by Lisa Hughey
She brought Victor with her. He nodded prissily at Rafe and then eyed Angelina speculatively. Thank goodness Sam, the Archangel of Love, wasn’t here.
“We found the connection, but there is a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” But Victor stared at Angelina as if he could see through to her soul. “Beyond the obvious.”
Okay. So Victor knew of Rafe’s attraction to Angelina. But he hadn’t broken the law.
Yet.
But it also meant he’d be Banished in a heartbeat if he ever did consummate his relationship with Angelina. “First off, the Nephilim are definitely alive.”
Nora started.
Rafe thought back to Stas’s assertion. Then thought of Tomasz and his wife. “Maybe they aren’t all bad.”
Victor said, “Perhaps not. We cannot know.” Victor’s gaze catalogued Angelina’s tumbled hair and the beard burn on her neck. “And based on your recent activities, you are less than impartial about the subject.”
“They haven’t shown any aggression.” Angelina moved to defend the Nephilim.
“Is she always this bold?” Victor sniffed.
“She has a mind of her own,” Nora said firmly. Her approval was a welcome surprise for Rafe. Pride in Angelina’s guts, in her sheer determination, swept through Rafe.
He was so struck by the fact that she commanded Nora’s respect, he only noticed Victor’s actions in his peripheral vision at the last minute. Victor extended his left hand toward Angelina’s forehead and Rafe thought he knew what Victor intended.
“No.” Rafe lunged across the table, knocked Victor’s hand away from Angelina’s face, and shoved him back against his chair. “No.”
Victor said to Rafe, “You certainly have changed your attitude toward humans.” His tone was snide, his demeanor nasty.
“You will not,” Rafe commanded.
“What was that about?” Angelina’s eyes were wide as she looked from Rafe to Victor.
“He was about to remove your Khafi, your spirit from your body.” Rafe’s chest heaved as he fought to control the rage that threatened to blow off the top of his head.
This was done usually after the body was dead. To remove the spirit while the Angel was still alive was horrifically painful.
Angelina crouched into a fighting stance. “Just try it.”
“She is to be protected,” Rafe said fiercely. “We need her in this war.”
“Of course.” Victor raised one eyebrow into an inquisitive arch. “You jumped to a rather vicious conclusion. I merely wanted to ward her spirit so the Latifa could not be performed against her.”
“Your promise, you will not harm her.” Rafe stood with his shoulders back, hands fisted into weapons and a scowl on his face.
“Raphael, I am aware of her importance,” Victor chastised. “Perhaps you would do well to leave me to do my job.”
“And what’s that?” Angelina asked.
“I am a Virtue. The Virtues inhabit the Second Sphere and must ensure the Cosmos remain in order. By any means necessary.” His threat was clear. Anything or anyone in the way of that goal was toast.
Angelina opened her mouth as if to argue, and Rafe shook his head sharply. Each sphere has a hierarchal structure. The Virtues are the warriors of the Second Sphere. The conscience and the protectors of the Universe. They did not need to invoke the wrath of the Virtues by arguing with Victor.
“I suppose I should have asked,” Victor allowed. “May I?”
“What exactly does this do?”
“It prohibits any entity from taking your spirit before you die.”
Angelina glanced to Rafe in question. He couldn’t see any downside and nodded okay.
Victor sidled closer, so close that Rafe was about to protest.
He noted the flare of his nostrils as Victor took in Angelina’s scent, then his surprised gaze shot to Rafe. Victor pressed his palm over Angelina’s forehead.
“Cosmos protéger ce serviteur.” Cosmos protect this servant. Victor crowded closer to Angelina, so close that Rafe could see her discomfort, but she held her ground and didn’t move. After he repeated the protection chant two more times, Victor withdrew his hand from her forehead with a subtle caress along her brow line.
“It is done.”
And now they could get back to the problem at hand.
