The Watcher

by Lisa Voisin

Hell? Michael chose Hell?

  “He was broken, Mia. Tortured for a long time.” Her eyes blazed with a fierce and inhuman beauty as they blinked back tears. “Taking his wings was nothing compared to what he endured there. They made him think he had no free will, and then they gave him orders to hurt people.”

  “What did he do?” I asked, remembering Michael had said that demons could come and go so they could hurt people. I’d thought he’d meant Damiel. “Was he a demon?”

  Frowning, she flicked her cloaked wings with the same kind of irritation that a cat flicks its tail. “He was a slave.”

  “But he did hurt people.”

  “He took no pleasure in it, if that’s any consolation.”

  I was no longer listening. I knew Michael had done terrible things but never wanted to believe it. I remembered his shame, how he’d feared what I’d think of him. A quake of sadness reverberated all the way to my toes.

  It was all happening again. Michael had come back to face me, and Damiel was still in the picture, trying to ruin everything, waiting for the opportunity to enslave him again. If Michael felt unforgivable for what happened to me, Damiel would always have a way to hurt him. “Damiel plans to do it all over again,” I said, thinking aloud. “After everything Michael’s done to get better.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “Can Michael die this time?”

  A gritty determination came over her. “Michael won’t be alone this time.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  Arielle eyed me cautiously as I tried to process. Michael had never hurt me but had spent the last nine thousand years believing he had. Damiel had messed with his head, convinced Michael to join him in Hell, and even killed him. Michael having done some of Damiel’s dirty work could only make it worse. Now Damiel was on his way back, with an army this time. The fact that Michael wouldn’t be alone gave me little comfort.

  There was a knock at the front door. It made me jump.

  “It’s okay,” Arielle said, touching my wrist. “It’s Michael.”

  When I opened the door, the first thing I noticed was that his hair was messy and the white singlet he normally wore when flying was torn and stained with blood. But at least he was visibly unharmed. When he stepped inside, I could see the stubble on his chin. His eyes shone wildly, circled by dark rings of fatigue. He hadn’t slept.

  “Hi,” I said. Though I was happy to see him, I wondered what kind of night he must have had.

  “Mia, we need to talk.”

  He and Arielle exchanged a look that made me wish I could still hear their thoughts.

  “What happened?” I asked, alarmed.

  Michael took both my hands in his and gave me a thin smile. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

  Arielle extended her fiery halo toward Michael in an eruption of light, which erased the lines of fatigue from his face. Brightening, he gave her a nod.

  She stretched—the gossamer blue of her cloaked wings shimmering as they extended behind her—and headed for the door. “I’ll put myself back on watch. You could use some rest.”

  “I won’t be on duty tonight. Please don’t look for me,” Michael said as she passed.

  “Your choice,” Arielle said, then nodded at me. “Goodbye for now, Mia.”

  “Bye, and uh…thanks,” I said. Still a little shaken, I led Michael to the living room to sit down. I had to talk him out of fighting Damiel. Knowing Michael, it wouldn’t be easy. “What do you mean you won’t be on duty tonight?”

  He squeezed my hands. “I’m watching you instead.”

  “You’re exhausted. You need to rest.”

  “I need to be here with you.”

  “Michael,” I began, wishing I could tell him all that I’d seen, but I couldn’t find the words.

  Too agitated to sit, he got up and paced the room. “You don’t know what it did to me, losing you…”

  I didn’t want to know what it would be like to lose him. Now that Damiel had the time to regroup, it would be too dangerous to fight him again. Michael couldn’t win against an army. Having just relived him losing his wings was painful enough. His death was unthinkable.

  “Falling was the only way I could be with you. I chose it,” he said, half-wincing at the memory. “Nothing could stop the burning except being near you.”

  I held my breath. If he was going to tell me what happened, I didn’t want him to stop.

  “Falling from Grace, I went from being connected to everything to…nothing. The other angels were my family.” Grief emanated from him as he spoke. I knew what it meant to lose a sense of family, but not like this. “For the first time in my long life, I was truly alone, and I never knew how cold that was.” He took a deep, jagged breath, letting it out as he folded his arms across his chest. “After you died, though, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t fight anymore.”

