Wicked Nights

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

SCREAMS OF PAIN AND PLEAS for mercy roused Koldo from his nap. He sat up, the scabs on his back splitting, fresh blood flowing. To his left, Thane, Bjorn and Xerxes exuded relish as they interrogated three demons chained to his wall. The scent of rot and diseased blood saturated the air.

He experienced a rush of disappointment and even anger. His home was ruined now. The home he’d spent centuries building, hiding and decorating. The only place he could fully relax, unwind. The luxurious prison he’d meant to keep the angel who had removed his wings. But that plan had been blown the moment he’d brought Zacharel and the human girl here, so…if he blamed anyone, he had to blame himself.

He rubbed at his scalp and the patches of stubble that remained. He was bald now. Would probably be bald forever, the mirror image of his father’s people.

“Learn anything?” he asked no one in particular.

Thane paused in the removal of his victim’s claws only long enough to say, “Their orders came from the high lord Unforgiveness.”

Unforgiveness. A true nightmare Koldo had never had the pleasure of fighting—but had wanted to fight many times over. The demon caused more trouble than any of his kind. “And those orders were?”

“We’re still working on that part.”

Koldo swept his gaze over the minions. Bigger than the little ones that latched themselves to humans, but no less dangerous, they were broken, cut and bleeding, hunched over, fighting for breath, even crying. Had any humans been here, they would have felt sorry for the creatures. Perhaps even pleaded for mercy, too. Koldo felt no such sympathy. How could he? He knew what these beings were capable of, knew the destruction they had rained would continue if they were freed.

To consider a demon redeemable was a fatal mistake.

His legs shook as he stood. Shook more as he walked over to Thane, who sat on a stool in front of his minion, and patted the man on the shoulder, careful not to brush against his wings.

The warrior with the sweetly curling hair and the wicked, heavenly eyes glanced up, frowned. “Do you desire a turn?”

There was a hitch in his voice, and Koldo knew Thane fought the need to rebuke him for daring to touch him without permission. But this was Koldo’s home, and Thane was here without permission of his own. “No. I want you to let the minion go. Alive.”

Thane leapt to his feet, the stool skittering back. His boys did the same, flanking his side in seconds. They formed a wall of muscle and might, a support system no one else would ever be able to breach. “You must still burn with fever to even suggest such a thing. It will only possess, rape and murder.”

How little these men thought of him. But unlike Zacharel, he would not embrace his ability to speak in the minds of his fellow soldiers and convince them otherwise. That was an invasion, plain and simple, and he didn’t trust the men to only listen to his words and never attempt to search through his mind, his memories.

He barreled between Thane and Bjorn and gripped the minion by the throat, forcing the male to look up, into his eyes. One crimson orb was missing, blood trekking down a bony cheek.

“Only one of the three demons here will walk away,” he announced.

Behind him, the angels hissed with outrage. But they didn’t contradict him, and he was grateful for that, at least.

“I have a message for your high lord. Will you be the one to deliver it?”

The minion brightened instantly. “Yes, yes, of course. Would be my pleasure to serve you in this way.”

A lie, most surely.

“No, no. I’ll deliver it,” the minion beside him said. “Let me.”

“No, me,” the third rushed out. “I’ll do anything. Anything!”

Koldo kept his gaze on the one he held. “I do not believe you. And that is why I’m keeping a piece of you here. If you want that piece back, you’ll have to come and get it with proof of your actions.” That said, Koldo ripped off the creature’s right arm.

A scream of agony, jagged at the edges. The spurt of black blood.

He tossed the appendage to the floor. As greedy and selfish as demons were, they could not bear for anyone else to have what belonged to them.

“I’ll go,” was the panted reply. “I’ll go and return. Swear.”

Truth or lie? Other angels would have been able to tell, but because of his father, Koldo could not. “When you see him, tell Unforgiveness that his cowardly hiding will not save him from our wrath.”

Koldo removed the chains.

