Beauty Awakened

CHAPTER ONE

In a world of darkness, the smallest light is a beacon.

Present Day

KOLDO STALKED DOWN the ICU ward of the hospital. He and the warrior with him were hidden from human eyes and protected from human touch. The doctors, nurses, visitors and patients misted through them, completely unaware of the invisible world playing out alongside theirs. A spirit world that had given birth to this natural world, the human world.

A spirit world that was the true reality for all creation.

One day, these humans would discover just how exact that statement really was. Their bodies would die, their spirits would rise—or descend—and they would begin to understand the natural world was fleeting, the spiritual eternal.

Eternal. Just like Koldo’s irritation seemed to be. He didn’t want to be here among the humans, on yet another silly mission, and he really didn’t like his companion, Axel. But his new leader, Zacharel, wanted him busy, distracted, for he suspected Koldo teetered on the verge of breaking a heavenly law.

Zacharel wasn’t wrong.

After everything Koldo had endured in his father’s camp...after escaping and spending centuries searching for his mother, Koldo had finally found her—and locked her inside a cage in one of his many homes.

So, yes. Koldo teetered. But he wouldn’t ever cause the woman irrevocable harm. He wouldn’t even lower himself to break one of her nails. For now, he simply hoped to teach her the horror of being trapped by circumstance, as she had taught him. As she was still teaching him.

Later, he would... He wasn’t sure. He no longer liked to consider the future.

Because of his abhorrence of Cornelia, Koldo had landed in the Army of Disgrace. It was a terrible name for such a choice defensive force, but it was one that fit nonetheless. The members were the worst of the worst, the baddest of the bad...male and female Sent Ones who were in danger of damnation.

For various reasons, all twenty soldiers had ignored prized heavenly laws. They were meant to love, but they hated. They were to help others, but they really only hurt. They were to build up, but they only ever tore down.

Three months ago, the members had been given one year to mend their wicked ways, or they would be stripped of their abilities and kicked into hell.

Koldo would do whatever was necessary to keep that from happening—even deny himself true vengeance. He refused to lose the only home he’d ever known.

Axel grabbed him by the arm, stopping him. “Dude! Did you see the meat bags on that girl?”

And there was reason number one why Koldo had a problem working with Axel. “Could you be any more disgusting?” He jerked from the warrior’s hold, contact with another not something he enjoyed.

“Yeah,” Axel said with an irreverent grin. “I could. But someone, and I won’t say your name, K, my man, needs to get his mind out of the gutter. I wasn’t talking about her chesticles.”

Koldo ran his tongue over his teeth. “What, then?”

“Hello. Her demons. Look.”

His gaze slid to the room at his right. The door had been in the process of closing and now clicked shut, blocking the occupant from view. “Too late.”

“It’s only too late when you’re dead. Come on. You gotta see this.” Axel strode forward and ghosted through the entrance.

Koldo’s hands curled into fists, and he battled the urge to punch a wall. They had a mission, and distractions only extended their time in a place crawling with demons laughing at the pain the humans suffered and whispering into the ears of anyone who would listen.

Can’t survive, they said. There’s no hope. And these humans...so many were puppets, with clawed hands tugging at their strings. If they failed to fight back, they would become casualties in a war between good and evil, either in this life or after death. One way or another.

That’s just the way things worked.

The Most High ruled the heavens. “He” was actually a sacred trinity consisting of the Merciful One, the Anointed One and the Mighty One, and He was the King of kings, His word law. He had appointed several underlings throughout the skies. Germanus—or Deity, as some of Koldo’s kind called him, referring to a title, nothing more—was one of those underlings. A king answerable to the King.

Germanus led the Elite Seven—Zacharel, Lysander, Andrian, Gabek, Shalilah, Luanne, Svana—and each of those seven led an army of Sent Ones. Zacharel, for instance, led the Army of Disgrace.

Sent Ones looked just like angels, but they weren’t actually angels. Not in the sense the world knew, at least. Yes, Sent Ones were winged. Yes, they waged war against evil and helped humans, but in actuality, they were the adopted children of the Most High, their lives tethered to His. He was the source of their power, the essence of their very existence.

Like humans, Sent Ones battled the desires of the flesh. They experienced lust, greed, envy, rage, pride, hate, despair. Angels, in actuality, were servants and messengers of the Most High. They experienced none of those things.

Mind on the mission.

