by Susan Illene
Chapter Seventeen
Lucas
Lucas walked with Melena down the stairs, watching her closely in case she became light-headed. As she made her way down, it didn’t appear necessary. Her long nap and the food she’d eaten earlier had done a remarkable amount of good in helping restore her energy and strength. She did wobble once near the last step but recovered before he could grab her.
“This is happening, Lucas.” She gripped the banister and turned back to show him the resolve in her eyes. “Forget trying to talk me out of it.”
“You’re not thinking clearly,” he said, following on her heels as she crossed the foyer.
“Is she really going to summon an archangel?” Patrick asked, coming from the living room.
“Not if I can help it,” Lucas replied. He flashed to the front porch and blocked her way. “Go back inside, Melena.”
“No.” She gave him her most determined look. “There was nothing I could do while I was in Purgatory, but I swore the whole time I was in there that I’d do something to help Yerik and Ariel. They were punished worse than any of us. That’s not fair.”
Lucas put his hands on her shoulders. “Yerik had multiple crimes held against him. Not only did he kill an archangel and hide from the punishment, but he also exposed supernaturals to the world, raided Purgatory, and made Derrick immortal. As for Ariel, she betrayed her own kind. There is nothing you can do for them.”
“We have to try.” She gave him a pleading look. “You know me. I can’t just assume something is out of my hands without at least attempting to fix it.”
Lucas stared up at the sky and shouted in the hopes the archangel would hear him. “Can’t you come down here without her doing something rash to bring you?”
No reply. Either Remiel preferred to ignore them, or he wasn’t paying attention at the moment. He did have other duties to attend.
“See?” Melena threw her hands up. “He’s not going to come here on his own.”
“I’ve never met an archangel before. This should be interesting,” Patrick said, still standing there. The nosy man needed to mind his own business.
“What makes you think I’m going to let Melena summon him?” Lucas retorted.
“Because you have the expression of a defeated man who has lost an argument to the woman he loves. My father often looked at my mother that way,” Patrick explained, shrugging. “It’s been a long time, but it’s not something I’ve forgotten.”
Lucas let out a martyred sigh and stared down at his mate. She was never going to listen to him. “Very well. You may summon him, but you will not use yourself as a pawn in the negotiation. I’ve only had you back two days. I won’t lose you again.”
“I promise.” Melena smiled brightly at him.
Of course, she perked up the moment she got her way. Lucas stepped aside and followed her down the porch steps. “How do you plan on summoning him?”
“Bartol is going to help.”
He grabbed her arm and gave her an incredulous look. “You must be joking.”
“Nope. He already said he would,” she said, jerking away.
The man in question sat on the front lawn, surrounded by fresh spring grass. They’d given him a new set of blue jeans and a white t-shirt to wear. Bartol would likely fill those out in the coming weeks and need to purchase larger sizes later. For now, he was far leaner than other nephilim, and he had a way of disappearing while still in plain sight.
Lucas didn’t know what he might be doing on the lawn, other than possibly meditating. He had his head bowed low, and he’d let his brown hair fall across his face. As they walked up to him, he didn’t move or register their presence. Bartol hadn’t spoken much since the first night he arrived. Occasionally, a piece of technology startled him, such as the television. They explained it to him, and he wouldn’t mention the matter again after that. Today was the first time Lucas had seen him come outside.
Most of the time, he stayed cloistered in the back office, showing little desire to interact with anyone. They did their best to keep Kerbasi away from him by keeping the guardian busy at the nerou compound. The last thing Bartol needed was to face the man who’d tortured him ruthlessly for years. It took Lucas a long time to come to terms with Kerbasi being around. Bartol might never be able to handle it.
Melena walked around him, giving the nephilim time to become aware of her presence. It reminded Lucas of someone trying to pacify a wild animal. He stood to the side and waited to see how his mate handled Bartol. If anyone could reach the tortured man, it would be her.
“Bartol?” she spoke in a whisper.
He lifted his head. “You wish for me to summon the archangel.”
“Yes.”
“I hadn’t expected you to come to me this soon,” he said, his voice coming out calmer than expected. Perhaps the meditating helped. “Have you sufficiently recovered?”
Melena’s gaze shifted to the ground before she looked back up. “Yeah. I try not to wallow in self-pity too long. I’ve heard it will give you wrinkles.”
Bartol’s lips twitched. “Give it a few centuries and you might reconsider.”
Lucas knew that much to be true. Every immortal went through a period where the reality of their long and often pain-filled existence became too much. During that time, they closed themselves off from the world. The feelings of hopelessness could last anywhere from a few months to several decades. Some sought an end to it. Vampires walked into the sunlight, and nephilim asked an archangel to finish them off. Lucas had every intention of being there for Melena if she ever hit that point, though he hoped she’d prove the exception to the rule.
She cocked her head. “So will you help me?”
“I promised you I would.” Bartol stood. He reminded Lucas of the calm before the storm. “But you must keep your end of the deal as well and find me a suitable place to live. I cannot stay in this place much longer with that guardian around.”
