Ella knew exactly what life she’d be living, and she was certain it would include Josh.
‘Mum, Zac told me I would fall in love with someone else,’ she said. ‘Someone that wasn’t him.’
‘Well, maybe you’ll find that special someone soon, or he may find you.’
‘You think another man could make me as happy as Zac?’
‘Of course!’ Felicity trilled. ‘We all get a second chance at happiness, sweetheart. Zac isn’t coming back.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘No, but you can’t wait forever. Your forever isn’t as long as his.’
Ella closed her eyes. She’d done enough crying for one day. It was time to pull herself together and face her future head on.
‘Mum, do you think you can be in love with two men at the same time?’
Her mother went quiet. She heard her take a sip of her drink and the same murmuring sound of a male voice talking in the background before Felicity hushed him.
‘If you can’t have the man you truly love, yes you can be in love with another at the same time. There’s more than enough room in your heart to love both your destined partner and your soulmate. I did. It’s time to lock away the pain, sweetheart, and step into the sunshine. A wise friend once told me “If a woman can no longer fight, she must wear her armour well.”’
‘You make it sound like love is a battle.’
‘Well, it isn’t easy, Ella. No part of life is. You have to learn how to survive what it throws at you and remember to enjoy yourself. Starting with your birthday tomorrow.’
Felicity was right. Soulmates, ‘the one,’ past lives and all of that stuff didn’t have to define her. She should have left it all behind the moment Zac chose to leave her.
‘Are you happy, my darling?’ Felicity asked, her voice unusually quiet and urgent.
‘Yes, Mum. I think I’m finally happy.’
IT WAS STILL dark outside and Zac was walking around the edge of Trafalgar Square in the vain hope of finding a taxi. At that time in the morning it could take a while, but he didn’t mind waiting. He was good at it.
As soon as he’d left Tara the week before, his tattoos healing in seconds, he’d booked himself into The Savoy. He’d always liked the look of London’s most famous hotel but had never ventured inside. The last time he’d stayed by the banks of the River Thames was when he chanced upon Chaucer writing The Canterbury Tales. The writer had been working as a clerk in the Savoy Palace, England’s grandest of buildings at the time and where its namesake hotel stood today. Zac had been tasked with the simple mission of talking to the writer. Sometimes, it took nothing more than one tiny word or action to create something beautiful—in this case a revered piece of literature.
What a shame Zac would never have the opportunity to do that again—to change history in a matter of seconds. Zac had been the muse and the catalyst for some of the world’s greatest pieces of art and music; he wondered whether he could still make a difference in the lives and paths of others.
Yet the question that had haunted him since his reawakening was: Did he still care? Was it still his job to shape and mould the future, or was it OK to focus on what he truly wanted for his own life? Zac’s new mind-bending abilities meant he could finally do as he pleased. He’d never even stayed in a hotel before, but now he could live a life of luxury without ever needing a penny. Did morals apply now that he was straddling two worlds? Surely he was permitted a little pampering after his return from death? Could he be deemed a criminal if he didn’t even exist?
Zac had bought a mobile phone the day after receiving his tattoo and called Tara straightaway. As promised, she’d already delivered the note to Gabriel and confirmed that his friend had been both shocked and delighted to hear that Zac had returned.
‘Did he say when he’d meet me?’ Zac had asked, trying to keep the relief and excitement out of his voice. Tara had been vague, remembering very little of her interaction with the man behind the bar, preferring instead to talk about a woman called Kat who’d been talking to her in the nightclub.
‘I’m quitting my job and spending the weekend in Liverpool with her,’ Tara told him. ‘It’s all thanks to you, Zac. Being healed by you has given me the confidence to start afresh. The money you gave me meant I could walk away from my shitty job, and then you sending me to Indigo meant that I met Kat. She’s amazing. I can’t believe how much you’ve changed my life. It’s like you have a magic touch or something.’
