Uriel's Descent (Ubiquity #1)

by Allyson Lindt

  The pain was still borderline unbearable but was the glory of hell compared with drawing close to the spearhead.

  “My God, that hurt.”

  Ronnie swallowed and then forced her response to sound even. “I don’t think I like your spear.”

  He helped her stand and held her upright as he guided her toward the stairs. “I didn’t expect that. I’m sorry.”

  “He’s not. Fucking asshole. Talk about agony.”

  “Yeah. Of course.” The dry air rushed to fill her lungs as she inhaled. She didn’t know what else to say. Why did it bring her so much pain? Was it the answer to why Metatron lived in her head?

  “Who cares? Let’s just agree not to ever do it again.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “That sucked.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Gabe brushed a strand of hair from Ronnie’s forehead.

  “I swear to everything ever, I’ll kill him for that.”

  Ronnie pushed aside Metatron’s venom, earning another wave of weakness. She swallowed and forced her voice to remain steady. “I’m better.”

  “I really am sorry. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was hoping the spear would help me convince you. But it’s not necessary.”

  Reason bulldozed her fading pain. She didn’t know if she could handle any more of Gabe’s surprises. “What does an agony-inducing spear have to do with convincing me of anything?”

  “You need to sit down.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.” It didn’t escape her that he avoided the question. She followed him into the coffee shop, more from the overwhelming desire to retreat from the pain than anything else. Even with distance between her and the haunting museum of weapons, uneasiness churned in her gut. She was the heroine in a horror movie who goes into the dark basement without a flashlight even though people are dying around her left and right.

  “You know what they say about curiosity.”

  “That irritating dead angels use it to be even more irritating.”

  “That didn’t even make any sense. The spear screwed up your head. Want me to drive for a while?”

  “Not ever.”

  Gabe led Ronnie to a stool behind the counter and took a second one himself. He gave her a peck on the cheek, and the kiss nudged aside any residual pain from the spear. She didn’t like his assumption that the contact was okay, but she welcomed the relief.

  “I have one more surprise for you,” he said.

  Not having her flesh ripped off in agony was nice. They should quit on a high note. “Maybe another day. I need to lie down.” At home. Behind her wards. Where he and his spear couldn’t get to her.

  “Maybe he’s going to bow down and let me sever his head from his body. We can stick around for that.”

  Metatron’s venom surged, and Ronnie swallowed it back.

  He grasped both of her hands in his, expression turning somber. “I know this is atypical among our kind, but… Well…”

  “Oh geez, really? Melodramatic much?”

  Ronnie wanted to leave, but something in his grip compelled her to stay and hear him out.

  “I was wondering if you’d come work for me.”

  “A new job. It’s exactly what you wanted. Rah.”

  Ronnie stumbled over her response, not prepared for the question. “Huh?”

  “Oh, brilliant. Good answer.”

  “I want you to work for me. I know you’re struggling at Ubiquity, and I have a handle on something you might enjoy a little more.”

  “Which is…lattes? Sure, you’re trained for that.”

  Ronnie shook her head, trying to ignore that Metatron’s questions mirrored her own. She swallowed back the bile. She should say yes, right?

  “You don’t know anything about the job. You have no idea why he feels you’re qualified over anyone else. Sure. Why the hell not? I mean, if I want you to, you won’t, so…”

  Gabe watched her, smile frozen in place.

  “It’s a big change.” That wasn’t what Ronnie should be saying. She needed to tell him no and hightail it out of there. “I mean, Ubiquity is the only job I know.” Not that she was doing it anymore, considering the number of cherubs she walked away from instead of capturing them. Could she even just decide to go work for someone in heaven? She was pretty sure her orders needed come from Lucifer. “What does the job entail?”

  “That’s the trick. It’s not as public as what you’re doing now. So it’s not the kind of thing I can fill you in on, unless you say yes.”

  “Wow, what a great offer.”

