by ML Guida
His harsh voice was in sharp contrast to the glow. Raphael wouldn’t let her fall. She knew it and twisted her arm, trying to break free. Blade clasped both her arms. When this didn’t stop her struggling, he kissed her hard on the lips. The urge to follow Raphael dimmed. All she could think of was kissing Blade, the tingles rushing over her body, wanting those lips kissing her skin. Raphael’s words echoed in her mind, and she pushed on Blade’s chest.
He slowly released her, staring at her.
“I’m not going to jump out the window,” she said. Why she had wanted to in the first place was a mystery. The afterglow of archangels? Too much like a Heavenly or Hellish version of Alice in Wonderland.
She put some distance between her and him, not trusting that those delectable lips would not make her forget asking some disturbing questions. “Did you lie to me? Raphael implied that you did.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I never lied to you. In fact, I just shared a haunting secret with you.” She glared. “Not to mention—” The words eluded her lips. Had she just slept with another bad boy? Misjudged again? What was with her and bad boys?
Blade walked over to the coffee pot to pour himself another cup.
“Answer me, Blade, did you lie to me?”
He straightened and turned around. Ignoring her, he peered out the window. “Looks like it’s going to rain.” He took a sip of his coffee, leaned against the wall.
Abigail swallowed back the bitterness burning her throat. “Don’t lie to me, Blade.”
He tore his gaze from the window. His eyes darkened, he stared at her. “I’m not who you think I am.”
Her heart pounding, she refused to wilt from underneath his gaze. She glanced at the window where Raphael had gone and prayed for him to come back. Thunder rumbled. Abigail tightened her arms around her waist. Rain drops pelted against the window. “Then who are you?”
Her voice barely rose above the rain tapping on the window.
“I was an angel.”
“You were what?” Oh, God, she had slept with an angel? Was that a sin? Did she fail a test?
“An angel. Actually, an Angel of Death.”
She put her hand over her mouth. “So, are you here to kill me?”
He laughed. “Hardly. I’m no longer an angel.”
“Okay.” She frowned. “So, you’re human?”
“Unfortunately, I am now.”
She stiffened. “You don’t like being human?”
“No, I don’t.”
Chills ran over her, and she shivered. She glanced at the couch, flounced over to it, and sat down, crisscrossing her legs. She yanked a soft leopard blanket off a leather couch and wrapped it around her. “I’m so sorry humans are not to your liking.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like humans. I don’t like being human.”
She tightened the blanket tighter around her. “Why?”
“Because of being vulnerable.”
“Vulnerable? You mean weak?”
“Humans are not weak. Despite being mortal, humans exhibit deeds that amaze both angels and demons.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “Such as your determination. It has been both the life and the death of you.”
“Oh.” She held up her hand. “Wait, why are you no longer an angel? Were you punished?”
“No, I was consumed with hate.”
His low voice was surprisingly filled with sorrow.
She blinked. “Hate? Angels can hate?”
He gave her a wiry smile. “Yes, angels feel the same emotions as you do.”
“Why were you consumed with hate?” Her hands shook, and she hid them in the blanket.
The wind blew outside and the rain rat-tatted on the window. Pine tree branches fluttered and aspens bent. Lightning flashed and lit up the living room. Blade tilted his head toward the window. “Raphael and Michael refused to heal my angel-mate.”
“Angel-mate?”
“Samantha Hart. She was my life. I loved her. I would have spent eternity with her. I would have died for her. No woman ever touched my soul until her.”
Abigail winced. A dull ache formed in her heart. His depth of feeling cut into her. A pang of jealousy swept over her and she shifted on the couch. So, what was she? A passing fancy. How many times would she have to fail don’t fall in love with bad boys class before she got it? Bad boys only love once. Or so it was in the movies. Like wolves, only mating for life once.
Blade’s hair fell, covering his face. She swore he sniffed. “So you wanted to marry her?”
