Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark) (36 page)

Blood. Red, not black. Fresh. Saturated with
Annabelle’s
scent.

Well, then. No other questions remained. She
was
out there, and she needed him. Whatever he had to do, he would save her. Even at the expense of his own life.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

A
NNABELLE
STRUGGLED
to breathe. Her throat was horribly swollen, the airways already partially blocked. What little oxygen she managed to draw in only exacerbated the problem.

Demons dropped from the sky, homing in on her like heat-seeking missiles. No matter where she hid—inside bushes, the tops of trees, holes in the ground—they found her as if she had a neon sign pulsing above her head.
Here. She’s here
.

She had more injuries than she could count, and the wings…those hideous wings that had grown into misshapen branches with bulbous membranes rather than feathers completely unbalanced her. Didn’t help that a dead demon corpse was slung over her shoulder, slowing her down. But she couldn’t move on without him.

“Hey, what you doing? Massster callsss.”

Annabelle jolted as the speaker came into view. On a limb just above her, a half man, half snake demon, like the one Zacharel had killed the night they’d met, followed her, his tail winding and unwinding as he slinked forward.

The demons kept doing this, talking to her as if she was one of them. But then, maybe she was. Scales had replaced her skin, claws had replaced her nails, and she had no idea what had happened to her face, could only feel the grotesque differences in the shape of her bones.

The transformation had happened as she’d fought the demon in the cloud, each change coiling from the burn in her chest, a burn that had spread, worsening as her fear had deepened, sharpening as her anger had grown. She’d tried to calm herself, even after she’d managed to win the battle, but by the time she’d made the connection between her body and her negative emotions, it had been too late.

“Come. And why you carry dead anyway?” He reached for her. “To eat? I help eat.”

“Don’t you dare come near me!” she shouted, the world going dark for only a second. Less than a second, really.

But when she refocused, fresh blood covered her shaky hands, dripped from her gasping mouth. The vile taste of it even coated her tongue. And the snake…his body was in pieces and scattered at her feet.

She hunched over and vomited. This, too, kept happening. Demons approached and she momentarily blacked out, only to find them dead when she resurfaced.
I don’t just look like a demon, I’m becoming one.

What would happen if Zacharel found her like this? Would he reject her? Kill her? Or would she black out and kill
him?

A sob lodged in her throat as she hefted her burden back on her shoulder.
I can’t be one of them. There’s another explanation, surely
.

A thick tree root tangled with her foot, and her foot lost, propelling her face-first into the dirt and twig-laden ground. Stars winked through her vision on impact, but somehow, she maintained firm hold of her burden.

She scrambled up. The demon’s headless torso slammed against her back, pressing against new tendons and bending her wings, making her cry out. She wasn’t sure—

Something else, something harder, slammed into her from behind. Her feet were swept out from underneath her and she smashed into the dirt. This time, she did lose her hold and the demon shot forward, flipping end over end before smacking into a tree.

Before Annabelle could react or right herself, equally hard fingers were daggering into her scalp, jerking her up, twisting her around. Fierce emerald eyes peered down at her, Zacharel’s face so overcome with rage his features were actually altered. His cheekbones appeared sharper, his lips thinner. Even his body seemed bigger, his muscles straining the fabric of his robe.

“Zacharel, please. Let me go before I—”

“Be silent.” He backhanded her, and if he hadn’t been holding on to her dress with his other hand, she would have smacked into another tree. “You do not speak unless I tell you. Understand?”

A thousand other stars winked through her vision. He shook her, and she cried out.

“What did you do with the human girl?” He got in her face, placing them nose to nose. “I know you did something, for you smell of her.”

Stay calm.
“I—I am her. I’m Annabelle.” Her jaw was already swollen, the two parts refusing to work properly. Could he understand her? “I’m Annabelle.”

His eyes slitted dangerously. “You are not.”

Oh, yes. He could understand. He simply did not believe.

His grip lifted to her neck, and he hauled her off her feet, her legs dangling. He kept her suspended like that for several heart-stopping moments. All the while she kicked at him. He was going to kill her. Here, now, he would choke the life out of her, thinking she was a demon. And he wouldn’t be pleasant about it, wouldn’t make it easier for her.

“Taste…” she managed to gurgle out.
Taste the truth
.

A twig snapped a few feet behind him. He dropped her as he spun. As she gasped for breath, she crab-walked backward. If she could stand, she could run. If she could run, she could hide until she figured out a way to get through to him. But her legs failed her, the muscles like two-ton boulders.

She watched as Zacharel produced his sword of fire and struck, burning through a bush. A sharp cry was released—and then cut off abruptly. The scent of charred leaves and rotten fish filled the air, wafting on a sudden, frigid breeze. A
thump,
a demon head rolling, followed by another
thump
as the body fell forward.

He spun to face her, the sword still in his hand. One step, two, he approached her.

“Zacharel. D-don’t. Me. Annabelle. Taste. Truth.”