Quickly Rafe outlined what he knew of the virus, which only seemed to attack Nephilim, people with Archangel DNA. He told them of the fact that the chickens themselves were a hybrid of Archangel and animal. Which meant the Nephilim would be the most affected by the virus. “There is also the question of why regular Angels do not seem to be affected,” Rafe said slowly.
“Let’s focus first on the hybrid animals. How is that possible?” Victor pursed his lips.
“The Nephilim must have obtained Archangel DNA for the breeding experiment.”
“This means we will have to investigate all of the Archangels and their underlings.” Victor shook his head.
“Do you really think any of us would willingly participate in that experiment?” Rafe growled. Even Zach who wasn’t his favorite Archangel would not be party to such an overstep into the human realm. The Angelic Realm were the protectors.
Victor snapped, “There are no other Archangels.”
“Remiel,” Nora’s whisper was feathered with fear.
Remiel? The lab was silent but for the hum of the computers and refrigerators.
“Who is Remiel?” Angelina finally asked.
“The leader of the Grigori, the fallen,” Rafe said grimly.
That couldn’t be good.
Nora continued solemnly, “Remiel was the eighth Archangel, until lust for human flesh led the Grigori to their downfall.”
“I thought Remiel was imprisoned.” Rafe couldn’t imagine Remiel had gotten free. “Bound to the Banished Realm.”
“As did we all,” Victor said finally.
“Remiel could be the culprit,” Nora said.
Victor tapped his fingers on the lab table. “The more likely explanation is that someone within the realm betrayed the Archangels to the Nephilim.”
But who?
THIRTY-SEVEN
Someone knocked softly at the door.
Angelina roused from the cushy down chaise where she’d fallen asleep after Rafe left her for a Council meeting of the entire Angelic Realm. She didn’t think Rafe would knock, but she didn’t know.
A tiny smile lifted her mouth as she thought of Rafe. He’d been tender and aggressive. And protective. She shivered at the memory as he defended her from Victor. She stretched her arms above her head. Janine and the kids wouldn’t be home for another two days and if he was amenable, she would stay here and help him.
She’d been amazed at the satisfaction that she’d felt as they worked in the lab. Even though it was another responsibility, a sense of anticipation filled her at finally finding a way to make a difference.
“Just a sec.” Angelina rubbed a hand over her sleepy face and blinked away the fogginess. She took in the details she’d been too tired to note when she’d tumbled into sleep. A far cry from her bedroom in her and Gary’s house, the elegant, cool marble floors and columns were offset by a warm green velvet bedcover and upholstered furniture. A worn Persian carpet graced the floor. Flames licked at logs in the grand fireplace, and a warm glow covered her in a blanket of well-being.
They knocked again. She called, “Who is it?”
The door swept open to reveal a little man dressed in a tailored, double-breasted suit.
“Good day. My name is Nathan, I am Raphael the Healer’s under-secretary.” He bowed formally, then stood in the doorway, and looked at her expectantly. As if he waited for an invitation.
Angelina swiveled to place her bare feet on the cold marble floor. “Would you like to come in?”
“Thank you.” He took two dainty steps into the room.
“Can I help you?” The frigid cold from the floor slithered up her legs.
Her heart began to beat in double time. “Home?”
“Come.” He reached out his hand as if to pat her shoulder but at the last minute pulled away. “He is done with you.”
Rafe was done with her? That was it?
The hope that she held in heart twisted into a palpable ache. “He didn’t want to take me himself?”
Nathan brushed a speck of lint from his suit coat. “You are no longer his responsibility. Besides, he will be ascending now.”
“Ascending?” Angelina felt as if she’d fallen down the same hole as Alice.
“He will be a Virtue. The Second Sphere?” he said impatiently.
Like Victor? Then she remembered Michael had referenced him ascending the other day. But Rafe hadn’t mentioned it or what his ascension meant for her, them.
