Had he? His Deity must have heard his unspoken desire and responded, a gesture Zacharel would be sure to thank him for.
“I wish there was another way,” he said. In this position, Annabelle would act as his shield. He despised that on every level, but he had no other solution. He couldn’t flash her away and return—moving from one location to another with only a thought—because he couldn’t flash. Only a rare few could, like the wingless Koldo.
What Zacharel could do was camouflage his body so that no one could see or sense him. But he couldn’t camouflage Annabelle to that same degree, so that was out, too.
I need you—he projected first to Koldo because he could be the biggest help right now, then to every other member of his army. He’d never done this before, wasn’t sure it would work, and cursed himself for not practicing speaking inside their minds. Demons. My cloud. Battle.
There was no time to await their responses, if they even knew how to reply in such a manner. “If I hand you to a man named Koldo, do not fight him. He will whisk you to safety.”
“What about you?”
Excellent question. “Now,” he said to the cloud, ignoring her, “I want you to leave this location. Go somewhere the demons cannot reach you, and guard the urn. I’ll return to the heavens and find you.”
Whoosh.
The cloud was gone, taking the foundation at his feet, too. Annabelle gasped, clutched him tighter. Suddenly bright morning sunlight glowed with piercing intensity. Demons surrounded him, their jagged wings flapping frantically as they struggled to understand what had just happened. Zacharel swung his sword and beheaded the one nearest him. With the flicker of the flames and the slick sound of bone detaching from bone, the others realized their prey was in sight.
They converged on him en masse. Ducking, diving and twisting, Zacharel worked his way through them. Two more bodies fell, erupting into flames as they plummeted toward the earth. Twelve remaining. They did not fight honorably, but then, he knew that about them and knew how to counteract their moves.
“I must let you go,” he said to Annabelle. “Do not relax your grip.”
“Got it.”
When four swarmed him at the same time, swiping out, he rolled through the sky, releasing Annabelle as announced to block the two demons coming at him from the left, while using the sword to behead the two demons coming at him from the right.
Shocking him, she unhooked one leg from his waist and kicked at the demons he’d blocked, the sharp heel of her boot nailing one in the eye.
“Annabelle!”
“What? I didn’t relax my grip,” she said. “Not with my hands.”
A demon latched on to her ankle before she could right herself, and she yelped.
Zacharel swirled his wrist back, then sliced forward, going low…lower…moving with the demon—finally destroying him. Another head tumbled through the air, black blood spraying.
“Behind you!” Annabelle shouted.
He spun quickly—but not quickly enough. Demon claws meant for his neck swiped out and connected with the side of one wing, causing a sharp lance of pain to echo through him…and freeze the appendage in place.
Zacharel gritted his teeth as he plunged through the daylight. Annabelle released a shrill scream of terror. Every bit of his strength and determination were needed to force the injured wing back into motion. At first, he failed to hold it steady. Finally, though, he caught an air current and jerked to a stop.
“That was close,” she said, clearly battling an urge to vomit.
Too close. “The end result is all that matters.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Stay alive.” No other angels were in sight. Either they were engaged in their own battles elsewhere, or he had been unsuccessful in summoning them.
“Well, you, too.”