Angels Defying (Angels Rising Book 3)

by Harriet Carlton

  “What do we do?” asked Imorean.

  “Screw him over,” said Gabriel with a smirk.

  “Gabriel means the mission Michael left for you. Find him. Take down Vortigern and find him.”

  “I can’t,” said Imorean, his shoulders dropping. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried so many times to remember what he taught me about getting to the astral plane, about making mental connections, but… I can’t. I just can’t do it.”

  Gabriel nodded. “We mean in a more literal sense.”

  “Archangels creatures aren’t supposed to die,” said Raphael. “I have a theory that when we die, sometimes a small rift opens in space and time. Since the death of an immortal creature is irrational, it upsets our reality. Like a hole in the fabric of logic that contains a piece of that Archangel’s life energy. With me so far?”

  “I think so.”

  “We need to return to Iceland, to where Michael fell. While he isn’t dead, he’s so powerful that this hole may have opened up anyway. We have to see if we can find this rift, if it exists. If so, we may have a chance to make things right again.”

  “Why do you need me?”

  “You have a bond with Michael unlike anything else,” said Gabriel. “Since you share his blood, undiluted by even family, your bond with him is clearer than ours. If anyone can find this, it’s you.”

  “I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” said Imorean.

  Raphael smiled. “That’s why we’ll be with you.”

  “So, what’s the plan?”

  “Simple really,” grinned Gabriel. “We sneak off Upper Morvine’s campus, we find Michael’s little rift, we pump some life force back into him through this rift, we resurrect him, then we all sneak back in, depose Uriel and everything goes back to the way it should be. No yielding to Vortigern.”

  Imorean stared. “Why does something tell me that it won’t all be this simple?”

  Raphael folded his arms across his knees. “Because it won’t be that simple. Uriel, volatile as he already is and if he’s being controlled by Vortigern, will want us under his direct supervision almost all the time. Haven’t you noticed where he’s put us all? I’m normally on The Main when I’m here, looking after the students there, yet here I am at The Terrace. Right under his nose. We disobey him, we become traitors in our own right. He’ll have the entire Host out after us. This will be extremely risky. Are you with us?”

  Imorean clenched a fist around a few sprigs of grass struggling toward the sun. “If it means saving us from Vortigern, I’ll die trying.”

  “Solid and reliable, just like I knew he would be,” smiled Gabriel.

  “So, why did you guys drag me out here?” asked Imorean. “Couldn’t we have talked about this in your office, Raphael?”

  “No. Uriel bugged my office two days ago.”

  Gabriel hissed. “What?”

  “Patient-doctor confidentiality is moot as far as Uriel is concerned,” scoffed Raphael. “Yes, he bugged my office. He’s watching us closely. Exactly why I had to bring you out here like this, Imorean.”

  “We don’t have much time, do we?”

  “Hardly any at all, I’m afraid. We had to wait for Gabriel to get back before we moved though.”

  “Speaking of which, Gabriel,” said Imorean. “Where have you been?”

  “… Scouring Iceland. I had to know if I could open Michael’s rift myself, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even find it.”

  “Do we even know it exists?”

  Raphael shook his head. “No. Which is why this whole endeavor will be so risky and so messy if we’re caught.”

  “We want you to fill your squad in on this, Imorean,” said Gabriel. “They’re loyal to you and we need all hands on deck for this.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “If we might end up traitors, I don’t want them caught up in this. It’s not fair to them. I want them to…”

  “Get away clean?” asked Raphael.

  “Yeah. They don’t deserve this.”

  “So, just the three of us?” asked Gabriel.

  “It would seem so,” nodded Raphael. “Now, Imorean, on your counseling. I’m going to let Uriel watch a session. He’s pressing me to let him do it anyway. Are you all right with that?”

  “Do I have to?”

  “I would rather you did.”

  “Then okay.”

  “Good. In that case, I need you to do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t care how hard you have to fake it. I need you to absolutely break down, explode, do something. Make Uriel buy the idea that you’re not going to do anything rash. Throw him off the scent. Prove that you’re not a threat. Gabriel and I will do the rest.”

