He was a man she trusted.
But she didn’t know or trust the woman.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
Once again the woman ignored her question, saying, “Just let me out. All right? Yes?”
The desperation was warranted. The evasion was not. Could she be a serial killer? Or working with the demons?
“Let me out!” Fists banged into the wall. “Now!”
Nicola nibbled on her bottom lip...and backed away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
KOLDO WATCHED as Zacharel landed at the edge of Germanus’s cloud—no, Clerici was the owner now.
Golden wings tucked into the warrior’s back, and an unexpected pang of envy hit Koldo—as always. He had to stop feeling this way, but oh, what could have been. He wasn’t someone who believed everything happened for a reason. Bad things happened because people had free will.
Of course, he did believe something bad could be worked to a person’s good. The loss of his wings, however? He couldn’t imagine anything good ever coming from that.
And the loss of his ability to flash? No. Nothing good could have come from that, either. How would he have traveled? How would he have survived? He was grateful he had healed.
Either Sirena’s poison had faded on its own, or his joy at being with Nicola had helped him overcome it. Probably the latter. Every day he was tied a little more firmly to the delicate human. Needed her a little more fiercely.
Zacharel flowed into motion, saying, “Clerici wishes to meet you.”
Koldo kept pace with him, boots thudding against the cobbles that formed a path through the cloud to the temple’s dais. Flowers bloomed at each side, rivers as clear as crystals winding throughout. The sky was a bright blue, the sun throwing rays of gold and orange and twining them like ribbons.
“You knew I wanted Nicola before you assigned me to guard her,” he said.
“Yes. But you’ve known that for a while.”
“I have. What I haven’t been able to figure out is how you knew.”
Never one to reveal a sense of being uncomfortable, Zacharel shrugged as if he hadn’t a care. “The Most High opened my mind to a vision. I watched you return to the hospital. I listened to you speak to the girl in the elevator.”
Koldo didn’t mind having visions about others. But others having visions about him?
“He wants you happy,” Zacharel added.
“I know.” But did he really believe it? After everything Koldo had done... “Is that why you placed Jamila at her office?”
“Yes. I wanted her well guarded while you were away. You were so unstable, Koldo. You know you were. You were a bomb too close to detonation, and everyone in your path would have felt the sting of your explosion. The girl has calmed you, and I’m glad for it.” Zacharel patted his shoulder.
Blue-winged angels pushed open the double doors.
“I’ll leave you to your meeting now,” Zacharel said.
“Very well. And thank you.” Koldo stalked inside the building, his footsteps echoing. The corridor was empty. Before, it had been lined with antique furniture, and always burst at the seams with Sent Ones, movement and chatter. The demons must have defiled the furniture, and the Sent Ones must be waiting for a summons.
A summons Germanus should have been the one to make.
Hands fisting, Koldo stalked down the hall. The doors to the throne room were guarded by another set of angels and were already pushed open. Koldo passed, silent, and entered, noting that the walls were now bare, the murals of the Most High’s realm of the heavens painted over.
Had they been defaced?
He should be out there, hunting the culprits. Instead, he was playing naughty cat and recovering mouse with his father.
“At last I meet the famous Koldo.”
The deep voice came from the right, and Koldo turned. Clerici perched on the middle step of the dais, polishing a sword. He wore a flowing white T-shirt and pants, just as Koldo preferred. There was dirt on his hands, as well as his middle and calves.
Where Germanus had appeared aged, Clerici appeared young, even for their kind. He looked to be a mere twenty years old, with brown hair, brown eyes and an unassuming face. Plain, to be honest. But there was something about him that arrested Koldo’s attention. A magnetism. A gleam of...love, perhaps, shining brightly in those dark depths.
And like Koldo, he was without wings.
“I’m not what you expected, I know,” Clerici said, running a rag over the length of a weapon.
“I hadn’t given you any thought.”
A nod of that dark head. “Brutal honesty. I like that.”
“You receive that from all of us.”
“Ah, but you aren’t bound by the ring of truth. You offer it willingly.”
A defect all Sent Ones could sense in him. “You have an assignment for me?”
Clerici set the blade aside and looked up. “Not currently, no.”
Confused, he said, “Why not?” He’d thought that was why he was here.
“You aren’t ready.”
A lie, surely! “How do you know that?” he gritted out. He was a first-round pick, and that was that.
The new king of the Sent Ones offered a half smile and tapped the center of his chest. His heart. “I just do.”
And I’m now brewing a rage just for you. “I’m strong, capable.”
“No. You’re enslaved by your emotions.”
He popped his jaw. He wouldn’t discuss his mother. Not with this stranger. And he knew that’s where the male was headed. “Why did you summon me?”
“Perhaps I wished to welcome you to my fold.” Clerici’s head tilted to the side, and he perused Koldo with the same intensity he’d received. “Perhaps I wished to ask you if you miss your wings.”
More than anything else in the world, but all he said was, “Do you miss yours?”
“Who says I ever had a pair?” Clerici stood and closed the distance between them, and it was then that Koldo felt the power crackling from his skin, lightning strikes against his own, burning him from the outside in.
“Did you?”
“Ah, but that information isn’t yours to collect, is it?”
Privacy. That, Koldo understood and respected. He shook his head.
“And now, on to our business,” Clerici said. “I offered each of the Elite Seven a reward for their dedicated service to Germanus. I expected requests for riches, clouds and other tangible items. But every warrior astonished me, I must say. And your Zacharel most of all.”