“Oh.” So where did that leave her? He had said he would come whenever she needed him. But this assistant intimated that Rafe was done with her. Despair started as a small seed in her chest, grew roots, spread out, and smothered her confidence with tendrils of doubt. She had known their time was limited. They were forbidden. But this seemed so abrupt. So...final. Angelina shrugged off the sadness. She would go back to her family, be a healer, and be content.
“Are you ready?” He pulled a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket. The script of the letter N caught her eye as he dabbed at his forehead.
“What did you say your name was?” Angelina tilted her head, as she realized the symbol was similar to the mark they had seen on all of the Nephilim.
“Nathan.”
Logical for the monogram then. She tried to relax. She wouldn’t let Rafe’s abandonment derail her. “Is my transition complete?”
“Quite right.” He moved toward her. “You have one final test to prove your abilities.”
Angelina took one last glance around the room, and disdained the cool opulence. This really wasn’t her. She preferred the faded warmth of the farmhouse of last night. She wouldn’t be back here again.
“Take me to it.”
He placed his hand in hers and they were gone.
Nathan had brought her to a ranch or farm, somewhere rural. Angelina looked for any kind of symbol or artifact or physical marker that would give her a clue as to where in the world she was. Mentally she stored the visual account of the place, for some reason feeling the need to mark this as the end. Overhead, a clear blue sky was unblemished with clouds. A gust of hot wind blew across her face, and carried the odor of manure and desert air.
“What’s here?”
Nathan turned to face her. “My daughter.”
“Your daughter?” Angelina looked around again. This didn’t look like any chamber of the Angelic Realm that she had been in. “But I thought I could only heal humans.”
“I want you to heal her,” Nathan said baldly. In his gaze, she saw a misery that equaled her own. “She is half human.”
A daughter, who was half-human, which meant....
“Yes. She is Nephilim,” he whispered, his eyes tortured. Angelina might have felt sorry for him if he’d tried to help his daughter in a different way.
“You have a human mate?” Angelina wasn’t sure what made her use that specific word but it seemed to fit. Wasn’t it supposed to be forbidden?
“Yes,” he replied succinctly. But if Angelina was trapped on this farm with him, she wanted answers.
“It is forbidden.”
“My family is my life,” he said. “I will do anything to save her.”
The answers fell into place. How the Nephilim had known to implicate Zach and Uri. How they had used the Archangels’ known animosity to their advantage.
“So you joined up with the Nephilim?”
“To save my family,” Nathan said fiercely. “I will do whatever it takes to protect them.”
“So you want me to heal your half Angelic Realm, half human daughter.” Angelina stood on a rickety wood porch that circled an old dilapidated farmhouse. She shoved her hands into her front jeans pocket and stared into the horizon. Contemplated his request.
“She is very ill.”
“What makes you think I can do it?”
“You’re un ange avec le pouvoir déviant.”
Rafe may have hurt her with his actions, but he’d told her she was extraordinary. Was that a lie? Or truth?
“I killed the last person I tried to heal,” she said carefully. She wanted to be very clear.
“I read the report.” Nathan shook his head. “Not your fault.”
Maybe not.
“What makes you think I will do what you ask?”
“Your attitude toward the Nephilim is also favorable.”
“You got that from a report?” Angelina asked.
He inclined his head.
“Then what happens?”
Prissy little Nathan turned his back on her. “They want you for another purpose.”
“They who?” Her blood chilled. This was about more than his family. “And what purpose?”
“I don’t know.” Nathan’s heels clicked on the weathered wood of the porch as he walked toward the door. “I can’t worry about that.”
Angelina tsked at his statement. “Not very angelic of you, is it Nathan?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. But I love my daughter.”
“You can’t make me heal her.” Angelina pushed back to see what he would do. But before he could reply the sweet, high voice of a young girl came from just beyond the screen door.
“No, Mama.” The girl sounded young, definitely younger than Lina. “I’m scared.”
Angelina’s heart clenched.