“You do not need to do anything in return for our help.” Lucas stepped forward and put a hand on Bartol’s shoulder. “Once you are ready, we will locate a suitable house. In the meantime, I’ve instructed Kerbasi to avoid you at all costs.” Actually, he’d threatened the guardian in every way possible, including never letting him near their home again.
Bartol needed to get acclimated to the modern world first and there was the matter of his finances. Most of his investments went under in the first two decades of his prison sentence, particularly in the late 1920s and into the 1930s. Lucas hadn’t gone to Purgatory during that time and had no idea about the problem until it was nearly too late.
Once he found out what needed to be done, he saved what little Bartol had remaining—mostly a few small properties. The human lawyer who’d been managing them in his absence had allowed them to fall into disrepair. Lucas sold everything off at a loss and put the money into interest-bearing accounts. It wasn’t much by today’s standards, about half a million dollars, but it would give Bartol a reasonably decent start.
“Thank you…I’d suspected it was you keeping the guardian away from me.” Bartol directed his gaze at Melena. “I’ve already acquired most of the supplies. There are only two ingredients left—one of which Lucas can provide.”
Melena’s eyes flashed with surprise. “Wow, that’s great, but when did you manage to get everything? And how?”
“I spoke with your shaman before he left the other night and asked for his assistance. It was my hope to get this over with as soon as possible so that I might move on with my life.” Bartol swallowed, and a hint of the pain he suffered crossed his features. “He brought the items by this afternoon.”
Lucas wished she could have left his friend out of this. Melena was usually more astute on such matters, but she’d gotten it stuck in her head to save people and couldn’t see past that. He could only guess Melena must have somehow convinced Bartol to do this while they were still in Purgatory. Hopefully, this didn’t set the man farther back in his recovery process.<
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“That’s…well, I appreciate your thinking ahead.” She gave him a grateful smile.
Bartol dipped his chin. “I admire your willingness to help your friends.”
“I try.” Melena shrugged. “What is the final ingredient we need?”
“The blood of a pure human that is untainted by magic.”
In this day and age, that was becoming more difficult to come by with the witches selling their products all over the place. Perhaps that would slow Melena down on her ridiculous plan. Lucas had updated her on most of the events that had taken place during her absence. She should be able to infer that pure human blood would require a search and verification process that could take some time.
Melena stood there lost in thought and tapping on her chin. “Cori could probably do it.”
Lucas cursed inwardly. He hadn’t even considered her.
“When do you wish to do this?” Bartol asked.
“Tonight. I’ll call her and see if she can come by.”
Lucas took Melena’s arm. “Would it not be better to wait a few days? Bartol is still regaining his strength.”
“Uh.” Melena’s mouth opened and closed. It was finally hitting her that she hadn’t considered Bartol’s state of health.
“The spell requires very little power from me. Most of the magic is derived from the ingredients we will use,” the nephilim answered. “It will not be a problem.”
Lucas drew his brows together. “Does it not bother you that you’ll be summoning Remiel?”
Bartol’s expression turned solemn. “Yerik saved my life centuries ago during the Supernatural War. I owe him this much. And anyway, according to archangel law, they cannot punish you for summoning them as long as your intentions are pure. I believe this is the case with Melena.”
“How do you know that?” Lucas had never heard such a thing.
Melena patted him on the chest. “Bartol dated an angel. It’s amazing the things people will reveal while in bed with each other. Like that one time when you admitted how you’d always wanted to have sex in the…”
“I get the point,” Lucas interrupted. He’d forgotten how well she could manipulate him. Now all he could think about was the rather embarrassing thing she’d almost told Bartol.
“Good. Then I’ll call Cori while Bartol gets everything else ready.” She stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.
He scowled at her. “You make me regret that I wanted you to recover quickly.”
“You’re so cute when you’re annoyed. I’m going to eat something while we wait.” She sauntered off.
***
It took Cori almost two hours before she could make it to their house. She’d had a tattoo job to finish up first but made Melena promise not to use another human. Cori wanted to get a good look at the archangel who’d condemned her friend to Purgatory. All Lucas could think was that nothing good could come from this summoning. He’d made several more attempts to talk Melena out of it, but she refused to back down.
It was almost dark by the time they reconvened on the lawn. Bartol moved in a circle, placing clear quartz stones at precise intervals. After he set each one down, he deposited a white feather on top and chanted in the language of the angels. Lucas had only ever figured out a few of their words because it was so difficult. He had no idea Bartol had mastered it.
“Do I want to know where those feathers came from?” Cori asked.
Melena frowned. “Bartol said they were from a dove.”
“He killed a dove!” she hissed, glaring at the nephilim.
He stopped his chanting and shot her a nasty look. “The feathers came from several doves, and they are still alive. You should ask before you cast accusations.”
“Oh.” Cori relaxed her stance. “Well, you can’t blame me. I’ve seen crazier things than dove sacrifices since meeting Melena.”
“Nevertheless, do not presume to know anything about me or what I might do,” Bartol said scathingly, then leaned down to place the final stone.
