by Lisa Hughey
The tenderness he’d been feeling snapped at her hostile tone. “We need to talk.”
“Great. Are you here to fix me?”
Fix me? Fix me? It was always me, me, me. The world was crumbling beneath the abundance of self-interest, self-indulgence, and hatred of others. He balled his hands into fists to corral his frustration. “You’re not broken.”
“That’s a matter of interpretation.” She cast her gaze to the cherry bookshelf in the corner.
“Everything okay in there?” Lina asked from behind the closed door.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’ll be out in a second,” she called to Lina. “Make it quick. House rules are that no guests of the opposite sex are allowed upstairs. And the door is never supposed to be closed.”
His brain short-circuited at the word sex. Her meaning was completely different from the pictures in his mind of the two of them twined together in the lush, decadent sheets. But, that was forbidden. And Angelina needed to understand that she had a rare talent for healing.
“You will be a great healer.”
Before he even finished the sentence, she shook her head no.
His heart thundered against his breastbone. He could swear his ribs were about to crack with the force of his concern. His fingers curled with the desire to grab onto her shoulders and shake some sense into her. “You need to understand all the repercussions of saying no.” She couldn’t say no. He wouldn’t allow it.
Angelina tilted her head toward the ceiling. “Oh, super. More problems. Couldn’t one thing in my life go easily? One freaking thing?”
“Why are you so against learning to heal?”
With those words, his anger started to burn. He wanted her so scared that she would give up this foolish desire to renounce her gift and accept her destiny. He curled his fingers around her chin and brought her face level with his, his grip implacable. “There are consequences if you refuse your Angel gift.” Not to mention she was so advanced in her energy levels that he didn’t know what would happen if he tried to transition her power to another.
“What kind of consequences?” Her clear hazel eyes darkened with suspicion.
“Your life span would be shortened significantly.” And he found that he did not want that to happen. The thought of her perishing brought a sweet and poignant ache to his chest.
“No, that’s not right. I have to take care of my family, my kids, my sister, my grandmother.” She pulled away from his touch. “Is that what happens when people refuse?”
“It rarely happens.”
“And when it does?” She wasn’t stupid. Understanding blossomed in her gaze. “How shortened?”
“Very.”
“But the women in my family live a really long time.”
“All healers do.” The Vis viva gave them an extra longevity. Rafe watched her process the emphasis he’d shoved at her.
“What else happens?”
The urge to shelter her in his embrace and soothe her worries was so strong, he jumped up from the bed. Comfort and soothing would not yield the results he wanted. Rafe needed her scared and angry. “If you decide to reject your powers, then next in line will be Lina and she will be transitioned.”
“Wait a minute.” She shoved her hands through her thick tumbled hair. “Would her training be the same as mine? Would you come to her in dreams like you did with me?”
Heat flushed through him. “You and I are an aberration. Our...attraction is not supposed to happen. Ever.” She’d found the one thing to derail his anger. Because this connection between them was strong.
“An aberration.” She curled her shoulders in over her body and reached for the long pillow he had shoved to the end of the bed.
“The fault is mine.” No matter that their connection didn’t feel wrong. It was forbidden.
Angelina hugged the giant pillow to her breast. “There is no way I will force my daughter to become a healer.”
“Fine.” He moved in for the kill. “Accept the responsibility and sacred duty as an Angel, a healer, then you will live a long and healthy life.”
“And if I don’t.”
Sweet Cosmos, she was stubborn. “How much do you know about physics?”
She shrugged. “Basic stuff.”
“Okay. Think about closed energy systems. Vis viva is the healing energy your family holds within your system. If you choose not to heal, then the energy must be transferred to another woman in your family.”
“Why not my sister?”
“Your sister was not born with the ability to wield the Vis viva. You are the next in line.”
“And if I don’t accept this Vis whatever then it goes to Lina?”
He nodded.
“Why not just transfer it out of our family?”
