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.
CHAPTER TWO
KOLDO SPENT THE REST of the night digging through the heavenly archives kept on every human ever to live and learned several interesting tidbits about the blonde and the redhead. The comatose girl was Laila Lane, and the other one, the one he wished to observe, was Nicola Lane. They were twenty-three-year-old twins, with Nicola being older by two minutes, and unmarried.
So young. Too young.
The two were identical. The only reason Laila had blond hair was because she’d bleached it, hoping to be “unique.” The girls had no other family, and relied only on each other. Their parents had died in a car accident five years before.
Koldo left the library and flashed to Laila’s hospital room. Once again Nicola was nowhere to be seen. But he wasn’t worried. According to the gossiping nurses, she came every day. He had only to wait.
He strode to the edge of the bed. This time, the Most High’s gift was not in operation, so, when he looked, he saw the blonde rather than the demon hiding under her skin.
The sight was almost as bad.
Her hair was dry, thin and matted. There were bruises under her eyes, and her lips were chapped. Her skin was severely yellowed, her liver obviously shutting down.
She wouldn’t last much longer.
The Water of Life was a powerful liquid capable of repairing the most damaged human flesh, and the only thing capable of saving her. It would also rid her of the demon. But her thoughts, words and actions would influence its continued success.
The grzech could return to her and try again to poison her. So, even if Koldo fed her the Water, she would have to learn to fight the forces of evil—and then actually fight. Was she willing to engage in any kind of battle?
Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, Koldo wasn’t willing to suffer and sacrifice, and he would have to do so to even approach the shoreline of the River of Life. First, he would be whipped. Second, he would be forced to give up something precious to him. Last time he’d relinquished his hair. And there was no telling what he would be asked to give up next. His ability to flash? His captive mother?
Never!
The practice had not been created by the Most High, and wasn’t even supported by Him. But Germanus refused to end “a tradition that had been with their kind since the beginning,” as a means of proving the depth of their determination. So, once again free will prevailed and the practice continued year by year. Koldo saw no way around it.
The room’s only door opened suddenly, and Nicola stepped inside. Koldo straightened, and even tensed at the sight of her. He frowned. His body had only ever reacted this way before battle. Why was this happening with her?
At least she had no idea he was there. He was in the spiritual realm, and she in the natural, so he was blocked from her gaze.
He looked her over from bottom to top, then back down—far more slowly. That fall of strawberry curls was once again in a ponytail, the thick length tumbling over one shoulder. There were dark circles under her eyes, and the color in her cheeks was high. Her lips were swollen from being chewed. Despite the heat outside, a worn pink sweater draped her shoulders, the lapels pulled tightly together.
She was a tiny fluff of nothing, just as he recalled, her frame heart-wrenchingly delicate. He towered over her, and could easily break her in half with a single twist of his wrist.
Can’t ever touch her, he told himself.
For some reason, the tension inside him only increased.
The same demons stood sentry behind her, following close at her heels. They spotted Koldo and spewed a mouthful of dark curses.
“Why are you here?”
“What do you hope to gain?”
He ignored them, and they decided to do the same to him, perhaps hoping he would go away this second time, too.
“Hey, La La,” she said softly. “It’s Co Co. I’m told you’ve taken a turn for the worse.”
The words were encased by a thick, grim shell, yet still her voice stroked over him. A feather tickling. A brush of velvet caressing. He savored the odd sensations, even … liked them?
Nicola pushed the smallest chair next to the bed, struggling under its weight. The demons snickered at her. Angered, Koldo stepped toward her, intending to help her, but immediately forced himself to still. Now wasn’t the time to reveal himself. He would frighten her.
The demons caught his aborted action and scowled at him. So much for ignoring him.
“You’re not welcome here, Koldo,” Lefty said.
Responding to a demon invited conversation. Conversation invited lies. Koldo wasn’t so foolish as that. But he wasn’t surprised the creature knew his name. With as many demonic kills as Koldo had made throughout the centuries, the entire underworld knew of him.
“We can make you leave,” Righty proclaimed.
Fine. He was foolish. He said, “You can try.” No matter what, they would fail.
Nicola reached out and gently patted her sister’s hand. “Oh, did I tell you? Blaine won the race.”
The monitors beeped steadily, the comatose girl never moving, never twitching.
Sighing, Nicola sat back in the chair and began to relay the trials of her workday.
This time, he would