Messenger's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels

by Heather Killough-Walden

  Because as he watched the expression on Juliette’s face change as she took everything in, he felt a growing sense of unease. Something wasn’t right.

  Thus far, he, Max, Uriel, and Eleanore had all painstakingly explained the situation to Juliette. They’d taken great care to go easy on the shock factor of her powers and their being archangels, and go heavy on the empathy so that she would know she wasn’t alone.

  Through the course of the night, Eleanore had been an angel in every sense of the word. She’d been so patient and kind. She’d actually managed to win Juliette’s trust, from what Gabriel could tell, and for that alone he could have kissed her. If Uriel wouldn’t have killed him for it.

  But despite their efforts, something wasn’t sitting well with Juliette. He could see it in the wariness of her hazel eyes, which at the moment were a strange light green-gray-brown color that seemed to glow in the frame of her perfect face.

  He could tell she wanted to leave. He could even sense that she wanted to run. He felt like a wolf staring down a fawn; she was all caution and barely contained panic, frozen in some sort of cosmic headlight. Of course, allowing her to leave was out of the question. Samael was out there and he was bad enough. The Adarians were fast proving themselves to be far worse. She was a sitting duck, and there was no way in hell he was going to let her out of his sight.

  At the same time however, he knew he’d messed up on the train when he’d told her she would never be able to escape him. He knew he needed to make up for that. He wanted to calm her fears, let her know that she would be all right. It was painfully important to him that she not fear him—that she trust him. This was not some Saturday night fling. This wasn’t a comely wench on a rainy night in the dark of a tavern’s hallway. This was his archess and as difficult as her nearness was making things for him, he had to rein himself in and take it slowly.

  At the moment Juliette sat curled up on one of the living room’s two leather sofas, a chenille throw draped over her legs. Gabriel stood leaning beside the fireplace, his thick arms crossed casually over his broad chest. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Every now and then, it hit him that she was really there—that she was real and not a dream—and he simply couldn’t believe it.

  He had to touch her to be sure. So despite his silent oath to take things slow with Juliette, his manipulative side shoved its way to the fore and took over. Once, he pretended to head to the kitchen for more tea, and on the way he allowed the backs of his fingers to brush along her upper arm. She shivered at his touch, warm and supple beneath his fingertips, and a new and different kind of tension thrummed to life between them.

  A few times over the past few hours, he’d been more devious. At one point, he used telekinesis to will her blanket to the floor. It slipped from her body, revealing her bare legs beneath the lavender silk suit she still wore, and Gabriel was forced to exercise immense control over his all-too-male body.

  She bent to lift the blanket again, but he never gave her the chance. He moved forward and knelt before her, picking it up before she could do so. Then, as his eyes caught hers and held them, he proceeded to lay the throw over her once more. She pulled her gaze from him and stiffened as his hands tucked the soft material around her hips and over her legs. But he continued to watch her closely, noting the pinkening of her cheeks, the parting of her lips, and the way her pupils expanded beneath her lowered lids and long lashes. “There, now, lass. All tucked in.”

  She thanked him, although begrudgingly. No matter how she might pretend, he could tell he was getting to her. This was an oddly ambivalent position for Gabriel to be in. On the one hand, he had never had to try to win a woman’s trust or affections before. And God knew there had been plenty of women. On the other hand, however, whenever he looked at Juliette, he didn’t feel like himself. He felt like a fledgling man, new and uncertain and in utter fascination of the female before him. And he hated it.

  And he adored it.

  It was like being in love. Being in love . . . Gabriel rolled the idea around in his head as he watched his archess play with the stitching on the edge of the throw. Her profile was intensely feminine. Her long, thick hair fell in lustrous waves down her back to her tiny waist and her long, slim fingers fidgeted nervously—delicately. He’d never been in love before, of course. No archangel had ever experienced love until Eleanore came along and claimed Uriel’s heart.

  But there was a stirring of something wholly different inside of Gabriel. It was like a gentle hand in some ways—it forced the animal in him to heel. But it was also more vicious. Because while he had never had trouble letting a woman go before, he knew in his heart that if it came right down to it, Gabriel would die rather than let go of Juliette.

