Sweet Peril (11 page)

Zania’s stricken face revealed that she thought otherwise.
“He forbids you to drink? And you obey? Why?”

“No, it’s not like that.” I swallowed hard. “He doesn’t
forbid
me or anything—he’s just looking out for me. He knows . . . how carried away I get if I’m not careful.”

She huffed and poured another, then sat in a chair across the room from me, placing the knife on her lap. We watched each other across the space.

“I remember you,” she said. “And the angels. I believed the Dukes planned to kill me that night.”

“I thought the summit was about me, too,” I admitted. I wondered if every Neph feared they were the cause of that summit, only to feel relieved when Gerlinda was called forward.

“You should not have spoken out that night,” she said.

So I’d been told. I breathed a small sigh.

“May I ask a personal question . . . about your sin and how it manifests itself?” I asked. “I mean . . . do you feel hate for people in general?”

She raised an eyebrow, and I squirmed a little on my cushion.

“I detest men.” Her eyes widened as she spoke freely of her sin. She rolled the knife in her palm, jolting me with a memory of how Kaidan used to do the same thing. “Men are vain, selfish fools. Every one. I enjoy when they fight and hurt each other. I wish they would kill one another completely and be done with it.” Zania wiped her mouth and watched for my reaction. I swallowed hard and cleared my throat.

“Do you know of my father, Belial?”

“I have not met him. But I know his sin.” She held up her
drink and sipped it. “How do you so easily deny the drink I offer?”

“It’s not easy.” No, in fact, before Kope’s whistle I’d been trying to talk my good conscience into it by telling myself it would be inhospitable
not
to have one. The key word there was
one
. And moderation really wasn’t my thing. “It’s harder for me with drugs,” I admitted. “The thing is, my father doesn’t force me to work for real, so I mostly pretend. That makes it easier because I don’t have to fight the addiction.”

Her arm froze midair as she read my face with incredulous disbelief.

“My life is very different from other Nephilims’, Zania. It’s my hope that during our lifetime, all the Neph will have the option to stop working.”

“Impossible.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

I smiled. All things were possible.

We spent three hours talking, and Zania would not commit to helping. I don’t think she believed or trusted me, even after I showed her the hilt. But I didn’t know how else to prove myself to her in two days. She refused to be seen out in public with me when I invited her to lunch, and she adamantly refused to see or speak with Kope.

At one point the call to prayer sounded on speakers outside—a soulful warble of Arabic song ringing over the town. I’d learned about the Muslim prayer times and heard the morning call to prayer before leaving the hotel. Zania seemed not to notice.

“Do you ever join the prayer time?” I asked out of curiosity.

She gave a shrug. “When I am in public I perform the prayer motions like the other good women. In my home I do not.” She took a drink.

She drank so much during our three hours, I didn’t know how she stayed coherent. She brought me one of her shirts to change into and then told me it was time to leave.

“Can we talk again later?” I asked. “After you’ve had time to think about everything?”

“I do not think that will be necessary.” She stood by the door with her hand on the knob. A horrible feeling of failure spread through me.

“What will you do today?” I grasped for something, desperate. “And tonight?”

“I will work, of course. He has been known to send his dark ones to watch me while he travels, so I must always work. And now, you must go.”

She opened the door and squared her shoulders before looking down at me. I walked out and turned to say good-bye, but she shut the door in my face. I stood there for a minute, shaking inside. What was I supposed to do? Looking down the cobbled road, I began walking back in the direction we’d come. By the time I sensed Kope step out of an alley and follow me, I was biting the insides of my cheeks, keeping my head down. I wanted to cry. Or kick something.

To add to my mood, I almost got hit by a car when I thought I saw Kai and froze in the intersection. Pedestrians definitely didn’t have the right of way here. The guy on the sidewalk had the same exact height and build, but when the stranger turned his unfamiliar face toward the sound of the honking car, an
absurd feeling of disappointment settled inside me. I jumped out of the way just in time. My head was a mess.

Kope spoke from behind me as we neared the hotel. “You did well, and she has much to think about. Tonight we will follow while she works. Perhaps there may be another opportunity to show we mean no harm.”

