A moment of silence. A sag of her shoulders. “No. For the rest of my life I would remember what I did to him, rather than what he did to me. I will have killed a human the way a demon killed my parents.”
“I will kill him if that is what you desire, and I promise you, I can make his pain last. Or, if you prefer, I can end him quickly. I would be satisfied either way.”
Another round of silence as she wrung her hands together. “No. I won’t let you go down for something like this.”
Then he would never, ever tell her that her actions were as his own.
“Will you…I don’t know, wake him up and hold him still?”
There was no need for her to ask twice. With only a thought, Zacharel allowed their presence to manifest. He spread his wings and rose, hovering over Fitzherbert, grabbing him and tossing him into the wall. Plaster cracked and dust plumed around him. In a flash, Zacharel closed the distance, latched on to the doctor’s neck and lifted him off his feet, pinning him to the wall.
Impact had woken Fitzherbert up, and now the man struggled for freedom.
Annabelle switched on a light, and when the human saw who held him—and who watched him—he stilled, his skin turning a putrid shade of green. His jaw dropped, a bit of spittle rolling from the corner of his mouth.
“Tell her where the photos are,” Zacharel demanded, loosening his hold just enough to allow the man to speak.
The green deepened. “I d-don’t know what you’re— Okay, okay, I know,” he rushed out when Zacharel tightened his hold. “They’re deleted. Of course. I swear.”
A foul taste suddenly coated Zacharel’s tongue. “A lie. And I do not like liars, Dr. Fitzherbert.” He tightened his grip, making it more of a vise than before, and felt the man’s bones begin to crack.
You aren’t to kill him, remember?
“He wouldn’t risk having them developed,” Annabelle said with only the slightest tremor in her voice. “I bet they’re still in his phone. Or maybe on his computer.”
Fitzherbert burst into motion, clawing at Zacharel’s arms.
“I bet you’re right,” Zacharel said.
Paler by the second, Annabelle picked up the cell phone resting on the nightstand. She pressed a few buttons, frowned. “I was wrong about the phone. There are no photos saved in here.”
The doctor relaxed. “Told you,” he squeaked out.
“You mentioned a computer. Check the one in his office. Two rooms down.”
The flailing renewed.
Annabelle left the room, her footsteps fading. Zacharel released Fitzherbert, the disgusting man slamming into the ground, wheezing for air. Before he could scramble away, Zacharel crouched down and placed his knee in the man’s chest.
“You aren’t going anywhere. You hurt my female.”
The human held up his hands, palms out, all innocence. “I don’t know who you are, but I do know she’s a killer. Violently insane. I’m her doctor. I would never—”
Zacharel backhanded him, breaking his jaw and ensuring silence. “I told you. I do not like liars. You hurt her, and one way or another you will suffer for that.”
Wide eyes filled with horror, the doctor wilted on the floor. He knew. He knew he had reached the end of the line.
“I have encountered males like you before. You are weak, but you like to pretend you are strong. That’s why you pick victims who cannot fight back.” He arched a brow. “I wonder, does your wife know what a vile coward you are? Is that why she left you? Do your children know?” Zacharel got in his face. “Do not worry. If they don’t, they soon will.”
Annabelle stomped into the room, tears tracking down her face, her chin trembling. “You sick pervert! You…you…monster!” A screeching catapult, she launched herself at Fitzherbert, punching him, kicking at him.
Zacharel stepped out of the way, and waited for her to finish. Already her skin was patched with demon scales, her nails sharpened into claws. She’d removed the robe, and he could see that the back of her shirt was ripped, the jagged edges of wings trying to emerge.
Eventually the last of her energy drained. She threw herself away from the now-bloody man and sobbed.