Samael was frowning thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should ask Tzadkiel if he has any knowledge of this young man.”
Gabriel shrugged as he took a long drag of his cigarette. “I were just goin’ to go over there and kick the shit out of him, personally.”
“I’ll hold him down,” John said fiercely.
“I fear that Michael would not approve of such action,” Samael cautioned.
Gabriel opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. Slouching deep into his seat, he shook his head. “Aye, probably not. Still, maybe Tzad’s got a better idea of how to teach this little shit a lesson.”
“He’s been in trouble with the cops before,” John supplied. “I overhead a few of them talking when I was picking up feed for the horses. Some breaking and entering and a couple of fights. The cops were mostly concerned about him and his mates picking on gay teens in the mall and the Chinese family who run the take-away place.”
“So he is a racist homophobe as well?” Samael’s frown deepened. “I will speak to Tzadkiel now. What is this human’s name, John?”
John told him, and Samael nodded, standing. “I shall speak with you tomorrow, Gabriel, about this and the matter of moving house. Now, I will go to Tzadkiel.”
“Okay. Thanks, Sammy.” Gabriel stood up and hugged Samael, a brief, fond embrace.
“Thanks, Uncle Sammy,” John said, hugging him as soon as Gabriel stepped back.
“It is no trouble.” Samael inclined his head in farewell and vanished with a rustle of feathers.
Gabriel sat back down and shook his head.
“You okay, Pops?”
He looked at his son and smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine, lad. Go to bed. I reckon you and Mira will be up early to start packing.”
John grinned. “You got a point. Seriously, though, thanks for this. She hasn’t been happy for ages.”
“I wish one of you had said something to me,” Gabriel said sadly.
“You know how she is.” John shrugged. “She inherited your stubborn pride.”
“And you inherited my smart mouth.” Gabriel laughed fondly. “Go on with you, boy. Go to bed.”
“Sir, yes sir,” John said, grinning, saluting smartly.
“Brat,” Gabriel called after him as John left the living room. He settled back into the chair, pulling a glass and a bottle of scotch to himself, pouring a measure and sipping slowly. As he lit another cigarette, Gabriel reached out with his power, seeking houses for sale along the Oregonian coastline. And if any of those houses were an easy distance away from Michael’s mansion-cum-apartment block, well, Gabriel chose not to dwell on that.
He finally decided on a house on the outskirts of the small, seaside town of Deep Bay. The house was large enough for his family’s needs and included several acres surrounded by a high, sturdy wall that would suit John’s horses admirably. More than that, however, it was by the beach, the front door of the property opening almost onto the shore itself. Gabriel closed his eyes as he concentrated, looking carefully through the house with his power, reaching out to check the structure’s integrity. By the time he was finished, he’d made his decision.
Picking up his cell phone, Gabriel called the after-hours number of the real estate agent and arranged to be shown through the house properly the following morning. The agent sounded excited to hear from him, and a few carefully worded questions told Gabriel all he needed to know. The house had been empty for some time, its previous owners having moved to the other side of the country for work, and there had been little interest in what was, as the agent stated, essentially a vacation home in a quiet beachside community.
It was also only a short distance from the Oregon city of Salem, where Michael lived. Gabriel took another sip of his scotch and rolled his eyes at himself. “If I were anyone else, I’d laugh at me,” he muttered. His infatuation with Michael was growing, and Gabriel admitted that to himself with a wry chuckle. “No fool like an old fool, me,” he said to himself as he drained the scotch.
Chapter Four
THE real estate agent was a small man with a nervous tic in his left eye, and Gabriel smiled warmly, shaking the man’s hand firmly, hoping to put him at ease.
“As you can see,” the agent said, after he had shown Gabriel through the house, “this is a very nice home for a family. Are you married, Mr.—”
“Just Gabriel’s fine.” Gabriel looked around the large room that was designated the living room, with its open fireplace and bay windows overlooking the sea. The water called to him, there was no denying it. Gabriel loved the ocean, and this house was becoming more and more appealing by the moment. “And no, I’m not married. Sole parent, me.”
“Ah, I see. Forgive me for prying.” The agent rubbed his hands together in a nervous gesture, as if he were washing them. “I have to ask, as this is a quiet town and such… will there be any loud parties or things like that?”
“Hardly.” Gabriel shook his head. “I work a lot, and I’m often away overnight. My two kids are adults themselves. My son manages his horses and keeps to himself, and my daughter’s been ill, so the sea air will help a lot with her recovery and relaxing. It’s the quiet life we want.”
The expression of relief that crossed the man’s face was almost comical. “Oh good,” he gushed. “I’m very pleased to hear that. I’m sorry about your daughter, though,” he added hastily.
“Thank you.” Gabriel inclined his head politely, trying not to laugh at the man’s attitude. “So, shall we discuss the price?”
“Oh! Oh yes, of course, absolutely.”
An hour later, bargain quickly and easily struck (thanks to Gabriel’s tendency to use his power for such things and, as he put it, cheat), paperwork in hand, Gabriel left the house to walk around the small community of Deep Bay. It was idyllic, boasting the world’s smallest marina, and the scent of the salt tang of the ocean was heavy on the wind. The wind itself tugged at his hair and ruffled his wings, which, invisible to human eyes as they were, were still in no way unaffected by the elements. Gabriel breathed deeply as he walked around the town, smiling and nodding, returning greetings and stopping to talk to the townsfolk. Two hours later, returning to the house with the “Sold” sign on the front lawn, Gabriel nodded to himself in satisfaction. The place was perfect.
