by Lori Adams
“We better get moving!” Degan yells over the noise. “The nobles will head back to their chambers to prepare for the Danse Macabre. We’ll have just enough time to get changed.”
“What do you mean ‘get changed’?” I holler. He snorts out a laugh and looks me up and down.
“You gotta Cinderella up. Can’t get to the ball dressed like that, you know?”
Chapter 20
Michael
“What do you mean she’s not here?” Michael asked. He stood in the kitchen, watching Jarvis put away the dinner that had not been eaten. “Did she receive another call? Did she say where she was going?”
Jarvis shrugged. “She didn’t appear to receive another call in my presence. And she didn’t tell me where she was going. Only that she would return later.”
Michael began to worry. All day he’d had an unsettling feeling about Sophia. This demon-spy business had to be dealt with before he would feel she was truly safe. Watching Jordan today had given him few answers and more questions. The guy was sketchy, for sure. Bloated with self-importance, but with a sad quality of someone insecure beneath it all. The perfect dupe for a clever demon. Jordan hadn’t gone near Sophia today. Could be a lack of opportunity; or it could be that he’d been too busy arguing with the voices in his head. The guy talked to himself when he thought no one was watching. Michael couldn’t determine if it was the demon Jordan argued with or his ego. Either way, Michael didn’t have enough evidence to justify confronting Jordan. If the demon didn’t present itself, Michael would have to bide his time. Meanwhile, he wanted to spend the last night of his seven days of grace with his wife. He’d been gone longer than expected and they had planned to tell his family their good news today.
“Okay, so what time did she leave here?” Michael asked.
Jarvis tugged his apron strings free, folded the starched white cloth into a neat square, and placed it in a drawer. “More than five hours ago. This is none of my business, sir, but…how well do you know your wife?”
Michael stood still. His eyes bored into the old man with such fierce intensity that Jarvis backed down.
“I am sorry, sir. As I said, it’s none of my business.”
Michael’s mind began to race. He didn’t like the insinuation. It brought back the disturbing conversation with Caleb, the disavowed messenger who refused to marry them the moment he’d heard Sophia’s name. Michael never forgot the flash of fear in the man’s eyes, right before he jumped off the balcony.
“What do you have to say?” Michael charged. The manservant was probably the eyes and ears for the Halos. He knew things—ancient and privileged things—that most weren’t privy to. “Whatever you know, rumor or innuendo or outright stories about Sophia, I want to know.”
“Yes,” Jarvis conceded. “They are just that, rumors. You must have also heard them; Sophia St. James is no ordinary spirit walker. She wields too much power for someone so young.”
“I’ve heard the rumors,” Michael agreed, his voice sharp and challenging. “What of them?”
Jarvis shrugged his meh face. “Only a greater expectation among the heavenly host.” He became reverent then, closing his eyes and touching two fingers to his forehead, lips, and heart at the mention of the choir of archangels.
Michael’s heart hammered. This was unexpected and he demanded to know what the old man was talking about. “The archangels have a greater expectation for what?”
“I can only guess.”
“So guess.”
Jarvis looked pained, his face curdling with the notion of displeasing Michael further. Only out of loyalty did he continue. “Something that has not been fulfilled, perhaps?” He raised his hands in question. “Seems to me that something is missing in the girl. Your wife, I mean. Have you not noticed this as well? Even for a fleeting moment? Just once?”
Michael turned away and braced his hands on the countertop. The wood was smooth and cool beneath his grasp. He dug his fingers into it as a flood of insecurities came rushing back. He wasn’t the only one who had noticed something missing in Sophia. His love for her had blinded him to it. There was no denying it now.
But an unfulfilled expectation of something more made no sense. And how in the world could the archangels know? Was Sophia called to be more than a spirit walker? And what calling could that possibly entail? It had never happened before, a human called to a higher duty than helping lost souls cross over. Then again, Sophia had never happened before.