  She’s mine. Gabriel’s eyes widened. Och, Christ, he thought suddenly, as he ran a hand through his thick black hair. It was a thunderstorm of a realization—loud and blustery inside of his head. It shook the rafters of his spirit, drenched his soul, and left him quivering in its aftermath.

  I love her.

  “Samuel Lambent,” Juliette suddenly said. She hadn’t spoken for a while, but someone had obviously just asked her a question. And the name she’d replied with cut through the fog of Gabriel’s inner musings like a shark fin through water.

  “What?” he asked, unable to stop himself.

  Uriel looked up at him, green eyes narrowed questioningly. Everyone was watching him now. They’d been talking among one another, but he’d gotten so wrapped up in his own dawning realizations, he’d lost track of what they were saying.

  That feeling of something being wrong washed over Gabriel again. He wanted to know why Juliette had just said, “Samuel Lambent.”

  “I said, Samuel Lambent is the one funding my research,” Juliette told them, as if she could read his mind.

  Uriel spoke before Gabe could. “Lambent is paying you to conduct your PhD thesis research? Is that why you were meeting with him in Glasgow?”

  Juliette looked nervous. She ducked her head in something akin to righteous embarrassment and nodded. “Well, yes,” she said. “And no. He’s creating a miniseries on the legends and cultures of ancient Caledonia and I’m supposed to supply him with the information he needs to make sure it’s accurate.” At that, she looked up at Gabriel and something secret flickered in the depths of her hazel eyes. For just a moment they turned more green. And then they darkened once more. “However, the fact that you ripped up his elevator is probably going to put a thorn in his side. I doubt he’ll continue to fund me now.”

  Gabriel’s teeth pressed against each other, his jaw tightening as she went on.

  “Somehow, he found out that I was doing the same kind of thing for my dissertation that he would need for his show, and he contacted my adviser. I guess he wanted to save himself the hassle of hiring someone else to do it.”

  She was growing angrier as she spoke, and Gabriel was bewildered by the outrageousness of it all. Samael had fooled her completely. She’d fallen for his lie hook, line, and sinker. She thought she had a right to be angry with them for saving her from the Fallen One? She had no idea. The man was without scruples, and Juliette was far too innocent. And yet she was on the defensive with Gabriel and his brothers and trusted Samael completely.

  Well, you did threaten her, he reminded himself. I doubt Sam threatened her. And then Az, the bogging red-eyed vampire, ripped her out of an elevator and whisked her through a fecking portal. Can you bloody well blame the lass for not trusting you?

  But he’d also saved her as well. He’d taken on the Adarian in her room for her. Did that not win him any trust points with her at all?

  She glanced up at him, once more as if able to read his thoughts. This time, he caught her gaze and held it, unwilling to let go just yet. But she didn’t back down. “He’ll most likely go with someone else to do the research now anyway, I suspect,” she said. “Contract or no contract.”

  Gabriel felt his rage spike and knew it had been visible in the quicksilver of his
eyes when Juliette leaned back a little, her expression suddenly a tad more wary than it had been a second before. “You signed a bloody contract with Samuel Lambent?” he asked.

  She hesitantly nodded. “Of course,” she said, obviously unsure as to whether she should be admitting as much. But then, true to her Scottish heritage, she seemed to steel herself against him. “That’s how these things are done,” she told him, her eyes hard.

  “Aye, lass, it is,” he said. “An’ no one knows it as well as Samuel Lambent.” He almost spit the name; he was so disgusted. “Wha’ was in that contract?”

  “None of your business,” she retorted hotly. She was a true thistle, both beautiful and painful to hold.

  Gabriel’s ire was now sharply rising, but he wasn’t angry with Juliette. Not really. It was Samael and his infernal mechanics that were boiling Gabriel’s blood. “You have no idea wha’ that man is capable of, Juliette,” he told her. “He’s no’ wha’ you think he is.”

