“What does that mean, Reagan? What are you?” I don’t know whether I want to get my answer or not.
“I was created,” Reagan hisses. “From the heart of the forest. And from a pinch of jasmines. From a pinch of wind and rain. From your loneliness. From your yearning. I’m your dream, Gabriel. You’re forbidden to create, Gabriel. That’s why I’m evil. Help me.” Tears trickle down from the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want this blood on my hands.”
Her words drill to my archangel. Make it stir. Make it threaten to pour out of me. I steel myself to contain the bastard, to tame him, and to forget him back again.
“Kill me or help me,” Reagan pleads. “You can help me.”
I know she means my archangel, but I don’t want to release him. Never ever again.
I am Gabriel now.
I am just a simple guy and I’m happy with who I am.
I’m a guy who’s married and who loves for the first time ever. Loves like mad.
My archangel will take this love away from me, will make me turn into a cold ruthless bastard, will make me turn into a calculating killer without feelings. No fucking way am I going to lose Reagan. I want to love her and I’m going to love even her dark side. We’ll get through this together. Her victims are scumbags. Nobody will mourn them.
The boys and I had to put in a lot of effort in order to pacify our archangels and hid them. We don’t want them back. We prefer a simple life to our previous life, because it’s more intense, more worth living, more of everything. Azrael, Raziel and the others chose differently. We don’t judge.
“We’ll find a way to fix this, Reagan.”
“No,” she hums and steps back.
Her body blurs, shimmers and wavers, and fear fills my veins. My fear of losing her.
“Do it,” Seff growls.
“No,” I snap and sweep my arm to catch Reagan, but my hands pass through her body like it’s made of air.
I am losing her.
I can’t lose her.
A thought materialises on the edge of my awareness. Balance wants Reagan back. The bitch won’t take her away from me.
Fury surges through me and wakes my primal part. There’s no other way, but the moment my archangel stirs back to life, I feel like my happiness is slipping away from me. My wings appear from my back and Seff backs up, covering his face with his forearm. I’m eternal. I’m the universe. I’m the knowledge, punishment and grace. That’s not according to plan. My plan comprised my wife, kids, and a little house in the suburbs. My archangel is above those tiny things. He doesn’t need them. He doesn’t yearn for them.
I grab Reagan and she starts screaming, her body so real in my arms. So corporeal. I know she needs my help. I am the help.
I change. I heal. I fix.
My light floods my surroundings—a shimmery, white flare. My mind detaches. It’s so cold. So calculating.
I kneel on one knee, holding Reagan in my arms.
Her eyes meet mine.
“I’ve torn you out of the fog,” I say. “I’ve made you real forever.”
Reagan nods. “I know.”
“If you kill again, I’ll have to kill you.”
“I know.”
“Obey the rules.”
“I will.”
I know what, who she is, what she was before us. She was a forest spirit—a piece of Balance—her existence was supposed to be about Memories. About Knowing. The forest spirits are a form of semi-conscious energy. Energy that carries knowledge about the past and present of the forest. I somehow managed to tear her out of the heart of the forest, and I made her conscious. My love made her conscious. I wanted to love so much. I wanted someone only for myself.
She pulls away from me. “I want to see the whole world.”
“You should. It’s beautiful.”
“I want you to show me the world.”
“I know.”
Our glances meet. I see the understanding in her glassy eyes and the thick drops of shimmery grey moisture that adorn her cheeks like dark pearls. She knows me so well, remembers me so well—I’d spent ages in the forest after all. She knows who I am.
The forest spirits looked all the same to me—the transparent children of Balance. Green flickers with a silver core. Gabriel didn’t remember them. Archangel Gabriel knows them very well.
Reagan starts walking. My archangel wishes her all the best. She’s been fixed, and I’m merciful. My eyes follow her for a few seconds and then I step back. Seff’s eyes lock on mine for an instant, and he shakes his head.
Reagan’s fate is none of my concerns. I am merciful. Human voices scream in my head, demanding my attention. Like in the Past.
Reagan picks up the pace. I let her go. Set her free.
No.
No fucking way. Am I an idiot or what? Something kicks me like an enormous invisible foot. I follow Reagan and grab her wrist.
She stops and turns around, her eyes rising to mine. “She said you’d forget.”
“Balance said that?”
“Yes.”
“She was very fucking wrong.” I pull her to me and wrap my arms around her trembling form.
Love floods me. My archangel remains untamed, but I feel like Gabriel. I feel normal. I feel… myself.
No, I love Reagan like mad and it’s even more intense than previously. I created her. I’m responsible for her. I fucking own her as Gabriel. I possess her as the archangel. She’s my wife. My life. My breath. My past, present and future. She complements me, makes my archangel feel me, and tames the bastard. She makes the love inside of him emerge and blossom.
I am complete, and I love.
“I told her the same thing,” Reagan says.
“That’s my girl.” I kiss the top of her head.
I scoop her up into my arms and turn around. My eyes travel to Seff who’s dealing with the corpse.
“Turn that fucking archangel off,” Seff growls and incinerates the body with his magic so there’s only a pile of black ashes left. “Bring her to my clubhouse.”