  “You can’t give me any more details at all?” She’d seen things like top secret jobs on TV, but heaven and hell weren’t really like that. Or were they? Technically, they didn’t make what they did public, but in her experience, agents didn’t have assignments they couldn’t talk about.

  “All I can say is, if anyone at Ubiquity knew about it, they’d drop their position in an instant to snatch up the one I’m offering.”

  That was the least reassuring thing she’d heard all day, and she’d almost had her flesh ripped off by a spearhead a few minutes ago.

  He rested a hand on her arm. “Don’t say no right now. At least sleep on it.”

  Ronnie smiled, feeling fake. “All right. I won’t say no right away.”

  * * * *

  “I have to get back to work.” Izzy gave her a quick hug and a knowing smile. “I want details tomorrow, though.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks, as she watched his robes swish around him one more time before he vanished. She might have tried to argue valiantly, at least for show, but he’d coax the details out of her anyway.

  The afternoon sun didn’t reach this back corner of the temple, and there was no reason for the priests to light the room. She could have done it, but the shade was pleasant. She paced the packed dirt, her woolen wrap swirling around her legs. She wanted so badly to expose her shoulders. To let her wings show. It was the one thing she didn’t like about being here. Now Greece…that was a country. Cherries, wine, and togas.

  Maybe she’d find an excuse to go there next.

  Giddiness distracted her. A gentle tug in her belly reminded her he’d be here any minute. Even though she saw him only a few days ago, she missed him. She didn’t know if she could do what they discussed—walk away from heaven and being an angel, surrender it all for the experience of mortality. They’d become a flash in the grand landscape of eternity, but there would be so much to learn and experience as humans. With him, anything felt possible.

  “Ronnie.” Michael’s voice brought a smile to her face, as did the nickname. He never called anyone else by anything other than their full name. And she loved the sound of affection rolling off his tongue.

  She whirled midpace. He stood near the edge of the room, mostly in shadows. Something wasn’t right. She frowned and tried to make out the details on his face. Was it his eyes? She wasn’t sure.

  He crossed the room in a few short strides, placed both hands on her cheeks, and pressed his lips to hers. The hungry kiss spilled through her, filling her with intense desire and fogging her thoughts, so her hesitation waned. This was him. It had to be. Nervous anticipation was making her imagine things.

  She tilted her head back as he skimmed his mouth along her jaw and throat. His words vibrated against her skin. “Everything I asked you about. Everything I promised.”

  Her heart clenched with affection.

  “I lied.”

  What? Something pierced her abdomen and tore through her like a million fiery daggers. She looked at him in disbelief. Shock, betrayal, and unimaginable agony filled her. Her attention dropped to the sword.

  No, it was a spear. How was she thinking clearly enough to realize that? The edges of her vision blurred. As she dropped to her knees, he extracted the weapon. She looked up, finding eyes that weren’t Michael’s. Gabriel’s sneer taunted her.

  Fucker killed me. Why? She might have sobbed, but consciousness was slipping
away.

  “Ronnie.” Michael’s voice cut through the haze. He shoved the imitation him aside. Gabriel. Right. It was difficult for her to hang onto her thoughts.

  Michael cradled her head in his lap, muttering and brushing her hair from her forehead. In the background, Gabriel babbled. Everything coming out of his mouth was a lie. She knew it, but she couldn’t make her lips move. Couldn’t push out the words to tell Michael the truth.

  Ronnie’s own yell woke her up, and she sat up in bed with a start, sweat sliding down her face and neck. She dropped her head in her hands, willing away the images of the dream. It was too vivid. As if she lived it. This wasn’t a metaphor-based dream like the one of the market. Metatron was bathing Ronnie in her past. She didn’t question Metatron’s version of things. The sick pit in her stomach told her she witnessed the reality. At least Metatron found an effective way of torturing her even when she slept. Nowhere was safe.

  “It’s pretty safe in here. Want to trade places and see?”

  Something needed to change. Lucifer wasn’t helping. Gabe exposed her to the most painful thing she’d encountered in her short life, and she wasn’t any closer to a solution. And she was pretty sure Michael was seeing her to get to Metatron.