“It doesn’t work that way.” However, he would never just hand off her power to another.
“And I won’t be healthy.”
“For some reason the energy turns against your immune system and you would deteriorate rather quickly.”
“As in I would die quickly?”
“You wouldn’t die immediately but your life span would be cut very short.”
“How long do I have to make this decision?”
“What choice do you really have?” He knew that was the wrong tack to take yet he’d said it anyway. He needed to hammer home that she had no choice. She must accept him and the power. It was her destiny.
Panic flared, the sudden thump of her heartbeat overly loud to his sensitive ears. He relented, and gave her the space she needed. “As long as your grandmother is alive, you have some time.” Rafe hesitated. He wanted to pressure her to make a decision now, but understood that the illusion of a choice was best. “But you can’t take too long.”
The phone rang. They ignored it.
“Mom?”
“Can it wait, Brandt?”
He burst into the room. Looked curiously at the way Rafe stood clear across the room, the chasm between them far wider than their physical distance indicated. Brandt tossed the phone to her. “It’s the nurse. About Grammy Angel.”
FIFTEEN
After the automatic doors swished closed, Angelina stopped in the entryway, as if not sure where to go next.
Rafe tried not to let the suffering that seeped from the blue walls and checkerboard linoleum tiles overwhelm him but all the silent voices crying psychically was difficult. The people who resided in these places were beyond an angel’s help. No chance of a miracle here. That hopelessness infected all matter in the building’s atmosphere.
Rafe wasn’t quite sure how he ended up here. He hadn’t wanted Angelina to drive. He could tell himself that was the only reason, except her sorrow had reached out to his soul. Had he ever loved another the way she clearly loved her grandmother? If he had, it had been so long ago that he’d forgotten.
“Mom?” Brandt and Lina had halted behind them.
“Give me a second.” She straightened her suit jacket, pulled a lip gloss from a shiny black purse, and swiped color across her lips. A discreet brush of her fingers took care of any possible tears. Angelina inhaled a deeply, held onto the breath for ten seconds and then slowly released the air. “Let’s go.”
Angelina squared her shoulders like a soldier marching toward certain death and strode toward her grandmother’s room. Then she stood outside the door, her hesitation physical.
Rafe followed slowly behind their family, watching the interaction between the three. The kids moved slowly, shuffling their feet and casting their gazes downward. Their body language clearly indicated their discomfort, whether because of their great-grandmother’s health, the obvious distress of their mother, or a combination of those two emotional minefields.
Rafe didn’t know exactly what Angel Guerisse’s condition might be but suddenly he knew that Angelina needed a moment with her grandmother. “Kids, why don’t you go on over to the cafeteria and get a soda.” He held out a five dollar bill.
“Sounds good.” Bra
ndt snatched the bill, grabbed Lina’s arm, and took off at a near run. “We’ll be right back.”
“But....” Angelina stared after the retreating figures of her children.
“You need a few minutes without them,” Rafe said.
“Um, yeah. I guess you’re right.” Still she stood in front of the door. Rafe edged up behind her, his body cocooned her in a haven of warmth, ready to catch her if she fell.
Angelina reached out slowly, her hand white against the blond wood, and pushed the door gently open. “Grammy?”
The harsh rasp of Angel Guerisse’s breath rattled around the room, overly loud in the stifling atmosphere. She lay in the hospital bed, an oxygen mask strapped to her face, the tubes lead to a machine in the corner. The skin on her face had shrunken toward her skull, her arms stuck out like twigs from a wrinkled cloth gown. Her hair was a gray and straggly cap on her head. Her eyes were closed. A boom box in the corner quietly played classical music.
Rafe felt a moment of sadness at having to say goodbye to his old friend.
“Grammy?”
But the elder Guerisse didn’t answer. She appeared to be beyond speech. Rafe sensed her life force was near the end.
