Ronnie glanced around them. Every third or fourth pocket of people seemed to be staring at them. Pointing. Grabbing cameras. Whispering. She looked behind her, to locate an attraction she might have missed on her way in. Nope. Just more food court. The crowds couldn’t be looking at her, Irdu, and Tia. Her shields should convince them the three were the most bland, non-interesting things in existence. Not worth a glance, let alone a murmur and a photo.
“We need to go.” Maybe Ronnie was just being paranoid, but adrenaline coursed through her, amplified by a series of off-the-cuff actions that had driven her all morning, and she couldn’t ignore the hum of anxiety. When she stood and made her way toward the main hotel, Irdu and Tia followed, falling into step beside her. They needed to meet Michael, so it wasn’t as if she was running. They were on a schedule.
For the first time since she could remember, she searched for a remote place, out of the public eye, to phase from. It shouldn’t matter if they stood in the middle of a stadium full of people; no one should see them come and go. Another couple turned and watched them walk past, and Ronnie clenched her fist by her side. She found a quiet corner in the lobby, tucked away from view of anyone, and took Tia’s and Irdu’s hands.
“Where are we going?” Irdu asked.
In the time it took her to register his question, their surroundings vanished and were replaced with sand and a crumbling temple.
“Israel,” she said.
“You were right.” A familiar voice she couldn’t place made Ronnie whirl.
Michael stood a few feet away, next to a man in a black jacket, matching slacks, and a white button-down shirt, topped with a kippah and tallit—skullcap and prayer shawl. A rabbi. He wore a faint glow. Ronnie met him once, many months ago, when she was trying to figure out who she was, and why Metatron lived in her head. Relief flooded her at the friendly faces, and she crossed the distance to Michael in a few short steps.
When she threw her arms around his neck, he squeezed back. “I’m glad you’re all safe.” His words echoed her thoughts.
She wished it were that easy. That this were the last stage of an exhausting journey. Too bad that wasn’t the case.
MICHAEL SAT NEXT TO Ronnie, who was half in Irdu’s lap, on the couch in the rabbi’s apartment. It felt natural to have her heat here, mingling with his aura, despite the fact she was flashing like emergency lights on a snowy night. Tiamet took a chair at the kitchen table, which was only a few feet away.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Ronnie said.
“For you, anything.” The rabbi gave a nodding bow, then went to the fridge. “Can I get any of you drinks? New identities?”
Ronnie chuckled. “We’re okay for now. Thank you.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “You seem to know me. We’ve met before, but we weren’t introduced.”
“Of course. I’m Sandalphon.” He extended his hand, and she shook it. “Del, if you prefer.”
Sandalphon was another fallen angel who had acquired a cherub and used the bond to extend his life. Michael had helped him through the transition, and Sandalphon helped people far more as a rabbi than he was able to as an angel.
“I do. And it’s nice to finally meet you. Izzy talks about you all the time.” Despite Ronnie’s pleasant tone, red and black continued to intertwine around her.
The demons she brought with her fared far worse, surrounded by a fractured array of peach and blue. Their auras seemed to feed each other. When Tiamet’s clashed, Irdu’s would flare as well. When his smoothed out, so did hers.
Michael had never seen such a thing. A curiosity for another time. “I wish we had time for catching up and getting to know each other, but a few of us have gone from nobodies to terrorist suspects in a matter of hours. We need to get to a point, information-wise, where we can act instead of reacting. What do we know?”
“Cable news made us famous.” Tiamet smirked, and sarcasm peppered her response.
It was as good a starting point as any. “Why?” He left the question vague on purpose. None of them knew, but if enough different views were tossed out, they’d get somewhere.
“Because of me.”
Despite Ronnie being right next to him, Michael had to strain to hear her response.
Irdu shook his head. “Because of assholes who aren’t in this room.”