Michael could no longer ignore his doubts. As much as he had hoped to move past the nagging feelings that something had happened to Sophia, he now understood that he couldn’t; he had to know the truth. If she still refused, he would confront her Ascended Master. Rama knew Sophia better than anyone. He would know her secrets; he would know why she had reacted so strangely at the end of the spiritual ceremony on Christmas Eve.
“I’m going to her father’s house,” Michael said. “If Sophia returns here before I’m back, you will summon me at once. Understood?” He looked sharply at Jarvis, who nodded obediently. Then Michael tore himself away, his hands leaving deep grooves in the wood.
—
Michael flashed to the front porch and knocked on the pastor’s door. Once it was opened, he barged in. To his surprise, Sophia’s father was noticeably distraught. His eyes were bloodshot from crying. A five-o’clock shadow darkened his face and he was filled with panic at the sight of Michael. The pastor searched Michael’s face as though he had come with news of something.
“Where is she?” Michael asked, noting the absence of a second heartbeat. The pastor went slack with disappointment and he walked unsteadily into the living room. Michael followed in the wake of sour alcohol. An open whiskey bottle and an empty glass sat on the coffee table. The pastor slumped into a chair. Then he reached for the bottle and clutched it to his chest. He didn’t pour but gazed absently at the rug beneath his feet.
Michael glanced around. “Where’s Rama?” he asked, but received no response to that either. “Tell me!” he exploded. “Has something happened to Sophia? I have a right to know.”
This brought the pastor back and he looked up with glazed eyes. Michael had seen this in humans before, the absolute hopelessness that life had burdened them with more than they could handle. It was rarely the case, and Michael prayed it hadn’t been proven true now.
He crouched down and gently pried the bottle from the pastor’s grip. His voice was softer when he tried again. “I know something has happened. I know you are her father and you love her very much. So do I. Now, please, tell me where my wife is.”
The pastor blinked heavily. Dark hair had fallen across his forehead, sticking to the heavy sheen of sweat. His mouth opened to reveal the secret he’d been sworn to keep and yet all he could muster was, “You don’t know anything.”
Michael’s nostrils flared; his jaw muscle flicked with rising fury but he forced himself to remain calm. “Tell me what I don’t know. I want to help. If Sophia is in trouble, I want to know.”
The pastor swung his head away and mumbled something about going to church. He should have gone to church but felt unworthy, useless.
He reached for the bottle but Michael caught his arm. “Please, tell me. Before it’s too late. I can help. You know I can.” He had no idea what he was pleading for or how he might help, but it seemed to penetrate the pastor’s foggy mind. His watery eyes began to focus with sudden clarity as though he’d just remembered what Michael was. His face lit with a mixture of desperation and hope.
“Yes! You can help!” He clung to Michael as if he were drowning and then, rambling awkwardly, he gave up Sophia’s secrets. He explained about the spell that created Ka. About the past life with Dante. About Lovaria and the memories and visions that have haunted Sophia. Finally, he told Michael that Sophia had gone to Hell to get her soul back.
Michael jerked away and stood. He trembled with rage. Everything the pastor said was poison to his ears. And yet, so many things made sense now
. The thing missing from Sophia was her soul. Her soul! My God, how could he not have sensed it? How could he not have known?
Didn’t he, though?
All this time he’d worried that things didn’t feel right with her. He’d even asked his family to look into it; ordered them to. Sophia had never been a typical human and yet, for all his dark suspicions, he’d made allowances for it.
Had he really wanted to know the truth?
“Help her!” the pastor choked out. “Go down and find her! Please! Rama said it wouldn’t take too long! It’s been hours! They should have been back by now!”
Michael stared down at the pastor, trying to clear the chaos in his mind to make room for more.
How could she have kept this from him? Sophia remembered loving Dante in a past life? Did that mean she loved him still? As she had before?
