Angeli Trilogy: Angeli Books 1-3

by Amy Vansant

  I’m so close.

  Ten percent. That’s how much of his physical body he guessed remained in Seth. He needed to pull that energy from him, that last little bit, but he couldn’t do it until Seth manifested his human form again. He’d tried.

  Con stood and pushed his chair closer to the cage. He sat in it. He didn’t have to make himself solid to sit. Even as a wraith, when no one could see or hear him, Con could feel himself. He could feel the objects around him. He sat and stood without thinking about how to do it. He didn’t drift from the second floor to the first floor, pulled by gravity or lack of awareness. He’d gotten good at being a ghost over the last hundred years.

  But enough was enough.

  Con’s gaze drifted to the corner of the room.

  Speaking of ghosts…

  His eyes rolled back into his head and he closed them.

  He hated ghosts. Since losing his physical form, he could see apparitions. Most were brainless things, shadows of their former selves, running through the same patterns every day. It was stressful to watch a woman run screaming out of a room over and over again and he didn’t like it. Ghosts gave him ulcers, or would, if he could work up a proper ulcer.

  Even worse were the ghosts who weren’t brainless. Like Amy, the ghost he’d met in Annapolis. What had she done to deserve her fate? She seemed like a fine enough lass. But there she was in that tavern, annoying anyone who would listen, forevermore.

  Con opened his eyes.

  Still there.

  Meili stood in the corner of the room, his face awash with horror, staring at him. He appeared the same as he had in life, gray-haired, well-trimmed beard and strong nose, but something was wrong. It took Con a moment to put his finger on it. Meili’s jaw hung low, too low, as if it had become detached. He looked like a snake about to swallow a rat. He looked like that painting of the ghost man on the bridge Anne had shown him during one of her attempts to polish his rougher edges. He’d liked that one. If more art was like that he could get into it. Stoic women and lily ponds just didn’t do it for him.

  Except Meili wasn’t holding his hands to his face like the guy in the painting. His arms hung at his sides, his fingertips touching well below his knees. His arms were too long. He looked like a melting candle version of Meili.

  Did I look like that in the beginning?

  Con shuddered at the idea and assured himself he’d always been a handsome ghost.

  It was bad enough sitting day after day, waiting for a fleeting chance to grab Seth and siphon back his energy. Spending the last hundred years as a wraith had taught him patience. He knew how to kill time. But sitting in a room with a silently screaming ghost staring at him like he was the last donut in the box…that was another thing all together. Insult to injury.

  Donuts.

  He’d always wanted to try donuts. He’d watched Anne eat them and she always looked so happy. And sprinkles…they had to taste amazing. All those colors. What did colors taste like? Why did he have to lose the ability to eat right before food got so colorful? Eating things while inhabiting other people’s bodies wasn’t the same. That’s why he liked whiskey; he could feel the burn.

  “What’re your thoughts on donuts?” he asked Meili.

  Meili stared at him.

  Was that the flick of a tongue? It was probably difficult to link your lips when your lower jaw was even with your nipples.

  Meili floated a few inches to the left. During the day he moved around the room, but there didn’t seem to be any pattern to it. Maybe it was just a draft, pushing him along like a boat on the sea. Sometimes he floated in the corner, sometimes beside the cage. Once, he appeared directly behind Con. He’d felt the hair on his neck raise, turned, and nearly fallen out of his chair.

  Bad enough Meili was there, he didn’t have to be a sneaky bastard.

  The door to the prison room opened and a pretty blonde girl popped in her head. She was a fine bit of stuff for an Angelus. Not a bad lass at all, probably because she wasn’t an Arch, just one of the lesser angels who worked in the underground structure built by the Angeli. The bunker had no proper exit to the outside world. The only way in was to be teleported by an Angelus, or to have your corporeal body stolen by the worst Perfidian of all time. That was Con’s ticket to ride and the reason they couldn’t keep him out. It drove Michael crazy.

