Dark Angel

by Kim Richardson

  “She and Danto are a lot of things .” I grinned. Then I grinned some more at the obvious discomfort on the priest’s face. “What? You asked.” God, this was too easy.

  The priest’s shoulders lifted and fell. “It’s nice that she has someone looking out for her. Someone in her life. After all, she lost her entire family only recently.”

  “An entire family of schizos doesn’t count.” I might have felt a drop of sympathy after Ethan’s death if the bastard had an ounce of decency in him. He didn’t. My feelings for Ethan were the exact same ones I got when I looked at a rock.

  I didn’t think Layla was all that troubled either at the loss of her siblings, but I wasn’t about to bring it up with the priest. I didn’t think he’d understand.

  Father Thomas looked up from his phone and met my gaze. “You think the archdemon Lucian will come after Layla too?”

  I gave him a pointed look. “No doubt in my mind. My working theory is, it’s not if he finds out about her now. It’s only when.” The archdemon might even try to force his gift on me again. I couldn’t rule that one out. But I was more worried about Layla. It was like Tyrius had said, she might not resist the darkness as much as I did.

  And that would be bad. I couldn’t let that happen.

  “She’ll be safe with Danto,” said the priest after a short silence, as though trying to convince himself.

  I leaned back into my chair. “I have to agree with you on that.” I knew how fiercely protective the vampire was of Layla. He’d give his life to keep her safe. I had no doubt about that. Tragically romantic, that vampire.

  I reached down and pulled out my elf stone necklace, rubbing my fingers along the warm stone and enjoying the prickling of elf dust. It gave off elf magic like tiny sparks of electrical currents.

  “You and Gareth are spending a lot of time together,” said Father Thomas, his dark brown eyes traveling over my face.

  “We are,” I breathed, wishing I was in his bed with him, preferably naked and sweaty, instead of here wasting my time with a group of pompous, angel-born asses. I let my necklace fall. “I finally have some stability in my life. It feels… it feels great, actually. Better than I ever thought it could to have someone to share my life with. I never thought I could have a serious relationship in my line of work. I was wrong.” Boy, was I ever.

  The priest’s honest face split into a wide smile, transforming his features from handsome to uber-sexy. “That’s wonderful to hear, Rowyn. I want you to know that I’m still here for you if you need anything. Anything at all.”

  “I know.” I was still living above him in his rental. But if things kept getting more serious with Gareth, who knew how long I’d be staying there. My lips pulled into a smile, touched by his concern. “You’re doing it right now—”

  The doors to the hall swung open and a man stepped in.

  He was tall with long wisps of white hair. His face, creased with age and wisdom, was covered in a ferocious-looking white beard. Though he seemed in his late eighties, he carried himself with vibrant energy. His piercing blue eyes were alert and thoughtful behind black-rimmed spectacles. He wore a brown tweed suit with a bow tie and looked like a mix of a college professor and Gandalf from The Lord of the Rings movies.

  A small t-shaped birthmark marred his temple, the sigil from House Ramiel. These angel-borns were gifted with clairvoyance, divination, and telekinesis. They were also the only ones who communicated with angels.

  I pushed my chair back and stood. “Took you long enough,” I mumbled, recognizing him as the angel-born who’d greeted us an hour ago. His blue eyes got narrower as I sized him up.

  Father Thomas got up slowly and slipped his phone into his pocket. “Edgar,” he said, in way of greeting. “I hope you have good news for us.”

  “I have news, whether it’s good or not is up to you,” said Edgar as he stepped towards us. He had the resonant voice of public speaker.

  I rolled my eyes. Great. One of those . “Well, tell us so we can decide for ourselves and get the hell out of here.”

  Edgar’s face pinched at my comment. “One does not simply pick up a phone and call an angel. Divination is a power of its own, and one even more elusive and difficult to control than magic. It requires deep meditation and expert focus of the mind. Communicating with the angels is an art that takes great effort, talent and concentration, Rachel.”

  “It’s Rowyn,” I informed him, though he didn’t seem to care or notice.