He lifted his head and gritted his teeth. “I would have if the selfish assholes would have healed her.”
At another boom, Abigail jumped. Blade glared outside the window. She followed his gaze and peered out the window, but only saw rain and gray clouds. Did Blade see something else? Was he just human? She cleared her throat. “So, Michael and Raphael threw you out of Heaven because of your hatred?”
He walked over to the counter and turned his back to her. He gripped the counter with his large hands, his knuckles turning white. “No,” he said.
She had to strain to hear his husky voice. “Then why?”
He whirled around. “Because I chose to fall.”
“Fall?” A word formed in her mind, but she wouldn’t think it, wouldn’t admit it, wouldn’t accept it.
He walked over to the window and refused to look at her. His forearm on the window, he leaned his forehead against his wrist. Lightning flashed again.
She stared at his broad back. He had been so gentle, so kind, so tender with her. It couldn’t be true. She couldn’t have slept with the ultimate bad boy.
“I became a demon, Abigail,” he said.
Abigail leaned her head back on the couch. A demon, she had slept with a fucking demon.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She ran her hands over her arms beneath the blanket. Coldness gripped her, and she wanted to run screaming out of the living room, to find a priest to confess her sins. “Why would you want to do something like that?”
He dropped his arm and faced her. She blinked. Were tears glittering in those eyes? An Angel of Death turned demon?
“I wanted revenge, Abigail.” He stuffed his hands into back pockets. “I wanted to destroy those who hurt me and betrayed me.”
“I don’t understand. Just because Raphael and Michael wouldn’t heal your angel-mate…I mean Samantha.” Who was this woman who captured an Angel of Death’s heart? How could she ever think she could compete? What the hell was she thinking? He used to be a demon.
“It wasn’t just Raphael and Michael. My brother…” His voice choked. “He was there when she died.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean he killed your angel-mate?”
“No, angels of death don’t kill people.”
“Ah, excuse me? They don’t kill people?”
“No, we only are there to escort them to their appointed destination. We can’t interfere with their death.”
She moistened her lip. “So, your brother was there when Samantha died?”
“Yeah, he didn’t do a damn thing to stop it.”
“How did she die?” She prayed it was from cancer or some other disease, but Blade’s face clouded over. He leaned his head back.
“She was…was…raped and murdered.”
She clasped her mouth. “Oh, my God.”
He gazed up at the ceiling and darkness filled his eyes. “Yes, my ever faithful brother stood and watched while the bastard tortured my angel-mate. He didn’t lift a bloody finger to help her.”
She lowered her hand. “Why would he do such a thing?”
“Because he’s a good soldier. He never questions orders. Follows Michael’s commands to the letter.”
“But you didn’t?”
He sighed and plopped down on the recliner across from her. “I did. For a while anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes Michael would order us to kill. Orders came from upon high. In the Boo
k of the Dead.” He leaned his head back on the recliner. “I killed all of Egypt’s first born sons while my dear brother escorted the Egyptian soldiers.”
Blood drained from Abigail’s face. She slept with the angel of death who slayed all the Egyptian’s first born sons. She could not wrap her brain around it.
He lifted his head. “Not a pretty picture, huh?”
“So, what did you do when you became a demon?”
“I took out my revenge. Starting with the woman responsible for Samantha’s death.”
“What? I thought she was raped and murdered.”
“She was. The man was strung out on meth when he attacked Samantha.”
Abigail shook her head. “I’m not following you, Blade.”
Blade leaned forward on the recliner, put his elbows on his knees, and rested his head in his hands. “The man was a client at Serenity House.”
“Serenity House?” Abigail stared. Her mind became a blur and a pain stabbed her heart, one she didn’t want to acknowledge. “You knew Jessy?”
“No, I didn’t know her.”
“Blade, tell me what you did.”
“Damn Raphael, damn him to Hell.”
“Blade,” Abigail demanded, her voice more shrill than she intended. “Tell me now.”