  “I can do that,” replied Imorean, a real smile making its way onto his face.

  Raphael breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Shall we get back to The Terrace? It’ll look suspicious if we’re gone too long. Gabriel, you can land inside the boundaries a bit later.”

  Chapter 45

  Imorean looked around, sharp eyes fighting with the darkness. A few dim torches burned in their brackets. He knew where he was. The smell of damp stone would never leave his memory. He was back at Teufelsschloss. He stiffened. He sensed Vortigern. But where was he?

  “It’s pathetic, really.”

  Imorean spun. Sitting in the corner, his arms folded casually, was Vortigern. Imorean swallowed. There was no hiding his fear. Vortigern smiled.

  “They all think you’re so perfect,” snarled Vortigern. “But they’re wrong. You can’t even take care of yourself. Without Michael, you’re nothing.”

  “Stop,” whispered Imorean. His voice was shaking.

  “Truth is, you need him, don’t you? You need your mentor as your shield.”

  Brown eyes closed and Imorean turned away, desperate to shut out Vortigern’s words. It wasn’t fear he felt now. Shame had overridden it. The scent in the room shifted. Mercilessness split the darkness. Vortigern was back on him. Imorean stumbled backwards, taken by surprise by the demon’s sudden aggression. A hand tightly seized his throat, crushing the air out of him. In the darkness, Imorean saw the glint of Vortigern’s teeth. He stilled in panic as the razor edge of metal settled against his jugular and pressed.

  “He should have let me cut your throat here. You’re the reason he’s in a coma. Look at your hands.”

  Against his own will, Imorean looked down. His hands glistened in the dim light, warm and slick. Blood.

  “See,” whispered Vortigern. “All your fault.”

  Imorean cried out as the demon reached back and swung.

  Brown eyes flashed open just before the blow landed. A dark ceiling greeted him. A room illuminated by a dim nightlight. Upper Morvine. He wasn’t at Teufelsschloss. Vortigern wasn’t here.

  Imorean rolled onto his side. He was sweating, but already, fear was receding. Every night, his dreams were similar. A jumbled litter of Vortigern, his mother, his siblings and Michael. Tonight, it was Vortigern. Outside, a sliver of moon reflected off the water of the fjord. His bedside clock beeped out three-thirty. The small hours of the morning. Lips parted and Imorean sighed. He wouldn’t go back to sleep after that. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sleep. He was tired, exhausted even, but he didn’t want to hear his mother’s screams in the back of his mind, nor did he want to see again Michael’s blood well up between his fingers as he applied pressure to the commander’s chest. Nausea gripped Imorean like a vise. Michael’s blood on his hands was an image that would never leave his head. His own mother was gone beyond where he could reach. Ryan was injured because of him. Michael lying as though dead on Iceland’s rocky riverside. Now lying in a hospital, unresponsive. Imorean quivered. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to go somewhere that felt like home. Somewhere… else. Somewhere these nightmares wouldn’t visit him. With a heavy sigh, he sat up and swung his legs off the bed. He wouldn’t sleep now. He had slept for four hours. Surely, that w
as enough. He grabbed a pillow and a blanket. Staying as quiet as he could, he crept out of his room and into the living room. Nighttime television had to be enough to lull him into a stupor. Anything to calm his mind.

  Cracking on the television, Imorean settled onto the couch. The program was some show on selling antiques. Imorean blinked. This was better than most of the shows he had sat through on nights here. All too soon though, the antiques faded into the background. Tomorrow, he, Gabriel and Raphael would begin challenging Uriel. It was a fearsome prospect in its own way, but it gave him something new to focus on. Anxiety gnawed at the pit of Imorean’s stomach. Or maybe it was hunger. He swallowed. He had to wonder, when they tested Uriel’s boundaries, what else would they be testing.

  Bright and early, that was what Raphael had said, wasn’t it? Imorean yawned. The doctor Archangel certainly got the early part right.

  “Are you ready?” asked Raphael, tapping a pen against his clipboard.

  Imorean scanned the room. Raphael’s living room, office. “Yeah.”

  Raphael nodded stiffly and took a deep breath. “Good.”