  “The more the prayer resonates with the angels, the stronger the connection,” said the old man as he rocked back on his heels clearly pleased with himself.

  “You’ve been praying?” I raised a skeptical brow. “Is that how you make contact? By praying?” Even the biggest fools could pray. I could pray, though I wouldn’t even know where to begin. There must have been something here I wasn’t seeing.

  Edgar tapped his foot. “Prayer. Meditation. Reflection. It doesn’t matter what one calls it. It’s the same thing.” The angel-born’s jaw tightened belligerently, and I forced myself to relax. I knew better than to walk out of here with him mad at me, but it was really difficult when he was looking at me like I was a bug he wanted to squish with his foot.

  “Only a select few have this ability. It is a battle of the mind,” said Edgar, touching his temples to give his words more emphasis. “You must seek out a quiet place in your consciousness, somewhere shielded from pain and guilt, from fear and anger. You must push out every sensation, every thought. The mind must be empty to receive the voices.”

  I frowned at his condescending tone, like somehow speaking to angels made him superior to everyone around him.

  “Sounds like fun,” I said, hands on my hips. “Where do I sign up?”

  “Sign up?” Edgar’s voice dripped disdain, and my tension spiked. “You must be born with the gift. You must be blessed by the archangel Ramiel and have the marking if you want to converse with the angels. Females rarely have this gift.” Oh, no. He. Didn’t. His eyes rolled over my face all the way to my neck, making a show of looking for a sigil while knowing perfectly well I didn’t have one.

  “What’s the news?” I demanded, feeling like this was a giant waste of time. My hatred for this old pompous bastard increased the longer I stood there.

  Edgar regarded me with an expression somewhere between annoyance and contempt as he let out a puff of breath. “I was able to put your case ahead of two others,” he said proudly, like that was supposed to mean something to me. “Your case number is 1036.”

  “Excuse me?” I looked askance at him to see if he was joking. “What does that mean?” My gaze flicked to Father Thomas, who answered me with a shrug.

  Edgar scrunched up his face and cleared his throat. “It means exactly that. You, or rather, your case… is number 1036.”

  My face went slack. “Number?” I said aghast, my temples thumping at the first sign of a headache. “We have a freaking number?”

  Edgar’s eyes twitched as Father Thomas sighed through his nose. “Each case is assigned a number. We can’t have different claims all thrown in together,” argued the man as he stroked his long beard. “It would be madness. Madness! We would go insane. All these random thoughts all jumbled into one’s mind. No. We need order. Without order, it would be chaos. We would be lost.”

  My tension rose, pulling my shoulders straight. “So, what you’re telling me is you’ve never even spoken to an angel yet? They still don’t know about me and what’s been going on with the archdemon?”

  “We’ve left a message with the oracles,” said Edgar, the expression on his face empty as he looked at me.

  I raised a brow, a sliver of anger sliding under my skin. “You left a message ,” I repeated, my voice dangerously low. “Are you kidding me, old man? Don’t you know who’s after me!”

  “What Rowyn is trying to articulate,” interjected Father Thomas, speaking quickly. “Is that we were hoping our case would have been awarded a little more urgency, seein
g its delicate and dangerous nature with the archdemon.”

  “Exactly,” I confirmed, clenching my jaw. “What he said.”

  Edgar’s eyes were pinched. “That is up to the oracles to decide,” he said, waving his hands around dramatically. “It is out of my control. Though there is a waiting list. Yes. The angels are sympathetic to the petitioners’ claims. Rest assured, your case will be reviewed, but it’s on a first-come first-serve basis.”

  “This is a matter of life and death,” I said through gritted teeth. “Not a ‘God please help me win the lottery.’ This is serious. Do you even realize how serious this is? Do you? I don’t have time to play these games.”

  A flash of annoyance crossed Edgar’s face, fleeting and almost not there. “We take every claim seriously, Rhonda. Believe you me, we don’t waste the time of the angels. You think listening to our petty lamentations is all they have to do with their time? They are working to save lives. To keep us, you, safe from demons.”