I bow my head at him. Raphael and the boys will be here at any moment, and they might want to slit Reagan’s throat.
My wings flap and I take her to our bedroom in Seff’s clubhouse. His place is spelled so no fights can take place inside. We’ll stay here until I know how to deal with the boys.
“You’re so light,” Reagan says with amazement.
“You like the bastard?”
“He’s blinding me.”
“And he loves you.” I kiss her lips.
“I know. But he sometimes wasn’t nice to me.”
Yes, that’s true. My subconscious mind tried to deter Reagan from releasing my archangel. That’s why she didn’t want to tell me anything about herself. I didn’t want my archangel to awake, and I tried to stop Reagan from waking him, not even realising this.
“He can make you feel good, Reagan. Very good. Want to taste him?”
“You want him to taste me.”
She wiggles out of my arms, and her sadness floods me. I stroke her head. “Reagan, we’ll get through this, I promise.”
“It’s always grey then it’s dark. There’s a lot of blood.”
“It’s over, I promise.” I wrap my arms around her from behind. “Let’s have a shower together.”
I hide my wings, but my archangel stays. My archangel wants to fuck. My archangel has very human, carnal needs. It’s as though I am Gabriel back again, a simple guy, but with the powers I can use or not. Like some fucking movie superhero.
I thought archangels can’t love, but they do love.
I turn Reagan round and lift her off the floor. “Showers are good.” I close her mouth with mine.
Her legs wrap around my waist and we tumble into the bathroom. I let her slide down and tear her dress off her trembling body, and then shove her into the shower cabin. She turns on the hot water and holds her hands spread at the level of her stomach to wash the blood away.
My heart fills wi
th pain as I sneak into her mind. She doesn’t remember killing anyone, but the blood on her hands scares her to death.
I don’t want her to be scared.
I strip and stand behind her, my arms wrapped around her chest. “I can make you forget about it.”
“Can you make me remember everything?”
“It’s better this way, Reagan.”
“It’s better for you this way.” There’s a hint of anger in her voice.
I turn her round, too abruptly because her eyes roll back. With my hands on her waist, I steady her and rest my forehead against hers. My cock is so hard it hurts.
“You and me, Reagan, that’s all that matters.”
I lift her off the floor and slam her on the tiled wall, my body pressed against hers. My mouth covers hers, and I kiss her hard.
“I need to fuck,” I rasp and wrap her thighs around my hips.
“I know.” She sinks her tiny fingers into my hair. “Fuck me, Gabriel.”
“That’s my girl.”
My wife. My dream. My every fantasy.
The love of my life.
I hold my cock and line it up with her entrance. She sucks in a breath. I push in and bury my whole length inside her. Her body slides up the wall, so beautifully impaled on my cock. She digs her fingers into my shoulders, her face sharp with pain. Her eyes shine bright green and her aura merges with mine. Our souls merge. Do I fucking even have a soul? It looks like I have.
I need to fuck the whole fear about her off.
I need to wreck her. Possess her. Make her mine over and over again.
I fuck her fast and deep. Her body rocks against the wall, her muscles taut. Pain and pleasure mix on her face.
I’m all elemental need.
Our moans blend. Our bodies dance as one.
She shatters, and I shatter just after her.
I carry her to the bed, my hard cock still inside her, and we fuck until she’s so sated that she can’t move. I let her drop off to sleep.
Then I sense my club brothers gather outside the clubhouse. They haven’t released their archangels yet, but I can sense the violent vibes they’re exuding.
I slip into my jeans and walk out of the bedroom. Seff is waiting by the opposite wall with two swords in his hands.
“Thought they might be useful,” he says and throws one at me.
I grab it and rotate it in my hand. The blade slices the air with a swish. My wings appear from my back, my rage causing the glass in all the windows to ring.
“Maybe they’ll be sensible,” I say.
“Maybe,” Seff says. “Maybe not.”
I want to ask ‘why’, but Seff only grins at me and pulls forward. The sword in his hand flashes as he passes the torches.
We walk out of the clubhouse, and I see my club brothers standing in a line.
“You won’t get her, motherfuckers,” I growl and steel myself.
Raphael raises his hands in a warding gesture. “Easy, lover-boy.”
Michael grins. “You’ve been busy fucking your wife. We’ve been busy doing your job for you.”
Uriel moves back and opens the back door of a white van that’s parked ten steps away from me. He clambers into it. I hear squeals and screeches. Uriel jumps out of the van in the company of something. Somebody.
Ice fills my veins.
Uriel is gripping the creature’s neck as her clawed hand sweeps and her claws tear through his thigh. He growls with fury, locking his elbow. The creature squeals and wriggles whilst I remain frozen. I’m watching the creature. A realisation blasts in my head.
“That’s her doppelganger,” I say.
“You’re right,” Raphael says.
“You disturbed balance,” Michael says, “and this… thing is the side effect.”
“Reagan…” My voice falters.
“No, not Reagan,” Uriel says as the creature’s bat-like wings flap. “This thing killed all the men.” He pushes the creature to her knees. “To protect your wife.”