  Con chuckled to himself.

  “What’s so funny?” asked the girl.

  Con jumped. He’d forgotten people could hear him now. Hear his own voice. People didn’t appreciate how wonderful it was to be able to talk with your own voice and not have to inhabit another person’s body to communicate.

  The things some people take for granted. Wealth, health, physical bodies…

  “Sorry, nothing. Just thinking to myself. What can I get you? And if you can’t think of anything, may I make a suggestion?”

  He waggled his eyebrows and the girl giggled.

  “I’m just saying good-bye, Con. My shift’s about over. Any change from your end? We haven’t seen anything on the cameras.”

  “No.” Con nodded to the corner where Meili stood silently screaming.

  “You see him on the cameras?”

  “Who? Seth?”

  “No, the guy in the corner. The ghost.”

  The girl laughed. “Oh, Con. Really.”

  She shook her head and shut the door.

  Con sighed. He knew she wouldn’t see Meili. But it would have been nice.

  Con turned back to the cage and nearly fell off his chair without Meili’s help.

  The swirling mass of light was gone.

  Sitting in the far corner of the cage was a man holding his knees to his chest and staring at Con. He was tall and thin and balled up tight like the x-ray of a Jack-in-the-Box. Most of his face remained hidden behind his knees. He peeked over them at Con.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “Seth. You’re back. I was starting to think you weren’t able to show your face in the cage.”

  Seth chuckled and slid his legs to the ground.

  “You’ve been sitting here a while. You should be out there. They need you. Leo’s replacement has arrived. Two and a half down, eighteen and a half to go, tick tock.”

  Con scowled. “What are you talking about?”

  Seth shrugged. “Never mind. I’m being ungrateful. I should be flattered that you find me so interesting.”

  “You have something I need.”

  “Your body?”

  Con’s jaw clenched. Michael made him promise to alert the guards if Seth appeared. He knew that meant the big Angelus gobshite didn’t intend to let him touch Seth. He had to find a way to get back the rest of his body before Angeli guards burst through the door.

  “Hold out your hand,” said Seth.

  Con stood still. He didn’t trust him, but he’d waited so long. Seth could have killed him in the field where they battled before capturing him, but he didn’t. Maybe he could just take his bit of body back and leave. No one would be the wiser. The monster had a soft spot for him; maybe he liked his brogue. Maybe he was Irish himself, he’d never thought to ask.

  Could Angeli be Irish? Blech. No. No self-respecting Irishman would be an Angelus. The very thought of it—

  “Give me your hand,” repeated Seth.

  Con took a step toward the cage and then paused.

  Seth isn’t stupid.

  He’d chosen this moment to manifest because he saw the girl and knew they were in the middle of a shift change. Even as a squirrelly ball of light, Seth was aware. Con tried to remember things he might have said aloud while waiting for Seth to manifest. He probably said some pretty awful things to that glowing football…

  Seth stood. He was an unremarkable man, built like a bird and very unlike a monster in his human form. His eyes were soft and kind. He looked like Jimmy Stewart.

  How could anyone be afraid of Jimmy Stewart?

  The Arch stood close to the bars.

  “You’ll have to re
ach in. I can’t touch the bars or breach them.”

  Con leaned forward. Maybe Seth chose this opportunity because he wanted a moment alone with him? A second to give him back the rest of his body before the Angeli came running through the door?

  Con stepped to the side of the cage.

  This could be my last chance.

  “I don’t mind helping you,” said Seth. “You’ve suffered long enough.”

  Con stared at the Angelus.

  No. No I can’t.

  He wanted to punch something. He knew he couldn’t trust a normal Angelus, let alone one gone in the head. He shouldn’t even be thinking about trying to touch him…

  Still…

  Con tried to wipe his face. He forgot to solidify and thrust his hand through his own head.

  Shite.

  He didn’t know what to do.

  He had suffered long enough.