  Juliette came to her feet as thunder rumbled overhead. “And what about you, Gabriel Black? Are you what I think you are?”

  Gabriel cocked his head and narrowed his gaze. “Well, now, that depends, lass,” he said, his teeth gritted tight. “Wha’ exactly do you think I am?”

  Juliette’s icy glare matched his. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Wha’ horse shite has Lambent been puttin’ in your head, Juliette?” he asked, moving forward to close the distance between them. To her credit, the archess stayed right where she was, glaring up at him despite the fact that he had a good foot of height on her. The teacups on the coffee table began rattling against their saucers. He heard it, but ignored it.

  “Uh, Gabriel—” Eleanore tried to say something, but Juliette cut her off.

  “Lambent has been nothing but kind to me. You, on the other hand, have assaulted me, kidnapped me, and threatened me,” she told him, her tone as icy as his own. Gabriel could see green sparks shooting off in the depths of her eyes. “Lambent could tell me you’re a saint and I wouldn’t believe him,” she said. “And you want me to believe you’re an angel?” She shook her head.

  Max was suddenly between them, filling a space that Gabriel hadn’t thought a single breath could fit into. The guardian’s hand was on Gabriel’s chest, shoving persistently back, putting more room between Gabriel and his archess.

  Gabriel tore his gaze from Juliette’s to look at Max. The expression on his guardian’s face was one of warning, stark and angry. Gabriel wasn’t sure Max had ever looked at him that way before. He forced himself to take a step back and try to calm down.

  Max turned to Juliette. He took a deep breath and, though Gabriel couldn’t see his face, he imagined Max was giving Juliette a much more understanding look than he had given Gabriel.

  “Admittedly, Gabriel has behaved rashly,” Max said in a gentle, placating tone. “I won’t deny that a bit. But you haven’t given us much of a chance to prove ourselves to you. We’ve told you no lies. Samuel Lambent, on the other hand, is nothing but lies.”

  Now Juliette’s narrowed gaze was on Max. “How so?” she asked, her tone still chilled.

  “Well, Gabriel’s right,” Max said. “He’s not who he pretends to be; that’s for certain.”

  “Who exactly is he, then?” she asked.

  “His real name isn’t Samuel Lambent,” Max said. “It’s Sama—”

  There was an intense flash, white and hot and sudden, and everyone in the room shielded their eyes. Gabriel felt a tug and pull in the air, a sort of sucking from all around him, and it was impossible for him to breathe for just a moment. And then the flash faded, the air was clear, and he was lowering his arm from his face.

  And Juliette was gone.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Juliette cried out as her body jerked into open space and her surroundings blurred around her as if she were jumping into hyperdrive. And then she was hovering, absolutely nowhere, surrounded by streamers of rainbow light and darkness, and for a half second she couldn’t breathe.

  Then time kicked in once more, grinding to life around her and pulling the stars and planets back into shape. She took another breath, if only to scream, but there was a pop and a flash—and she was floating two inches above the overstuffed couch in her rented Luskentyre cottage. Juliette gazed down at it with wide eyes as she was gently lowered onto the cushions and released.

  She was still in a sitting position. She sat there for a moment, stunned and a little breathless, and gazed around her at the cottage’s interior. It was still and dark in the early morning. Nothing moved and the air was cold.

  “What the hell—” Her voice shook. A tremble had started in, deep and horrible. What just happened? She felt frozen and exposed and alone and the world was yawning around her, its maw gaping and threatening. She desperately wanted something to hold and missed her Nessie elephant more than ever.

  Juliette lay down on the couch and curled her legs up to her chest.

  And then the peat-burning stove against the opposite wall burst into fiery life. Juliette bolted upright, her heart in her throat. But she was all out of screams. She stared at the perfect fire and the warmth that was already emanating from it and the glow it gave off that was chasing away the shadows. For several long seconds, she expected something else to happen and her senses were on high alert.

  But all else was still. That was when she noticed a small gray box, wrapped with a charcoal-colored silk bow, sitting on the floor beside the stove. It had been revealed by the fire’s light; she hadn’t noticed it before.

