Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark #1)(82)
Author: Gena Showalter

“Clouds can do many things,” Zacharel said, “but they cannot change a human into a demon. The demon lied about that part. Nor would a minion have had the power to do such a thing.”

“But then how could I have changed if it wasn’t the cloud or the demon?” Dread shot through her, soon chilling every part of her. “Does that mean I’m no longer a human, and my outside was just catching up with my insides?”

“Possibly. I think, when you were marked, more was done to you than either of us realized. I think the demon replaced a piece of your spirit.”

No, surely not. She would have known. Right? “How is that possible?”

“He would have reached inside your body with a spiritual hand, and, like a blade can remove a limb, taken what he wanted. Probably just a small portion, no bigger than a dime. He would then have replaced that piece with one of his own, exchanging the two, bonding you far more than a married couple…melding you.”

White-hot fury exploded through her, completely overshadowing the dread, and she found herself beating at Zacharel’s shoulders. “For the last time, I’m not married to the demon who murdered my parents! I’m not! And I’m not melded, either!”

He never lifted a hand in defense. “If that was indeed done to you, your life is linked to his. As long as he lives, you live. As long as you live, he lives. I had not considered that possibility before, but it is clear to me now.”

Questions rained through her mind, her actions slowing…stopping. “But…but… Why send other demons after me? If I died, he would have died.”

“Remember when Thane mentioned something blocked him and others from taking you physically? I believe that same something prevented them from rendering a killing blow, as well.”

“But I…I just can’t be melded to him.” And of course, the burn in her chest fired up as it always did when her…negative emotions…got the better of her.

That’s right! The burn had played a part in the change, and her emotions had played a part in the burn.

She told Zacharel, and he nodded, saying, “That makes sense. The only question now is why the demon did it. Without your knowing consent, and the dream would not have provided that consent, he violated one of the highest heavenly laws. Free will.”

Her heart skipped a tortured beat. Something in his tone… “And you’re an enforcer of those laws, right?” That’s what he’d told her during their first meeting, she was sure. And that could only mean…

“No,” she thought she screamed, but the word emerged as a whisper. “No.”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“So you will be the one to carry out his sentence?”

A nod this time, rather than a verbal response.

Another heartbeat was missed because she suspected the answer. “And that sentence is?”

There was a long, tense pause. He looked up, he looked down, then left and right, as if he wanted to be anywhere else. Finally, she heard, “Death.”

Every fiber of her being rebelled at the thought of her own. By upholding the law, Zacharel would be killing the demon, yes—but he would also be killing Annabelle. “How would this…merging—” she gagged “—cause me to change into a demon four years after the fact?”

“I’ve seen the way the Lords of the Underworld come to physically resemble their demons when their own negative emotions overtake them. It’s just as you described. They lose control of their humanity, all reasoning abolished. The demon inside the cloud knew what had happened to you all those years ago, so he knew how to elicit the response he wanted.”

“I agree, I do. I mean, the emotion thing was my idea. But I don’t understand how four horror-filled years could have passed without a single change, and then all of a sudden, boom.”

“You are forgetting that you were drugged for all of those four years, and those drugs were meant to suppress the depths of your emotions. Even when you began to feel things strongly again, the drugs were likely lingering in your system and diluting the full extent of your feelings.”

“But I’ve been over the withdrawals for a while,” she said, clinging to a hope that they were wrong.

“You’ve also been injured or recovering. Weakened.”

Yes, there was that. “But what about the Water of Life?”

“It healed the human part of you, but aggravated the demon part, and it, too, would have slowed your transformation.”

And she’d certainly been aggravated the two times he’d fed her the stuff, hadn’t she.

Hope withered. Her chin quivered, and her eyes welled with tears she refused to shed. She was part demon. The truth whispered through her. She was part demon. It was a scream of outrage and helplessness this time.

Calm, you have to calm. “Will I change again?” she croaked, though she already knew the answer. Could already feel the burn sprouting in her chest.

“With extreme negative emotion…yes, I think you will.”

“Can the demon piece be removed from me? Replaced with something else?” Another spark of hope formed…

“No. Too much time has passed.”

…and was destroyed.

I won’t cry. I won’t.

“The demon you carried through the forest, he had absorbed my brother’s essentia. There was a piece of me in there, too. But I did not die when the demon died because nothing had taken root. And I was able to remove everything from the body without any resistance because that essentia recognized me. What’s in you has taken root and would resist. It would not recognize me, nor want any part of me.”

She heard his unspoken words. If he tried to free her, she would suffer and probably die anyway. “I don’t care about the pain or even dying. Get the demon out of me.” Now!

“You might not care about dying, but I do,” he said simply. “I will not do that to you. Ever. Do not ask it of me.”

Only took a moment to understand his vehemence. He still suffered over doing the same to his brother, and could withstand no more. So no, she couldn’t, wouldn’t ask it of him. “Wh-what should I do, then?”

“I will find the high lord. I will lock him away.” Zacharel rested his head in her lap, his arms wrapping around her waist. His body began to shake. “I am sorry for this, Annabelle. So very sorry.”

She felt something wet and warm saturate the fabric of her robe, and frowned. Tears? No. No, this strong, proud warrior could not be crying. “You would lock him away rather than kill him, despite your law and your orders?”