Sweet Peril (The Sweet Trilogy #2)(20)

Kope would be in charge of changing money for us the next morning. When I knew he was safely through customs, I hailed a cab.

We’d chosen a middle-of-the-road hotel near the old city, within walking distance of where Duke Sonellion and his daughter Zania lived. Once in my room, I dropped my bag and slumped deliriously on the bed. I took a moment to run my fingers over its plush red headboard and golden comforter before stretching my supernatural hearing to the other corner of the hotel where Kope had been sent. I knew he would be listening for me with his extended hearing as well.

“Kope?”

“I am here,” came the quiet rumble of his voice.

“What time should we leave in the morning?”

“Let us meet at nine thirty in the hotel courtyard.”

“Okay, I’ll see y—Oh crap!” I pressed a hand over my mouth and fell back on the bed, banging my head against the wooden edge of the headboard. A demon had soared into the room and now hovered in my face. A prick of fear stabbed my chest. The spirit was dark and eerie with frightening feline features. I kept my mouth shut and breathed hard through my nose.

Appearing too afraid could make me seem guilty, so I jutted out my chin and met his beady eyes. “What do you want?”

Staring at it, waiting for some sort of attack or haunting message, I realized it looked familiar. All I could think was that we’d been caught before we’d even started the mission. The spirit’s mouth lifted at the corners, revealing pointy teeth, but if it was attempting a rabid snarl, something was off. This was more like . . . a really unpracticed smile. I recognized it now—Azael—an ally. I hadn’t seen it in six months.

“I will alert Belial that you have arrived safely.” Just as quickly as his scratchy message seeped into my mind, he was gone, flying swiftly through the wall into the heart of the hotel.

I shuddered. Couldn’t Dad somehow teach them to knock? Anything less jarring than dive-bombing toward my face unexpectedly.

I sat back up, remembering that the conversation with Kope had been severed during my momentary freak-out. When I nudged my senses around the space of his room and called to him, there was no response. I sent my hearing to the hall and found him outside my door. I leaped off the bed and let him in. His wide eyes made a quick inspection of the room before raking me up and down.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “It was one of my father’s allies making sure we made it safely.”

“That is an ally of Belial?!” He pointed at the wall.

“You saw it?”

“I did. Did you not recognize it?” Kope asked with uncharacteristic awe in his voice.

“Not at first . . .” I touched a finger to the back of my head and winced.

We stared at each other, standing close, neither of us daring to say the demon’s name or title out loud: Lucifer’s personal messenger.

By all accounts, Azael was deeper in hell’s pocket than any other demon, and yet my father trusted him. Kope and I stood there a moment longer, joined in fear but also trusting that Dad knew what he was doing. He’d better, or we were all in trouble.

In a movement of slow affection, Kope lifted his hand to cup my shoulder. His palm was so hot that I almost flinched. He removed the hand and his brow tightened as he shuffled a step back.

“I am sorry,” he said, dropping his eyes.

Huh? “For what?”

“I should not touch you when we are alone like this.”

His breaths seemed to shallow out.

“We’re friends, Kope. Friends comfort each other.” I really wished he wouldn’t make a big deal out of little things. It made me feel bad.

Fatigue tightened the skin around his eyes. “Sleep well, Anna.”

I nodded, not sure what to say. He took a moment to listen at the door before slipping into the corridor. I could still feel the heavy heat of his hand on my shoulder as I climbed into bed.

At nine thirty I stood waiting for Kope in the hotel’s quaint courtyard strung with vines. The warm air held a lively buzz. The closest comparison I could manage was the feeling I had had at the Native American reservation in New Mexico. Our surroundings housed a sense of mystery and history too ancient to comprehend. We were standing in the oldest known city in the world that was still functional and occupied. As old as Babylon, which had long since fallen.

I spied Kope coming toward me, looking suave in black slacks and a crisp, gray button-down shirt with the top button open. He slipped something in my hand as he passed me: money, with a small knife wrapped inside. I shook my head and pushed the knife back into his hand.

“I don’t want to be armed when I meet her,” I whispered.

He pressed his lips together like he didn’t agree, but eventually tucked the knife in his pocket and handed me a small wrapped object.

“Hummus on flatbread,” he explained before setting off.

Yum. I ate as I followed, keeping space between us. The main streets were roughly paved, but worn and crumbling in places, which added to the old-world appeal. I made my way into the souk, a bustling open-air market with the sun shining down on it. Children ran rampant, playing and hollering. Shopkeepers called out in exuberant voices and used grand hand gestures as they haggled over prices. Unlike in many crowded cities, the auras in the souk were pleasant.

Outside the busy market, I stood on a major corner, marveling at the sight of ancient buildings and a Roman-era wall that marked the old city portion of town. My skin prickled with awe. Paul the Apostle had been on the same ground where I now stood. The light weight of the hilt against my ankle was a reminder of his guardian angel, Leilaf. Being here brought it all to life.