But Juliette had no time to consider the impossibility of what was happening in the room—she was dying for air. Her body felt bruised, and the world was tunneling around her. The insidious power of the chloroform was seeping into her body, despite her lack of breath. She fought uselessly in the man’s grip as he lowered his lips to her ear. “Relax, sweetheart. It’ll all be over soon.”
And then the man was ducking behind her and cursing and his hand was sliding away from her mouth as the hardback suitcase rose from the ground and flew toward his head. As soon as her mouth was free of the poisoned rag, Juliette dragged air into her lungs, furiously fighting the weakening effects of what little chloroform she had absorbed. With what strength she had, she sharply elbowed the man in the gut, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.
He grunted and wrestled with her, but his progress was once again interrupted when the door to the wardrobe swung open on him, slamming its corner into the base of his skull. Juliette felt dizzy, not only from the poison, but from disbelief. What was happening? Was there a poltergeist in the room?
He dropped the rag in his struggle, but managed to wrap his arms around her once more and then drag her against him and into the shadows of the wardrobe as the door to her room came crashing in.
* * *
Gabriel froze on the top landing when a high-pitched scream sliced through the softer din that surrounded the small crowd outside the women’s restroom. The scream was cut short, but had come from down the hall. The women in the hall turned to peer down the length of the corridor, but it was empty on that end.
All the hair stood up on the back of Gabriel’s neck and he broke into a run, shoving the women aside as gently but as quickly as he could. There were five rooms and he’d forgotten to ask Will which one belonged to the angel.
But the sound of a struggle from beyond door number three marked his destination and Gabriel wasted no time in turning the knob. The door was locked from the inside. Gabriel reared back, raised his leg, and shoved his boot against the door just below the handle.
The door splintered in its frame and swung open as shards of wood went flying in all directions. The room was dark beyond, and suddenly it was all too quiet.
Thunder rolled outside the windows and lightning momentarily illuminated the room’s interior. Gabriel’s heart hammered painfully in his chest. It had never done that before. The metallic tang of fear was sour on his tongue as he pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped into the room.
A muffled sound greeted his ears, somewhere off to his left. He turned toward the wardrobe and searched its surrounding shadows.
There.
And then the lamp on top of the bedside table lifted off its surface and went careening across the room. Gabriel watched it through another flash of lightning and barely managed to duck in time as it sailed past him to hit the wall beside the wardrobe. The old glass shattered violently, drawing a string of distinctly male curses from the faintly outlined silhouette of the man beside it.
Gabriel shot forward, reaching for the man’s neck when lightning detailed him once more. The stranger had Gabriel’s archess trapped in his arms; Gabe caught the sharp, alcoholic stench of chloroform and knew, instantly, what was going down.
Somehow, the stranger had failed to knock her out as he’d no doubt planned. And now it was too late, for Gabriel’s grip found the man’s throat and the archess was thrown to the floor. She landed hard on her side and Gabe heard the air knocked from her lungs. She slid a little across the wooden planks and then scrambled to her feet.
“Get out now!” he growled through clenched teeth as he and the Adarian struggled. Gabriel recognized the sensations he was receiving from the man. Fighting with an Adarian felt like struggling with a bolt of static. The power that ran through archangels and Adarians acted like negative and positive ions; they were abrasive against each other. It was like fighting through sandpaper air.
The Adarian growled low in his throat, animalistic and determined, and Gabriel grunted as the man’s fist found his kidney. He recovered quickly, though, renewing his efforts as, through the corner of his eye, he saw the archess bolt for the door and race out into the hall beyond.
* * *
Juliette shot out into the hall as if the devil were on her heels. She couldn’t understand what was happening. She could barely make sense of where she was and the fact that she had just been attacked and was now escaping—escaping what, she didn’t know. She knew she needed to get out of the room, though. Out of the hotel—go somewhere safe. Send for the cops. . . .
