Koldo braced his hands behind his back, his legs apart. A battle-ready stance she recognized, because she’d assumed the same position nearly every time she’d spied demons in the institution. “All I require from you is a yes or a no, female. Nothing more.”
Her gaze swung back over Zacharel, his pain as obvious as the glint of her blades on the floor. His lips were contorted in a grimace and now veering toward the color blue. His broken fingers were gnarled over the comforter, yet too weak to twist the material. He needed Koldo’s “something,” whatever it was, or he would die.
Better he live with her and her danger than die without her.
“Yes,” she said. I owe Zacharel, and I always pay my debts. At least, that was her new motto. “My answer is yes.” Could she trust Koldo to keep his end of the bargain, though? Did she really have another choice?
Koldo nodded once, a stiff, rough incline of his head, causing the beads in his beard to clang together. “Very well. Now, one last question. When I leave you, what will you do to Zacharel?”
Leave her? Making her, the now-handless wonder, the only protection Zacharel had? “How long will you be gone?”
“That I do not know.”
Which could mean six hours or six days. Or even six years. “I’ll take care of him as best as I can.”
“The phrase ‘take care of him’ can have many meanings, such as kill him, save him and avenge him. Even leave him. I require you to be more specific.”
Of course he did. He and Zacharel shared the trait, a desire for details while refusing to share with others. “I mean I’ll tend to him, look after him. I would never purposely hurt him, and I will not leave him on his own, helpless.”
He smacked his lips, as if trying to taste the truth of her claim, before he nodded. “He would hate you for calling him helpless,” he said, and then he disappeared.
Hey! “Koldo? Warrior?”
Nothing, no response.
Frustration ate at her. She had no idea how long he’d be gone, where she was or what to do if demons found her before he returned. Especially since her blades had disappeared with him! So untrusting.
But she was used to being doubted, used to being ignored, and refused to give way to hurt feelings. So, rather than wallow, she would stand guard over Zacharel. The angel who had saved her life. The man she owed. The first person to look at her as if she were more than a murderer.
Whatever was required, she would defend him.
CHAPTER NINE
“HOW’S MY GIRL?”
“Good, good, I ssswear…if you don’t mind that ssshe’sss with the angel, uh, well…Zacharel.” Fear and awe drenched the name.
Grinning, the demon high lord Unforgiveness reclined in his throne, cunningly erected from bones taken from the many angel warriors he’d killed throughout the centuries. The change in his expression caused his four-legged minion to shudder. Usually when he smiled, he was in the process of killing someone.
But then, this was almost as good. The fact that Annabelle was with Zacharel thrilled Unforgiveness to the depths of his rotting black soul. That’s why he’d marked her, after all—to gain the warrior’s attention.
He’d begun to wonder if the warrior would ever find her. He’d begun to regret not giving in to his desire to torture Annabelle while he’d had the chance. Now he was glad for his restraint.
Now he could torture her and Zacharel.
Grin widening, Unforgiveness rubbed two blunt-tipped claws over his jaw. Every day he had to file the nails down to prevent himself from killing his prey before he was ready. Because, when the bloodlust came upon him, he lost track of his surroundings, his ambitions, and simply gorged. He forgot food tasted better if it was aged for a few months, unending terror the perfect marinade.
“Do you require anything more of me, sssire?” the minion asked him, still huddling there on the middle dais steps.
“Yes.”
“Wh-what?”
“You will kneel before me and I will remove your head. Your stench offends me.” As did the fact that he’d shown such admiration for Zacharel.