The Archangel took the Arbitrator’s hand and shook it. “I am truly sorry, Heather.”
“Me too, Michael,” Heather replied.
“Wait. We’re sisters,” I said as my brain raced and my mouth followed.
Heather’s laugh was hollow. “That’s the only good thing to come out of this mess,” she said, and then calmly turned back to the man who’d sired her. “So that leaves you, Archangel. You planted the incorrect cause of Alana’s death in Gram’s mind, because I sure as hell know I didn’t do it. And apparently no one else here could have.”
“That’s certainly bad form,” Tim said, shaking his head. “I’m surprised at you, Michael.”
“I didn’t do it,” Michael said.
“Then who did?” I demanded of my father.
His lips compressed and his color heightened. “It was not me,” he said, pinning me with a hard stare. “Think. Please think. The words cannot come from my lips. Too much is at stake.”
And another puzzle piece fell sickeningly into place.
“Clarissa,” I said. “Clarissa did it.”
My father didn’t confirm or deny, but I saw a brief moment of great relief in his eyes.
“Why?” I demanded. “No more cryptic bullshit. We are so far past that point. The guessing games are over.”
Everyone looked at the Archangel.
“To cover her tracks,” he replied reluctantly.
“You will have to expound on that, Archangel,” Charlie instructed. “Now.”
Glancing around the room warily, he motioned for us to gather close. Waving his hand, a shimmering bubble surrounded us.
I looked over questioningly at Gideon.
“Insurance,” he said. “Soundproofing.”
“Because?” I pressed. “I don’t think the ghosts are going to blab.”
“Not the dead. Other Immortals,” Candy said.
“Exactly how many Immortals are in town at the moment?” I snapped.
All eyes went to Tim.
“Right now, just those of us in the room,” Tim said. “However, other’s bop in and out occasionally.”
Dropping my chin to my chest, I bit back all the questions I wanted to ask that had little to do with what we were discussing. I wanted to know how many Immortals existed. I wanted to know if they all knew each other. I wanted to know how many shitty ones there were like Clarissa. Instead, I zeroed back in on my father. I’d ask Gideon the questions later.
“Start talking, please,” I said.
“That was polite,” Candy commented.
“Can’t be helped,” I said. “It’s the way I was raised.”
“I can help you undo that,” she offered.
“I’ll pass.”
Charlie cleared his throat and aimed his attention at my father. “Continue, Michael.”
The Archangel nodded curtly. “What I’m about to say could destroy someone I would willingly die for,” he said so softly, I leaned in. “I believe the Angel of Mercy is near. There’s a reason we couldn’t find her. We’ve searched in all the wrong places.”
Gideon ran his hands through his hair and made a disgusted sound deep in his throat. “I agree. Charlie and I believe Clarissa is most likely hiding in plain sight.”
“I’d thought the remnants of her footprint were left over from her time here,” Charlie explained. “However, now I believe they’re more recent.”
“I concur,” Tim whispered, looking over his shoulder and shuddering.
“Umm… that might have been good information to have shared,” I hissed, glaring at all of them.
“It was just discussed this morning,” Gideon assured me. “You have never been alone without Immortal protection in that time.”
“And you will not be left alone,” my father promised.
“Okay,” I said, my mind racing. “Spit out the reason we’re huddled together and whispering.”
“Clarissa has Alana’s soul,” he said, as my heart lodged in my mouth.
“Not possible,” Karma said, shaking her head.
“She has it,” my father growled. “When Alana wasn’t in the darkness or the light, I confronted Clarissa. She told me she was keeping Alana’s soul as leverage. She’s used the abhorrent fact against me since the day Alana died.”
“That’s why you’ve ignored me?” I asked, not following. “Because of my mother’s soul?”
He nodded.
“Nope. Not buying it,” Gideon ground out. “She was five when her mother passed. In all that time, you never acknowledged Daisy. Holes. Too many holes, Archangel.”
“We tried to hide Daisy’s existence from Clarissa since the day she was born, to protect her. It was Alana’s choice,” my father admitted with great sadness.
Many things were clicking together now, but many of the pieces were still missing.
“What are you omitting?” I pressed. “And no bullshit or shades of gray.”
My father sighed dramatically and raised his eyes to mine. His focused attention made me forget anyone else was in the room. His power was immense.
“For thousands of years, Clarissa and I were lovers on and off,” he said.
“Jesus, you get around,” Karma muttered.
“Enough,” Charlie chastised Karma, who zipped it quick.
I had the same thought, but never would have voiced it. John Travolta was thousands of years old. He was bound to have had many lovers during that time, and insulting him was counterproductive. I still needed to know more.
“Go on, please,” I said.
The Archangel nodded. “I never loved Clarissa. It was simply two people who had lived for eternity and were bored. Or that’s what I’d believed.”
“She loved you,” I whispered. “She loved you, and then you fell in love with my mother.”
Again, he nodded. His expression was pained. “We made every effort to hide it from everyone.”
“I never knew,” Charlie said.
“That was the point,” he said.