“Okay,” I agreed, and I clung to his optimism.

The sun had set when we approached Zania’s street as silently as possible that night. Using my special senses, I heard the ruffling of clothing and clinking of glass inside her house. When she came out, she stayed on her doorstep for a moment. Kope and I stood very still in a pathway where she couldn’t see us. We waited until she’d rounded the corner at the end of the street before following. Other people were out, so I hoped our footsteps would go unnoticed.

After a ten-minute walk we ended up outside the touristy restaurant Zania was in. Kope waited outside while I peeked through a window. She’d gone to the bar, which had a large dance floor separating it from the dining space. Most of the patrons looked to be college age.

Since it was past the dinner hour, the seating area was dimly lit and had the atmosphere of a lounge or nightclub. It was not crowded yet, but there were enough people to keep us out of sight. I motioned Kope to follow me inside, and we went to a small table at the back of the room. For one paranoid moment I wondered if sitting with Kope was going to gain us unwanted attention, but nobody gave us a second glance.

A waitress came over and we both ordered cups of the
city’s famous hot tea, though my body longed for something stronger. When she walked away, I moved the table’s flower arrangement and standing drink menus to the end of the table to block us. Kope sat at an angle so Zania could not see his face. I dipped my head down when she turned in our direction. She was eyeing a table of men on the other side of the lounge from her.

The room was quickly filling with cigarette smoke that tickled my lungs and burned my eyes. I had to tighten my vision into focus. What I noticed was unsettling. The four men at the table were not like the others in the room. Most of the men in the bar and lounge were sort of slick,
GQ
-looking guys with their hair heavily gelled, facial hair trimmed and shaved into neat lines around their jaws. Those types were talking and laughing, dancing and drinking, with colorful auras. But not the four men Zania chose to watch.

They wore traditional, black tunic shirts and had full beards. They were not drinking, and they seemed to be having a serious discussion. One in particular took notice of Zania’s attention, and his aura immediately muddied. She smiled coyly, moving her hair and looking away as if she were embarrassed to be caught watching. He looked back down, shifted in his seat, and then looked up at her again. She was running her fingers softly up and down her neck. Zania was an expert at taking small, seemingly innocent gestures and packing them full of meaning.

The man’s emotions went into overdrive, swirling around him, dangerously dark with zaps of red as Zania bit the pad of her thumb. The dude was scary. Of all the men in that place,
he was the one I’d steer clearest of. His eyes darted around with unease. Zania didn’t seem afraid in the slightest.

Every few minutes Kope would shift just enough to glance at the scene. There must have been something in the look on my face just then, because he turned abruptly to see what was going on. After a moment he pivoted back toward me and we looked at each other, mutual in our worry. Zania was a good worker. She’d chosen the one man in the room who probably prided himself on being chaste. If she had anything to do with it, his morals would be smashed to pieces that night, and his opinion of women would hit an all-time low.

The man had given up on trying not to look at her. He now stared with open lust and hatred, lost in a red and gray haze. His companions finally made the connection, looking from him to Zania, who’d looked away to finish her drink. The men spoke low in Arabic, with heated passion. Kope pulled out his phone and began typing, then passed it to me.

He calls her devil woman. They agree she must be taught a lesson.

Frightened for her, I held my breath to see what would happen. With one last sultry look in the seething man’s direction, Zania slid off the chair and sauntered through the crowd of dancers toward the exit. The man stood to follow. I’d like to think she was sprinting home at this moment, but something told me Zania allowed herself to be taught lessons on a regular basis. Well, whatever usually happened, it sure as heck wasn’t going to happen tonight. By the hard look on Kope’s face, he was in agreement. He threw some money on the table and we got up to follow them.

Outside the nightclub, one way led to crowds of people and
hopping nightlife. In the other direction were the outskirts of town, quiet and dark. It was from that direction we heard a muffled female cry of pain. We moved quickly, trying not to draw attention toward the alleyway where we headed. We turned the dark corner just in time to see the man open palm Zania on the side of her face. Twice.