Angelina swung around to face Rafe, her arms wrapped around her stomach, while tremors shook her body. “I really need a hug but I can’t touch anyone, right?”
Her voice was as broken as her eyes.
He slid his palms up her arms and around her shoulders, then Rafe tucked her close to his heart. Angelina rested against him as she shivered. She slid her arms around his waist and clung, her palms flat against his shoulder blades, her breasts pillowed against the hard planes of his chest. And he was as bad as the Grigori because, as her grandmother lay dying, lust entered his soul.
Her tears soaked into the cotton of his t-shirt as she rested her head against the steadfast beat of his heart. Her tears fell harder, and bathed him in the wellspring of her love and affection. As if the gentle storm cleansed him, his heart thumped harder and his throat grew tight.
“Angelina.” The whisper came from the bed.
Angelina jerked her head away from Rafe’s chest and whirled around. “Grammy?”
Angel Guerisse had turned her palm over and her hand still lay on the bedcovers. “Come here, sugar.”
Angelina rushed to the bed and leaned over her grandmother. “You’re awake.”
“Not for much longer.” Her smile trembled on her lips, then her gaze cut to Rafe. “Raphael. I’ve missed you.”
“Nice to see you.” Rafe’s voice was deeper than usual as emotion made it difficult to push out the words.
“You takin’ care of my grandbaby?”
Rafe inclined his head with respect. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Her Vis viva is strong,” she rasped. “Stronger than mine.”
Angelina jerked at her grandmother’s words.
“Yes.” Angelina was much stronger than her grandmother had ever been, and her grandmother had been one of the strongest.
“Angelina, you listen to Rafe. He’ll teach you all you need to know.” Her brown eyes brightened.
Angelina blinked rapidly and nodded her acquiescence. “Okay, Grammy.”
Rafe curled his fingers around the old woman’s hand. “I’ll take care of her.” A strange and righteous sense of commitment settled in his chest. “I vow it.”
“Good. Then everything is good.”
Angelina questioned to Rafe. “Can I hold her hand?”
He nodded yes. She would be safe if she touched the old woman. She was beyond healing.
Angelina perched on the chair and reached out to clasp her grandmother’s hand. She swallowed once slowly as if she could push down the love and emotion that swam in her eyes. “Love you, Grammy.”
“Love you too, sugar.” Grammy slid into sleep. Her breath settled into a soft susurrus and the cheerful strings of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons held the somberness at bay.
Angelina looked at Rafe, resolute. “What do we need to do to finish the change?”
Rafe hesitated. He was happy he wouldn’t have to consign Angelina to an early death but he sensed the conflict within her. “Privacy.”
The conditions of her acceptance were not ideal but her transition could be completed. Then she would need to be trained. The completion of her training without the ability to touch her would be an exercise in torture.
“Then let’s go.”
Rafe brushed a kiss over Grammy’s forehead. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”
Angelina noted the affection in his touch. They acted like old friends. Her Grammy trusted Rafe. Angelina refused to let her Grammy die. There was no time to waste. Angelina had to complete her transition and learn what she needed to do to save her grandmother before it was too late.
Just then Brandt and Lina returned from the cafeteria, breaking the moment. Her grandmother opened her eyes and smiled at the kids. “You kids being good for your Mama?”
“Yes, Grammy Angel,” they said in unison.
They stayed another ten minutes or so, but she could see her grandmother was fading. “Time to let Grammy rest guys.”
The kids each kissed Grammy quickly on the cheek and then scuttled toward the door. “Bye Grammy.”
She prayed she was up to the task. Saving her grandmother was too important. Angelina had to try. She had to. Angelina leaned down to air kiss Grammy’s pale cheek.She squeezed Grammy’s hand once more. Grammy squeezed back. An overwhelming urge to get home and start the training nearly blindsided her. If she wanted to heal her grandmother, she needed to learn. Yesterday.
SIXTEEN
She was descended from a matriarchal line of Angels.