Koldo straightened his spine. Zacharel had tasked him and Axel with killing a specific demon here at the hospital. The demon had made the mistake of tormenting a patient who knew about the spiritual world around him, a male who had called upon the aid of the Most High.

The Most High was love personified, willing to help anyone who asked. Sometimes angels were dispatched, sometimes Sent Ones. Sometimes both, depending on the situation and the skills needed. This time, Koldo and Axel had been chosen. They had been nearby, headed to a training session, when Zacharel’s voice had whispered through their minds, imparting instructions.

Axel peeked his head through the center of the door and said, “Dude! You’re missing it!”

“The person in that room is not our—”

Grinning, the warrior once again disappeared.

“Assignment,” Koldo finished to no one but himself. His anger intensified.

Control yourself.

He could move on and fight the demon he was supposed to fight, no problem, but according to Zacharel’s orders, he wasn’t to proceed without his partner.

Grinding his teeth, he marched forward. He slipped through the iron obstruction without any difficulty, stopped and glanced around. The room was small, with multiple machines attached to the motionless blonde female on the bed. A redheaded female sat next to her, chatting easily.

The redhead had no idea there were two demons standing behind her, pretending not to see the Sent Ones in the room.

“Two of the guys in my office got to arguing about who could run faster,” she said, “and soon bets were flying.”

Her voice had a whispery quality, as if filled with smoke and dreams, and it settled over Koldo like warm honey. And yet, with the soothing came a tensing. Every muscle in his body knotted up, as if preparing for war. He...wanted to fight such a delicate human? But why? Who was she?

“I felt as if I was standing in the middle of a stock exchange or something.”

Laughter bubbled from her, such beautiful laughter, pure, with nothing held back. The kind he’d never experienced himself.

“They decided to race in the parking lot instead of have lunch, and the loser had to eat whatever’s in the plastic bowl in the break room fridge. The one that’s been in there for over a month and is now black. I heard the cheers as I was pulling out of the lot, but I didn’t get to see who won.”

Wistful now. Why?

“You would have voted for Blaine, I’m sure. He’s only five-nine, so he wouldn’t tower over you too badly, and he has the cutest blue eyes. Not that his looks have anything to do with his speed, but I know you, and I know you would have wanted him to win regardless. You’ve always been a sucker for baby blues.”

He could only see the top half of her, but judging by the fragility of her bone structure, she was a tiny thing. Her features were plain, her skin as pale as porcelain, and her eyes as gray as a winter storm. Her mass of strawberry hair was pulled into a high ponytail, the ends curling all the way to her elbow.

There was an air of fatigue surrounding her, and yet, there was a sparkle in those winter eyes.

A sparkle the demons behind her would soon snuff out.

He forced his attention on the pair. One was posted at her left and one was posted at her right, and both had a proprietary hand on her shoulder. They were Koldo’s size, with dark, pupilless eyes that reminded him of bottomless pits. Lefty had a single horn protruding from the center of his forehead, and crimson scales rather than flesh. Righty had two thick horns rising from his scalp, and dark, matted fur.

There were many different types of demons, and they came in all different shapes and sizes. From the first of their kind, the fallen archangel Lucifer, to the viha, the paura, the násilí, the slecht, the grzech, the pică and the envexa. And sadly, many more. Each sought the destruction of mankind—one man at a time, if necessary.

Amid the types of demons, there were ranks. Righty was a top-of-the-line paura, and all about fear. Lefty was a top-of-the-line grzech, and all about sickness.

Demons liked to attach themselves to humans and, through whispers and deceit, infect them with a toxin that caused their anxiety levels to spike, in the case of the paura, and the immune system to weaken, in the case of the grzech. Then, the demons fed off the ensuing panic and upset, weakening the humans further and making them easy targets for destruction.

The girl must have been a veritable buffet.

Just how sick was she?

Lefty gave up trying to ignore Axel and glared at him as he danced around, slapping his face and saying, “I’m hittin’ you, I’m hittin’ you, what’re you gonna do about it, huh, huh?” in the good-ole-country-boy accent he sometimes liked to use.

Koldo despised demons with every ounce of his being. No matter their type or rank, they were thieves, killers and slayers, just like his father’s people. They left chaos and confusion in their wake. They ruined. And this pair wouldn’t leave the girl unless forced—but even then she could welcome others.