  “I can take care of my own demons.” I looked at Edgar’s mocking expectancy with my barely contained anger and took a breath. “I can’t freaking believe this.”

  Edgar looked skeptical. “When your number comes up, I will be asked to speak to an angel so we can further discuss your case. The Legion will advise me on how to proceed. It is how it’s done. In a timely fashion and with order ,” he informed me, hammering in the last word.

  My mouth went dry. I was going to punch him in the face. “So all this time we’ve been waiting here,” I said, my voice high as I imagined different ways to rip off his beard with my own hands. “Was only to get a number? A number?”

  Edgar made a disgusting sound in his throat, looking at me with haughty disdain. “I can see why you were never blessed by the angels,” said the old man, making me glower. “You obviously cannot handle celestial instruction. But I suspect it is because of what’s inside you as well. The demon essence. Demons are evil by definition. The archangels could never bless you with their mark, Rosy.”

  “It’s ROWYN,” I growled, and I felt Father Thomas’s shoulder brush up against mine as he moved closer to me, probably to keep me from punching the lights out of this old man. Gandalf or not, he was really ticking me off.

  I scowled at him, pissed. “I have just as much angel blood as any of you. And just because I have demon blood too doesn’t make me evil. Not all demons are evil. And if you and your holier-than-thou religious zealots would pull yourselves out of your collective asses and actually think about that, you might figure it out!”

  Edgar screwed up his face, his thin lips disappearing under his beard as he regarded me with open disdain.

  “How long until our number comes up?” asked Father Thomas with tension in his voice and posture as he tried to change the subject. “Perhaps we could wait here?”

  “No. No. No.” Edgar moved his tiny eyes onto the priest. “You can’t stay here. A priest and a Hunter? Oh, no. That simply will not do. This establishment is reserved only for the angel-born. No humans…” his eyes landed on me. “And especially no Hunters.”

  “Bite me, jackass.” I pressed my lips tightly and crossed my arms over my chest to keep them from clobbering the old man. I was going to do it… I could feel it in my bones.

  Edgar’s mouth dropped open, showing the bottom part of his stained and crooked teeth. “I will ignore your rude behavior solely on Father Thomas’s good standing with us,” he said, deep color creeping over his pale face. “Insolence is not acceptable, but I will look past it this one time.”

  I bit down on my snarky comeback as I felt Father Thomas’s eyes on me. The guy was a jackass, but I needed that jackass to communicate with the angels.

  Sighing heavily, I unclenched my teeth before I gave myself a headache. “How long until we hear back from the angels?” My voice was rough but I couldn’t care less as I saw his eyes narrow further until they were almost slits.

  Edgar raked his fingers into his beard, pulling them all the way down through it. “Two days, maybe three—”

  “Three days!” My heart sped up. “Is this guy for real? After all this?” I shouted, loudly enough to make sure everyone in Hallow Hall heard me.

  “Rowyn,” cautioned Father Thomas in a loud whisper. “This isn’t helping. Remember, we came here to ask for their help.”

  “No one in this damned building wants to help us.” Anger slowly burned in my gut and the priest shot me a look to shut up. If I wasn’t so desperate, I would have walked away and figured out a way to speak to an angel myself. I thought I could manage a prayer or two, but I had no assurance that my way would even work. And I was running out of time. Exhausted in mind and soul, I looked at Father Thomas, wanting to believe this hadn’t been all for nothing.

  “Thank you, Edgar,” said Father Thomas as he reached out and shook the other man’s hand. “Please call me as soon as you hear back from the Legion.”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” Edgar inclined his head politely. His eyes flicked to me, his jaw setting stubbornly. “We take each case very seriously. Even though some are not appreciative nor do they deserve it.”

  Me, of course . It all came back to me—why I hated to come here, why I despised the angel-born.

  “Thank you,” I said, forcing the words out of my mouth. The relief on Father Thomas’s face was almost palpable.

  But Edgar wasn’t buying it. “Never in my…” The rest of his words were lost to me as the man turned on his heel and walked out the door.