Angelina sat at her kitchen table and let that truth sink in. She finally believed him. She didn’t quite understand why she had been able to touch Grammy and not suffer the same reaction that she’d had with Peter or with Brandt but she could question Rafe later. Right now she was thankful that Grammy had perked up enough to chat and to hold her hand.
Obviously Angelina had quite a bit to learn about the healing process. She planned to learn with her grandmother so they could have more time with her.
“The visit was good.” She fidgeted in the ladder-back chair. “Thank you for going with me.”
“I have great affection for your grandmother.”
“She likes you, too.” Angelina smiled wanly. “I could tell.”
One detail bothered her. She didn’t want to bring it up for the sheer ick factor but she also really wanted to know. “Did you and she ever...ah....”
“No. I’ve told you. It’s--”
“Forbidden.” She got that. “Then why...?”
“I don’t know.” Rafe looked out through the panes of glass on the French doors to the backyard. “You want to get started?”
So he wouldn’t answer her. In reality it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting the rest of the power so that she could learn how to heal and then fix her grandmother.
“Transfer of power first.” Rafe still stood by the sink. The overhead light illuminated half his face with an unearthly glow, the other half was etched in shadows. Suddenly those shadows took on a menace. “You need to do exactly what I say.”
“Fine.” She just wanted to get it over with. And still he just stood there. “Don’t you have to be closer?”
Rafe cleared his throat. “Let’s go to your room.”
“I can’t with the kids here,” she reprimanded primly. “It was bad enough you were up there earlier today. I broke the house rule.”
Rafe just waited.
“What about your place?”
His lips quirked.
“Where do you live?”
“Pretty far away.”
Again with the cryptic. “How far?”
“Parallel universe, Angelic Realm, really far.”
“Are humans forbidden there?”
“Not in theory, but so few visit that everyone notices.”
“Well, th
en where can we go?” Jeez, she felt like a teenager who wanted to make out with her boyfriend. “Car?”
“Too cramped.”
“Park?”
“Too public.”
“Well, where do you suggest, then?” She couldn’t help it. She had to say it. “My parents’ bedroom is out.”
Rafe frowned. “Why would you suggest that?”
“Sorry, it was a joke.” Except that was what it felt like they were doing. An assignation for a secret tryst. Where could they go? And then she had the perfect place.
Angelina led Rafe into the backyard.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” She snickered and then laughed. Her stomach hurt she laughed so hard. She had to pause and adjust her grip on the ladder.
“I can’t believe it either.” Rafe didn’t exactly grumble but he definitely wasn’t happy. “I would hate to break these rungs.”
“We had the tree house built to withstand four-hundred-pound adults.”
“Your husband was that good of a carpenter?”
“Our carpenter was that good of a carpenter. Gary wasn’t even home the day the handyman completed it.”
She pulled herself up the last rung and hoped for no spiders. Crawling inside the sturdy redwood house, she waited for Rafe to follow and thought about how absent Gary had been and wondered when she started making excuses for him. Then she wondered if Gary had ever been up here. If she were honest, Candy hadn’t broken up their marriage. It had been broken long ago.
Rafe crammed into the little house, bigger than the inside of her car but not much, the interior dark, intimate, and isolated. His knees were practically up to his ears. She’d forgotten how tall he was. “This is really quite cozy.”
She snorted. He was miserable. “We can go somewhere else.”
“Actually this will work.” Rafe smiled, and his teeth gleamed white in the darkness.
She forgot she wasn’t supposed to melt. But his silver eyes twinkled with mischief and the light pouring from the windows on the back of the house accented the sharp line of his cheekbones and the sculpted curve of his lips. In the close, intimate atmosphere with its stippled light, she could pretend her Grammy wasn’t deathly ill. Pretend she wasn’t here for a life-altering event. Pretend she hadn’t taken a huge leap of faith in trusting this stranger who said he was an Archangel and seemed to have the miracles to back up the claim.