The hall beyond her rented room was strangely empty, and its walls echoed with the rolling thunder that rumbled through their foundations. Juliette glanced quickly toward the stairs that led to the bar below, and for some reason, she spun on her heels and headed in the opposite direction. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, lacking in any clear logic. Instead, she headed toward the end of the hall, where a small wooden door at the very end bore no lock. Juliette turned the knob and pried it open to reveal a servants’ stairwell. Without thinking, she shot down into the darkness.
The exit door was warped from the moisture in the air, but when Juliette put her weight against it, it gave and she made it out into the cold, wet alley. The night was dark and windy and the rain bit into Juliette’s skin like teeth.
She no longer felt her muscles or bones and her legs moved of their own accord. She was growing numb from the inside out. She wondered at her spreading weakness. It has to be the chloroform. She was a small woman, and the stranger had no doubt used a lot on the rag. But this felt like something else. Chloroform was supposed to feel like a drug, a blanket of sleep that smothered you from the outside in. This was different. It was a familiar, deeper sort of weakness. She felt as if strength had been pulled from her muscle and bone, as opposed to feeling as though sleep had been draped over her. She felt the same way that she had the two times that she’d healed someone close to death.
Juliette blinked as she rounded a corner and continued down the street, running blind. It’s the storm, she realized. The storm is my fault. And the flying luggage, she thought, recalling the way the items had flown around her room as if animated by a poltergeist. It’s no ghost, she thought. It’s all me.
I won’t last, Juliette thought. She knew she was going to give out. She only hoped she could get far enough away from the danger behind her before it happened. She came to the end of an alley, turned a corner, and ran down another blind street. The cobblestone road was shrouded in mist and the streetlamps were dim. It suddenly seemed as if the entire world had retired, leaving her alone, a sole figure racing madly through a deserted planet.
Her boots clicked loudly on the smooth, weathered stone, adding to the eerie cast of her surroundings. Juliette’s breathing was harshly loud in the thick, ominous silence. She turned another corner, ran half a block, and then paused to rest against the storefront of a shop that sold Harris Tweed.
Juliette bent to catch her breath and a wave of horrid dizziness washed over her, bringing her to her knees. She hit hard, but barely felt it. Her legs had gone numb. It was then that she realized she was really in trouble. She had no idea where to go or what to do, and wouldn’t be able to stand back up even if she did. She had no phone, she didn’t know where she was, and it was two in the morning. Every window was dark.
She really was alone. No one was there to help her. And as the mist that surrounded her grew thicker and clouded her tunneling vision, she realized that she was going to pass out right there, on that empty sidewalk, without another soul in sight.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gabriel watched the archess leave the room out of the corner of his eye and then returned his full attention to his opponent. He remembered now how hard it was to fight an Adarian. Those fated first archangels had been kicked out of their realm and thrown to Earth for a reason. The Old Man had made them too powerful, too strong, and then he’d grown wary of their strength and gotten rid of them.
With a great deal more effort than it should have taken, Gabriel grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and shoved him back up against the wall. The room shook from the impact and the Adarian merely gritted his teeth. Gabriel leaned in and hissed across the man’s lips. “Where the fuck is Abraxos?” he asked, assuming the leader of the Adarians must be nearby. He must have sent this soldier in after the archess; Abraxos had wanted to get his hands on an archess for years; he wanted their healing ability for his own.
But the Adarian merely smiled then, his cruel and handsome face breaking into a truly nasty grin. He shook his head. “You’re clueless, Gabriel.” His laughter was out of breath and vindictive. “You have no idea what’s going on.”
With that, the Adarian reared his head back, then jerked it forward, smashing his forehead against Gabriel’s nose. Pain exploded before his eyes, a red blossom of confusing agony that caught him off guard enough for the Adarian to shove him away from the wall.
He stumbled back, blinded, and tumbled over the edge of the nearest bed. As he spun to catch himself, the doorway to the hall filled with shadows and the sounds of footfalls and raised voices.
