had just poured his water down her throat.

“Well?” the demon asked.

“Endured…worse.”

“If only I was not forbidden to taste you.” He closed the distance between them and crouched in front of her, his vile scent overwhelming her senses. “My master has Zacharel’s other female, did you know that?” He opened his palm, revealing a curling lock of dark hair. “The pretty angel.”

“He has what remains of her body, you mean.”

“No. She lives.”

“You lie.”

“Do I? Can you really take that chance?”

No. No, she couldn’t. A conscious effort was needed to keep the urgency out of her tone, to hold herself still. “Just who is your master, huh, that he can do what even Zacharel could not, and bring someone back from the dead?”

“I am not to tell you. I am to introduce you to him. And if you ask him nicely, I bet he’ll let the female go. Or not. Mostly not. But that doesn’t mean you can’t try.”

His master had to be the high lord who had stabbed her parents, the demon who had marked her, tainted her…ruined her. How she’d dreamed of facing him.

So yes, she was tempted to give in and go. But would she allow this creature to leave this cloud alive? No. Never. She might not have her blades, and the pitchfork might be a no go, but she had her fists and she knew how to use them.

The demon’s rusty gaze flicked to the nightstand. “We will be bringing Zacharel’s brother with us, of course.” He clapped, happy with the way things had turned out. “I’m not sure which will hurt him most. The death of his woman or the loss of all that remains of his cherished sibling.” He straightened, reached toward the urn. “Let’s find out.”

Though she felt as if she were ready to burst apart at the seams, Annabelle struck.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ZACHAREL AND THANE HOVERED over the Deity’s temple, watching as hundreds of winged demon minions raced through the night-darkening sky, slowing only when they reached the rivers winding around the structure. Those rivers flowed to the edges of the cloud, cascading over the sides in breathtaking, star-framed waterfalls.

Most of the demons successfully fought the currents and managed to crawl through the gardens to the alabaster steps, past the ivy-rich columns to the towering double doors leading inside. But the doors they couldn’t breach, no matter how much force they used as they slashed, banged and kicked.

For a moment, Zacharel was taken back to the night he’d met Annabelle. The demons had mindlessly attacked then, too, all in an effort to reach her. But she was not inside, so…what could they possibly want this time?

“They’ve never attacked our Deity like this,” Zacharel said. His wings were heavier than usual, the snow continuing to fall. “Why now? For what purpose?”

“I can only assume they are following orders,” Thane said.

“Yes, but whose?”

“Not Burden’s, that much we know. He’s out of commission.”

“The one pulling his strings maybe?”

“Maybe.”

“Who else would sacrifice an entire horde on a suicide mission? And again, for what purpose?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Yes. Interrogation.

“I don’t like this.” He traced his tongue over his teeth, observed his own cloud—a horrifying black stain in that expanse of deep blue—for a long, silent moment.

Even though Annabelle was inside, the demons did not attempt to infiltrate the cloud. Oh, they would cast longing glances its way, even move toward it, but all would catch themselves and return to the desecration of the temple.

Thane sighed. “Let’s say the minions are here simply to distract us. Let’s say another horde is somewhere else, waiting until we are engaged in battle to act. We still cannot walk away from this. We have the Deity’s orders and we must abide by them.”

Zacharel worried two fingers against his jaw. “You’re right. We do. But that doesn’t mean the whole of my army is needed for this.”

He pictured half of his troops and projected his voice into their minds. Patrol the heavens nearby, looking for anything suspicious, any type of demonic disturbance. If they were surprised by the new method of communication, they hid it well. This was easier, quicker, and he only wished he’d done it before now.

He received one Yes, sir! after another.

On my signal, he projected to the other half, we attack.

To Thane, he added, “You, Xerxes and Bjorn will escort three demons to Koldo. Alive.” Koldo wasn’t well enough to fight, but he was out of his sick bed. “Find out what you can from them. I’ll join you when the temple has been fully cleansed.”

Thane slapped him on the shoulder. This was the first time they’d touched outside of training. “Consider it done.” With that, the angel left Zacharel to gather his friends.

He shot another glance at his cloud—he just couldn’t help himself. Still no demons attempted to enter. What was Annabelle doing? Fuming over his desertion of her? Worrying after his health?