The more she spoke the more Zac smiled until, by the time she rang off, he was positively grinning. So what that he was no longer the Path Keeper, the mightiest of angels and the bringer of mercy? He still had the ability to steer others toward joy. He just hoped he’d get his happy ever after too. Gabriel had the note, which meant Zac was now one step closer to seeing his friend and discovering where Ella was.
Lucky for Zac, he was a patient being. For three days in a row, he’d taken the same cab ride to the same place to wait for the archangel, and each evening Zac had returned to an empty hotel room enveloped in a sense of despair.
What if Gabriel never showed? How long should he wait for his friend? The archangel was his only hope of finding Ella. The note the angel had left with Ylva clearly stated he’d been watching over his girl, so Gabriel had to know where she was.
Zac had tried everything to track Ella down. He’d looked up her mother’s business name and called her office. He’d intended to meet Felicity and bend her mind until she told him where her daughter was, but her assistant said she no longer owned the company. He made someone in the hotel show him how the internet worked—he even requested his own laptop—but after a thorough search, it was clear Ella hadn’t been spotted in years. He also went back to her old university and forced the receptionist to check her files for an address abroad. Nothing. His only chance of finding Ella was talking to Gabriel, so he would have to do the same journey every morning until his friend showed up.
• • • • •
The bright yellow glow of a taxi cab shone through the darkness. Zac held out his hand and it slowed. He peered through the window and smiled at the driver, recognising him straightaway. Was this fate again or just a coincidence? And what did it even matter now that Zac was, as Tara had put it, off the grid?
‘Where you off to, mate?’ the driver asked. ‘I normally end my shift around now, but if you’re heading north I’m going that way.’
He got in and told him the destination. Was Zac really untouchable? Would he spend the rest of eternity walking through the thinly woven tapestry of life? Would he spend a lifetime picking his way among the threads that bound everyone together, his presence still affecting the world without fate including him in her tightly knit pattern?
‘Here, you remind me of this bloke I had in the back of my cab once,’ the driver said to him through the reflection of his rearview mirror. ‘It’s the eyes. Yeah, they was bright blue just like yours. Don’t suppose you’re friends with that Fantz girl, are you? Ella, was it?’
Zac stayed silent.
‘Lovely girl. Had her in the back of my cab once, too, the night of the New Year’s Eve drama. Remember that? Was in all the papers. I took her and a bloke what looked a bit like you to the airport that night. He had longer hair, mind. You look a bit rougher than him. I never said nothing to no one about where I took them. Newspapers were all offering a pretty penny for people to slag her off, and my God how they did. She had mates from school and her old life in Spain saying she was a bitch and sharing photos of her, but I kept shtoom. She was a nice girl, and them two was really in love. I always wondered what happened to ’em.’
Zac smiled to himself. Today was Ella’s birthday. If his life were a movie, then Gabriel would turn up today; he would tell him where Ella was, and Zac would arrive just in time to surprise her and carry her off into the sunset. Unfortunately, Zac had been part of enough stories to know that in real life the happy parts are rarely at the end.
‘I hate
gossip, though, hate it,’ the driver continued. ‘You’ll never hear me chatting about any of my fares. You come in my cab and you want to talk, it’s all good, but it don’t go no further. You ain’t very chatty, are you?’
‘I’m afraid I won’t be paying for this journey,’ Zac answered, their eyes meeting in the rearview mirror. ‘And you won’t remember having seen me tonight.’
‘Not paying? Rightyho, mate. No problem. Here we are, Angel station.’
ZAC HAD BEEN sitting at the far end of the station platform for an hour. Turning up to the same place day after day hoping to meet Gabriel was reckless. If Gabriel was being watched by Mikhael, then Zac was leaving himself wide open, but it was the only way he could be certain the archangel was on his side. Zac hadn’t given a time on the note, but he knew his friend well. If Gabriel truly wanted to help, then he would come alone and in secret, meaning he’d be there at dawn when angelic powers were at their weakest and the Choir wouldn’t pick up on his absence.