“Are you…sure it’s her soul she went after? Are you sure she didn’t want to…be with Dante?” The idea made Michael’s stomach roll with nausea. His arms trembled again, fearful of the pastor’s answer.
“Yes, I’m sure she went after her soul, Michael. It’s you she loves. She took Rama with her to protect her and to bring her home safely!” His voice rose to a desperate shrill on Michael’s nerves.
A small amount of relief rushed through Michael and he thought again of Christmas Eve and the spiritual ceremony in the barn when Sophia had gasped and clutched her chest. She must have lost her soul in that exact moment. She must have known what Dante had done then. She must have found a way to disguise her missing soul.
She must have been scared to death.
Michael’s head reeled and he stepped sideways, reaching for the mantel. “She’s in Hell,” he murmured, disbelievingly. “My Sophia is…in Hell.” The full implication engulfed him. A tidal wave of impossibilities. Sophia knew that the danger of descending into Hell as a Forgiven human was catastrophic, but to go down as a spirit walker was beyond comprehension. Every evil entity in the kingdom would be after her. She would be exposed the moment she crossed the gate. More than likely, Dante had already discovered what she’d done and he was keeping her in Hell.
“How did she get in?” Michael asked as the practicalities finally registered. The pastor was at a loss; he’d only heard Sophia mention having a guide that she trusted but he didn’t know what it meant.
“You will go after her, won’t you?” he begged. “You will bring her back?”
Michael closed his eyes, making a concerted effort to form the words he never thought he would say. “Sophia has gone where I can’t follow.”
When he opened his eyes again, the pastor was shaking his head in disbelief. Michael couldn’t believe it himself. He and Sophia had found a way to be together despite breaking his vows, and yet…He thought of their wedding day when he was being called home. Literally torn away from her. He’d felt Sophia’s mother helping him return to her. He felt her helping.
Michael’s face blazed with energy. “Tell me how to find Celeste!” he demanded. “How do I find Sophia’s mother?”
The pastor stiffened in fear and confusion, and then quickly caught up. “Yes! Yes, I thought we should have gone to her earlier but…I don’t know how to reach her.”
Michael considered for a frantic moment. There was only one person who might have the answer. Taking the pastor by the arm, he ordered him to close his eyes. Then Michael whisked him away in a flash of blue light.
—
They rode out the blue tunnel and landed in the hallway of the Patronus farmhouse. Michael released the pastor who was doubled over, clutching his stomach. With a hard spasm, the pastor raced out the front door and retched over the porch railing. The spiritual trip was too much for a mere human. The loud, nauseating sound of his heaving alerted the family and drew them into the living room.
Katarina came in a white, oversized shirt, holding a paintbrush. Her hair was piled into a messy bun, and smudges of blue paint cut across her chin. Dimitri followed with a hammer, as they were using the winter break to redecorate his home office. Uriel and his bird slipped in on the heels of Raph and Gabe. As the family waited to hear why Pastor St. James was vomiting in the yard, Michael strode across the room. His face was dark and clouded with torment. He spun on his heel and then stopped, working out the best place to start with the madness he had to reveal.
Gabe spoke up before Michael had a chance. “You figured it out,” he declared, and then crossed his arms and took up the smug position of knowing things the others didn’t. Michael’s eyes cut Gabe with a shrewd look.
“How did you know?”
“You asked me to look into it and—”
“Know what?” Raph demanded. “What’s going on?”
“Yes, Michael,” Dimitri said. “What’s going on here? Should I go out?” He glanced toward the open front door. The pastor was still heaving over the porch railing.
“He’ll be fine,” Michael said, knowing that no harm would come to Sophia’s father. Michael kept his attention on Gabe. Obviously, his brother hadn’t shared his findings with anyone else yet. He knew Sophia had gone to Hell and didn’t say anything? Michael wanted to know how Gabe gathered information about something that had happened just a few hours ago, and why he had kept it to himself. But his interrogation would have to wait. In a rush to have it said and done, and get on with finding Celeste, Michael cut to the chase.