  “God, could you be any more wishy-washy? Nobody likes me. Everybody lies to me. Grow up already.”

  Ronnie had to admit Metatron was right. She was floundering like a child instead of facing things head on. Lucifer was the only one with the answers. And one way or another, she’d get them from him. She phased to hell.

  The oak door in the middle of white sterility mocked her. The familiar aura tugged at her senses. Home? But more like a lingering scent than an immediate presence. And she didn’t miss it. Not at all.

  “Liar.”

  She knocked. There was no answer. She could wait. She had all night. Her back to the door, she slid into a sitting position and hugged her knees to her chest. She’d come back tomorrow and the next day and over and over, until he was ready to talk. He knew she was here, and he’d give in eventually.

  “You wish.”

  Okay, so Ronnie might not have her sanity long enough to win a battle of wills with Lucifer, but it was a plan in progress. If he didn’t show up in the next couple of hours, she’d reevaluate. All this missing sleep was catching up to her. Maybe she could just rest her eyes for a few minutes. Lucifer would wake her up when he got in.

  “Ronnie?” Michael’s quiet voice startled her.

  She opened her eyes and jerked her head up. How did he sneak up on her? Better question, why was he here?

  When she realized how close he was, her breath caught in her throat, and her questions evaporated. He kneeled in front of her, studying her with concern. Reminders of the other morning rushed back to greet her—the kiss, the intimacy, and being pushed away.

  Something unreadable played on his face as he offered her a hand and then pulled her to her feet. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and brushed her cheek. “I’m sorry about the other day.”

  In her head, Metatron whimpered. Ronnie’s thoughts joined in.

  Heat sped along her skin, teasing her nerve endings to life, but she didn’t know how much of it was hers. It seemed to be attached to the inky strands that penetrated every inch of her body. She wanted to pull away, but at the same time, wanted to lean closer.

  She licked her lips, forcing her voice through her dry throat. “I’m not her. You know that.” That wasn’t what she meant to say.

  “I do. But you’ve got a lot in common. Intelligence, beauty, and resilience, to name a few things.”

  “Except one of us is a whiny little brat.”

  Ronnie felt the same. Michael’s comment left a dull ache in her chest, and she backed away when he reached for her. “Don’t.”

  “You’re right. I need to earn that.”

  She crossed her arms and summoned as much resolve as she could. After the way they left things in the dojo, she couldn’t do this. Admitting there was any compassion or affection in the way he talked to her was another reminder he saw Metatron where she stood. “Stop comparing me to her. I know you want Metatron here. I’m not her. I’m pretty sure at this point I’m better off that way. Whatever happened between the two of you, whatever ghosts haunt you, I’m not the way to exorcize them.”

  “I never meant to give you that impression.” Stepping closer, he wrapped his fingers around her hand. She didn’t want to enjoy it. Didn’t want to acknowledge the way he made her pulse race.

  “Move aside, let me do this.”

  “No.” Sparks screamed along the dark ribbons all through her, and she pushed Metatron back. “It sure seemed like it.”

  “You can’t take this from me. It’s not yours.

  “But it is. It’s my life.”

  Michael slid his hand to her neck and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “If you spent more time being yourself, instead of worrying about what you were before, it might make it easier to get to know you.”

  “Don’t waste your time. She won’t be here long.”

  Ronnie struggled against Metatron’s efforts to take control. “But I can’t walk away from my history, whatever it was.”

  “I’m not suggesting you do.” He leaned closer and rested his forehead against hers.

  Despite her resolve to push him away, and his insistence they avoid a physical relationship, the simple gesture fanned the conflict roaring inside her.

  His voice was low but firm. “But you also have to live for now, and so do I. So I’ll make you a deal. I’ll stop picturing her where you stand, if you stop assuming that’s what I’m doing.”

  “No.”

  Ronnie’s sadness mingled with melancholy. Such a simple suggestion. She knew it wouldn’t go down that way, but she liked the idea enough to give it a try. “Yeah, all right.”

