Misguided Angel: A Parnormal Romance Novella

by Lucy Blue

  Now his captain looked shocked. “What is this?”

  “I’m resigning my commission.” He was surprised by how easy it was to say the words. “I’m no longer fit.”

  “Not fit?” The archangel’s pure white wings rustled, twitching like a hawk’s before the strike. “Who are you to say so?”

  “I am falling,” Asher said, forcing himself to face his captain’s gaze. “And I have endangered a mortal’s soul.”

  “How so?” Michael didn’t take the sword. “Tell me what’s happened.”

  Asher told him everything from the first moment he’d seen Kelsey in the cemetery. He told him about Jake lingering at the gateway between worlds, about reading Kelsey’s letter and agreeing to impersonate her husband to comfort her. “I wanted her,” he said, trying not to sound as guilty and helpless as he felt. “Her husband sent me to comfort her in his shape, but I wanted her for myself.”

  “Of course you did,” Michael said. “With his heart and his memories, how could you not have? But did you act on that desire?”

  “No,” Asher said. “Not…I kissed her.”

  “I have no interest in details, soldier,” Michael said. “In your judgment, did you take advantage of this woman’s grief to satisfy your lust?”

  “No,” Asher said. “I could have. I wanted to. But I didn’t. I intended to never see her again. But matters became rather more complicated.”

  Michael smiled. “They always do.”

  He told his general about his conversation with Lucifer the next morning. Finally, he told him about seeing her again that night. “She saw me,” he finished. “I didn’t intend to be seen, but she could see me.”

  “You didn’t want to reveal yourself to her?” Michael said.

  “Consciously, no,” Asher said. “But subconsciously, I must have.” An angel’s ability to watch over a human unseen was one of his most basic, most vital powers. “And that’s bad, right? It means I want to be known by her, that I still have feelings for her.”

  “Feelings aren’t really my area,” Michael said with a wry smile. “But I’ve never thought of them as inherently bad.”

  “Desire?” Asher said. “Jealousy? Covetousness?”

  “Love?” Michael suggested. “Just because Lucifer confused one with the other doesn’t mean you will.”

  “But I could,” Asher said. “And my interest has already made Lucifer take notice of her.”

  “You don’t know that,” Michael said. “She was considering suicide when you met her, wasn’t she? Isn’t that why you first made contact with her? To save her?”

  “Yes, but once I actually met her, once I touched her…I don’t just want to protect her, Michael. I still want her. I can’t stop thinking about her and how it felt to be with her. I am jealous of her dead husband. I hate that when she thought I was him, she wanted me, but when she met me tonight…I hated that I was a stranger to her.” Michael was studying his face the same way he had studied the chessboard. “Lucifer knows how I feel. He told me I would destroy her.”

  “And so he would do in your place,” Michael said. “But you are not your brother.” He reached out and gripped Asher’s shoulder. “He is the Father of Lies.”

  “But how can I take that risk?” Asher asked. “I have the same free will as any mortal. I can fall. And I can resign my commission.”

  Michael grabbed the hilt of the sword, putting his hand over Asher’s. The blade blazed suddenly with holy fire, and words in the high speech of Heaven appeared, etched into the metal. “Defender of All Those Created in the Image of the Light,” the archangel read aloud. Asher felt a deep, unbearable ache in the center of his heart. “You are chosen to wield this sword,” Michael said. “Chosen to protect this woman and all those like her. Your path has led you to this purpose.” He let go of Asher’s hand and the sword, and the fire faded. “You are meant to face it, not run and hide. You are a seraph. Will you really give that up?”

  Asher wanted to say yes. For the first time in millennia of being, he was afraid. But Michael was right. He couldn’t give up his mission. “No.” He sheathed the sword, and a shock raced up his arm, familiar, but no comfort.

  The archangel smiled. “The Light is with you, Asher. Your purpose with this woman serves the Light. If you were unfit, I would know it.”

