Beauty Awakened. Gena Showalter
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stumbling backward. His mind reeled. But … but … but she was so dainty, so fragile. He dwarfed her. Could crush her. Why her? Why now? Desire for her was implausible. Impractical.
“No,” he croaked. He couldn’t.
“Oh,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “So, you want me to obey you when you tell me to … what?”
“Stay calm. Embrace peace. Sow joy.”
“Sow?”
“There is an irrefutable spiritual law that states a person reaps what they sow. Therefore, if you sow joy into others, you will reap joy for yourself. Right now, you need joy.”
“Calm, peace, joy,” she echoed hollowly. As if he were insane.
Maybe he was. “Yes.”
“Why do you want me to feel those things?”
If you don’t, the toxins will build up, and eventually you’ll die, just like your sister. They weren’t exactly calming, peaceful, joyous words, so he remained quiet.
“Wouldn’t you rather have me, I don’t know, grow a beard, get taller and play the part of Koldo in a little production called What You’re Asking Is Impossible? Because that I think I can do.”
Silly human. For the first time in his life, he wanted to smile. “No.”
Desperate, she said, “How about the number of the coffee shop girl? I could give you that, and we could call it even.”
Coffee shop girl? “Remember when I told you I could help you heal?”
“As if I could ever forget.”
“This is the way.”
A moment passed. A moment she spent blinking at him. “Calm, peace, joy,” she repeated. “Tell me my sister will live longer than a few weeks, and it’s done.”
As if he was in control of how long her sister survived. But she didn’t know that, and she was trying to buy more time. “I’m sorry I wasn’t clear. I gave you my top offer. There’s nothing more I can do on your sister’s behalf. Therefore, there will be no negotiating of my terms.”
“I figured, but I had to try.” She offered the same bright smile she’d given him in the elevator, and he had the foresight to capture a mental picture this time. One he would remember on the worst of nights, when the past threatened to rise up and swallow him. She was proof there was more in the world than darkness and pain.
“Do we have a deal?” he asked.
“We do.”
He nodded. “Very well. Don’t allow the doctors to take her off life support. I’ll return shortly.”
“But—”
He left before she could finish her sentence. Right now, every moment counted.
He flashed to Thane, who paced in the hospital hallway, and told him where he was going. Then he flashed to Zacharel’s cloud in the lower level of the skies. He had no wings and couldn’t hover outside the entrance to await permission, which was why Zacharel had given him an open invitation to enter—as long as he remained in the foyer.
“Zacharel,” he called. Walls of swirling mist surrounded him, obscuring his vision of the rest of the home. But that’s the way clouds worked. They opened only as you moved through them.
His commander stepped through the haze, his black hair askew, his robe dirty, torn and speckled with blood. Solid gold wings arched from his back, patches of the feathers missing.
Protective instincts rose. “What happened to you?” Koldo demanded. “Do you require aid?”
Zacharel’s dark head tilted to the side, his emerald eyes glassy, as if he’d … cried. “No aid is currently needed. You’ll find out what happened with the rest of the Sent Ones. A meeting will be called very soon, and every army will be there. Until then … what are you doing here, Koldo?” The last was said on a weary sigh.
Koldo liked and respected Zacharel. The warrior had taken responsibility of the most unruly army in the skies, and wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty to help each and every one of his men out of trouble.
“I gave Annabelle a vial of the Water of Life and I need what remains.”
Zacharel stared at him for a long while before saying, “Why do you want it?”
“Is there any left?” he asked, refusing to state his reason when he wasn’t yet sure there was a prize to be had.
Ignoring his question, Zacharel turned and motioned for Koldo to follow.
After only a few steps, the cloud opened up, revealing a living room suited for the richest of humans, with a velvet-lined couch, one half of it backed and the other half open. It was ideal for any Sent One and human pairing. There was a matching recliner, an intricately carved coffee table made of crystals from all over the world. A tapestry hung on the far wall, the words Perfect Love Casts Out Fear scripted in Greek in the center.
Clearly Annabelle had decorated—Annabelle, who sat in front of the coffee table, poring through books, furiously writing passages down in a notebook.
“Hey, Koldo,” she said when she glanced up. She had a fall of straight, blue-black hair and rich amber eyes. Her Japanese mother and American father had certainly shared the perfect blend of DNA to create her, he thought, for there wasn’t a single flaw to her exquisite features. And yet, she couldn’t compare with Nicola. A fact that delighted him. Why?
He inclined his head in greeting.
Zacharel eased onto the couch behind her, enfolding her between his legs. Refusing to give precedence to the urgency inside him, Koldo claimed the recliner across from them. He had no wings, so the back of the chair offered no restriction to his movements.
A white-hot pang blistered through his chest.
“You asked if there was any left. There is,” Zacharel said.
“Oh, what are we talking about?” Annabelle asked, dropping her pen.
“How much?” Koldo insisted, ignoring her.
“A single drop.”
Annabelle grinned with delight. “The Water of Life, then.”
A drop. That was enough for what Koldo planned. “I wish to purchase it from you.” The words seemed to be pushed through a tunnel of broken glass. He’d shed blood for this liquid. Had lost his hair for it. And now he had to give something else?
Annabelle had kept her end of the bargain, he reminded himself. She had kept Zacharel out of the heavens while Koldo searched for his mother. The Water was hers. Not his. So yes, he had to give something else.
“Again, why?” Zacharel asked.
“I hope to save a female.” At least for a little while.
Annabelle tapped a finger against her chin. “Human?”
He offered no more. That information wasn’t necessary.
“The female you have locked away?” Zacharel asked tightly.
He knew Koldo had a Sent One trapped somewhere because Koldo had rescued two females from hell, all those weeks ago. His mother, and one of Zacharel’s soldiers. That soldier had been lost to the pain of her injuries and should not have been aware of Koldo’s actions. But aware she had been. And she’d told Zacharel everything she’d witnessed.
Zacharel had no idea Cornelia was Koldo’s mother, and he had yet to demand Koldo free her. Maybe because he knew Koldo would simply hunt her down again. Instead, he’d kept him busy with all those missions and now the babysitter, hoping to restrain him from any further wrongdoing.
One day Zacharel might realize nothing could restrain Koldo.
“No,”