Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark #1)(96)
Author: Gena Showalter

Once again, he’d watched his brother’s head roll away from his body. Only this time it was worse, because Zacharel’s woman died alongside him.

“No!” He clawed at the walls, and suddenly he was clawing at air, the throne room gone and the hotel room in its place. He stood in the center of the charred circle, the smoke cleared and two dead bodies at his feet.

Annabelle’s robe was ripped to shreds, her neck gaping open.

Koldo stumbled out of the circle as if he’d been pushed, and maybe he had. He tried to get back in, but couldn’t. He and Thane, Bjorn and Xerxes tried to beat at an invisible wall to no avail.

Zacharel fell to his knees, tears gliding down his cheeks. “Can one still be saved?”

“Yes.” Though the Deity was not there, his voice echoed through the enclosure. “All you must do is choose.”

“How can you do this to me? How can you ask me to choose between the only two people I have ever loved? And for someone else’s sin! Are you really so cruel?”

“Cruel? What you have not yet learned is that the deaths you cause hurt me in ways you will never understand, and I’m glad that you will not. Such a burden you would not be able to bear. So, am I cruel for giving you a choice rather than leaving you with nothing?”

Yes, he wanted to scream. But he knew it was a lie. “I’m sorry,” he said. “So sorry. Take me instead. I willingly give my life for theirs.”

“Were I to do that, the two people you so love would know nothing but torment. They would fight for the rest of eternity.”

His shoulders slumped, all that was left of his hope withering, dying. How could he do this thing?

His Deity continued, “You think I know nothing of love, but the truth is, you are only just discovering what love really is. Your brother will gladly take all that you’ve learned and destroy you with it. He will bring great harm to your men. The men you took responsibility for. The men who need you now more than ever. And yet I offer him to you, knowing how much I will lose if you accept.”

Zacharel’s mouth opened, closed. He was caught up in a storm, every emotion he’d ever suppressed surging up to drown him.

Still the Deity was not done. “You want to speak with your brother, I know. You want to ask him why he did these things. You want to beg his forgiveness for what you did to him and for what he suffered. You want to hear him lash out at you, to rant and rail, and give you what you believe you deserve. You want closure. You want him to have the life he once deserved.”

“Yes.” I want to hug him. I want to fly beside him and watch his features light. I want to hear him laugh with joy rather than cruelty.

“You can have all of that. Simply take what is in the urn and place it inside Hadrenial’s body. Eventually, he will heal from his wounds, yes, even the beheading, and you will have all that you desire. Though it will take time, he will be restored to the man he used to be, before he became the demon Unforgiveness.”

The urn appeared at Zacharel’s side. “And if I do that, what will happen to Annabelle?”

“Her spirit will journey on.”

So be it. Two bodies, motionless before him, spilling over him. Chilling with every second that passed. His beautiful Annabelle, the only pleasure he had ever known. His brother, the man he had betrayed and now owed. He saw his men, still outside the circle, still banging at walls they couldn’t see.

They wanted to help him.

They couldn’t help him.

He reached inside the urn, the liquid warm, swirling up to greet him. He lifted his arm to the light. Life and death, resting in his palm right now.

He twisted to face the bodies. Whatever happened, he knew the Deity would not allow him to choose and then miraculously bring the other to life, as well. Sacrifice was sacrifice, and like Koldo’s hair, it would mean nothing if it was easily replaced. Besides, what was in the urn was enough to save one, but not two.

“I have made my decision.” And it had not really been a decision so much as saying goodbye to someone he loved. Zacharel placed his hand over Annabelle’s heart. Something else he’d learned since meeting her: you could not allow guilt and shame to make your choices for you. Only love should drive a man, and he loved this woman like no other.

Annabelle was a part of him, his future, and if he must live, he knew he could not do so without her.

The liquid spilled over her, soon absorbing into her skin…her soul…her spirit. Color washed over her too-pale skin, and her wounds began to heal, her flesh to weave together.

“I’m sorry, Hadrenial,” he whispered. He’d said those same words before, so many times, countless times. He’d hurt then as he hurt now. He didn’t care what his brother had become. He loved Hadrenial still, and always would.

Too, he would always remember the boy Hadrenial had been. Would never forget the bond they had shared.

“What will happen to him?” he asked the Deity.

“You will be pleased to know a part of him will live on through your Annabelle. Not through the piece of his demon self, for that piece has died, but through the essence of his love. And because you mixed something of yourself in there, she will be bound to you, now and always, your life for hers. She need only give you a piece of herself to complete the joining and stop the spread of your spiritual death.”

“Thank you,” he found himself saying. “For this chance with her, I thank you.”

“She was always meant to be yours. The question I needed answered was whether or not you could appreciate the gift.”

“I can. I do.”

“I know.”

Breathing deeply, Annabelle jerked upright. As she patted her neck, her chest, perhaps searching for her fatal injury, her gaze searched the room. “What happened?” she croaked. “Why am I alive?”

“I had a choice, and I chose you. I will always choose you.”

“Zacharel?” Tears welling in her eyes, she threw herself into his arms. “I have the worst news! I fought your brother. He was alive. I… He… I’m so sorry. I killed him. There was no other way, and—”

“I know.” He pulled back and righted her robe, shielding her br**sts from view, then crushed her back into his chest. She clutched at him, and she cried, and all the while he shook. How close he’d come to losing her…how much he’d now gained. He cared not for who saw him in this weak moment.

“Oh, Zacharel. I have so much to tell you.”

“There’s nothing I do not already know, love. Unforgiveness is, was, my brother.”