  The Church

  The next morning, Kelsey almost decided to skip her counseling appointment. She had slept badly, and she wanted to get back to varnishing. The last thing she wanted to do was delve deep into her feelings or her spiritual life with a Catholic priest. But Father Tom had been so kind to her and Jake during Jake’s illness, she hated to be rude to him now by not showing up.

  She knocked on the priest’s office door promptly at ten, expecting his usual brisk, “Come.” But no one answered.

  She knocked again. “Father Tom?” She opened the door a crack and peeked inside.

  A tall, skinny priest wearing an old-fashioned cassock like she’d never seen outside a movie was standing behind Father Tom’s desk with his back to the door, the phone receiver held to his ear. He looked over his shoulder as she peered in, and she took an involuntary step backward. He had long, messy black hair and a long, unkempt beard that covered most of his raw-boned face. His black eyes looked angry, maybe even a little insane.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll go.”

  “Wait outside, please.” He had a deep voice with an Irish brogue. “I’ll be right there.”

  She wandered out into the sanctuary, feeling unsettled and annoyed. She didn’t want to wait outside; she wanted to go home and forget the whole thing. But something about the strange priest’s demeanor made her scared not for herself but for Father Tom. As much as she wanted to escape, she had to make sure he was all right.

  The church was small but very old and beautifully designed. She wandered up the aisle past the niches of the wooden saints to a pair of stained glass windows depicting the Annunciation, the angel visiting Mary to tell her of the coming birth of Christ. Mary stood in one window with her head bowed in its yellow halo, looking meek and lovely and blessed among women. The angel faced her from the other, hovering over her, offering her a lily. His brown hair was long, and his body was swathed and hidden in robes of blade-shaped glass shapes, but his face was clearly masculine. His wings were the same bright yellow as Mary’s halo. The effect of both windows was stunning, but she hated the picture they made. Mary’s simper made her furious—blessed like a lamb led to the slaughter, mindless and passive. But worse was the angel’s expression, so distant and smug, completely closed off from the woman before him. She saw no compassion in him for this human being whose life was about to be destroyed.

  She heard a door slam and heavy footsteps behind her. “I’m so sorry, dear,” the black-bearded priest said, coming through the small door near the altar, his voice echoing in the empty church. “I was a bit brusque, I think.”

  “It’s okay,” she said as he came up the aisle like a raven swooping toward her. “I was looking for Father Thomas. We had an appointment for ten.”

  “I’m afraid he won’t be making it.” His cassock was obviously very old. The seams were rusty-looking with wear, and the buttons were threadbare. As he reached her, she could smell a faint stench of mold and decay coming from the fabric. “Father Tom was taken ill this morning.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Something about the shape of his mouth was familiar, but she couldn’t place him. She was pretty certain she had never met an Irish priest before. “His heart is giving him a bit of a bother, but we got him to hospital very quickly.”

  “His heart?” she said, finally hearing what he was saying. “I’m so sorry.” Father Tom had always seemed to be the picture of health, coaching sports, very active. “That’s terrible.” The thought of him lying in a hospital made her shudder. “I’ll just go.” She made herself look him in the eye and try to sound pleasant. Just because you’re a freaking lu
natic is no reason to be rude, Kelsey, she scolded herself inside her head. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “Wait, dear.” He put a hand on her arm, and she flinched. His hand was bony, very white and very cold. “Did you need to talk to someone? I’ll be happy to help if I can.” Looking into his face, she could see that the beard was hiding a scar. She could just see the end of it curled up his cheek like a half-hidden snake.

  “No,” she said. “I’m fine.” She tried to pull away, and his grip tightened.

  “Are you certain?” The half-mad light she had seen in his eyes for a moment in the office had returned. “It’s my experience that beautiful women rarely seek out a priest for no reason.”

  “I didn’t seek him out.” Suddenly she was desperate to get away from him; her heart was pounding. “Like I said, we had an appointment.”