  Juliette pushed herself off the couch onto jellylike legs. She hobbled toward the stove and fell to her knees beside the box. With shaking fingers, she pulled the bow free and slid the top off. Inside was a gray piece of folded parchment—and her lost plush elephant.

  “Nessie,” she whispered as she ignored the note and pulled the stuffed animal out of its resting place. She had no idea where it had gone to or where it had come from, but it felt real and soft and squishy when she pulled it against her chest and squeezed. A few seconds later, she took a deep, shaky breath and put Nessie in her lap. She turned her attention to the note.

  With fingers that no longer trembled, she unfolded the paper and read the beautiful, scrolling script.

  Juliette—

  I have never been one for shadows either. I hope that this will help chase them away.

  Until we meet again,

  Sam

  “S-Sam?” she whispered. How was this possible? How had he managed to find Nessie, let alone get him to her cottage? Especially when she wasn’t there herself?

  But Juliette knew the answer. The fact that the fire had burst to life on its own was evidence enough. Her mind was simply rebelling at the proof—the confirmation that Samuel Lambent was so much more than he seemed to be. The verification that Gabriel and his “brothers” had been right.

  Juliette pushed every coherent thought in her mind into the shadowy recesses of her brain and hugged her elephant to her chest.

  Two hours later, she turned off the water in the shower, wrapped herself in thick, warm towels, and headed to her room. She’d had some time to think, and though she still felt rather numb and shocked about everything that was happening in her life, she had been able to put it more or less in perspective.

  “Okay,” she said out loud, just to put force behind her thoughts. She picked up Nessie from the bed and fingered his button eye. “It doesn’t make sense, strictly speaking and as far as human knowledge is concerned.” She turned and looked out the window at the Luskentyre shoreline. It was early morning and the sea beyond the pristine strip of beach beside the cottage was still indigo with waning night. “But what do humans know?” She thought of the endless multiverse beyond her planet and all its dark matter secrets and shook her head. “We know nothing,” she muttered, looking down at Nessie once again.

  So all of this might really be true, she thought. I have these superpowers and I don’t know why, unless I
believe Gabriel Black and Eleanore Granger and Uriel, the Christopher Daniels look-alike who actually turned out to be Christopher Daniels.

  If what they said was true, then she was an archess, a female angel created as a mate for an archangel. And not just any archangel, but one of the four favorite archangels.

  Specifically, Gabriel.

  Juliette moved into the living room and sat back down on the couch, still wrapped in her towels. The fire in the peat stove still burned bright and warm and she hadn’t had to replace any of the fuel. It was obviously there by some supernatural means, and at this point, she was no longer terribly shocked by the idea.

  By the fact that it should have been impossible for him to procure and leave the stuffed animal in her cottage, Juliette was guessing one of two things. Either Sam had been the one to hijack her luggage in the first place, which seemed extreme and unnecessary—or Sam wasn’t human, after all. In the latter case, Gabriel and his companions had been right—Samuel Lambent was more than he seemed to be. And by the proximity of his gift to the ever-burning flames in the stove, she was also guessing Sam’s possible superhuman nature had something to do with the fire. Chasing away shadows . . .

  Juliette sat back in the sofa and looked down at the stuffed elephant he had returned to her. It was as if he’d known exactly when she would need him the most. He had good timing. Just like Gabriel and his timely interruption when she’d been attacked by the Adarian.

  Juliette thought of Gabriel Black. It wasn’t hard. His tall, broad form and silver eyes and killer kisses rushed in from the gates, flooding her thoughts, the moment she considered allowing them in. She tried to think past it all, to the man who was behind the kisses and the liquid metal eyes. He’d cornered her in the tavern’s bar, but in all honesty, that hadn’t been a bad experience. Quite the opposite. And she had punched him for it. And then he’d saved her from the man who attacked her in her room. And, again, if what he and his companions said was true, then the man who attacked her had been an Adarian—definitely not Gabriel’s partner in crime.