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 help her, Koldo decided. To start, he would have to do something to ensure she listened to him, and actually acted on what he said.
That was the only way she would come out of this.
And perhaps it was his only way out, too. In saving her, he might finally find some sort of atonement.
Atonement. The word echoed in his mind. It was something he sometimes craved, but not something he deserved. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could still hear the agonized screams he’d caused … could still feel the barb of his victims’ fear.
Clenching his fists, he resolved himself. He could do this. And so could she.
“You’re going to get better, La La,” she suddenly announced, as though drawing hope from his thoughts. “You have to recover. I won’t allow anything else. I’m the big sister, and you have to do whatever I tell you to do. Nothing else is acceptable.”
Gaze locked on Koldo, Righty bent down and whispered into her ear. Spreading poison.
The color drained from her cheeks.
Lefty squeezed her shoulder, and she slumped forward, as though some of her energy had evaporated in a puff of smoke.
She stopped talking victory, and went back to discussing her day.
Koldo rubbed the back of his neck. What had just happened was a prime example of the life she had probably always led, pulling herself up only to be knocked down again.
Well, no more.
His body tensed all over again, preparing for war. But this was different than what he’d felt when Nicola had first entered the room. There was no sense of anticipation, no hint of excitement. He just wanted to flat-out raze his enemy into the ground.
He held out his hand and summoned a sword of fire—another gift every Sent One received from the Most High. One he always had a right to use.
Righty and Lefty jolted to attention, gnarled wings popping