  “Well,” sighed Father Thomas. “That went marginally better than I’d hoped. It’s progress.”

  “Ya think?” I said, following the angel-born’s exampled and marching towards the door.

  “They could have refused us,” confessed the priest as he walked alongside me, his stride confident and somewhat relaxed, though I couldn’t share his enthusiasm.

  “Maybe,” I said with false brightness. “But waiting three days isn’t exactly what I’d hoped for.” I’d really been hoping the Legion would do something about it today.

  “It’s all we have for now.” Father Thomas held the door for me.

  “Right,” I answered as I stepped through the door.

  But it wasn’t good enough. Not even close.

  2

  After I’d dropped Father Thomas off at his place, I made a small detour and grabbed Tyrius so I could rant before getting a bite to eat in Mystic Quarter. The priest was siding with the angels, of course, and that just put me in a fouler mood. I wanted to hear what the baal had to say about the three-day waiting period from the Legion of angels. Turns out, the cat felt the same as me.

  “You know… I’m not surprised,” he said as he turned from the window, sitting on the front passenger seat of my Subaru. “You forget you’re dealing with a bunch of halo douches. You can’t expect better. I hate to break it to you, Rowyn, but apparently… you’re no better than a number.”

  We drove through the quiet residential area, my eyes ranging over the small houses and tidy front lawns. I gritted my teeth as I took the next left, strands of my hair lifting in the warm June breeze coming through my open window. The warm air did nothing to help settle the chill I felt inside my core. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Bad and big.

  “It was a complete waste of time,” I said, my tension rising with my temper. “Here I was… thinking I was doing the right thing for a change. Well, the less reckless thing.” I pressed my lips together. “I took the priest’s advice. I went to see the angel-borns to ask for their help. It was humiliating, but I did it—for Layla and for me. We’re both in danger of becoming something dark. And what did I get in return? A freaking number.”

  Tyrius curled his tail around his feet. “You forget that most of the time… they just don’t care.”

  I shook my head. “Isn’t it their mandate to care about the wellbeing of the living? The mortals?” My hold on the wheel tightened. “I expected better. Hell, we’re talking about an archdemon.
Not just any regular demon minion. The guy said he was older than Lucifer. How can this not be a priority?” Anger tightened my gut. Damn these angels ticked me off.

  “Guess they have a different definition of what a priority is to them,” said the cat, and my head whipped around at the incredulity in his tone. His eyes fixated on me.

  “What?” I asked after a moment, shifting in my seat. There was something he wasn’t telling me. “Spit it out, Tyrius. What?”

  “Does this mean you’re going to do something stupid?”

  I pulled my eyes back to the road in front of me. “Maybe,” I answered, my lips curling into a smirk.

  “Damn it, woman,” said the cat as he jumped up on the seat. “You are not going to summon another angel. You hear me! I won’t let you. You’ve only just recently gotten the Legion off your ass. Why would you risk it again? You like being hunted by angels? Are you psychotic?”

  I let out a sigh. “What choice do I have, Tyrius? I have to do something. And that something is summoning another angel.” Yes, it was stupid. Yes, it was reckless. But I had no other choice. “You said it yourself,” I added, seeing the cat’s fur rising over him in anger. “Without an archangel sigil marking my body, I’m open to the influence of other archdemons. Not just daddy dearest, but any other archdemon.” I swallowed. “I can’t let that happen. I won’t.”

  An iron-cold band of fear slithered through my insides as I remembered what the archdemon’s gift felt like—the seductive darkness, the pleasure of killing, and of the demon I would have become if the archdemon hadn’t taken it away when he did.

  “Demon balls,” cursed the cat, as he shifted in his seat. “Three days is a very long time. Long enough for him to discover Layla. And that’s if he hasn’t found out about her already. He might have.”

  I stopped my car at the red light. “So you see? I can’t wait for the Legion anymore. I have to do this myself.” Going to the angel-borns had been a bust, but I still had time to turn this around.