“Sophia lost her soul and went down to Hell to retrieve it.”
The entire family gasped in horror. Including Gabe. He stiffened, unfolded his arms, and stared wide-eyed. Speechless. Michael gave him a lingering frown. Why did he seem so surprised?
Katarina lowered herself into a chair while Dimitri stared without blinking. He was dumbfounded. Raph said, “No way,” and shook his head.
The pastor returned then, sheepish and green around the gills. He apologized for being sick on the lawn but no one seemed to care anymore.
“You told them?” he asked Michael, although the answer was obvious. Then he looked at each one in turn. “It’s true. Sophia has gone to Hell with Rama. They should have been back hours ago. We thought Celeste could help.” His statement landed on Katarina, who flinched back in surprise.
“What?” she asked, plainly confused. “Are you asking something of me?”
Without wasting time, Michael drew up a chair in front of her and explained the situation in harried, mishmash details: the twin who had Sophia’s soul, and Dante and his past life with Sophia as Lovaria. It was mind-boggling, and he had to repeat himself more than once to make sense. By the time he’d finished, the family had gathered closely around them, tense with escalating concern.
“You know Sophia’s mother, Katarina,” Michael said with controlled urgency. “You can find her.”
“I see,” Katarina responded quietly, letting things sink in. “And just what do you expect Celeste to do about this?” Her voice carried a trace of skepticism. It was all beyond her comprehension, the risk Sophia had taken.
“I want Celeste to help me find a way in,” Michael stated bluntly. He disguised his own reservations because he had no idea how it was possible. He knew as well as everyone else that angels could not descend. He was putting all his hope on Celeste. If she was somehow capable of helping him stay with Sophia, maybe she could help with this, too. That was as far as he’d gotten with his reckless plan.
Katarina’s eyes sprang open. Raph broke into a disbelieving laugh.
“You want a way into Hell?” he wailed incredulously. “Are you out of your mind?”
“I’m going after her!” Michael yelled over his shoulder. Behind him, Raph was gearing up to argue, but Dimitri waved him off. Then, speaking calmly, Dimitri tried to reason with Michael.
“We know you care about Sophia, Michael. We all care about her. But you aren’t thinking clearly. It is understood that no angel, be they guardian, Halo, or even an archangel, can descend into Hell. It’s just not possible.”
“I have to find a way,” Michael argued
. He had expected this but he wasn’t in the mood to fight with everyone. A cerulean light shimmered in his eyes as his spiritual energy surged. Dimitri backed down with a sympathetic expression for an impossible situation.
Raph, who had stomped across the room, stalked back to challenge Michael despite being told not to. “You can’t do it! He just said so! No angel can descend! The Council forbids it!”
“I will!” Michael repeated stubbornly. He stood and turned on him. “I’m going to find a way into Hell and bring her back! With or without your help!”
“Why you?” Katarina demanded, to which Michael yelled, “Because she’s my wife!”
The room fell silent at the stunning news. It was not the way he had planned to tell them, shouting in rage. Michael had imagined something more loving, softly spoken, with cries of joy after the initial shock wore off.
Delusions. Nothing but romantic, foolish daydreams.
A ripple of spiritual energy moved throughout the room. The high tension receded as the family came to terms with Michael’s announcement. Dimitri and Raph held grave expressions as though they had lost a soul. Katarina’s hands flew to her mouth. Only Gabe and Uriel remained passably unaffected.
“I thought they knew,” Pastor St. James murmured, and Michael shook his head. Uriel pointed to Michael’s left hand. “Look, he’s got a marriage sigil.” Eyes dropped to his hand and Michael rubbed the underside of his finger with his thumb. The memory of tenderly placing the sigil kiss on Sophia’s finger threatened to break him. Emotions pooled in his eyes and he had to blink them back.