The hairs on the back of Zac’s neck stood on end and goose bumps began to rise on his arms. The archangel had finally arrived. All angels had an aura, but Gabriel’s was so strong that when he entered a room, the air went out. Throughout history, Zac had seen the way people reacted to him—breathless and confused. He closed his eyes and steadied his nerves. This was it.
The London Underground jacket Zac was wearing wasn’t the most creative of disguises, but if his hunch was right and Gabriel couldn’t sense him, then at least his friend wouldn’t recognise him immediately, either. After all, the archangel was looking for a fallen angel with long, wavy hair, not a short-haired Tube worker. If Gabriel hadn’t come alone, then Zac’s vague disguise would at least give him enough of a head start to run for his life.
The archangel looked up and down the platform, his steps measured and languid. He glanced at Zac leaning against the wall in the distance, and then he doubled up and walked to the southbound platform opposite.
Gabriel had come alone and he hadn’t felt him. Zac let out a long breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.
After a few minutes, Gabriel appeared again.
‘You came,’ Zac said softly.
The angel turned quickly at the sound of Zac’s voice. His eyes narrowed, the dim light of the platform casting shadows over his razor-sharp cheekbones.
‘I don’t believe it. My boy did it,’ he said quietly, not moving. He gave Zac a lopsided smile and shook his head from side to side as his friend walked toward him. ‘You did it!’
He held his arms out wide and threw them around Zac, pulling him into a bear hug. ‘Look at you! Where’s your pretty hair gone?’
Zac laughed and struggled out of his friend’s embrace. Gabriel was still beaming as they walked to the bench at the far end of the walkway and sat down. The station hadn’t yet officially opened, so they were the only ones on the platform. The archangel sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Were there tears in his eyes?
‘I wasn’t sure if you’d show. I came every morning,’ Zac said, not quite believing he was finally sitting next to his friend—as he had done a million times before over the centuries. Zac was no longer alone. It was as if nothing had changed, as if no time had passed at all and he was still who he’d always been.
Except he wasn’t. He never would be.
‘Sorry it took me so long,’ Gabriel replied. ‘I had to wait a couple of days until the others weren’t watching. I couldn’t risk being followed.’
‘So, you knew the note was from me?’
‘Yeah, Angel station. Subtle.’ Gabriel’s grin was so wide it showed every one of his teeth. His light green eyes shone like polished jade. ‘Remember that wild night we had at the inn around here? When was it? Three…four hundred years ago?’
‘We were playing cards to see who would get to name the public house.’
‘That’s right, and you wanted to call it Arabella Inn. Honestly, when you get obsessed with a girl, you really get obsessed.’
‘Well, you wanted it named Gabriel Inn after yourself. That’s even worse!’
The angel laughed. ‘Yeah, well, in the end the owner named his pub after us both, The Angel Inn. And now look, the whole area and the station are named after us. Don’t you just love it when a card game changes the face of London?’ Gabriel looked at Zac for a long time. ‘I miss those days. Things were easier back then, when people knew who we were. What we were.’
‘It’s good to be back,’ Zac said.
In all the years he’d known Gabriel, his one true friend, the archangel had never had his wings ruffled. His existence was effortless. He bent and swayed to life’s ebbs and flows, never changing but always adapting. This was the first time Zac had ever seen him look less than calm.
‘I can’t believe it’s really you,’ Gabriel said. ‘I had no idea what craziness was going through your mind back on that mountain, but when you hacked off your own wings, I thought that was it. Over. Yet here you are, sitting here looking all fine like nothing happened. I could kill you again for what you put me through!’
Zac wanted to smile, too, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t relief he was feeling—it was a deep shame for his rash actions that rainy night in Spain. He couldn’t forget the look of horror on Gabriel’s face as he’d ended his own life, let alone poor Ella’s reaction. Had he been selfish? It had felt like a grand gesture of love and defiance at the time…but maybe he had been selfish, leaving his girl and his Choir behind without an explanation. It was the first time in his existence that he’d ever experienced guilt, and it wasn’t a nice feeling.