Cori leaned toward Melena. “Is he always such an asshole?”
“He can hear you no matter how low you speak,” Lucas pointed out.
The human woman shrugged. “I know.”
Melena sighed. “He’s actually a good guy. You’re just catching him at a bad time.”
“The story of my life,” Cori muttered.
“Lucas,” Bartol called after he finished his chanting.
“You need my blood,” he said, feeling the weight of the inevitable fall on him. “Very well.”
He walked up to the edge of the circle, and Bartol handed him a knife. “Spill a little over each feather.”
Lucas cut a slice across his palm and squeezed the resulting blood from his hand. Several drops fell onto the first feather and stone. He moved on quickly to cover the others. Once finished, he returned the knife to Bartol and rejoined Melena. “I do hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Don’t worry. It will be okay,” she reassured him. Her little speech did not help at all.
“Cori,” Bartol said, holding the knife handle out toward her.
She looked between Lucas and Melena. “Is this going to curse me for all eternity?”
“Only if you make the archangel angry, which I have full confidence you could manage with little effort,” Lucas answered.
“Oh, good. I’d hate for this to be for nothing.” Cori moved toward Bartol and took the knife. She stared at him full in the face, showing no signs that she saw the damage there. “I don’t suppose I can keep this as a souvenir afterward?”
Lucas rather liked that she didn’t behave differently around his friend from anyone else. He’d worried about that when Melena suggested calling her, but he should have known better. Cori had a tendency to treat everyone with the same attitude and sarcasm.
“No,” he answered.
She tapped the blade against her hand. “What if we played a game of cards and bet on it?”
“And what would you offer?” he asked, not appearing the least bit amused.
“A free tattoo?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Now perform the same ritual as Lucas.”
“You’re no fun, are you?” When he didn’t respond, she pointed the blade tip at her palm and cut it without flinching. Lucas didn’t know many humans who could do that.
Bartol scowled as he watched her move about the circle dripping her blood. As soon as she finished and returned the knife, he began chanting again. Melena must have sensed the rise in magic because she rubbed her arms where goose bumps arose. Wind swirled around them, disturbing their hair. Lucas tensed when the air began to crackle with electricity. Beneath his feet, he almost could have sworn the earth throbbed with a surge of power.
Remiel appeared inside the circle. He didn’t look any better than the last time Lucas saw him. If anything, his robe had deteriorated further, and his forehead was creased with lines uncommon to his kind. He used to appear about thirty years old, but now he could have been pushing forty—if one discounted the countless millennia he’d already lived.
“What is the meaning of this?” The archangel scowled.
Melena took a few steps toward the circle. “We need to talk.”
“The answer is no,” he said emphatically.
“I haven’t even asked you a question yet,” she argued.
“It is not necessary. I am aware of what you want.”
She pointed a finger at him. “We can’t leave Ariel to rot in Hell.”
He stared down at the rocks and studied them. “Come closer.”
Had Bartol’s spell trapped Remiel? Lucas had spent so much time trying to discourage the summoning that he hadn’t asked how it worked.
“No.” Melena crossed her arms.
“Sensor,” he said, dragging out the word. “I am not playing games with you.”
“Good, because I’m not playing games, either. This is serious. We have to fix what you did before it’s too late.” There was desperat
ion in Melena’s voice. She’d asked Lucas the day before how long he thought an angel could last in Hell before they were completely lost. He couldn’t be for certain, but he doubted it would take very long.
Pain flashed in Remiel’s eyes. “There is nothing I can do for her. She is far beyond my reach now.”
“What about Yerik?”
The archangel shook his head. “We sent him away for good reason. After all he has done, you cannot expect us to shorten his punishment.”
“Yes, I can.” Melena narrowed her eyes. “Every one of his crimes was committed to protect him and his family, and you damn well know it. Pick a punishment that lets him stay on Earth.”
“I have no wish to return him,” Remiel answered.
“Which tells me it’s possible. What do I need to do? Appeal the case to your court or something?” she asked. It was then that Lucas wished he hadn’t told her anything about how archangels run their affairs. On the other hand, he had to give his mate credit for not backing down from Remiel. She had the distinct advantage that she could not be silenced the way the rest of them could.
“It would be up to the council to decide whether to hear your case. Not mine alone.” The archangel stepped closer to the edge of the circle, but not over it. “It is unwise of you to draw attention to yourself again, Melena.”
“What are you going to do? Have me beaten and thrown in solitary again?” she asked.
Remiel’s eyes glowed. It was not in a benevolent way.
Lucas took hold of her shoulder. “Do not push him.”
“I have to,” Melena said, shrugging him off.
Remiel’s lips thinned. “Even if I could convince the council to consider your request, it is not a good idea.”
Melena cocked her head. “Why?”
“There is a human saying. I am unsure of the proper way to phrase it, but what I will tell you is that if one domino falls so will another. Freeing the daimoun will only bring danger to you that I would not wish to see happen,” Remiel replied.