  He seemed much too far away, so I got up and wrapped my arms around his waist. He took another labored breath before he let me in, and I stayed there until his breathing smoothed out. I only had pieces of what he went through. He’d told me before that falling didn’t stop, that he had to constantly fight to not continue to fall. Was that how Damiel was able to convince him to choose Hell?

  “I know,” I said. “Arielle told me.”

  “You’re not the only person I hurt. You were the first, and the fact that I could hurt someone I loved so much…” Wiping his eyes roughly with the back of his hand, he choked out a sob. “How can that ever be okay?”

  “Arielle said you’d been tortured.”

  He pulled away. “That’s no excuse. I was selfish.”

  Now he was torturing himself. It was hard to watch. I needed to let him know the truth.

  “You didn’t hurt me. You may have done other things, but you never hurt me.”

  “I did,” he insisted.

  “No.” I grabbed his elbows, wanting to shake him. “Michael, listen. You think you hurt me, but you didn’t. It’s a lie. That’s why you don’t remember…” My voice trailed off as his eyes became glassy, far away. “Because it didn’t happen.”

  “What didn’t?”

  “When you first fell, you never hurt me. It wasn’t like that. It was…beautiful.”

  He shook his head as though what I’d said had hurt him. “That’s because I enthralled you, Mia. I could have made you do anything.” Taking a step back, he raked both his hands through his hair and let out an exasperated sound. “Don’t you see? Your will wasn’t involved. It was coercion, the same as if I’d drugged you.”

  “You didn’t,” I said. Our actions had been motivated by love, but there was no way to prove what I was saying. It was my memory against his.

  He took a step closer and backed me against the wall. Pressing himself into me, he caged me there with his arms. I could smell his skin, feel the heat of his body through my clothes, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, push him away or wrap my arms around him. When his eyes softened and gazed into mine, everything else around me became quiet and still. A pulse of golden light brushed my skin, and it was like a flame ignited, searing me from the inside.

  He slid one of his hands down the wall to touch the curve of my lower back, and my legs trembled. I forgot everything I was thinking. All I could see, all that I wanted, was him. I was dizzy from it. Snaking my arms around his neck, I curled my fingers in his hair. He leaned in, his breath sweet on my tongue, and I tilted my mouth up to his, closing my eyes, expecting his kiss.

  The look on his face was a challenge. “You still think I didn’t enthrall you?” he whispered.

  I pushed him away angrily, unable to speak. My pulse hammered in my throat and my body shivered from his sudden absence. I tried to think, but my mind reeled. Was it the truth? Had he been enthralling me all along?

  He sighed, taking another step back. His eyes were soft, full of love—not the eyes of someone who wanted to hurt me. His breathing was quick, as though I’d affected him, too.

  My knees
weak, I leaned into the wall for support as I fought to recall my senses. All the times that we’d kissed. They were real. Not like this. He didn’t toy with me. He didn’t have to. “I saw what happened. All of it.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t expect denial.”

  I knew what I saw. How could I get him to believe me if he wouldn’t see? “Can’t you just trust me?”

  “It’s not like—”

  But it was exactly like that. He could trust Damiel’s lies about him, believe the worst about himself, but he couldn’t trust me—that what I felt for him was real. It always was. “Why are you here?” I snapped.

  He took a step toward me. “To be with you.”

  “Why?” I inched myself along the wall, trying to put distance between us. I still wanted to kiss him. “Why would you want to be with me if you don’t trust me?”

  “Look. I know I’ve been pushing you away…”

  “I trust you.”

  “Last night I lost control, and I know I can’t go there again, but I’ll do everything in my power to be with you. If you’ll have me.”

  Of all the times I’d wanted to be near him, they were nothing compared to that moment. He loved me, wanted to be with me. A flush ran all the way up my spine, and it called me toward him. I’d backed up, but he stood less than a foot away; all I had to do was lean into him, show him I accepted him. Everything in me wanted to.