His chest burned as he switched his focus to the girl on the bed. But...his gaze lasered through the wrinkled cover, the thin hospital gown, and even skin and muscle. What he saw astonished him.

To him, the blonde was now as transparent as glass, granting him a glance at the demon that had wormed its way inside her body. A grzech, different from the one plaguing the redhead. This one had tentacles that stretched through the blonde’s mind and into her heart, draining the life from her.

The Most High often blessed Sent Ones with specific supernatural abilities during difficult situations, things like this X-ray vision, as he’d heard others call it. Until now, Koldo had never experienced anything like it. Why here? Why now? Why this girl and not the other?

The questions were overshadowed a second later, when, in the blink of an eye, Koldo learned exactly how this had happened to her, the information seeming to download straight into his brain.

Born at twenty-six weeks, the blonde and her redheaded twin had struggled to survive the heart defects they’d been born with. Multiple surgeries were needed, and both almost died countless times—each time nullifying any progress made. Throughout the years, their parents had become fond of saying, “You have to keep yourself calm or you’ll have another heart attack.”

Innocent words meant to aid the pair—or so it seemed.

Words were one of the most powerful forces known—or unknown—to man. The Most High had created this world with His words. And humans, who had been fashioned in His image, could direct the entire course of their lives with their words, their mouths as the rudder on a ship, as the bridle on a horse. They produced with their words. They destroyed with their words.

Eventually the blonde had come to believe the slightest rise in her emotions would indeed cause another painful heart attack, and with her belief, fear had sparked to life.

Fear—the beginning of doom, for heavenly law stated that what a person feared would come upon them. In the blonde’s case, the fear had come upon her in the form of the grzech. She’d caught his notice, and she’d been such an easy target.

First, the demon breathed his toxin into her ear, whispering destructive suggestions.

Your heart could stop at any moment.

Oh, the pain...it’s unbearable. You can’t live through that again.

This time, the doctors may not be able to revive you.

Demons knew human eyes and ears were a doorway to the mind, and the mind was a doorway to the spirit. So, when the blonde had entertained the terrible suggestions, constantly rolling them through her mind, the fear had multiplied and become a poisoned truth, causing her defenses to crumble, allowing the demon to slink inside her, create a stronghold and destroy her from the inside out.

She had indeed had another heart attack, and the necessary organ had weakened beyond what human medicine could repair.

Did the Most High want Koldo to help her, even though she wasn’t his current mission? Was that what this unveiling was about?

Sighing, the redhead leaned back in her chair, returning Koldo’s attention to her. Once again, he saw flesh and blood rather than spirit. The Most High’s gift hadn’t extended to her.

He didn’t have time to wonder why. A waft of cinnamon and vanilla hit him, quickly followed by the sickening scent of sulfur. A scent the girl would not be able to shed, as long as the demons stayed with her.

“It’s about time for me to go,” she said, rubbing at the back of her neck as if the muscles were knotted. “I’ll let you know who won that race, La La.”

Did she have any idea that evil weighed her down and stalked her every move?

Did she know she was full of demon toxin, just like her sister? That, if she didn’t fight, she would end up in the same circumstance, the demons worming their way inside her body?

Koldo could kill Lefty and Righty, but again, other demons would sense what easy prey she was and attack her. As unknowledgeable as she clearly was, she would surrender again.

For any kind of long-term success, he would have to teach her to wage war against the toxin. But to do so, he would need her cooperation and time. Cooperation she may not give. Time she may not have. But...maybe she was the one the Most High wanted him to help. Maybe Koldo was to save the redhead from the blonde’s fate.

Either way, the choice to aid her—or not—was Koldo’s. Germanus and Zacharel might issue orders, but not the Most High. Not even when He revealed a truth. He never overrode free will.

“You want in on this, buddy?” Axel asked him, continuing to slap at the now-snarling demons behind the redhead. “’Cause I’m about to take things up a notch.”

“A notch above annoying is merely irritating,” he said, inwardly fuming because he already knew he was going to pick the mission. Survival always came first.

Why was he fuming, anyway? He liked the sound of the girl’s voice—so what? Who was she to him? No one. Why should he care about her and her future?

“We have a duty,” he added. “Let’s see to it.”

Immediately guilt attempted to rise. No matter who she was—or wasn’t—he was cold and callous to leave her to such an evil end, wasn’t he? His father would have made the same choice. His mother would have— He wasn’t sure what she would have done. She still seemed to love everyone but Koldo.