  With that word, a knock rapped on the door. Uriel had arrived.

  “Good morning, Raphael,” said Uriel, stepping inside. “Imorean.”

  “Uriel,” returned Imorean. He smirked as Uriel narrowed his eyes, distaste in them.

  “Thank you for allowing me to sit in on one of your sessions,” grumbled Uriel, settling in a chair in the corner.

  “Can’t really say it’s a pleasure,” snorted Imorean.

  “I was talking to my brother.”

  “Let’s get started, shall we?” said Raphael, tapping the clipboard again. Imorean wondered if it was a nervous tick of sorts. “How are you this morning?”

  Imorean looked flatly at Raphael. “Tired.”

  “Are you sleeping well?”

  “No.”

  “Are you having nightmares?”

  “After this, who wouldn’t be?”

  “They’re not real, Imorean. I hope you’re reminding yourself of that.”

  “As best I can, yeah.”

  “You addressed last time your feelings of guilt toward the battle in Iceland. Could you elaborate more on them?”

  There was a creak as Uriel leaned forward in his chair. Imorean’s heart thudded hard in his chest.

  “I can’t.”

  “Try.”

  “I—I just…” began Imorean. He knew what Raphael wanted him to do. In one profound moment, explaining himself was the easiest thing and the hardest thing he had ever done. “If I hadn’t been there, Michael wouldn’t be where he is now. It’s my fault.”

  “You blame yourself?”

  “Entirely.”

  “Do you think the fallout of all this is on your shoulders too?”

  Imorean placed a hand on his lower lip. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Your mother’s death, do you think that’s your fault too?”

  Imorean’s eyes burned. He blinked and two lines of heat ran down his face. “Yes.”

  “Weighing you down. Building on you like a pyramid of unedited guilt. Are you breaking under the pressure?”

  “I would rather be dead than deal with this another day. Every day, Raphael, I wake up knowing that things are the way they are because of me. I am guilty. I am at fault.”

  “What do you think Michael would say to you if he were in this room?”

  “… That I’m a fool for disobeying orders.”

  There was a flicker in Raphael’s eyes. “Oh, son.”

  “I’m not your son!” Imorean was on his feet. “I’m not even your family. I don’t mean anything to you! Why do you even bother to care?”

  Raphael was silent. His pen scratched at the paper on his clipboard.

  “I don’t want to be alive anymore, let alone here as an Archangel hybrid. You, Gabriel, Michael, you all think I’m some great soldier, some great leader. I’m not! You asked me if I’m cracking under pressure. I’m broken, Raphael!” Imorean collapsed back into his chair. His chest felt tight. “I’m guilty. I’m burned out. I’m tired. I’m just… shattered.”

  “Do you know why I’ve been giving you counsel, Imorean?”

  Imorean shook his head.

  “Because I know you’re troubled. I know you’re tired. I just want to see you try to pick yourself up. I don’t want to lose another Archangel.”

  “You’re about to.”

  There was a loud thud outside and Imorean turned as he heard raised voices. Uriel spun in his chair and nodded curtly to Raphael.

  “Thank you for allowing me to sit in on this, Raphael. I believe I have seen enough.”

  Raphael returned his brother’s rigid movement and held steady until the door closed. Imorean heard the click of the closing door, then looked at the black-haired Archangel and grinned.

  Wings stretching, Raphael stood up. “It’s too stuffy in here. Since we’re still ground-bound, let’s go for a walk. Fresh air will do you good.”

  It was only when they were both in the woods beyond The Terrace, did Raphael turn.

  “You were brilliant.”

  Imorean shrugged. “You told me to make it believable.”

  “Did you mean it?” asked Raphael with a sigh.

  “What?”

  “All that you said.”

  Imorean flexed his wings and looked away. “Most of it.”

  Silence bridged them and Imorean shuffled, taking in the leaves underfoot. He jumped when Raphael stepped forward and hugged him tight. There was a touching heaviness in the Archangel’s voice that struck a chord deep in Imorean’s chest.

  “We’re coming through this, Imorean. All of us. We will mend what has been broken. We will make this right. You, me and Gabriel. I promise you, that.”