  As though he sensed my hesitation, he inched forward, his hands at his sides. “Once Damiel is defeated, it’ll be a lot easier. You’ll see.”

  Damiel. He would still have to fight Damiel. The one who killed him, took him to Hell. He’d never win. Not with a guilty conscience over something he didn’t do. If Damiel could use Fiona’s insecurity against her, he could certainly use Michael’s guilt. He’d done it before. I pushed Michael away. “No.”

  “No?”

  “I can’t be with you if you won’t listen to me.”

  “I am listening. You believe—”

  “No, I know you didn’t hurt me.” I took another step away. If he couldn’t hear that he hadn’t hurt me, there was no way he could defeat Damiel. It was too dangerous. If Damiel used me as a weapon, Michael didn’t have a chance. “Not unless you can tell me truthfully that you believe you’re innocent.” Otherwise Damiel will defeat you again. He’ll kill you.

  I refused to back down. A war of restraint and emotion waged across Michael’s face. Before he spoke, he looked at the fireplace, the mantel, the window. Anywhere but at me. “I do trust you. I just…”

  “Don’t trust yourself.”

  A hard, brittle feeling settled in my chest. If he didn’t trust himself, he’d be duped by Damiel again, even killed, and I couldn’t let that happen. I loved him too much. I would rather break my own heart than risk his life—not to mention his soul. Nothing I could say would change his mind. So I took a deep breath and said what needed to be said. “Michael. It’s over between us.”

  He let out his breath as though I’d punched him. “Over?”

  Even in pain, he was beautiful. Tilting his chin back, he gazed at me with eyes that were as clear and blue as a cloudless summer sky, and from that angle he seemed more angelic than ever.

  I couldn’t believe what I was doing, but I needed to keep him safe. If Damiel was after me because of how I felt for Michael, I’d have to remove myself from the equation, show Damiel I didn’t care. I would run away, catch a flight to Oakland, and stay with Bill in Berkeley. I had enough in my savings to do it. Damiel wouldn’t expect that. Even if he did, if he got me, that was one thing. I’d be far away and Michael wouldn’t be anywhere near us. He wouldn’t have to feel responsible for what happened this time. He wouldn’t have to die.

  I turned toward the fireplace and mustered up the courage to speak. “You should go now.”

  “Mia.”

  “Leave!” I yelled at him.

  He touched my shoulder gently, and the warmth and strength of his hand seeped through the thin fabric of my shirt. “At least let me protect you.”

  Despite how cruel I was being, he was still trying to help, which only made it worse. The effervescent fire of his halo enveloped me, bathing us both in golden light. I shook it off and faced him again. I had to be strong. “I don’t want you near me.”

  The light dimmed. “You don’t know what danger you’re in.”

  I wanted to say I don’t care! Just stay safe yourself. But he didn’t seem to care how much danger he was in. “Let Arielle do it. I don’t want you around.”

  He paled and took a step back. “You don’t want this. I can feel it.”

  He could tell I was lying. Damn him for feeling what I felt! Since I couldn’t change that, I had to use his own laws against him to end it now. I crossed my arms in front of my chest, attempting to block him out. Even if pushing him away made me cold and empty inside, it was nothing compared to how I’d feel if he were dead. If anything happened to him because of me.

  “Aren’t you supposed to respect a person’s free will—no matter what?”

  He watched me as though I was dealing him a death blow.

  Unable to look at him and do what I needed to do next, I turned away. “Then respect mine.”

  At that, he didn’t argue, and I didn’t turn back to see if my daggers hit. I was sure they did. I could feel them as though they had pierced my own heart.

  “Fine,” he muttered.

  Then the coldness inside me took over as I listened to the sound of his footsteps walking out the door.

  ***

  I went through the rest of the day like a robot, or some other creature without a heart. Knowing I’d cut it out myself only made it worse. Cold and spent, I had a scalding hot shower that didn’t touch the icicles that had formed inside my chest. When Mom woke up, I put on a brave face and made dinner for both of us, holding back tears. I didn’t deserve to cry. It was my choice. I’d pushed him away and it worked. He was gone.

