by C. L. Coffey
There were different armed men on the door than there had been the night before, and they didn’t seem impressed with my appearance. “Hold it right there,” one of them demanded, his hand going to his hip.
“Hand me the platinum,” I told him, too impatient to bother with pleasantries. I couldn’t blame them. My dress was in tatters, my stockings torn, and with the scrapes across my skin, I looked like Cinderella returning from the ball past midnight. He handed me the pen, warily, and I grasped it firmly. “Angel Connors. Angel of the House, second in command.”
Both men bobbed their head at me. “Ma’am. Are you all right?”
“I am now,” I muttered, walking past them into the building.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Turning Point
With hindsight, heading straight to the office instead of showering and changing first, was not the smartest of things to do. The room was empty, but I could hear voices in the library, so I marched straight in. Although Gabriel had left, Michael, Cupid, Raphael, Paddy and Darell were all seated around the library’s large table, deep in discussion. All five of them fell silent, staring at me in varying degrees of shock and concern as I bustled in.
Raphael was the first to move, hurrying over. “Angel, what on earth happened to you?”
“Afriel is what happened to me,” I grunted, allowing him to take the tattered strips of fabric I was still clinging onto, along with my shoes, away from me.
“Are you hurt?”
I waved an arm vaguely. My head was still pounding, but otherwise, the only thing that hurt was the cut on my arm. I hadn’t taken the gloves off to check, but the pulsating pain did seem stronger than it had earlier. “I’ve had worse.”
“Who is Afriel?” Paddy asked in her thick Scottish brogue.
“A former cherub of this House,” Michael answered, although his caramel colored eyes were fixed firmly on me. “Why?”
“That’s not a short answer,” I told him. “We need to talk.”
Raphael nodded. “We can leave.”
I quickly shook my head. “No, I think it’s fair that you stay. Even you, Darell.”
“I think you should perhaps change first,” Cupid suggested, looking me up and down. “Maybe have a shower too,” he added, turning up his nose.
“We will be right here,” Michael confirmed. He was still watching me carefully.
I considered it. There were things to discuss, but nothing that couldn’t wait half an hour while I cleaned up and changed into something more appropriate than an outfit which was verging on slutty zombie prom queen. “I’ll be back,” I agreed.
Before I got in the shower, I took a couple of painkillers – there was no harm in helping with the headache, even if I did recover quickly. I also checked my phone to see if the service provider had switched over so I could send a text message to Joshua, but there was no such luck. With the ruined dress heaped in a corner (I was now even more grateful that I hadn’t allowed Cupid to spend stupid amounts of money on it), I turned on the shower, keeping the water lukewarm.
My shower was quick. I was getting tired of the amount of them I had taken where I could watch dirt and blood wash down the drain. Wrapped in a towel, I stared at my reflection while brushing my teeth. Once again, I had gone too long with too little sleep and I was starting to look like death warmed up. I pinched my cheeks trying to get some color in them, but there was only one thing that was going to help at this point: actual sleep. Later.
I pulled on my uniform, finding the biker jeans reassuring, and made sure both swords were with me. The currently-useless phone was dropped in my pocket (the network provider would have to switch that over soon, surely?) and I left the room with my hair still wet and only some mascara on.
It was still early enough that breakfast was being served, and I made a detour to the dining hall. The atmosphere in there told me instantly that none of them knew anything about Michael’s return. That was going to change soon. I grabbed a bowl of Lucky Charms and started eating them along the way. It wasn’t quite sleep, but it helped.
The three archangels and the saint were all still seated around the table where I left them. Once again, they quietened when I entered. I gestured to them all. “Don’t stop on my account.”
“What we were discussing can wait,” Michael said, firmly. “You have something to tell us.”
“I have many things to tell you,” I corrected him, taking a seat. I looked around the table with a frown. “Where did Darell go?”
“Darell shouldn’t be here,” Cupid said, not meeting my gaze.
My eyes narrowed at him. “I thought we were agreed.”
“And then Michael returned.”
I kept my eyes on Cupid, scowling at him until his hazel eyes finally met mine. “Two nights ago, a teenager broke into the convent and killed one of us. Two nights ago.” It was all spoken psychically, but I felt like I was saying the words through gritted teeth. I was certainly clenching them.
“And yet Cinderella went to the ball.”
My mouth fell open. “You encouraged me!” I cried in outrage. I leaped to my feet, the chair clattering behind me as Cupid, opposite me, did the same thing. “What’s your problem?”
“Enough!” Michael commanded. He didn’t have the same control over me as he used to, but I growled and did as requested. Neither Cupid nor I sat back down, instead continuing to glower at each other. “What is going on here?”
My eyes remained fixed on Cupid. I pushed my anger down, but my words came out cold. “I don’t know what you guys have been discussing over the last few hours, but two nights ago, a teenager, quite likely under the influence of one of the Fallen, broke into this House and killed a potential that was sleeping in my bed.” It was the choking sound that came from Paddy which broke my stare and I rolled my eyes at her. “I asked the question, got him back to the convent then Cupid said that he needed to stay put. I wasn’t in the bed at the same time: I was across the hallway.”