  “Was there something you needed to confess?” His tone was perfectly benign, mild and sympathetic, but all she could see were his burning eyes. She looked away toward the back of the church and the hope of freedom and saw a figure coming toward them, a dark shadow against the light from the doorway.

  “Kelsey?” Asher stepped into the light streaming through the stained-glass windows. “Is that you?”

  “Asher, hi.” She pulled away from the priest, and this time, he didn’t try to stop her. “What are you doing here?” I don’t care, she thought, going to him, forcing herself not to run. She had barely met him, but it was all she could do to not fling herself into his arms.

  “I stopped in to light a candle,” he said.

  “Really?” the dark priest said from behind her, a mocking edge coming into his tone. “For whom?”

  “That’s private,” Asher said with a frown. “Father.”

  “Of course,” the priest said. “Now that your friend is here, miss, I’ll leave you.” He nodded to Kelsey and smirked slightly at Asher, then he left them, going back through the door the way he’d come.

  “Are you all right?” Asher said. “I’ve been thinking about you since last night, worrying, I guess.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine now.” She smiled. “That priest…I had just gotten a shock, then he was being so pushy, it kind of freaked me out.” She laughed. “Totally silly, I know.”

  “I don’t think so.” He smiled, too, but he looked tired, like he hadn’t slept well either. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his chin was shadowed with a day’s growth of beard. “He seemed kind of creepy to me, too.”

  “I know, right?” She giggled, giddy with a weird relief. “Thank God you showed up.”

  He took her hand and squeezed it. “Thank God.”

  “Would you mind if we got out of here?” The church that had seemed so pretty before now seemed dark and musty as a tomb. “Oh wait, you came to light a candle.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I was lighting it for you.”

  They emerged on the bright, crowded street, a different world. “Is there someplace you need to be?” he asked. “Do you want to get a cup of coffee or some brunch or something?”

  “I’d love that.” What the hell am I doing? she thought.

  His phone rang. For a moment, he looked confused, like he didn’t recognize the sound. Then he pulled it out of his pocket. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Go ahead.” Jake was barely cold; how could she be thinking about going out for coffee with this other man? She watched him talk on his phone, barely registering what he said. He was gorgeous, but the attraction she felt for him didn’t feel sexual. Being with him comforted her; it made her feel less like the whole world was lost.

  He ended his call. “Kelsey, I’m so sorry,” he said. “That was a friend—someone from work. I have to go.”

  “It’s okay,” she said again, disappointed and relieved at the same time.

  “Do you need me to walk you home first?” he said. “I know you were upset before.”

  “No, I’m fine,” she said. “I’ll take the subway.” She held out her hand. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

  He took it. “Any time.” She noticed again how his eyes looked haunted. “Are you sure I can’t at least get you a cab?”

  “Don’t be silly.” Just his concern made her feel safe, which was utterly ridiculous. “I’ll be fine. Good luck with the work thing.”

  “Thanks.” He kissed her forehead the way he had the night before, weird and lovely. “I hope we run into one another again soon.”

  She gave him a shy hug. “So do I.” Smiling naturally for what seemed like the first time in forever, she waved and turned away, headed for the train.

  Praying for Help

  Asher had been summoned back to his apartment by the mobile phone that had magically appeared in his pocket the same way it always did when he had need of it. In the old days, a putti or other lesser angel would have come to fetch him, but the new human technology made things easier. Was Michael watching over him, sending other angels to intervene if he and Kelsey got too close? Other angels called on him for help every once in a great while, but it was hardly a common occurrence.

  When he walked in, he found four angels gathered around one of the long couches, two cherubim in the white robes of their heavenly office and two seraphim like himself, bloodied and dirty from battle. “Here he is,” one of the cherubs said, a willowy blond female. “The Evening Star has come.”

  He drew closer and saw another seraph he knew, Malachi, lying on the couch, pale and covered with blood. “What happened?”

  “A half-demon,” the cherub said. He recognized her, too—Serena. She had been a guardian of the throne of Heaven as long as he had been a guardian on Earth. In the great family of angels, she was his sister. “Malachi tried to destroy him.”