  I kept the TV on so we wouldn’t have to talk. I didn’t want her to guess anything was wrong, that I was planning to leave. She was groggy from switching her sleep patterns from day to night shift and didn’t say much herself. I vowed to myself that I would call her when I arrived safely at Bill’s apartment.

  Even though everything was dulled by my grief, there was no way things could work between Michael and me. Before, all the obstacles we had between us didn’t seem real, as though we could be okay if we played it safe. Being together felt right. But now, my feelings for him couldn’t be reason enough, not when his life was at stake. I had to do whatever I could to keep him away from Damiel. Leaving Michael. Leaving town. They were the right things to do. I had to do them. I was sure of it.

  When dinner was ready, Mom and I ate in front of the TV, watching the early news. A lot of crazy things were happening in the city: three big fires, a high-speed car chase, and several muggings. What had caused them? Was it Damiel’s army? The time for believing in coincidences was over. I couldn’t afford to be naïve. People I cared about would get hurt.

  Then the news announced a freak ten-car pileup on the freeway Mom usually took to work, which meant she had to leave earlier than usual to take an alternate route. Sadder than I expected, not knowing when I’d see her again, I almost choked up when I kissed her goodbye.

  Anxious to get going, I pulled my suitcase out of the closet and laid it open on my bed. I was folding my favorite pair of jeans when the doorbell rang. I froze, thinking that if it was Michael, there was no way I could say no to him again. But it wasn’t.

  “I know you’re in there.” The cruel, familiar voice sent icicles down my spine. “Let me in.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I didn’t open the door, for all the good it did me. Even though it was locked and bolted, it blasted open like it had been hit by a hurricane. Standing in front of me was someone I hoped I’d never see again. He looked exactly the same as the last time I’d seen him, which meant he’d re-possessed Giulio.


  Damiel pressed his hand through the open doorway, and a faint blue arcing light flared and fizzled around it. “Sigils,” he said. “Useless.”

  Instinctively, I stepped back. He laughed, and the sound was colder than I remembered, more sinister. He crossed the threshold slowly, purposefully, as though he knew there was nothing I could do to get away. Unfortunately I knew it too.

  “What kind of welcome is that for a friend?” he chided, “especially one you’ve known as long as me?”

  “You’re hardly a friend!”

  “Now, now. We had a date.” He moved in closer to take my arm in his.

  I pulled my arm away, trying not to freak out. “Leave me alone!”

  “I don’t know why you won’t give me a chance.”

  “Because you’re evil.” I backed away from him and hit the coffee table. It hurt, but I didn’t want to let on. Damiel grabbed me before I lost my balance.

  “Evil,” he said. “I don’t think you get me at all.”

  “Well, if you’re not evil, then leave.”

  His mouth twisted into a sneer and he came in so close I had to crane my neck to look up at him. Not wanting to fall into the coffee table, I held my ground.

  “Why would I do that, sweetness?” he said. “We’re old friends. We go way back.”

  When he called me sweetness, my skin crawled a little. “Friends? You hurt Michael, cut off his wings!”

  “That was punishment for his crime. But, while we’re pointing fingers, you’re the one who seduced him. He fell because of you. No one can hurt him the way you can, Mia.”

  When I was seven, I fell off my bicycle and broke my arm. I screamed so much on the way to the hospital that Mom gave me half a Valium to calm me down. I felt that way now. Something inside me was screaming, but the intensity wasn’t there. My reasoning was muddied now, my mind fuzzy. “You killed him.”

  The doubt must have shown on my face because he continued, “That was too easy. Not only had he given up Heaven to be with you, but when you died you took away everything he cared about. He was willing to do anything to forget you—anything we told him to do—and a few things of his own that were far from angelic.” Damiel smiled in recollection, actually smiled. “Falling took most of his soul, but you destroyed the rest.”