Gabriel braced himself against the mattress, shoved himself back to his feet, and spun around. The Adarian was gone. A flashlight beam momentarily blinded him, and Gabriel realized the power must be out again. He hadn’t noticed the darkness until someone was shining a flashlight in his face. He ignored the spearing light and frantically searched the shadows of the room for the man he had been sparring with only seconds earlier. There was no sign of him.
Invisibility . . .
“Well, wha’ ’ave we here?”
Gabriel turned back to the doorway and shielded his eyes once more as the man behind the familiar voice continued to point the flashlight directly at his face.
“Gabriel Black,” the voice taunted, tsking him reprimandingly. Gabriel knew that voice. It was Angus Dougal—Edeen’s brother . . . and chief inspector for the Western Isles command team police force.
Christ, he thought. He wasn’t surprised. The women in the hall had seen him break the door down. They’d heard someone inside scream. One of them must have made the call. This isn’t good. He could go through Dougal in a heartbeat and take care of his men as nothing more than an afterthought. Then he could go after the archess.
But he might hurt the man in the process. He might even kill him.
And the hall was full of onlookers. Everyone would witness his actions—and everyone had a cell phone these days.
Max might not catch everything in the cleanup. And then what?
He almost didn’t care. But the fact of the matter was, even if he took down all these men and went after Juliette himself, chances were he wouldn’t find her. Not alone. There were Adarians out there. He needed help. He needed to call Max.
In the hall, the police turned to get the crowd to stand back, but it was too late. Gabriel and the mess he was in had been noticed by too many people.
“Turn around, Black,” Angus commanded calmly. Gabriel thought furiously and tried not to glare at the man. His archess had caused the storm; of that he had no doubt. She’d thrown things around the room with telekinesis. She would be weak.
She was fodder for the General at that moment and the last thing Gabriel needed was to have to deal with Angus Dougal and his minions.
He slowly turned in place and waited with his hands splayed at his sides as Dougal’s flashlight beam made its way around the room. I need to get ahold of Max. He would get a phone call once he was arrested. It was the best way to go about things. It was easier than erasing the memories of a hundred revelers and possibly burying innocent bystanders. But impatience burned his blood. Get it over with, Dougal.
“Where is the girl who rented this room?” Angus asked, a hard edge to his voice.
“I’m no’ answerin’ any of your questions, Angus. If you’re goin’ to arrest me, do it an’ shu’ the hell up.”
There was a brief period of silence as Dougal and his men no doubt absorbed his comment. And then Angus was behind him, a body as hard and tall as his own, and his wrists were being cuffed none too gently. “Have it yer way, Black,” Dougal hissed behind his right ear. “Ye’re in for a long night.”
* * *
“Uriel, you need to stop staring at your wife and pay attention.” Max waved a hand in front of Uriel’s face, then snapped his fingers.
Uriel blinked. “Get your fingers out of my face, Max. I’m fine.”
Max rolled his eyes. “So is Eleanore. Now pay attention.”
Max was a tall, slim man who appeared to be in his late thirties. He had brown hair and brown eyes, wore spectacles, and had an undeniable preference for three-piece suits. Also brown. He was Uriel’s agent. He was also the guardian to Uriel and his brothers, and had been sent by the Old Man to help the four favored in any way he could. Max’s abilities were not as flashy as theirs, but he served a very real purpose and the abilities he did have luckily reflected as much. Anytime the archangels caused enough trouble to be “noticed” by the world, in general, Max was there to erase minds, destroy evidence, and turn everything right again.
Uriel shot Max a dirty look, then sighed. “Do they have to stand so close to her?”
Max turned to glance at the bodyguards who stood around Eleanore. She seemed oblivious to them; she was reading something on her electronic reader. She was fond of vampire romance stories written in a much darker tune than Comeuppance. Lots of erotica.
