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.