“Ah, come on, hoss,” Axel said. “Stop and play, that’s my motto.”

“You come on,” he called to Axel. “Now!” Before he changed his mind.

“Sure, sure.” Axel worked his way behind the demons and kicked one in the back of the knees. The other twisted swiftly to bat the side of Axel’s head with a meaty fist, sending the warrior propelling through the far wall.

Koldo stepped in front of his brethren when he returned to the room, preventing him from springing into a full-on attack. “Touch him again and you’ll discover my talent with the sword of fire,” he told the demons.

Loyalty mattered to Koldo. Deserved or not.

“Yeah.” Axel didn’t sound upset or even winded. He sounded happy. “What he said.”

Koldo threw him a glance, saw that he’d raised his fists and was hopping from one foot to the other. He could not be thousands of years old. He just couldn’t be.

“You’re the intruders here,” said the demon that had pretended Axel’s head was a baseball. His voice was as jagged as broken glass. “The girl is ours.”

He struggled against the urge to hurt and maim the demons as he reached back, grabbed Axel by the collar of his robe and tossed him through the only door into the hall. “I pray we’ll see each other again,” he told the fiends.

They hissed as Koldo stalked from the room.

Axel stood in the middle of the walkway, black hair shagging around a face he loved to claim women saw in their fantasies—because he saw it in his own. His electric blues glared holes in Koldo. “Dude! You wrinkled my clothes.”

They were back to “dude,” rather than “hoss.” Clearly the warrior had no idea just how volatile Koldo’s emotions were. Every step farther away from the girl darkened his mood. “What do you care? We’re to engage in battle, not model the current fashions from the skies.”

“Duh. But a guy’s gotta look his best, no matter the occasion.” An orderly walked by, wheeling a cart piled high with trays of food, snagging Axel’s attention. He followed, tossing back a delighted smile. “I smell pudding!”

How sublime. I got stuck with the only winged warrior with ADD.

THE FUN AND GAMES ENDED the moment Koldo and Axel closed in on the targeted demon. The human the creature tormented was restrained to his bed, and drugged, too, if the drool leaking from the side of his mouth was any indication.

A slecht hovered in the air at his right, whispering vile curse after vile curse.

“G-go away,” the male managed to gurgle. He could see the demon, but not Axel and Koldo. “Leave me alone!” The more he spoke, the stronger he became...but not yet strong enough.

You couldn’t slay a dragon if you had not yet learned to slay a bear.

Axel shocked Koldo by surging forward without a word, his wings shooting from his back. The demon only had time to look toward him and gasp before the warrior unsheathed two double-edged short swords from an air pocket and struck.

The swords were a gift from the Most High and something every Sent One was given. Axel’s wrists crisscrossed to form a very effective scissor, chopping the demon’s head from its body in a single heartbeat of time. The pieces thudded to the floor before evaporating into ash.

Deep down, Koldo had expected to carry the weight of the battle. This was... This was...

Not fair.

The human sagged against the bed, his head lolling to the side. “Gone,” he sighed with relief. “It’s gone.” He closed his eyes and sank into what was probably his first peaceful sleep in months.

Axel tossed the black-stained weapons back into the air pocket. “Dang, I didn’t mean to do that again.”

Again? “You’ve killed so quickly before?”

“Well, yeah. Every time before. But once, just once, I’d like to only injure my opponent and get a little thrusting and parrying in before I deliver the deathblow. Well, see ya.” Axel flew through the ceiling, disappearing from view.

The man was as much a mess as Koldo. No wonder Axel had been given to Zacharel.

Just how wildly did he teeter at the edge of falling?

As close as Koldo?

Go home.

Good advice, and miracle of miracles, it sprang from his own mind. He meant to heed it. He did. But a single thought changed his mind. The redhead. He wanted to see her. Muscles tensing all over again, Koldo whisked back to the blonde’s hospital room.

Only, the redhead was already gone.

Disappointment hit him first, followed by a new tide of frustration and anger.

He whisked to his home hidden in the cliffs along the South African coast. A flash, the action was called. He’d learned a lot about himself and his abilities since being dropped in the middle of his father’s camp all those centuries ago.

A man will do just about anything to survive, boy. And I’ll prove it to you.

His father’s words—and yes, Nox had indeed proven them.