Blade raised his head, his eyes pleading. “I told you I wanted revenge—”
She wanted to slap his face, scratch out his eyes, but this man had been the angel of death, who killed all the Egyptian’s first born sons. His powers may be stripped, but for how long. “I don’t give a damn about your revenge. What did you do to my sister? You killed her, didn’t you?”
The wind howled outside again. Lights flickered inside the condominium. “I was out of my mind with rage. Balthazar gave me a drug manufactured in Hell. Xanadu.”
Closing her eyes, Abigail rocked on the couch. She clutched the blanket tight around her. Jessy’s sweet face swirled in her mind. Brown hair, freckles, and wide blue eyes, Jessy could have passed for Rebecca from Sunnybrook farms. Her younger sister had been a gentle soul until she took a hit of meth. She changed, lost, fractured. It was Abigail’s job to protect her. But how could she fight Hell? “Xanadu? You’re fucking kidding?”
Blade sighed. “Balthazar’s idea to name the damn drug Xanadu.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Ringmaster invented it. Worse than anything on Earth. Once taken, the victim becomes psychotic. An uncontrollable urge to kill overtakes them, and then incredible guilt.”
“So, you gave my sister the drug because fucking why? What the hell did she ever do to you?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
Not caring if she died on the spot, Abigail shot off the couch, marched over to Blade, and slapped him across the face. Her palm stung. She tilted her chin and waited to die.
“If I could take it back, Red—”
“Don’t call me that. My name is Abigail. And you, you bastard, murdered my sister to satisfy your stupid revenge.” She glared. “This is why Michael wants you dead, isn’t it?”
“Yes, he thinks I’m an abomination.”
“You are an abomination.”
Chapter Eleven
Blade winced. His cheek ached, but not as much his heart. He could barely look at Abigail, her hatred tore through him. His revenge burned in his gut. What could he say? Sorry was just a stupid word, a word that failed to make amends, a word that failed to bring back Abigail’s sister, a word that failed to win back Abigail's love.
Abigail wiped her hair out of her face. “So, were you there when Jessy died?”
“Yes.”
She slapped him again. His other cheek throbbed. He deserved it, wanted the pain.
“Like your brother, you watched my sister not only kill an innocent girl, but kill herself?”
“Yes.”
Abigail snatched his hair and yanked. He stared into eyes filled with hatred, with loathing. “Listen to me, and listen good, you abomination, don’t ever, ever touch me again.”
His heart bled. Tears threatened to fall, but how could he blame her? She had the same look of loathing he possessed when Samantha had perished.
She released his hair and turned her back.
He cleared his throat. “Where are you going?”
She headed into the bedroom. “Home. And then I’m going to collect my brother.”
A phone rang. He glanced over at the end table. A smart phone rang with the theme of the Long Range ranger. “You’ve got to be kidding?”
He ignored it, but the song grew louder. He snatched the phone. “Hello?”
“I thought you’d appreciate my ring,” Raphael replied.
“What the hell do you want? Going to spread some more sunshine?”
Wearing her sweater over her rumpled shirt, Abigail stormed out of the bedroom, her gaze fixed on the front door.
“Let me talk to Abigail,” Raphael ordered.
“Why? She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“Now, Blade, her brother’s life depends on it.”
More games from the archangel. Would it ever stop? “Abigail, Raphael wants to talk to you.”
Abigail stopped. Her hand was on the door knob, she glanced over her shoulder. “What?”
He got up and walked over toward her. “I suggest you talk to him.” He gave her the phone. “Archangels don’t like the word ‘no’.”
Abigail stared at the phone. She slowly clasped the phone, her fingers brushing over his, sending shivers through him. How could he never touch this woman again? Her merest brush brought him to his knees. Something that Samantha had never done. Were Raphael and Michael right? Was Samantha not his angel-mate? Had he just made the biggest mistake of his life?
Mistrust glowered in her eyes. “You better not be lying to me…abomination.” She put the phone to her ear. “Hello? Raphael?”