  More sparks flooded the inky threads within her, catching her off guard, and she stumbled in her own mind. She tried to blink, but her eyes didn’t close. She was aware of her hands resting at the base of Michael’s neck, but she wasn’t the one who put them there.

  “Don’t listen to her.” It was Ronnie’s voice, but Metatron spoke. “I’m exactly who you remember.”

  Michael’s eyes grew wide, but he didn’t step back.

  Metatron stood on Ronnie’s toes and pressed her lips to his.

  Ronnie stopped struggling to regain control of her body. The rush filled every inch of her until she thought she might burst. Similar to Gabe’s, but more…real. Her heart hammered. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced.

  “Suck it, bitch. This is my life. Move over.”

  Metatron’s taunt drew Ronnie from the awe. The entire situation was surreal. Metatron’s love for Michael pulsed through her, but Ronnie’s emotions were still there. It was like living an intense movie.

  Michael traced his hands up her arms, until his palms rested on her cheeks, holding her close.

  A moan tore from her chest, but she wasn’t sure who it belonged to. It was as much Ronnie’s as it was Metatron’s. Was this really what it was like to be in love? Could Ronnie really have this if she surrendered?

  “No. I could. But you can watch.”

  Lust, desire, being wanted—all raced through her. She wanted to feel more. Wanted him, not the Metatron-diluted version of him. She pressed closer. God, it was so amazing. The incredible lust—

  “Love”

  —he had for Ronnie.

  “Me.”

  He smelled of pine and fresh air, and his hard frame didn’t yield when Metatron pressed Ronnie’s body against him. He trailed a finger down the side of her face, and she parted her lips at the tender gesture. His coaxing tongue pushed aside any thoughts except experiencing the moment.

  He twisted his fingers in her hair. She traced lines along his chest, barely aware they were still in the middle of a hallway in hell.

  He moved his other hand to her waist and slid his palm under her shirt without shoving the top out o
f the way. She wanted to feel more of his skin against hers. Would he balk if she wanted to take this back to her place? To remove themselves from prying eyes and take their time exploring each other?

  “Please?”

  The begging rocked in Ronnie’s skull, jarring her out of the moment. How did she forget Metatron? Was any of this even Ronnie’s?

  “Of course it is.”

  Ronnie wrested back control of her body—unlike previous attempts, the transition was smooth, sliding into a comfy pair of jeans smooth—and broke away with a gasp, confusion assaulting her. She couldn’t look him in the eye. “Me or her?”

  “Uriel?” The concern in his voice couldn’t completely mask hints of disappointment. She was pretty sure she wasn’t imagining it.

  He used the right name. Ronnie shook her head and stepped out of his reach. She was such an idiot to let her guard down with Metatron sharing her skull. Now she’d found a more subtle way of taking over.

  “Holy hell. You’re fucking paranoid. Was the kiss really that bad?”

  It was incredible. And not all for Ronnie. So much for him resisting temptations of the flesh. “I can’t. I’m just— I just can’t.”

  *

  “Tell me.” Michael wrapped his fingers loosely around Ronnie’s wrist. Another shock of want spilled over him. He might be a servant of will, but when it came to internal resolve, his was apparently shot.

  He was surprised she stayed. When she wasn’t fighting herself, she was powerful. His grip wasn’t enough to keep her here.

  She flopped back against the wall next to him, never breaking free of his grasp, and tilted her head toward the ceiling. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  Prompting her to explain was easier than trying to put his own thoughts into words. But it wasn’t fair of him. “I’m sorry.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “For as many let downs as I’ve had recently, I don’t know that I’ve heard that a lot. For what? Don’t doubt for a second I’ve got a list, but I’m curious what you think you should be sorry about right now.”

  That attitude. Unapologetic and direct, even amid her confusion, was another reason he adored her company. Watching her in the diner the other morning with her appreciation for life. The way she approached everything with a refusal to back down. It drew him in. “For kissing you when it wasn’t all you.”