“But Clarissa found out and lost her mind,” Gideon surmised.
“She did,” my father said. “She threatened Alana’s life. As long as I stayed away from Alana, she was satisfied.”
“But you didn’t stay away from my mother,” I said, knowing the end of the love story was tragic, but somehow thankful that my mother had true love.
Michael shook his head. “We were as necessary to each other as breathing,” he said. “We were so secretive of our love, not even your grandmother knew.”
Gram’s words about my mother being private about her beau’s echoed in my mind.
“But Clarissa knew?” Gideon asked, not wanting the Archangel to leave out anything important.
“For several years, Clarissa suspected nothing. She would pop in and out to make sure I’d kept my word.”
“You didn’t,” Charlie said.
“No. I didn’t,” my father agreed.
“She worked for you when I did. She posed as your daughter,” I said.
“She insisted on it,” he replied, and then paused. “She did it to keep an eye on me and an eye on you.”
“That’s scary, but I’m still confused,” I said, trying to make linear sense of all I was learning. “Why does Clarissa have my mother’s soul?”
“Everything was fine until you were about five. We’d stayed hidden well,” he said. “You were correct that you have been to my home. It was your home as well, up until your mother died.”
My mouth dropped open. “Why don’t I remember?”
“Clearly, you did,” he said with a small smile. “I tried to erase the memories from your mind to save you unnecessary pain, but since you’re of my blood, it didn’t completely take.”
“Wait. Where in the heck did Gram think we lived?” I asked.
“A few hours away,” he said. “You and your mother visited her weekly.”
“Yet we were only a few miles from her,” I said.
My father nodded.
“Holes,” Gideon repeated, taking my hand in his. “Fill them, Archangel. Now.”
“Clarissa was gone from this part of the Universe for the first several years of your life,” he told me. “When she came back and discovered your existence, she wanted you dead. What I believe is that your mother traded her life for yours, and Clarissa trapped and kept her soul.”
“So, she killed herself?” I asked, thinking maybe the suicide part was correct but the reasoning as to why was flawed. “That would mean she was destined for the darkness.”
“No, if she had been destined for the darkness, that is where she would be,” Michael said as his eyes went a sparkling gold filled with fury and regret. “I believe she was pushed off the bridge.”
“By Clarissa,” I said. Something inside me broke. I’d avoided feeling anything for the woman who bore me. I’d pushed all memories away because I thought she’d left me for someone else. She’d left me for me… The guilt raging inside made me breathless. “That’s why you don’t want the Angel of Mercy destroyed,” I said as tears rolled down my cheeks. “Because it will destroy Alana, too.”
My father said nothing. He didn’t have to.
The rules had changed.
The game was no longer simple—not that it was to start with, but now it was far different. “You all truly believe Clarissa is in the area?”
“I do,” Gideon said.
“New plan.” I swiped my hand through the air and disintegrated the bubble surrounding us. “We stop looking for her.”
“What the hell?” Tim asked, looking at me with an expression of shock. “How did you do that?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care,” I said, realizing everyone was staring at me—even my father. “We will draw her to us.”
“That’s the new plan?” Candy Vargo asked, squinting at me like I’d lost it.
“Yep.” I informed them. “To me. We will draw her to me.”
“I don’t like it,” Gideon said tersely.
“Not real fond of it, either,” I told him as a feeling of confidence—or insanity coupled with a death wish—blossomed in my chest. It felt right and damn good. “However, this has to end. I want what belongs to me. I’m the Death Counselor. My mother is dead. She’s mine. She belongs to me and then to the light.”
“I will stand by your side,” my father said.
“That’s part of the plan, John Travolta. I want you by my side,” I said.
The Archangel’s eyes grew wide, but he said nothing.
“Damn this was a fucking out-of-control shindig,” Candy said, heaping another pile of Wiener Winks onto a plate.
“Are we almost done here?” Tim asked as I held my father’s gaze.
“We are,” I replied.
“Excellent.” Tim pulled his trivia sheet from his pocket. “I shall leave all of you with this… the space between your eyebrows is called a glabella. Illegible handwriting is called griffonage, and to testify was based on the Roman court swearing to a statement by swearing on the longevity and health of their testicles.”
“As I said,” Candy announced with a cackle. “Excellent fucking party.”
Chapter Nineteen
No firm plan had been made by the time everyone left. We’d agree to talk tomorrow after everyone had a chance to sleep on it. My father was not in favor of using me as bait, but even he agreed I was probably the one who could pull her out of hiding.
“Come with me,” Gideon said, pulling my coat from the foyer closet and handing it to me.
“I have to clean up,” I told him, pointing to the plates and glasses littered around the living room.
“I’ve got it,” Heather said. “I need something mindless to do for a little while. Go with Gideon.”
“You sure?” I asked.
“Positive,” she replied. “I’ll straighten up, take the dogs out to do their business and then go home.”
“Thank you, Heather.”
“You’re welcome… sister,” she said, trying the word on for size.
I grinned, as did she.
Heather shook her head. “And the Universe keeps getting stranger.”
“And better,” I added, giving her a quick hug.