“With your charge.”
I ignored Cupid’s voice in my head. “Once he had killed Xavier, he moved onto the next room – my new room – and tried to impale me with a sword, also nearly killing my charge in the process. That sword, by the way, seemed to be made of something that can hurt angels, like the bullets that shot Cupid, because my arm is not healing.”
“What do you mean, ‘not healing’?” It was Raphael that spoke up. The concern in his voice that had me turning my attention to him.
I shook the jacket off my shoulder, revealing the bandages, and then quickly unraveled them. The cut was still there, looking almost as fresh as it had the other night apart from the blood which was merely glistening instead of dripping from it. “It stings like hell too,” I muttered, wincing as I stared at it.
Raphael, who was seated next to me, stood, gently taking my arm and examining the wound. “You say this happened yesterday?”
I blew out a breath, trying not to jerk my arm from the Irish archangel. “The last few days have blurred into one, but it would be about twenty-four hours ago, yes.”
I caught him sharing a look with Michael. “This should be healed by now.”
“You say Cupid was shot also?” Michael asked, turning to the archangel beside him.
The glower disappeared when Cupid looked at Michael. He nodded. “It took several days for it to start to heal. It’s scabbed over at the moment.” He carefully lifted his t-shirt to reveal the circular scab.
“Can you heal that?” Michael asked, although he was looking at my cut.
“I have never seen anything like it,” Raphael muttered, prodding the tender edges until I winced and pulled my arm free.
“Holy water helped” I told them.
I reached for my bandages, but Raphael took them off me, helping me to bind the wound back up. “If it were a wound on a human, I would suggest stitches, but I would be reluctant to do that here. Whatever has caused this injury is preventing it from healing as it should, and I fear binding th
e skin together now would do more harm than good.”
“We’re getting off topic,” I declared when Raphael had finished. “The whole point was that a human broke into the convent and did harm. Not for the first time, I might add. It was barely a month ago when this convent was set on fire with us all in it. The humans behind it are pretty set on killing us, and Cupid and I can’t protect the convent, the angels, and New Orleans by ourselves.”
“Only we’re not by ourselves anymore.” Cupid folded his arms and cocked his head, his lips pressed together in a thin line.
“There are over thirty angels in this convent,” I retorted. “Thirty. There is nearly double the amount of Fallen in this city; yet, the ones attacking us are human. Maybe we can stop those humans when they come to us, but it is stopping us from going out there and stopping the Fallen who send them. If we want to save them, we should be removing their influences and we can’t do that when we have to be protecting all the angels. I’m assuming you’ve also changed your mind on training the angels to fight?” I shot at him.
“You wanted to train the angels to fight?” Michael echoed my words.
I looked over to him, finding his irritating poker face back. Calmly, I sat back down and started eating my breakfast again, ignoring the fact that the milk had turned the cereal soggy. “I get that you guys have your traditions, and that’s great, but half the things you do, you do for the sake of it. This is not the same world as it was when there was an angel for every human. Hell, it’s not the same world it was fifty years ago. Times have changed. Information is instant, social media is more effective than the news, people have the technology to wipe this planet out at the press of a button, and the Fallen are taking advantage of it all. You might not want to change, but not doing so is not only going to harm us: humans are going to suffer too.” I set my bowl down and took my time working around the table to look each of the archangels (and the saint) in the eye. “Get computers – send messages out that way instead of using the angels. Get them trained up and allow them to become guardians.”
“Angel,” Michael sighed.
I ignored him. “Speaking of technology, I ordered every angel a cell phone. They should be here in the next day or two.” I folded my arms. “The other thing is you really need to reassess your opinions of the nephilim, because they are half-human and half-Fallen. One of their parents may be evil, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they are. Hell, give them a chance and they may even help us out.”
“You cannot trust the Fallen, and you cannot trust their offspring,” Raphael was quick to point out.
I shrugged. “Who says you can’t? I consider myself to be friends with one of them, and he gave me a list of all the Fallen and all the nephilim in the city.”
“He did?” Paddy’s face was a picture of stunned amazement, her eyes bright and wide. “That can’t be correct.”
I shrugged again. “Now no longer part of this house, the cherubim are going all vigilante on the nephilim and picking them off one by one. All of their names were on that list before they upped their kill-count, so I’m confident that it’s correct.”
“You cannot put your trust in a nephilim, Angel.” Michael spoke again, watching me in pity. “They may be half-human, but given the choice, they will certainly choose to act in a way which will protect themselves and their Fallen parent.”
“Then who shall I trust?” I asked him. “Humans? It was a human who did this.” I lifted up my bandaged arm and gave him a pointed look. “Or the angels? Only an hour ago, I was fighting a cherub in the middle of the street.” This time it was Cupid who got the pointed look.
“Why did Afriel attack you?”
“Possibly because I threw a shoe at her head,” I shrugged.
“You just… threw a shoe at her?” Paddy repeated, blinking in disbelief.