  Before he could rethink his actions, he thrust out his hand and broke the plane of the cage. He touched Seth’s fingers and felt their energy mingle. He smiled. It was okay, Seth was pushing energy towards him. He could feel it. In a moment, he would be whole again. Power coursed through his body, filling him.

  Hmm…

  The feeling was different from when he’d met Seth on the street.

  It felt like…

  The smile dropped from Con’s face. It was too much. He knew the feeling; he of all people knew the feeling. Seth wasn’t offering him energy…

  He was possessing him.

  Con jerked his hand away from the cage, but the cage was empty.

  “No!”

  He tried to phase into the cage. Maybe he’d have to share Seth’s prison. He couldn’t let him escape. As he touched the bars, the power of the cage threw him back against his wooden chair, splintering it. Just as the bars had trapped Seth inside, they now prevented a possessed Con from entering. Seth was half-in and half-out of the sheath of protection Con’s body afforded him.

  Con’s body seized. With agonizing effort, he rolled to his side. His back burned. It felt as if his flesh was tearing, as if Seth was digging his way out through his spine.

  He screamed.

  Seth was escaping, ripping through him. He writhed on the ground, fighting with every breath to hold Seth inside of him.

  The pain stopped.

  Con uncurled, slowly, his breathing irregular. He rolled to his hands and knees, his muscular back twitching with lingering spasms.

  “Thank you,” said a voice.

  Con looked up. Inches from the ceiling of the chamber Seth clung like a spider to the wall, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle as he peered down at him.

  “I knew you would help me. We understand each other.”

  Con rocked back on his heels and held his hands in front of his eyes. He was still transparent; no more or less solid than he had been an hour earlier.

  “You didn’t restore me.”

  Seth shook his head.

  “Oh, Con. There isn’t anything to restore. Haven’t you figured it out?”

  Con stood. He took a step toward Seth, his shoulders hunching, preparing to spring.

  “Figured what?”

  “Con…” Seth’s voice sounded like that of a disappointed parent. “I can’t restore you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?

  “No it’s not bleedin’ obvious! That’s what I’m sayin’!”

  “Con…” Seth shook his head sadly. “You’re dead.”

  Con’s eyes grew wide, his lip twitching into a snarl. With a guttural growl, he leapt at Seth, grabbing for him. A pulse of energy hit him in the chest and sent him flying backwards. He phased through the cage and landed on the ground on the other side of it.

  Seth flashed a grin and shot through the ceiling.

  Con flew after him, traveling through miles of soil. When he reached the surface, the sunlight pierced his vision and he shielded his eyes with his arms. He stopped, hovering feet from the earth, peeking through his fingers as his eyes adjusted to the light.

  Seth was gone.

  “I’m not dead!” Con screamed into the empty sky, his fists balled at his sides.

  “I’m not dead!”

  Chapter Five

  “Michael, wait!”

  Anne caught Michael at the elevator door. He turned.

  “Come back inside. We need to talk.”

  “So talk.”

  “Not here. Come back inside.”

  Michael sighed.

  “Fine.”

  They made their way down the hallway and reentered Anne’s apartment, nearly bumping into Jeffrey who had thrown on jeans and a tee.

  “I’m going grocery shopping,” he said.

  She knew. She’d asked him to give her some time alone with Michael.

  “Like an hour,” she said.

  “Like an hour,” repeated Jeffrey as he left. “Apparently.”

  “Sit,” she said to Michael, motioning to the sofa.

  She moved to the kitchen counter and poured whiskey into her coffee mug.

  He watched her with amusement.

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to be able to light coffee on fire.”

  “You know I need to drink a gallon to feel a buzz. Healing powers have their downsides. I just like the taste.”

  In truth, she hoped even the small amount in her cup would give her the courage to talk to Michael. Things had gone on for too long.

  He sat on the sofa and stared into space, seemingly a million miles away.

  She sat beside him.