In a way, it was good that Eleanore was less shy about her sexual preferences now. Being with Uriel had opened up her self-esteem and truly brought out the power of her sensuality. On the other hand, she was an archess and already attractive enough. Add the new sensuality to that beauty and she was a veritable magnet for men. Including the bodyguards that Uriel, himself, had assigned to her.
“You hired them.” Max smiled wryly. “Maybe you should specify that you want eunuchs next time.” He shrugged and turned around. “Besides,” he added with a lilting, sardonic tone, “Christopher Daniels’s fans get a lot closer to him.”
Uriel had the good grace to look the slightest bit chagrined. But it didn’t last long. His gaze once more cut to the black-haired beauty sitting on a crate against the back wall of the backstage area, and as if sensing that he was watching her, she looked up. She gave him a coy, teasing look—then winked.
Max watched as Uriel’s eyes widened slightly, and it wasn’t until Max’s grip on his upper arm tightened painfully that the archangel realized he had begun striding toward her.
Uriel looked down at Max’s hand and then back up at Eleanore. She was laughing, her gorgeous blue eyes glittering merrily under the backstage lights. Uriel’s gaze narrowed, but he returned the smile. Max knew he couldn’t help but do so. She was everything to him and Max could understand his protective streak. It was a mile long and twice as wide.
“Mr. Daniels, we’re on in two minutes.” A young man with a headset waved, got a nod from Uriel and Max, then disappeared back into one of the wings of the set. It was nearly nine o’clock and Jacqueline Rain’s show would begin any minute. She’d become so popular, she’d gone from a daytime talk show to nighttime entertainment, where her tendency to prefer guests in more notoriously gothic movie roles admittedly fit in a little better.
“You know, Ellie’s more than capable of protecting herself,” Max said then, speaking under his breath so that the conversation included only him and Uriel. “And if she can’t protect herself,” he continued, gesturing toward the two guards standing beside her, “they’re not going to do any good.”
“I’m aware,” Uriel said. Then he sighed and looked guilty. “They’re meat shields,” he admitted, which meant that if they were attacked by someone who could actually harm Eleanore—such as th
e Adarians—then the men around her would slow the enemy down long enough for Uriel to get to her. Hopefully.
“Ah.” Max smiled. Then he grinned. “I knew that already. But I’m proud of you for admitting it.”
“One minute!” someone called.
“Jacqueline Rain really loves it when you come on,” Max mused. “You increased their ratings by twenty percent with your last stunt.” The last time Uriel had gone on Rain’s show, he had asked Eleanore to go out with him on national television. Eleanore hadn’t been pleased, but the public had eaten it up. And the fact that Christopher Daniels was now a married man hadn’t seemed to deter their affections any. In fact, they’d taken to calling Christopher and Eleanore “Christellie,” and that amalgamated word had found itself on the front cover of dozens of magazines and newspapers across the nation.
“How is Gabe?” Uriel asked suddenly, changing the subject completely. Gabriel had gone back to Scotland four months ago and they rarely saw him these days, even though it would have been easy for him to call a portal into the mansion and pop in to say hello. Gabriel liked heading off on his own. He was rather brooding and preferred solitude more than the others. It was just how he’d been created.
Max knew Uriel was probably a little worried about his brother, especially now that he’d found his archess and his brothers had not. So, he took the change of subject in stride and considered how to reply to the question. “He’s holding his own, as usual. But—” He broke off as his cell phone rang. It was Gabriel’s unique ring, one that they had chosen a year ago when they’d signed on with the phone company. Max had actually never heard Gabriel’s ring go off before.
At once, he and Uriel froze and both of them looked down at the breast pocket of Max’s suit, where the cell phone was hidden. This couldn’t be good. Gabriel never called him. Max pulled the phone out of the inner pocket and flipped it open before placing it to his ear. “Gabriel. We were just talking about you.”
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