  “I have to go back,” Malachi said. “I have to save her…” He broke off, his face twisting as he gasped in pain.

  “Hush now,” Serena said, kneeling beside him. She pulled back the blanket covering his chest, and the other cherub let out a tiny shriek. His chest had been ripped open and his heart pulled to the outside in a gruesome parody of an icon of a bleeding-hearted saint. The gash had been burned back together in a demon’s parody of healing. The flesh and bone would have to be reopened and the heart put back inside—an agonizing, dangerous procedure, even for an angel.

  “I can heal him,” Asher said.

  “No,” Malachi said through gritted teeth. “Serena can heal me.” His face was slick with sweat. “You have to go after the monster.” He grabbed Asher’s wrist. “You have to save the child.”

  “The creature has control of a village,” explained one of the other seraphim. “A child there prayed for an angel to save them.” He looked heartbroken. “A child of perfect faith.”

  “But I failed,” Malachi said. “Now the monster knows I was summoned and means to punish the mortal who did it.”

  “The girl’s faith has never wavered,” Serena said. She had the clean robes and pure silver eyes of one who rarely left the plains of Heaven. “Her soul will pass on to the Light. Martyrs are hardly uncommon. Perhaps her death will bring others to the Light.”

  “Enough,” Asher said, silencing her with a glare. A week ago, he might have said the same. Now he thought she sounded cold and cruel.

  “He won’t kill her,” Malachi said, his grip tightening on Asher’s wrist. “He’ll hurt her.”

  “He won’t,” Asher promised. “Who will show me where?”

  “I will,” the second seraph said, and his companion nodded his agreement.

  Asher clasped hands with each of them in turn. “Thank you.” He turned to Serena. “Heal him. We’ll be right back.”

  “Asher, wait,” Serena said. “Malachi doesn’t know what he’s asking of you. He doesn’t know the danger you’re in now.” Michael apparently hadn’t sent them, but it was obvious his visit to the seraphim encampment was already old news. “This monster he speaks of is half-human with at least half a human soul. In spite of all his evil, he is protected. If you
lose your temper and destroy him on the human plane, you will fall.”

  “You would rather this child be abandoned?” he asked. “One more martyr?”

  She blushed. “Go then. Just be careful.”

  Kelsey rubbed the last of the oil from the soft bristles of her varnishing brush and put it in the jar by the sink. Four of Jake’s paintings were now laid flat on sawhorses to dry. Like coffins, she thought before she could stop herself.

  She had been at it all afternoon—through the windows she could see the dark. She pulled on a thick cardigan sweater, another hand-me-down from Jake. She buried her face in the crook of her elbow and inhaled the scent—her own perfume and the ghost of Jake’s old cigarettes. Tears stung her eyes, and she wiped them away.

  She picked up the phone and dialed. Taylor, her sister-in-law, answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Hey, baby sis,” she said, keeping her tone light. “You were right on top of that.” She slumped back against the edge of the battered desk. “You expecting a call? Got a hot date?”

  “Not tonight,” Taylor said, a smile in her voice. “I have a test in the morning, a make-up for—for one of the ones I missed.” Jake’s mother and sister had flown north and spent his last four days at the hospital with him and Kelsey. It had been the first they had known he was sick. “You sound good.”

  “Yeah…I’ve been varnishing some stuff.” The last time she and Taylor had talked, they had both been crying at the airport. “I wanted to tell you something.”

  “Please don’t apologize,” Taylor said. “Mama was horrible to you, blaming you. We know Jake; we know it had to have been his idea not to tell us, just like he said it was.”

  “Taylor—”

  “She was just so upset—”

  “Of course she was—”

  “She feels really bad about it now.” Kelsey slid down the desk as she listened until she was sitting on the floor, still holding the phone to her ear. “She wants to call you, but she’s scared of making it worse.” She concentrated on breathing without crying, holding her eyes open wide. “Kelsey? Are you there?”