A pale woman, with fine silvery blond hair and delicate bones, dragged the girl out to the porch. The woman’s face was drawn, her mouth set in an unsmiling line, her eyes a study in misery.
The girl was small. Her thin hair curled over the pasty skin of her shoulder. Where the mother was ethereal, the daughter was merely sickly. She had the bones for great beauty but a pall coated her features.
“Please.” With that one word, the mother crumbled Angelina’s rebellion. How could she not have compassion for this woman and her daughter’s plight? How could she withhold a gift that could help the daughter lead a normal life?
Angelina nodded. “Bring her over to the swing.”
Calmness settled over Angelina. A surety of purpose that had been missing. She knew what she had to do. Rafe had told her that she had extraordinary power. And he’d told her that she was able to regenerate her Vis viva quickly. She didn’t need him. She could do this. Quietly she explained to the girl what would happen. “It won’t hurt. I promise. You ready?”
The girl nodded, complete trust in her acquiescence. “Can I hold my Mama’s hand?”
“I’m sorry, but you can’t.” Angelina rested a gentle hand on the girl’s head. “You can hold my hand which isn’t quite as good, I know.”
Slowly carefully, Angelina placed her hand over the girl’s heart nadis.
As if a switch had been flipped from off to on, power rushed through her. Angelina pushed the healing energy into the girl, and searched for the problem that was literally stealing this girl’s life force away. The more energy she pushed, the more power she controlled.
The excess of bile in the liver and build up of cholesterol in her gall bladder were poisoning the little girl’s body. Angelina thought back to her anatomy classes and traveled through her organs until she found the problem.
With a rush of euphoria, she visualized the repair. Then she cleaned the little girl with the same kind of visualization she’d used on her very first healing. But instead of passing out, triumph fizzed along her bloodstream, and careened around her body until she thought she would explode from sensation. Glory and exaltation trumpeted in her blood. She could heal anyone.
The girl literally blossomed. Her skin took on a rosy glow
and her chocolate brown eyes morphed from dull and flat to sparkling with life.
The mother dropped to her knees, tears flooded her eyes as she took in the change in her daughter. “Thank you, thank you,” she murmured.
“You are an angel?” the girl said wondrously.
“Just a friend.” Inordinately pleased with the little girl’s question, Angelina slowly and carefully lifted her hand from the small girl’s chest.
She smiled softly as the mother led her away.
Angelina rocked in the rickety old porch swing, her smile widened into one of contentment. This was what her gift should be used for. And when she finally accepted her destiny, she was able to embrace the power within her.
“I wasn’t sure it would work.” Nathan dabbed at his tears with a cleanly pressed pristine white handkerchief. “My thanks.”
Show your thanks the right way, Nathan ol’ boy. “Let me go.”
“I can’t.” He shook his head slowly. “I would if I could. But they know too much about my family.”
They? Nathan was the traitor. She needed to tell Rafe. But before she tried to summon him, she needed to gather as much information as possible. What did the mysterious they want? She would get to who ‘they’ are later. “Who is their leader?”
Nathan shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Before she could react, he grabbed her hand. The translocation process left her momentarily reeling. Once she got her bearings, she took in her surroundings. They were in a barn.
The two-story structure had the look of a building about to fall down. Sun streamed through knotholes, slivers of splintered wood, some as big as a fat pencil, littered the floor, hay bales stacked like a pyramid were shoved against one wall. One barn door was partially open to reveal a crowd of people who milled in the yard. The sweet scent of fresh hay and an underlay of chicken manure couldn’t quite hide the odor of bodies.
And Tomasz was there.
“Where is your champion?” Tomasz’s words were mocking but his eyes betrayed a deep sorrow. And a raft of guilt. He hadn’t saved his wife.
Suddenly she could feel the presence, a cold assessment that emanated from the loft above. Purposely she kept her gaze on the people outside but the impulse to turn and look for the threat overwhelmed her.