‘How did you know I’d make it back?’ Zac asked, looking down at his trainers. They’d been in the bag of clothes he’d taken from Ella’s old room. They didn’t fit properly. He’d acquired a phone out of necessity, but he still hadn’t been able to bring himself to brainwash a shop assistant and get new shoes for free.
‘At first, I didn’t know you’d be able to come back. How could I?’ Gabriel replied. ‘I’d seen what happened to the other angels when Mikhael took their wings. They died and disappeared forever, which is why none of us could understand why you killed yourself. Why, when all you wanted was to be with the one you loved, did you throw away your life for hers? So I visited Leonardo, the priest. He always had the answers. I wasn’t sure if he’d want to see me though, not after the way Mikhael and the rest of us treated his daughter.’
‘You spoke to Ella’s father?’
‘No, I didn’t in the end. I arrived at his apartment an hour before I knew he would be home. I wanted to look through his books and files about us. The priest and I had talked a lot over the years, but I never realised he had such interesting things about our history in his home. Then I found this.’
Gabriel reached into his jacket and produced a small oil painting. Zac recognised it immediately; he’d seen it before in Leo’s house. It was all the proof he’d needed back then that cutting off his own wings could possibly bring him back. It had been a massive gamble, but so far it had paid off.
‘That’s my mother,’ Zac said.
‘I know, but I was unaware you were her son. Luci and I go way back.’
‘Her name was Luci? What was she like?’
‘She was perfect in every way.’ Gabriel’s eyes changed from clear jade to something stormier, a deep green like the troubled waters of a tropical sea.
‘Leonardo said I was born to two archangels. Was she one too, then?’
‘Yes, the very first.’
Zac screwed up his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck; it felt cold and naked now that his hair was short. The priest had been right. His mother had been a powerful archangel. Why had nobody ever told him about her? And what had become of her?
He opened his eyes and blinked a few times until Gabriel was no longer blurred around the edges. ‘What was her full angelic name?’
‘Lucifer.’
Lucifer? The Lucifer? Zac rubbed his face. It didn’t make sense. The Choir had only ever s
poken of the evil Archangel Lucifer in hushed tones, as if the very mention of its name would bring bad luck. How could his sweet, kind mother be the same being?
‘Are you saying my mother was the original fallen angel?’
‘Yes, she and Mikhael were the first of our kind to come to Earth. Our leaders. He has been obsessed with her since eternity began.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Zac said. ‘So why did Mikhael kill her then? If she was so powerful and he loved her so much, why take away her wings?’
‘Because she defied him and got pregnant. Basically, she loved you more than she could ever have loved him. It was the first time any angel had managed to carry a child. He feared your power, Zadkiel, and the fact that you were greater than him in every way. Greater than the two of them combined. He had already lost her to you; he couldn’t risk losing his throne too.’
‘Is that why he told me that my mother was a whore and my father was a lesser angel? That I was just a half-angel—a Nephilim? So that I wouldn’t know my true heritage?’
‘It appears so. I’m still trying to work it out myself. You didn’t die in Tuscany during your first life; it was all a lie. You’re a pure angel, but he wanted you to believe you had lived like a normal man. That’s why when you were killed, he treated you like we treat all humans when they die—Mikhael brought you Home. We accepted you into the Choir, as we have done with countless other Nephilim before you, and you were just another half-angel joining us. None of us realised you were Luci’s child, let alone his. He told us that her baby hadn’t survived, that female angels would never be able to have children on Earth. Doing so had made her crazy and that was why he’d killed her—to save the world from her evil. I never saw Mikhael rip out her wings, but he delighted in telling us the details of the massacre. He used her punishment as a warning to us all.’
Zac shook his head. He hadn’t died in Fiesole? He could have stayed with the girl he loved all along? Stars swam in front of his eyes as he shook his head in tiny motions, slowly realising he’d been living a lie for two thousand years!
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