“And better,” she agreed. “Much better.”
“You ready?” Gideon asked.
“Born ready,” I replied. “Or something like that.”
Gideon grabbed my hand and led me to his car.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he got in and started the ignition.
“To our house,” he replied. “We need to have a little chat.”
My heart sank. I hated that he was upset with me. I should have shared my thoughts about someone planting the wrong story in Gram’s head with him privately, but I hadn’t. My protective instincts for Gram took a front seat. However, trust was a two-way street and I was driving on the wrong side.
“Gideon, I didn’t think you did it.”
“I know.”
“You’re not mad?”
“I’m not mad.”
“I was an idiot not to tell you what I was thinking.”
He nodded. “I’d have to agree.”
Shit.
We drove the rest of the way in silence—lost in our own thoughts. My brain came up with a hundred ways to apologize for not coming clean with him before the fact, but they all kind of sucked. Gram was my world—even dead, she was my world. However, Gideon was my world, too, and I hadn’t been fair to him.
“It’s okay, Daisy,” Gideon said. “Stop beating yourself up. I know Gram and I are both your world.”
“Oh my God.” I gasped and punched his arm. “You can read my mind?”
Gideon chuckled. I didn’t think it was funny.
“Only when you think very loud. Like now,” he assured me.
“Shit,” I muttered. This was not welcome news. “Wait, could you tell I knew you hadn’t planted the thoughts?”
“I could.”
“So, you’re really not upset with me?”
He shook his head. “I’m not upset, but I think we have some work to do.”
My relief was overwhelming. And he was correct. We had work to do, and I was willing to do it. However, I was curious about something. “Can I read your mind if you think loudly?”
“I don’t know,” Gideon said, pulling off the road at the same spot we’d parked before. “You’ve surprised me repeatedly. It wouldn’t shock me to know that you could read my thoughts.”
“Can I try?” I asked, feeling silly.
“Yep,” he said, turning to me and staring straight into my eyes.
His face was expressionless. No clues there. His body was still and there was no sign of nervousness. What I could see visually wasn’t helping. Looking for physical clues was messing me up. Closing my eyes, I almost laughed. If I was going to try, I was really going to try. I could mind dive into the dead. How hard could reading the Grim Reaper’s mind be?
The images were fuzzy at first. I was sure my own imagination had taken over. Wishful thinking was some powerful stuff. As the images grew clearer, I saw me. But not the image that greeted me in the mirror every morning. Nope. I was a freaking goddess. My eyes sparkled gold and my skin glowed. I was also completely naked. My wild dark curls blew around my head and the smile on my lips was so carnal, I giggled.
“You see it?” Gideon asked, amusement in his voice.
“Umm… I see me.”
“You’re seeing you the way I see you,” he said softly.
“That’s what you see?” I asked. “Because if it is, you might need glasses.”
His laugh rang out in the tight interior of the car, and I grinned.
“There’s more, Daisy. Keep searching.”
I did.
Oh my God, I did.
I felt the heat on my cheeks and put my hands on my heart to calm the fluttering. His thoughts were x-rated and hotter than anything I’d ever witnessed.
“Umm… we didn’t do that the other night,” I said i
n a whispery voice an octave higher than usual.
“No,” he agreed. “Something to look forward to.”
Opening my eyes, I gaped at the man sitting across from me. The man was beautiful, and he found me beautiful too.
“I read your mind.”
“That you did,” Gideon said. “As I said, it doesn’t surprise me at all.”
“You have very naughty thoughts.” I bit back a grin. As crazy as life was, it was also wonderful.
“Only where you’re concerned.”
“Mind reading can’t be great for relationships,” I pointed out, wrinkling my nose.
“Then we have to promise not to do it unless it’s necessary… or sexual,” he suggested with a lopsided grin.
“Why did we come here?” I asked as the blush crept up my neck and landed on my cheeks. “Are we going to… you know…”
Gideon leaned in and kissed me. “That can be arranged,” he said. “However, we came for another reason.”
“Okay,” I said, following his lead and getting out of the car.
The sun was bright and the wind was low. It was cold, but not as chilly as the other night. We walked the familiar path hand in hand and a calmness filled my soul.
“I have something to show you.”
I eyed him and raised a brow. “Is that a euphemism for something naughty?”
“Nope,” he said with a laugh. “It’s more of a metaphorical lesson of sorts.”
Shit. That sounded iffy.
“Awesome,” I said, hoping I sounded sincere. “I’m ready.”
* * *
I was not ready. I was nowhere near ready.
“Holy crap,” I shouted as we came to the clearing where the garden had been. It was no longer just a garden. The garden was still there, but there was more—much more.
Where there had only been flowers and a huge bed, was now the most beautifully graceful farmhouse I’d ever seen. Rocking chairs and a swing dotted the wraparound front porch, and I spotted a massive chimney on the far-left side of the roof. The house stood two stories. It was large, but not grossly so. It screamed to be loved and lived in.
“Do you like it?” Gideon asked casually.
A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis: Good To The Last Death Book Three Page 17