CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“YOU’VE GOT TO TRY THIS.” Laila shoveled a piece of chocolate into Nicola’s mouth before she had time to form a reply.
Chocolate contained caffeine, so very rarely did she allow herself to indulge. But when she did... The gooey goodness delighted her, and she closed her eyes to savor. A mistake. She and her sister were in the process of strolling along the cobbled path winding through the park, and she bumped into a trash can.
The thud brought Laila’s attention around, and her twin burst out laughing. “Kooky Co Co kicks a carton.”
Empty wrappers, half-eaten sandwiches and Starbucks cups spilled onto the concrete, yet Nicola smiled as she cleaned the mess. How wonderful to hear her sister’s amusement. When she finished, she dug the antibacterial gel from her purse and slathered her hands.
“You’ve got chocolate on your chin,” Laila said, trying to be calm but failing. The gray of her eyes glimmered gorgeously. The sun cast bright, golden rays over skin that hadn’t seen the outdoors in months, illuminating her, making her radiate health and vitality.
Nicola wiped her face with the tips of her fingers. “Better?”
“Much. Now you’re almost as pretty as me.” Pretending a vanity she’d never possessed, Laila studied her decimated cuticles. “Notice I said almost.”
“Someone needs glasses. Your hair is blond but your roots are red,” Nicola replied, giving her ponytail a flip. “It’s quite hideous.”
Laila gasped with mock outrage. “I’ll have you know this look is all the rage right now. Total style and sophistication.”
“I don’t follow trends. I make them.”
Grinning, her sister held out her hand. “You are so totally lame. Come on, walk with me.”
They linked fingers and resumed their stroll. The tranquillity of the moment helped diffuse the memories of the attack—something she hadn’t shared with her sister. Memories kept trying to rise to the surface of her mind. While she was in the shower. While she selected today’s underwear. While she cooked breakfast.
Once, she’d almost broken down and cried. But then she’d remembered Koldo’s kiss, his sweet, sweet kiss. His uncertainty. His vulnerability. His desire to make sure she was enjoying herself. And everything had changed.
He was such a big, strong warrior. There was a time she would have bet nothing could shake his confidence. But then she had.
As if her opinion mattered to him.
“I could hear you at the hospital, you know,” Laila said, delving into a subject they had previously avoided.
“Really?” She’d always wondered. Had always hoped.
“Yes, and you kept me there longer than I wanted to stay. Anytime I would feel myself drifting away, you were right there to tug me back.”
“That makes me happy.”
“But not me. I was ready to go.”
The words were like a fist to the gut. “Well, I’ll never regret holding on to you, La La. I love you.”
“And I love you, too.” Laila’s smile was sad. “But, Co Co, if we’re ever again in that situation, I want you to let me go.”
Nicola stopped, forcing her sister to do the same. They faced each other, right there in the middle of the path, causing the people behind them to trip to the side in an effort to avoid slamming into them.
“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I won’t. I’ll fight for you with every bit of my strength.” And Koldo would fight with her. Right?
She wanted to believe it, but he’d seemed to abandon her. He’d promised to give her an hour a day, to teach her, to train her, and then he’d vanished for good, leaving her to believe he regretted showing her so much vulnerability.
And why shouldn’t he? She had nothing to offer him. He was tough, fierce and knowledgeable. She was weak, defenseless and ignorant of the truth.
Exasperated, Laila spread her arms. “Be practical about this.”
Expecting a twenty-three-year-old girl to die of heart disease was practical? “Koldo says we have to—”
“Ugh. Koldo this, and Koldo that.” Laila anchored her hands on her too-tiny waist. She’d gained weight since her release from the hospital, but not enough. “He’s all you ever talk about anymore. Whoever he is, he’s lying to you, my love. Why can’t you see that? He’s not an angel any more than I’m the tooth fairy.”
“You’re right. He’s not an angel. He’s a—”
“I know, I know, but it doesn’t matter. If he’s so concerned with our health, where is he?” Her sister’s tone gentled as she added, “Why isn’t he here, giving me this information himself?”
Her shoulders drooped. “I don’t know.”
A mother pushed a stroller around them as Laila reached out and tugged at the end of Nicola’s earlobe. In the background, a dog barked. “He’s not a Sent One, whatever that is. He’s a con man.”
“I’ve seen him pop in and out of thin air.”
“You’ve seen an illusion.”
“Just wait until you meet him.”
Laila tsked with a mix of exasperation and pity. “Darling, he’s only looking to sell you a miracle cure.”
“No. He’s giving me a miracle cure and paying our bills.”
“So you think.”
Nicola swallowed a sigh. No matter what she’d said, or what angle she’d tried, her sister had rejected all things Koldo. She’d called Sent Ones “a romantic idea.” She’d scoffed at the concept of demons.
Frustration and upset had tried to take up residence inside of Nicola—neither of which she welcomed, per Koldo’s orders. She just... She had to get through to her sister. Laila’s life was in danger. She needed saving, and Nicola would do whatever was necessary to save her.
Laila shook her head, saying, “You only believe him because you have a crush on him. Your eyes go dreamy every time you talk about him.”
“Do not.”
“Do, too.”
“Not!”
“Too!”
Laila dropped the empty box of candy and they began a slap fight, giggling like the girls they used to be, before sickness and fear and loss had taken such a vicious toll. But Laila sobered all too soon, too busy fighting for breath.
Nicola picked up the box and tossed it in the nearest trash can, then reclaimed her sister’s arm to urge her forward. She’d missed this kind of interaction. A few years ago, she’d gone to the local community college and Laila had opted not to “waste what little time she had.” Then Nicola had gotten a job at Estellä and Laila had focused on her art. Then, Laila had gotten sick. Well, sicker. After that, Laila had stopped painting and had started spending every free minute inside a doctor’s office or in bed.