  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You. Something is wrong. Ever since we captured Seth you’ve been even more distant than usual. You seem off your game.”

  “What do you know about my game?”

  “Michael, please, don’t be defensive.”

  Michael sighed.

  “Is it Leo? Are you sad?”

  “Of course I’m sad.”

  “My point is…well, for instance, you just let that red Angelus go.”

  “I didn’t let him go. He got away.”

  “He was practically dead. You’re a big bad Angelus. Arguably the biggest and baddest. How did he get away?”

  Michael flopped his neck to the side to face Anne.

  “I hope that anger you drained from the kid dissipates or this is going to be a very long thousand years with you.”

  “I only have seven hundred years left. And I’m not angry. I’m not trying to insult you. I’m just saying the Michael I know would never let that creature escape. If by some chance he did, he’d be out of his mind plotting how to get him back. You don’t seem like you care.”

  Michael laid his head back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling.

  “I care. It’s just…”

  “What?”

  “He mentioned Leo.”

  Anne put down her mug. “What do you mean? How could you not mention that he mentioned Leo?”

  “Because it’s embarrassing. He took his human form in the apartment below. I threw him against the wall and hit him with that chair…” Michael paused, shaking his head. “Chippendale. I feel sick about that.”

  “Seriously? Forget the chair. What happened?”

  “I grabbed him and was about to yank him back to your apartment when he looked in my face and screamed Leo’s name. I was stunned…and he took the opportunity to shift into his energy form and phased outside. He flew off and I lost him.”

  “Why would he scream Leo’s name?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know. Hence my shock.”

  “Could he have known Leo?

  “I think Leo would have mentioned hanging out with an unknown entity. He was braggy like that.”

  Anne put her hand on Michael’s thigh.

  “Talk to me.”

  “About what?”

  Anne reached out and physically turned Michael’s face towards her.

  “
Talk to me.”

  He stared into her eyes, his chest rising and falling at his usual steady pace. Everything the Angeli did was a little more perfect than everyone else, even their breathing, but Anne could see deep lines of worry creasing his brow. He seemed to be aging before her very eyes. He reached out with his left hand and placed it gently behind her back, pulling her to him. He kissed her, deeply, but slow and with no real urgency. He drew her body against his and held her tight. His head fell on her shoulder and she laid hers on his, their lips brushing each other’s necks.

  Anne could feel his otherworldly warmth against her chest as he hugged her, their energies mingling.

  “Anne, we can’t do this anymore,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “It isn’t right. It isn’t fair to you.”

  She held him tighter and kissed his neck. “You let me worry about what’s fair to me.”

  “Maybe…maybe it isn’t fair to me. I can’t stand wanting you the way I do. It’s distracting. And when I’m distracted, things fall apart.”

  “Michael…”

  Before she could make her case, he took her by the shoulders and held her away from him.

  “I have to make you understand. I have to show you something.”

  He pulled her tight to him again, gripping her as if any separation between their bodies would mean the end of both of them. She felt herself melting into him. Her arm grew transparent; the outline where it once cradled his back glowing with blue light. Wiggling her fingers created a small tempest of blue sparks that cascaded to the sofa and disappeared. A feeling of happiness surged through her body.

  She’d never felt this way before. All the times they’d made love, when the ecstasy had been nearly unbearable, it didn’t compare to this feeling of utter contentment. Of love. The room fell away and she saw only space and stars. The two of them were one now, standing in the center of a glowing nexus, each point of light in the distance connected by glowing gossamer threads to the next. Every glowing star was a person; she could sense that now. She could feel their heartbeats in the flickering light. There were too many to count, yet when one faded, she felt it. It pained her, but before the sadness could overwhelm her, a new light appeared in some corner of that magical interconnected galaxy.

  It was beautiful.

  She wanted to let go. The little bit of her that still felt like Anne Bonny was nothing more than an annoyance. She wanted to lose herself completely and dissolve into that universe. She felt like she could do it.