Since the fight in Moscow and Ronnie’s reaction to being called an impostor, Michael had watched her slide further into a pit of defensive self-pity. He’d hoped their conversation this morning knocked her out of whatever brought this on, but that didn’t seem to be the case. He turned and put enough distance between them that he could look at her and not feel the pulse of her energy. “Do you know what one of Gabriel’s biggest flaws is?”
“He’s a megalomaniacal asshole?” Ronnie said.
“Well, yes.” Michael couldn’t have summed it up better, but it also didn’t make his point. “But to look at it more in depth, he thinks he deserves something because he’s an original. He’s always held the belief that being created first entitles him to more. The problem is, so many of us believe it’s true—about him—he gets away with the attitude.”
Ronnie twisted her mouth in irritation. “Lucky bastard. Maybe I can learn something from him after all.”
“Or perhaps you shouldn’t think that way. None of us is owed any sort of special privilege. We don’t get an award for being one of the first four. Yes, we have responsibilities and skills that are unique—naming cherubs and ruling our own corners of the kingdoms. But every agent, from heaven or hell, has something. We’re not owed worship or followers.”
The way her lips drew into a thin line and her brow knit together told him this wasn’t the right way to approach the situation. He grasped for something else. “Why did Samael follow Lucifer to hell?”
“Because of love.” Frustration filled Ronnie’s words. “And thousands of years down the line, look where that’s gotten all of us. I think we’re off-topic.”
“Because of adoration. Respect. Everybody who left with him did it out of respect. I still don’t know why you stayed in heaven.”
The furrow of her brows deepened, as if she was considering the statement. “Same reason I resigned this morning—I’ve never agreed with his tactics. But things weren’t like this when I was Metatron. We weren’t focused on amassing armies of followers, to undercut each other. Or ...” She sighed.
“What?” Michael prompted.
“Maybe Gabriel and Lucifer have always believed that was the only way, and the two of you are the only things keeping them in check.” Irdu’s sharp words reminded Michael there were others in the room.
Michael’s first instinct was to deny that was the answer. He couldn’t. “It seems that way, but I don’t think we were meant to be divided like this.”
“That’s where you’re looking at it wrong,” Tiamet said. “Honestly, it’s like you higher-ups never listen to yourselves. There’s no meant to be in this world. We get to live our lives the way we choose, and every decision ripples out into the world, collides with other ripples, and changes everything. That’s the point.”
Michael had never heard it phrased quite like that. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have been given that.”
“Free will?” Irdu narrowed his eyes. “Fuck you. I wouldn’t surrender that despite all the mistakes ever made at any time, by me or anyone else.”
Tiamet waved. “Hi. Off-topic police here. You asked what we know? We don’t know anything. Compared to whoever is doing this—Gabe, or I don’t know—we’re stupid lost. Information is power. If you have information about the whole planet, you have power over the whole planet. He’s got that; we don’t.”
“Now the whole planet has information about us.” Michael was trying to be rational about this, but he was running out of straws to grasp.
“Holy shit.” Ronnie’s quiet exclamation shut everyone up. “I know what Gabe’s doing.”
Irdu twisted his mouth. “Throwing a tantrum of epic prop
ortions because he’s not king of the playground?”
“Yes. Lucifer knows it, too,” Ronnie said.
“We all know that.” Tia didn’t sound impressed.
Ronnie looked at Michael. “The rules change if someone tells you to do what you want, versus do it or suffer the consequences. Faith versus knowledge.”
A light clicked on in Michael’s head. “Gabriel wants order. For people to do what he says, because he knows best.”
“Exactly.” Despite the enthusiasm in her voice, Ronnie frowned. “Best way to get them to do that? Expose us. Not just those of us in this room, but all of heaven and hell. He’s going to prove to humanity we exist and take away any doubt of whether or not they should fall in line.”
“Sounds a bit misguided, don’t you think?” Tiamet asked.
Kids these days... No appreciation for the simpler things in life. “So does our entire existence, if you take that stance. Gabriel likes order. He doesn’t believe people know what’s best for them. This way, he believes he’ll be able to make them grow.”