Still he approached.

Annabelle blinked, darkness closing in around her. “Please…taste…”

“I will never taste a demon.”

“Words…taste…words…” She met his gaze as long as she could, waiting, hoping…slipping into darkness.

* * *

Z
ACHAREL
WATCHED
as the female demon stood on suddenly steady feet. Between one blink and the next, her eyes went from ice-blue to blazing crimson, the silky length of her blue-black hair lifting from her scalp as if she’d just been struck by lightning. Nails elongated into daggerlike claws, and—

Ice-blue eyes. Like Annabelle.

Blue-black hair. Like Annabelle.

It’s me, Annabelle.

He stilled, his study of the creature intensifying. She wore a red dress similar to the one Driana had worn at the club. The material was ripped, gaping and bloodstained. Dark green scales covered her body—a body shape his hands knew intimately. Her shoulders were stooped, with monstrous wings stretching from around her back, the ends twisted into sharp little knots and points.

Taste the truth
.

Demons were liars and tricksters, but when he smacked his lips, it wasn’t a lie or a trick that he tasted. He savored the sweet taste of truth.

The being in front of him
was
Annabelle.

How had this happened? And oh, Deity, what had he done? Thrown her. Hit her. Choked her. Zacharel released his grip on the sword, the flames instantly dying away. Shame unfurled inside him, dropping him to his knees.

No wonder he could smell Annabelle on her. She truly was Annabelle. And he had hurt her. Hurt her terribly. He would never be able to forgive himself.

He remained in place as she closed the distance between them. “I am sorry, so sorry, Annabelle.” Would he never take proper care of her? Would he always bring her pain?

Her head tilted to the side, as if she heard him, understood him, but the crimson in her eyes brightened, as if she cared not about his apology. And in the ensuing minutes, she proved that very thing. Her claws slashed at him, her little fists beat at him. She twirled with a skill she had not previously possessed, cutting at him with the tips of her wings.

Not once did he attempt to stop her. He deserved this. He deserved this and so much more, and if she wanted to take his head, he would give her his head.
I’m worse than any demon.

Finally, though, she jumped away from him and stopped, just stopped and blinked.

“Annabelle?”

She wavered, closed her eyes. A moment passed before she was able to refocus, but when she did, he realized her irises had returned to that startling shade of ice-blue.

“Annabelle!” He leapt to his feet.

“Zacharel?” At least, he thought she’d said his name. The word was jumbled, nearly inaudible.

“I’m here.” Steps slow and measured, he approached her. He didn’t want to rattle her.

As though a strong wind had just slammed into her, she teetered over, fell.

He whipped into motion, catching her before she hit and easing her down. “I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t know it was you.”

Tears filled her eyes, spilled down her cheeks. “Zacharel,” she repeated in that same broken tone.

“Yes, love. I’m here.”

A gurgle of panic left her. Was she scared of him now?

She squeezed her eyelids tightly shut. “Did I…kill you?”

Her poor mind couldn’t distinguish between reality and nightmare. “No, love.” He caressed a fingertip along her bruised jaw. Hadrenial had pleaded for death. Annabelle had pleaded for life. Look what he’d done to them both.
Hate myself.

How many hours, days, weeks had he agonized over his decision to do what his brother asked and strike the killing blow? And afterward, when the decision had been made and the action done, how hard had he cried? So hard he’d broken nearly all of his ribs. So hard he’d vomited blood. But even then, he hadn’t wanted to die himself. He’d wanted to live and avenge. Now, he would have welcomed a killing blow.

“You didn’t kill me. I live.”

She coughed, a trickle of blood sliding from the corner of her mouth. When she settled, she whispered, as though ashamed, “Something’s…wrong…me.”

His voice remained low, gentle. “I know, love, but we’ll find a way to fix you.”

“Demon…in cloud…he waited, tried to take brother…I—”

“Shh. Don’t worry about that right now.”

Still she persisted. “Didn’t let… Fought.”

“I know, love, I know, so tell me what happened later, all right? Right now, I want you to drift off to sleep. All right? I will protect you, I swear it.”

“No! Listen!” she said with a sudden burst of strength. “You can’t leave the demon behind….” Her body sagged, the strength gone as quickly as it had arrived. “Have to take him…with you…” Muscles going limp. “His body…please.”

Understanding at last dawned. The slain demon must now carry Hadrenial’s essentia. And she had been carting that heavy weight around, trying to escape, fighting for her life, because she had vowed to protect Zacharel’s greatest treasure.

“I won’t leave him behind, love. Sleep now,” he said again. In sleep, she would not feel the pain. She would heal.

She had better heal.

“Thank you,” she said on a sigh, her head lolling to the side, but her eyes blinked open, as if she didn’t trust him enough to do as he’d asked.

Thank you,
she’d said.

Thank. You.

Two words that would forever haunt him. He did not deserve her thanks, and he was certain he would not receive it again when she awoke and came to her senses.