In a blink, the demon bolted up and through the side wall, disappearing from view, laughing gleefully.

“What now?” Thane asked, angry.

“Now,” Koldo replied, “I follow him to the high lord. I have a lock on his spiritual trail.” An ability he hadn’t wanted the demon to know about, hence the pretense that he expected proof. “Once I discover where Unforgiveness and his horde are staying, I can lead Zacharel straight to him. In the meantime, kill these two. They are no longer needed and now possess information they shouldn’t.”

Amid the demons’ protests and the warriors’ grunts of approval, Koldo hid himself in a pocket of air, knowing that not even the angels could sense him any longer, and followed the trail the fleeing demon had left for him. He saw sparks of pink—relief. Fetid green and slick black, like diseased oil leaking from a car—the need to hurt someone mixed with fear.

The minion surprised him, doing as Koldo had commanded and going straight to the high lord. Through layers of dirt and rock, through long, winding tunnels, and into hell, a land of fire, ash and utter doom. Prairies and hills were scorched, charred to nothing. Ash curled through the air, creating a choking breeze. The intensity of the heat licked at him, causing his skin to sweat and welt. Screams of agony assaulted his ears, followed quickly by eerie laughter.

Angels were not allowed to enter without permission. Hell was not their realm, nor was it under their control, subject to their rules. But again, Koldo was not just any angel. His father had— No, he would not think about the man and why, exactly, he could pass between heaven and hell. He would then think about his mother.

Koldo caught sight of the minion, zipping along a bone-laden bridge. Water did not flow beneath, but blood, so much blood. Spikes anchored one side of that bridge to the other, a soul writhing in the center of each. At the end was a palace of gloom and torment, comprised only of human skulls. Thousands of empty eye sockets seemed to watch him.

As he entered, the fine hairs at the back of his neck rose to attention. Would the Deity grant Zacharel permission to come here? Or would Zacharel have to fall first? Whenever an angel fell, his wings were permanently removed and his weak, vulnerable body cast here. If that happened, Zacharel would not stand a chance.

Perhaps I can end things here and now. It wasn’t wise for a lone warrior to take on a horde, especially when that lone warrior was injured, but if there was a chance…

Koldo found the minion in the throne room. Up the dais steps his gaze went, landing on the giant lounging across the throne’s arms. The minion bowed.

This had to be Unforgiveness.

The bones of his face were exaggerated, his forehead too wide and bulging. His teeth were sharpened into fangs, and his skin a smooth expanse of crimson. Wings knotted and ridged curved from around his back and scraped at his thighs, as well as the throne. A long, thin tail rested in his lap, his fingers toying with the metal spike at the end.

“—said he would give my arm back to me if I delivered proof I told you his message.”

“Did he, now?”

“Oh, yes. Will you give me proof?”

Unforgiveness motioned one of the many demons behind his throne. The male came forward—and beheaded the one-armed minion.

The spectators chortled.

Unforgiveness held up a hand for silence. “The day I have been waiting for has finally arrived. The battle has truly begun.”

Koldo looked around, cataloging the details. There were over two hundred demons in this room alone. No telling how many others the high lord commanded. No, he could not take on this army all by his lonesome. Not in this condition.

There were several columns scattered throughout, each with a human spirit chained in front.

Spirits were corporeal here, and therefore subject to the laws of the realm’s nature. Blood dripped from each unconscious person.

They weren’t dead, he knew that much. When a spirit was killed, it withered away—only to reanimate a few days later, still trapped in this pitted, fiery realm of pain.

Koldo wished he could help, and that was one of the main reasons angels were never allowed here. They wanted to help, but couldn’t, and the guilt would stay with them forevermore. Koldo forced himself to look away from the bodies. But not before he caught a glimpse of… Surely not… That couldn’t be… He stalked to the only column on the dais.

It was.