A shot like that to the temple would have sent anyone sprawling, but he had a hold of her ripped shirt, which hung open to reveal a bloody spot at the top of her white bra. Was that . . . had he
bitten
her? When he ripped open the button of her black pants, I gasped.

Everything happened quickly then. Kope burst forward, grabbed the guy, and slammed his face into the wall with a
crack
. Zania fell and I ran to her side, crouching to lift her head into my lap. Her eyes fluttered.

“You’re okay,” I told her. Alcohol fumes wafted up at me as I smoothed back her hair, and my insides clenched with a greedy need. I did my best to ignore it and was careful not to touch the bloody welt growing on her cheekbone.

Kope had the guy’s arm cranked behind his back and they were conversing none too friendly in Arabic. The man looked to be pleading his case, but Kopano wasn’t having any of it.

“No man of God sheds the blood of a woman for tempting him,” Kope growled in English. There was a fury in his stance that made me pause and watch, wondering if he’d be able to rein in the temptation to bring down his wrath on this guy.

The man barked a hate-filled response and spat bloody saliva down the wall.

“He knows English?” I asked.

“Yes,” Kope answered.

Good. I needed to get rid of this guy immediately before Kope’s wrath could escalate. I spoke sharply.

“You are going to leave us, right now, and not attempt to follow us or harm us in any way.” I pressed the meaning of my words toward him, using the persuasive power of influence that I’d gained through my double-angel parentage. I didn’t know if it would work on this strong-willed man, but thankfully his mind was weaker than it had seemed.

“Yes!” the man shouted. With reluctance, Kope pulled him from the wall and shoved him toward the alley’s exit. When he’d gotten his footing and ran, Kope stood there, shaking in anger. His light eyes had darkened, and I needed to calm him.

“It’s okay, Kope,” I whispered up at him. “He’s gone now. Let it go.”

He shuddered and paced for a few minutes, clenching and unclenching his hands. I gave him a smile of reassurance as I watched his breathing slow to normal. Not wasting a minute more, he leaned down and lifted Zania’s long, lightweight frame into his arms and began the trek to her house. The streets of the neighborhoods were quiet. We passed a few people who stared, but thankfully nobody tried to stop us or question the scene.

At Zania’s house, I dug my hand into her pocket and pulled out the single key to let us in.

“Which way is your room, Zania?” Kope asked. Her name sounded melodic on his lips. She lifted a floppy hand toward the stairs.

I rushed ahead up the stairs and opened the door, switching on the lamp and pulling back the coverlet before stepping
out of the way. Kope laid her down with care. Then in a move that surprised me, he slid the high heels off her feet and placed them on the floor before covering her. His hands shook, and I wondered if it was leftover nerves from the altercation with the man. Watching Kope handle her with such care stirred an unexpected surge of affection inside me.

Zania whispered something, and with his hands still on the top of the blanket, he leaned down to listen.

She brought her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down.

“You can kiss me,” she whispered.

My eyebrows went straight up and Kope’s back stiffened. With a strangled grunt, he dropped the blanket and disengaged from her grasping arms. For one tense instant he stared at her like she was a bejeweled serpent, beautiful yet poisonous.

“I am sorry,” he whispered low.

His eyes shot to mine for one hot moment before he turned to leave us. I heard him go down the stairs and out the front door.

Whoa.

Zania rolled to her side and curled up, making a choking sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“Even brother Neph are repulsed by my touch,” she slurred.

“What?” I was shocked. “No, I can assure you Kope was
not
repulsed. Just the opposite, I think.” His lifestyle was common knowledge among our group, so I hoped he wouldn’t mind if I explained a little to alleviate her concern.

“Kopano is celibate, but he doesn’t hate women. He’s nothing like that man tonight.”

I smoothed her hair back, and touched her face with soft fingers. I found myself nursing her as Patti had done me when I was ill from the maturation of my senses. Zania made that choking sound again and a torrent of tears poured forth. When I moved closer to hold her, she reached out and clung to me as she cried, pressing her face into my abdomen.