“You assume.” Irdu added.
“It’s a safe assumption. And it sounds like you don’t have better.” Sandalphon spoke for the first time since the discussion started. “Even if that’s not the goal, what he’s doing puts us all at risk. Those of us who are fallen don’t have the big corporate machine behind us, and I’d hate for someone to start digging and figure out I’ve been here for almost two-hundred years and not aged a day. You can stay here until you regroup. Anything you need, I’ll get you.”
“Thank you.” Michael gave him grateful smile. “So how do we stop it from happening?”
“Kill Gabriel.” The edge and formality in Ronnie’s tone caught him off guard.
Irdu coughed, and Tiamet’s eyes grew wide.
Michael focused on Ronnie. “Just like that?”
“Now you have a problem with it?” Disbelieve filled her question
“I’ve always had a problem with it.”
“Whoa. Back up. I thought she was being facetious, you know? Tossing out random ideas.” Tiamet’s words all ran together. “You don’t mean actually kill. We can’t do that. We’re immortal. The body dies; the soul lives on. The punishment is we’re removed from earth. Death isn’t an option. Is it?” She finished her question with a squeak.
Michael felt a familiar surge of regret that he’d taken on this mantel. “It’s not something anyone else knows how to do. It’s not something I want to know.”
“But he does it anyway.” Ronnie crossed her arms and sank back into the couch.
“Gabriel’s one of us.” Michael regretted the words as soon as they were out.
Ronnie growled. “What did you tell me not fifteen minutes ago? We don’t get special privileges for being originals. And—oh yeah—he’s tried to destroy me twice. The agents you’re killing? Most of them just wanted a little extra power.”
“Just? This isn’t cold-blooded murder.” The irritation snapped out before Michael could stop it, and he clenched his jaw to bring his temper under control. “I agree it’s the only option.”
“So why are you hesitating?” Ronnie asked.
“I’m not. Not for me. A week ago, you refused to talk to me when you found out about this. Your friends look freaked out. I don’t need the weight of this decision to infect all of you.”
She uncurled from her defensive position and slid her hand under his. “You’re not in this alone. The fact we’ve been so isolated is part of what’s making this difficult. Don’t push away the only allies you have.”
“This isn’t the kind of burden someone shares.”
“Maybe you’d stop hating immortality so much if you let more of us in.”
He snapped his head to the side and stared at her, trying to make sense of her suddenly flat tone. “I don’t—”
“You do.” Ronnie pursed her lips. “You can have whatever reasons you want for considering falling, but wouldn’t it be nice if it was because you learned all immortality could teach you? Consider what it would be like to not be so burned out on life that you’re running away instead of looking to add to the experience.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Irdu and Tia set up a network tunnel to bypass regional restrictions, so U.S. news played in the background.
“Officials now have information linking the incident in Los Angeles to other incidents around the country.”
“Ubiquity stock closed at an all-time low, following a day of disaster, including the resignation of their Chief Operations Officer, her alleged involvement in terrorist activities, and the announcement that the SEC is pursuing their investigation against the information giant.”
“Law enforcement believes the identification used by all three suspects to gain employment was falsified.”
With each passing hour the bad news compounded, but Ronnie couldn’t look away. It might be nice if their ability to cloud minds extended to something more severe. Mind control or mind reading. Not that it would matter. It was the same as a magician’s illusion, the trick only worked if someone was looking the other way. With the world focused on them, with so many people wanting to know what was going on, a simple distraction like clouding their minds wouldn’t work. The realization sank into her bones. It was why people had stared at them in Las Vegas, despite her shields. Humanity was looking for them, rather than away.
The TV clicked off, and a hollow hum filled her head, driving anxiety through her.
She whirled to see what happened and found Michael holding the remote. “That's hurting more than helping,” he said. Sympathy shone in his eyes.