“What are you going to do with her?” I ask.
The doppelganger’s black eyes rise to Cael as though she seeks help from him. I see his jaw muscles twitch.
“Cael’s gonna tame her,” Raphael says. “She seems to like him. In her unique way.” He drops his head, his hand guarding his stomach, and he tries to stifle his laughter.
Cael shoots me a dark menacing glance. Yes, menacing. The guy is always kind—he’s like the ocean of compassion, but now he looks dark and brooding.
Right. Those murders are on me. The doppelganger should be my responsibility too.
“Now, enjoy your honeymoon,” Raphael says. “No need to threaten your brothers with a sword.”
The boys erupt into laughter.
“Come back to the clubhouse when you’re ready,” Raphael says. “We’re renovating the first floor for you and your wife.” He looks at Cael. “And the basement for Cael and his new pet.”
“Fuck off you all,” I rasp and throw the sword to the side.
It clatters against the ground, causing the doppelganger to shudder. I know why Raphael has allocated this task to Cael. Cael is all goodness and compassion. He’s the best out of us all. He has the ability to make that creature turn into a good person.
I run back to my wife. As I enter our bedroom, I see Reagan sitting on the bed and crying.
“Hush, baby,” I say, sitting beside her. I pull her into my lap. “Everything’s fine.”
“They said…” She chokes and sobs.
I stroke her head. “Everything is fine.”
“But the other one—“
“Hush.” I hold her chin, tipping her face up to mine. “Everything is fine.”
“I want to—“
“No.”
She shudders and snorts. “You want everything to be your way.”
“Yes, and it’s not negotiable.”
Reagan snorts but says nothing.
“It’s for your own good, Reagan, and leave it with Cael. Trust me.”
She nods. Her eyes lock on mine. “You wanted me even with the blood on my hands.”
“I’d want you even if you came from hell.”
“You wanted me because you are a killer too.”
“Maybe.”
She grabs my wrist and puts my hand on her stomach. “Can you feel it?”
“Yes.”
I can feel the life inside her—part mine, part hers. Our baby.
A loud knocking on the door causes my head to jerk towards it. Seff walks in.
“You need anything?” he asks. “More sex toys? Food?” He grins. “A cot?”
“You need anything?” I ask.
“A wisp of Reagan’s hair?”
“What do you need it for?” I ask.
Seff’s face turns into a rigid mask. “I’m going to bring my Taline back.”
“Like hell,” I snap.
“You and your skilled wife are gonna help me.”
“My wife is pregnant.”
“My wife is dead so no need to hurry. Enjoy my hospitality for a decade or two. When your kids are all grown we’ll get back to this conversation.”
“I will think about it, Seff.” I kiss my wife’s temple.
Seff bows his head at me and walks off.
“You should help him,” Reagan says. “He loves her so much.”
“How do you know this?”
“He watches her in the forest sometimes. In that dark place. Three bad men hurt her and killed her there.”
I wrap my arms around her. “Don’t think about it.”
“Help him, Gabriel, please.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Please.”
“You know I can’t refuse you anything. You know this, right?”
Chapter 11
Gabriel
We are seated at a table outside my favourite café. A red and navy umbrella shelters us from the sun’s rays.
“I can buy a house in the suburbs,” I say.
“It’s up to you, sweetheart.”
“The others want you to live in the clubhouse.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to be happy.”
Yep, our conversations look like this. It’s blurry. It’s like walking in dense deep mud. It takes time to get some information out of her. It makes me love her even more.
I take her wrist and plant a kiss on her knuckles. “We can try in the clubhouse first. If you don’t like it there, we’ll buy a house.”
“I like it there.” Her eyes fix on mine. “You like it there. They like us to be in there.”
So, it’s sorted. The Salvation Ghosts’ clubhouse will be our family home.
I nod as a waitress delivers our order. “Tell me, Reagan, what you did in the forest.”
“I was with others like me first. We swished and hummed. We were. Then you wanted me to be with you, so I fell out of the fog, and I hit the ground. It hurt, Gabriel. It really hurt. I couldn’t move for a long time. I was denser with each year that passed. I was more real with each year that passed. More awake. She didn’t know at first, but when I turned eighteen, she knew.”
“She won’t take you away from me.”
I know it had taken Reagan eighteen years before her corporeal form stabilised enough for me to pull her out of the forest. She must have been scared—all alone—tittering between energy form and bodily form, frozen, half-alive.
“I want to learn new things,” Reagan says.
“What things, darling?”
“Like reading and counting. History and geography. I know the forest, but I want to know the beach, the mountains and the desert as well.”
“I can teach you.”
Between one session of fucking and another. I can fuck her on the beach, in a cabin in the mountains, in a motel by the desert. It can be very educational, in fact.
Reagan beams at me, floats in her own thoughts, and then props her elbows on the table and rests her chin against her palm. “I could be a waitress in your bar. I could clean the clubhouse and cook.”
No fucking way. My wife is gonna paint her nails and spread her legs for me at night. That’s her only duty in life.
“You could look after our garden,” I say.
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