I spared a wry smile before quickly recounting my morning activities. The four of them listened in silence, but not one of them seemed outraged at what had happened. When I finished, I sat back, waiting for their response.
It was Raphael who spoke first, but only after sharing a look with his partner. “You just left him there?”
“He was dead. The only thing sticking around would have done was brought attention to myself when the police arrived.” I got up from the chair and made my way over to the window, peering out. My attention was momentarily taken out of the library and settled down on something outside: something was different out there, and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
“This is no longer my House.” At Michael’s words, I turned around, bringing my focus back into the room. I frowned. “But if you would permit me to speak?”
“Always,” Cupid responded.
When Michael looked to me, I shrugged, waving my arm in front of me to indicate he had the floor. “I think we have to be careful how we would do it, as we do have rules to follow, however, I see merit in what Angel is suggesting. Times are changing, and if we want to be effective in protecting the humans we are duty-bound to, then perhaps we should also change.”
Cupid’s mouth hung open. I couldn’t blame him – I was just as shocked. However, I was still feeling pissed off with his attitude towards me, so I hid my reaction by folding my arms, and staring at him smugly. “What do you suggest?” I asked Michael.
“Although I understand your sentiments, angels will not be joining the social media: we must respect our privacy.”
I wasn’t sure he did. I hadn’t been suggesting that they all get Snapchat accounts, but more that an email was a lot quicker and a better use of time than angels travelling around the country to pass on messages. Until I could work out what battle I had won, I opted to keep quiet.
“I do think that the convent could use the additional protection that Darell and his team can provide.”
This time, bulging eyes joined Cupid’s face. “You were just saying that we should not have requested their services.”
“The idea of humans in this House is uncomfortable,” Michael agreed. “However, Angel makes a very valid point: we cannot protect the humans, and seek out the Fallen and the nephilim if we are too busy with protecting our own kind. The convent is damaged and vulnerable. We should accept help with protecting it, at least until we can return the building, and the city, back to a safer state.”
I marched back over to the table, resting both hands on it as I glowered at Michael. “We should not be seeking the nephilim out.”
“We should,” he disagreed, meeting my glare, though his showed nothing less than patience. “Angel, you are new, you have not seen the damage and devastation a nephilim can cause. They are abominations.”
“No, they’re not.”
“Enough!” Cupid snapped at me. “We will have no more discussions regarding the nephilim.”
I recoiled, jerking my hands from the table. The leader of the House, as well as sharing a psychic connection with his angels, also had the power to control an angel under them. Michael had used it a few times on me – mainly when it came to me trying to discuss Lucifer. Cupid had never used it on me. Until now. Somehow, that hurt more than Michael doing it.
I couldn’t be here right now. These four had been doing things their way for so long that I might as well have been trying to have a conversation with Joshua’s cat. I needed a conversation with Joshua anyway, maybe I could put that theory to the test. I walked to the door.
“Angel…” Michael started.
I shook my head. “You should tell the other angels that you’re alive. If anyone deserves to feel as happy as I do with that knowledge, they do.”
I left the convent. Despite the earlier conversation, there were still two of Darell’s men on the door. I gave them a polite smile and left. I didn’t bother with picking up an SUV – before I went to find Joshua, I needed to find Ty and let him know he wasn’t safe. I left the grounds, appreciating the coolness that had settled over the city.
I stopped suddenly in the middle of the street, ignoring the curs
ing of the man who had been behind me and taken evasive maneuvers to avoid careering into me, and stared upwards. Instead of bright blue skies and blinding sunshine, I was greeted with clouds; gray cloud, with darker clouds on the horizon, making a beeline for the city.
Despite wanting rain for several weeks – and the city needing it – the clouds permitted unease to settle in the depths of my stomach along with the half dozen other emotions that were weighing down in there. The unnatural good weather was being caused by Beelzebub, and as far as I knew, he was still in the city. So why the rainclouds now?
I whirled around, ready to go straight back to the convent and alert the others, when I nearly smashed straight into a person. A teenager. My first thought was the teen had been sent by one of the Fallen, given the death glares she was sending me, but then I realized the reality was much worse. This was a cherub - a severely pissed-off cherub, by the looks of things. Before I could say a word, she had reached out and grabbed my arm, her nails digging into the bandaged wound hidden beneath my jacket sleeve.
When I let out a gasp and yanked my arm free, I was already in the Plaza Tower, standing face to face with Veronica and Garret.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Know Your Enemy
I ignored the pain which had begun thrumming in my forearm and instead narrowed my eyes at Veronica. “I thought we had an agreement that you would stop kidnapping me.”
“And I thought we were friends,” Veronica returned. For the first time, there was no friendliness in her gray eyes – they were cold and sharp.
“We are,” I said, though my tone was far from friendly.
“Friend’s don’t attack friends.” She folded her arms and cocked her hip, waiting.
I could feel the anger and irritation building and I fought to keep it at bay. As I’d just discovered, that got me nowhere. “The last time I spoke to you, you assured me that the cherubim were not hunting the nephilim, and then, only a few hours ago, I found Afriel killing one in cold blood.”