Ronnie opened her mouth to protest.
“Turn it back on.” Tia's shrill demand interrupted. “They're dissecting my life.”
Ronnie felt the despair. It echoed her own.
“It doesn't matter.” Michael dropped the remote on the table. Plastic clattered against wood, jarring without the television to muffle it.
Tia was on her feet in a blink and standing toe to toe with Michael. “It doesn't matter?” Her voice stayed an octave high. “I don’t know if time has made you a callous asshole, or you were gifted with the ability to not care, but they're destroying our lives. I like my life.”
Tia's words and frustration burrowed deep into Ronnie's chest, squeezing with a pain she didn't expect. But what Michael said made sense. She rested a hand on Tia's arm. “I know this sucks.”
“No, you don't.” Tia turned on her. “You've spent the last several months hiding from your life. I helped you, not just because of what you meant to Irdu, but I looked up to you. An original who understood the rest of us are important too. But you’re kind of pathetic. More power than anyone—certainly more than the great and mighty Michael—and you spend your time whining that no one respects you and hiding from the fact you got a third chance at life.”
Ronnie wanted to protest, but the words wouldn't come.
Tia went on. “Irdu knows it. Michael knows it. Fuck, the guy at the convenience store probably knows it. So don’t stand here and give me some bullshit line about how you know how this feels. I understand this will pass. That in five years or ten, I’ll be doing something else anyway. I know that. I look forward to that. But if I’m going to live this life now, it should mean something, and right now it hurts like fuck to watch that being torn away, and don’t you dare try to take that from me with pretty words and hollow reassurances.”
Ronnie didn't have a retort. She'd spent months resenting Michael for running away from life, when she'd done the same. “I'm sorry.” That hardly covered it.
“That's nice.” Tia's shoulders slumped.
Irdu stepped up next to her and wrapped an arm around her, and she leaned into him. “You should get some sleep,” he said quietly. He looked at Ronnie. “You know where to find me. All the way in the other room.”
Ronnie nodded, unable to summon more. She couldn't look up. Didn't want to see Michael's face, whether his expression was one of pi
ty or resentment. Couldn't stand to gaze around the small room. She wandered to the window and gazed out over the desert. It was her favorite place. Vivid memories of her first life and death were attached to those sands. And now of her humility as well. She didn’t know how long she stood staring into the night, letting the accusations pummel her until her soul was battered and bruised.
A warm palm settled against her back, and Michael’s familiar energy mingled with hers, soothing and clashing at the same time. “I have no desire to fall.” His statement wove into the stillness rather than shattering it.
“Oh?” Ronnie couldn’t find a better response. Her thoughts were too jumbled, and her heart ached with the reality of the day.
“Mm hmm. Once upon a time, I did. Before you came back, I was running on autopilot. I did because I had always done. When I met you and saw how much you appreciated the simple things, it occurred to me I’d surrendered my appreciation for life.”
This was the last conversation she wanted to have right now. “Which was why you left. I know. We’ve had this talk.”
“I was wrong to do so. Or rather, my reasons for leaving were wrong. You saw that, and I couldn’t grasp it. I don’t have to give everything up and intentionally shorten my life, to re-learn how to appreciate what I have.”
“Neat trick. Can you teach me that?” What she meant to sound like a joke ended in a sigh.
“We can figure out it out togeth—”
Something shifted in the air, like a piece of steel wool wrapped her body and was then yanked free. Michael’s fingers tightened against her spine.
“What is that?” She barely dared breathe. The air felt wrong in a way she couldn’t put words to.
He moved away and nodded toward the two bedrooms at the back of the apartment. “Someone’s here.”
The feeling evaporated as quickly as it appeared, and she blinked several times in surprise, struggling to process the shifts in energy. With a shared glance, she and Michael dashed to Del’s room. Tia and Irdu stood in the doorway but didn’t enter.
Soul Betrayer (Ubiquity, #2) Page 24