Just like that, the frustration and anger spilled over, and he roared. He beat his fists against the walls, over and over again, soaking his knuckles in crimson, cracking his bones as well as the stone. Every punch was a testament to a centuries-long rage, a soul-deep pain that had never gone away, and a festering wound he knew would never heal.

He was what he was.

He was what his parents had made him.

He’d tried to be more. He’d tried to be better. Each time, he’d failed miserably. Darkness constantly flooded him, banging against an already unstable dam made of tainted memories and corrosive emotions. A dam he was only able to rebuild after outbursts like this one.

The punching continued until he was panting and dripping in sweat. Until skin and muscles were shredded, and the broken bones exposed. Even still, he could have taken another thousand swings, but he didn’t. He forced himself to exhale with measured precision and imagine a cascade of darkness leaving him.

The dam refortified.

Aches and pains made themselves known, but that was okay. The banging had stopped. For now, that was all that mattered.

He padded across the living room. Along the way he fisted the collar of the dirty robe and yanked the material over his head. He dropped the garment on the floor, wind and dew whipping around him without any hindrance. He had no doors to block the gales, no windows to silence the song of nature; the entire house was open to the elements. Even better, the ceiling, walls and floor had been formed by the elements, presenting a showcase of glittering dark rock.

He stopped at the ledge overlooking a magnificent rushing waterfall pounding into the jagged stone below. Heavy sheets of mist rose from a turbulent sea, enveloping his naked body.

He came here when he desired privacy and peace. The turbulence around him had a way of making his mind seem calmer than it was. The wind kicked up, rattling the beads he’d woven into the length of his beard.

Once upon a time he’d possessed a head of hair to match. Long, thick and black, intricate beadwork woven throughout the prized strands. Now... He scrubbed a hand over the smoothness of his scalp. Now he was bald, his precious hair sacrificed in favor of vengeance.

Now he looked like his father.

Before he could stop it, his mind took him back to one of the many times he’d stood at the bottom of a deep, dark pit, thousands of hissing serp demons slithering over feet that had been flayed like fish...around a neck that had been sliced like Christmas ham.

Serps were very much like snakes, and they had continually sunk their fangs into him, all over him, dripping venom straight into his veins. But through it all he’d stood utterly still, remaining strong, refusing to so much as groan. His father had promised to remove a finger for every sign of weakness he exhibited. And when he ran out of fingers, he had been told he would lose his hands, his feet...his arms and his legs.

Back then, he hadn’t yet reached full maturity—hence the reason his wings had not grown back—and he would have been unable to regenerate the limbs. He would have suffered all of his life, and he—

Beat the ugly memory to the back of his mind, where it belonged. So his father had tortured him for eleven years. So what? He’d been rescued by Sent Ones, and had later become part of an army himself. Not the one he was currently in, but a different one, commanded by the now-deceased Ivar. Back then, Ivar had been the best of the Elite, and being under his command had been an honor.

Yet, in a fit of temper very much like the one he’d just displayed, Koldo had thrown that opportunity away, besting Ivar in front of his men.

Regret still haunted him. Such a lack of respect for such an admirable man...

Koldo had been kicked out of the army and left on his own—for a while. He’d used the time to return to his father’s camp and obliterate everyone and everything.

The single greatest day of his life.

He reached up and gripped the rock above him. Now I’m part of this new army, led by a man once known only as Ice. Tomorrow, Zacharel would have another mission for him, one far below his skill level. Koldo knew this, because his leader had sent him out every day for the past three weeks, allowing him no time to break a heavenly law and bring judgment upon his head. At least, supposedly.

Koldo could lie.

Koldo could steal.

Koldo could kill.

He could do any number of other things their kind was not to do. But he wouldn’t.

Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to worry about being paired with Axel. Zacharel liked to assign him a new partner for every new mission, probably to keep him off-kilter.

Sadly, it was working.

And yet, there was one bright light, he realized. The girl from the hospital in Wichita, Kansas. The redhead. He still wanted to see her.

Surely she wasn’t as tiny as he seemed to remember. For all he knew, she possessed the long, lithe legs of a dancer. Surely her hair wasn’t the sweet color of strawberries. It had to be fire-engine red or an ordinary dark blond. Surely he’d imagined the purity of her tone. Surely.

He straightened, anticipation overshadowing all else. He had to know, the desire a living entity inside him.

First, though, he would have to hunt her down.