  Unexpected tears welled up in Imorean’s eyes and he nodded, hiding his face for a moment in his brother’s black and blue wings.

  Chapter 46

  It was early evening when Imorean finally returned to his hut on the edge of The Terrace. Something in his heart was calmer. Some inner power had strengthened his strung-out nerves. He didn’t feel happy, but he didn’t have to feel happy to feel peaceful. Spending days outside certainly seemed to have improved his spirits. He looked up at the purple-streaked twilight sky. His wings itched to unfurl and propel him back into open air. He wanted to find the happiness that only flying would supply him with again.

  “Where have you been?” asked Colton, leaning on the boardwalk railing next to him.

  “Walking. Why?”

  Colton adjusted his thick glasses. “Uriel was looking for you.”

  “He can wait,” shrugged Imorean, turning his eyes back to the slate gray fjord.

  “He wants to meet with you tomorrow.”

  “Good.”

  “Imorean…”

  “What?”

  Colton looked at him fully, his eyes concerned. “What’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Imorean, readjusting his wings.

  “You’ve been acting different. And you’re always in meetings now. With Raphael or with Uriel.”

  “What are you talking about? Tomorrow will be my first meeting with Uriel.”

  “You’re never here. We need you, too.”

  Imorean looked away from the fjord. Colton was staring at him with expectation on his face. As though he was the solution to all their problems. As though he was the glue that could pull them back together as a squad again.

  “I’m working through a lot right now, Colton. I just… I’m sorry. I can’t be everywhere at once.”

  “We know. We just want our friend back. Once you get stable, then we’ll worry about other stuff.”

  “Sounds good,” said Imorean, turning away and walking into the cabin. He had more to focus on tonight.

  Uriel’s office was dull and drab. Gray inside. His desk was of ebony woodworking. Gold inlay decorated the front. A few filing cabinets stood along the wooden walls, but aside from
that, there was no decoration. Imorean settled into one of the two chairs in front of Uriel’s desk. The dark-haired Archangel sat behind his desk, his eyes piercing. Imorean met his gaze steadily. What did he want?

  “You were with him when he was attacked, weren’t you, Imorean?”

  There was no doubt in Imorean’s mind that Uriel was referring to Michael. Tension strained the air and Imorean resisted the urge to squirm. He didn’t like being here.

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “I was with him, but you already knew that.”

  Why was he here? Imorean watched Uriel carefully. This was the Archangel who wanted them to ally with Vortigern. This was the Archangel he had been suspicious of all semester. Imorean folded his arms.

  “Did he say anything before he went under?” asked Uriel, directing his gaze out of the window and speaking slowly and calmly.

  “Only that you were to take control of the Host,” replied Imorean. He remembered what else Michael had said and knew better than to trust Uriel with the rest of the information. Saying that he was under direct orders not to trust his new commander may not be the best course.

  “I know that,” said Uriel, meeting Imorean’s eyes. He seemed irritated. “He told me that a long time ago. He and I thought that in the event he were to die or be grievously injured, Gabriel would be too shaken to take any charge and Raphael was to remain where he is.”

  Imorean nodded. Their decision made sense. Gabriel was shaken. He had seen that himself during the covert meeting in the woods. Gabriel’s giddiness had belied his real feeling.

  “There was nothing else?” snapped Uriel.

  “No,” replied Imorean, shaking his head. For the first time since he had met Uriel, he felt as though he was in charge of the situation. He had no loyalty to the Archangel.

  “Don’t lie to me, Imorean,” said Uriel, narrowing his brown eyes. “Remember, he was my brother too. If he said anything else, I want to hear it.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “Very well.”

  There was a weighty pause and Imorean wondered if he was free to leave. He really didn’t want to be stuck in Uriel’s stuffy office. There was something intense in Uriel’s eyes, that made him genuinely uncomfortable. A heaviness that seemed to be pushing on him. Imorean looked away, breaking their eye contact. There were other things he wanted to do today. He wanted to go and spend a few minutes with his squad. Colton was right. He had things to address with them as well. Just as he was moving in his chair, Uriel looked back up at him.