Blade lifted his hands.
“What? You’re kidding.” She glared at Blade. “But I can’t work—”
She glanced down. “You don’t understand. He killed—”
Blade shoved his hands into his back pockets and leaned against the wall. What the hell was Raphael doing? Some bizarre twist that would make his life even worse. Raphael never tired of his little games.
“And if I don’t?” Abigail lifted her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Here.” She handed him the phone.
He searched her teary face, wanting to wrap his arms around her to pull her close, but he was the last one she wanted comfort from. Damn Raphael!
He took the phone. “What the hell did you do?”
“Reminded her of my warning.”
Abigail sat on the couch, staring straight ahead. Her shoulders shook. He was powerless, not sure what to do. Blade wanted to slam his fist through the phone and hit Raphael right in the mouth.
Dread gnawed at his gut. “Warning? What warning?”
“Ringmaster reports that Balthazar has returned. Her brother has the board. You two must work together to save his soul.”
Blade gritted his teeth, “Save his soul how?”
“Only together can you hope to defeat the Zombie Board.”
“So, you’re not going to bloody tell me how, are you?”
“Get in touch with Ringmaster. He’s at Buffalo Mountain.” The phone went dead.
Abigail wiped her face. “He didn’t tell you what we were supposed to do, did he?”
“No.”
“Fine. So, is your wonderful plan to kill my brother? Are you going to give him Xanadu too?”
He chewed on his cheek and shoved the phone into his pocket. “No. I have no idea what Raphael is doing. Archangels are usually not forth coming. They like to leave bread crumbs for humans or angels to follow.”
She stood and crossed her arms over her chest. “Let’s go.”
“Abigail, it’s pouring out there. You need something heavier than a sweater.”
She glared. “I’m not wearing anything of yours.”
“So, you’d rat
her be cold and wet rather than be warm. I’m sure acting like a sulking little girl will help your brother.”
“What? How dare you?”
He walked over to his closet and opened it. Just as he expected, several coats hung neatly inside. He pulled out a red sweatshirt jacket and gave it to her. “I know its three sizes two big, but it will keep you warm.”
She yanked it out of his hand and put it on.
He grabbed a hoodie and pulled it over his head. He snatched a yellow umbrella. “Here, take it. It’s pouring outside.”
She seized it from him as he opened the door. The wind and rain assaulted Abigail, she took a step back inside as she popped open the umbrella. He slammed the door shut.
“I’m driving.” She headed for her SUV.
Blade followed her rigid body. Her hips swayed when she marched even when she was a pissed off red-headed Amazon, more like a wounded Amazon. He had hurt her just as deeply as Michael and Raphael had hurt him, but no, that’s wasn’t true. They hadn’t killed Samantha, just didn’t help her. Not the same. She was right. He was an abomination.
She took out her keyless remote and unlocked the SUV. He slid into the passenger side. Rain pelted on the windshield. Abigail jammed the key into the ignition and turned on the window wipers, which swiped back and forth. His heart matched their fast beat. The SUV tore out of the parking, tires squealing.
Blade stared out the passenger window. Water trickled down his face and his clothing stuck to him. Chills ran over him, but he didn’t know if it was from the weather or the numbness gripping his heart. He had never thought that he might have been wrong, he was so sure the blame lay elsewhere. He had killed all those people, innocent people over his misguided grief. Jessy and the others died for nothing. Samantha wasn’t his angel-mate. Abigail was and he had lost her.
Abigail pulled into Buffalo Mountain’s parking lot and parked next to a black Honda Ridgeline. A brown Jeep and a white Toyota Four Runner were also in the lot. Two lone figures stood staring up at the lodge. Based on the broad shoulders of one and the slight demure of the other, Ringmaster and Poison were both guarding the lodge.
Abigail turned off the ignition. “Who are those two?”
“Ringmaster and Poison.”
“Why are they standing out here?”