“Why don’t you beat it, before we beat you?” the leader said.
Another added, “You can have your girl back when we’re done with her,” before laughing. “Promise.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t have said that,” Annabelle said far more calmly than he would have guessed possible. To him, she added, “Teach them a little, tiny lesson, Zacharel. Please.”
“Whatever you desire.” Zacharel tugged Annabelle in front of him and wrapped his arms around her to protect her from what was about to happen. He unleashed his wings from the pocket of air and in seconds was able to create a mighty wind. Each boy soon found himself facedown on the dirty ground.
They struggled to rise, but the wind pinned them in place. He could have snapped their necks before they’d ever realized he’d moved. He could have ripped open their chests and spilled their guts. In fact, he just might. He could always revive them before death staked its claim, saving himself from a whipping—or worse.
He flapped his wings harder, faster, and the wind increased in velocity, the whistle of it masking the ensuing cries of pain. The pressure was building, Zacharel knew, about to crack bone and splatter organs.
But murdering a human isn’t necessary. That would make you no better than, well, Fitzpervert. He hurt me just because he could. Annabelle’s words came back to haunt him. Why don’t the demons possess your Deity’s angels? You guys seem to have as many faults as we do.
No. He would not do this. He would not destroy these boys just because he could, and he would not give way to the urge to commit violent acts. That would be a fault.
Annabelle wrapped her fingers around his wrists and squeezed. “Okay, enough. You’ll get in trouble, and I kinda need you tonight. And really, your well-being is more important than giving these boys what they deserve.”
“Was already stopping,” he admitted, stilling his wings and easing the pressure.
The boys remained on the ground, sobbing.
“Do you have anything to say to her?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry, man. Real sorry.” Snot ran down the speaker’s nose.
“Won’t do it again, swear.”
“Please, just let us go. I’ll pay you. I’ve got money.”
“Enough!” Zacharel forced the boys to their feet. First they flinched, then they wobbled. “You will march straight to the nearest police station and confess your crimes. Fail to do so, and I will come back for you.”
As much as Annabelle had doubted him lately, he halfway expected the boys to do the same. However, they reacted to the ring of truth the way he was used to, their eyes glazing over, their heads nodding. No need to flash the visage of a hulking green beast, then.
“Why are you still here?” he snarled. “Go!”
They raced away from him.
Annabelle patted him on the shoulder. “Good job, Z. Really impressive work there.”
“Sarcasm?”
“Not this time, Winged Wonder.”
He faced her and grinned. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.”
This woman managed to amuse him no matter the situation, and that, more than anything, revealed the depths of his attraction to her. And he wasn’t afraid of such an admission, not this time. He was becoming used to his feelings for her.
“You know, you’re pretty when you smile,” she said, patting the side of his cheek.
“Fierce, woman. I am fierce.”
“If you say so.”
He dragged her the rest of the way through the alley, pleased when she offered no protest. At the end, he turned right, hustled down another alley then turned left, and no one else tried to stop him. Finally the entrance to the club came into view.