Jamila’s dark hair hung in tangles and mostly concealed her face. She was cut and bruised from head to toe, soaked in blood, her wings gone, but she was alive, her chest rising, falling, rising. But…

She had died. Hadn’t she? Or had that, too, been a trick?

Her eyes were closed, her breath more of a wheeze than anything. Death waited for her even now, ready to sink past her skin and consume her at any moment.

“Well, well.” Unforgiveness breathed deeply, as if he savored something sweet. The creature pushed to his feet. Everyone in the room quieted. “I smell you, angel. I know you’re here.”

Every soldier in the demon’s army tensed, readying for combat.

Out of habit, Koldo nearly created a sword of fire. Steady. He can’t know where you are. But those crimson eyes were locked on him, as though observing his every move.

“We’ve killed her, you know. Over and over again we’ve killed your female only to revive her before it was too late.”

Steady. Responding would verify his presence and reveal his location, even though Unforgiveness already seemed to know where he was, and that would be a mistake. The creature might sense him, but he couldn’t see him. This was a trick, and if he appeared, the other demons would see him, too.

“You are Koldo, yes?”

He pressed his lips together, barely managing to cut off his angry response.

Unforgiveness walked a step closer, stilled. “No need to confirm. You are. I’ve studied Zacharel’s new army at length. Why else do you think I sent so many minions to earth? Some were to fight, but some were to watch and report back. You, Koldo, are the only member who can flash. You are the only one with the ability to follow a demon into hell.”

Koldo ground his teeth together.

“Oh, yes, I know all about you, just as I knew you would be the one to find your way down here, hoping for answers. I have to admit, I’m glad I was right.” Unforgiveness motioned to another demon, the one standing directly behind his throne. “Bring her.”

Happy footsteps clomped away, leaving an awful silence in their wake. And when the minion returned a short while later, he was dragging a struggling angel behind him.

Koldo’s angel. The one he had searched for…the one he wanted to kill more than he wanted to live. Shock and fury became a toxic poison in his blood.

“Ah, I sense my little welcoming gift is not in vain. You’ve been tracking her, yes?” Unforgiveness asked.

At his sides, his hands fisted. She was just as he remembered. Beautiful in the cruelest of ways, for she looked as innocent and sweet as a woman could, and yet she had the blackest of hearts hidden beneath. Her hair was as long and as dark as his, though hers was woven with streaks of gold. Her eyes…such a pretty shade of lavender. A smattering of freckles around her nose, the only flaws in her pale-as-cream skin.

Yes. His mother was indeed beautiful.

So badly he wanted to close the distance, grab her and disappear. But she was chained to the demon, and Koldo would have to take them both. The demon could kill her on the way home, and Koldo wouldn’t be able to stop him.

“I’ll bargain with you,” Unforgiveness said smoothly. “You’ll do what I tell you, and in return, I’ll give you the two female angels. This one and Jamila. If you decide to defy me, I’ll kill the pair here and now and ensure neither can be brought back.”

The minion forced the angel to her knees. Koldo peered at her, but she kept her gaze on his feet. Did she have any idea the things he planned to do to her?

He looked back at Jamila. Her eyes were now open, dulled, but filled with hope and regret. Her mouth opened and closed, as if she had something to say but couldn’t quite get the words out. Or maybe she feared she would cry out and beg.

“Listen carefully, warrior.” Unforgiveness outlined what he wanted Koldo to do, leaving no detail to chance. “You have one day to make this happen. One day. Not enough time to plan anything on your own, but just enough time to do what I desire. After that, I kill the females. And do not think you can swoop in with more soldiers and save them. Those soldiers would have to enter through the gate, and my spies would alert me. Do not think to sneak back in yourself, for I would sense you. Do not think to warn Zacharel, for you will now be traveling with my minion. Ditch the minion, and the females die.”

Lead settled inside Koldo’s stomach as each of his options was systematically ripped away.

“You see, I’ve thought of everything.” Once again Unforgiveness was grinning. “Do we have a deal or not?”