Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark #1)(92)
Author: Gena Showalter

“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.”