It was also under a hundred miles from Michael’s home. Far less distance to travel, Gabriel thought, as he disappeared from Deep Bay. He emerged again in the world out the front of Michael’s apartment and knocked on the door.
“Just a moment,” Michael called, and Gabriel waited patiently for him to answer.
“Gabriel, hello.” Michael smiled as he opened the door. “Come in.”
“Thanks.” Gabriel entered the apartment and sat down uninvited on the sofa. “So, I were thinking about what you were saying about training your people,” he said without any preamble.
“Oh?”
“Aye. I were thinking I could get started with that this afternoon, if you want.”
Michael blinked in surprise. “That sounds good. Are you sure this will not trouble you or interfere with your other duties?”
“Positive.” Gabriel raised his arms, locking his hands together behind his head. He was aware that by doing so, he caused his shirt to ride up a little, exposing a sliver of skin, and he watched Michael closely, curiously.
“As you say.” Michael licked his lips, two spots of color rising high in his cheeks. He turned away for a moment, and Gabriel smirked to himself, pasting an innocent expression on his face as soon as Michael turned back to him.
“So, I thought I should also tell you, I bought a new place to live.”
“Oh?” Michael sat down on the foot of his bed, steadfastly averting his gaze from Gabriel’s body.
“There were… a problem.” Gabriel lowered his arms and leaned forward. Now that he knew that Michael was attracted to him—if he hadn’t read Michael’s body language incorrectly—he moved on to serious matters. “Mira were… there was an incident
, let’s call it. I figured movin’ would be a good idea. Change of scenery for the kids, get away from the badness, that sort of thing. I just bought a house in Deep Bay.”
“Deep Bay?” Michael looked at Gabriel with a raised eyebrow, the blush on his cheeks darkening a little as he gazed into Gabriel’s eyes. “That is not that far away from here.”
“Aye. It’s a lovely seaside town.” Gabriel smiled faintly. “The real estate agent were well eager to sell. So, we’ll be shifting down there at the end of the week, and you can give us a hand.”
“I… what? I beg your pardon?”
“Moving,” Gabriel explained patiently. “I’m getting all of our Brotherhood to pitch in. The kids want to meet you and a bit of lifting and shifting furniture and boxes won’t kill you all.”
“I suppose not.” Michael’s brow was furrowed, his expression bemused. “You will need to give me your address, Gabriel. Of the dwelling you are moving out of,” he clarified.
“I’ll give you the details later.” Gabriel stood up, stretching.
“Forgive me, your daughter, she is all right?”
“Aye, she’s fine now. Better for knowing we’re moving.” Gabriel shook his head. “The situation’s been taken care of.”
“I am glad to hear that.” Michael stood as well, looking at the floor and avoiding Gabriel’s eyes as much as possible.
“So, now, if you get your people together in the back garden,”—Gabriel moved toward the door—“I’ll introduce myself and start training ’em.”
“Of course,” Michael said, glancing quickly at Gabriel then looking away again.
Gabriel thought about Michael’s reactions to him as he headed outside, walking toward the backyard and using his power to change from the white shirt and blue trousers he wore into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. To someone not trained in observing humanity, someone who had not lived forever and was not familiar with the personality of the Archangel, Michael’s reactions would have seemed insignificant. Gabriel was well aware of Michael’s shyness, aware that Michael found it difficult to interact with his own kind, let alone humans. Gabriel didn’t hold that against him. If anything, he found Michael’s shyness, his reserved nature and retiring personality, endearing.
Rounding the corner of the building, Gabriel tugged off his T-shirt and dropped it carelessly by the back door. Moving over to the large, green lawn, he stretched, slowly warming up. When he felt that he had stretched his muscles sufficiently, Gabriel moved from simple warm-up stretches to doing katas, practicing the elegant, complicated movements of unarmed combat so popular in Asia.
Although Gabriel fought predominantly with a broadsword, preferring the armed combat of the Middle Ages, doing katas relaxed him and served as an excellent starting point for training new combatants. He had trained many individuals over the forever of his life, from angels to humans, and though his methods were often considered unorthodox by Uriel or Tzadkiel for not sticking to one military tradition, Gabriel felt that an educated soldier, skilled in various forms of combat, was a more adaptable soldier.
Gabriel heard the muffled sound of voices coming from inside the house, and when the back door opened, he turned, watching as four young men and women walked out of the house, followed by Michael. He felt a surge of elation as Michael froze on the threshold of the house and stared at him, taking in Gabriel’s body, his gaze traveling over Gabriel’s well-muscled chest and stomach and lower. Immediately, Michael’s cheeks turned crimson, and he turned away, his body language tense.
“Hello there,” Gabriel said to the four young people, watching Michael out the corner of his eye. “I’m Gabriel.”
“Nice to meet you.” One of the young women stepped forward. “I’m Sarah. Carla told us about you last night. This is Lily,” she indicated the other young woman, “and Ben and Pete.”
“Hey.” Gabriel nodded. “So, before we get started, why don’t you kids tell me what you already know, what your combat training is, and I’ll figure out where to go from there, what to teach you, and how to train you.”
As they talked, each of the young people telling Gabriel what they’d learned, what their military experience was, he continued to watch Michael out the corner of his eye. Michael had slowly turned around to watch, although his expression was guarded and his arms were folded tightly over his chest. His entire posture was one of defensiveness, and Gabriel wondered if Michael himself was aware of it. To Gabriel, it was as if Michael had shouted his interest in Gabriel from the rooftops.
Once the four young people had finished telling him what they knew, Gabriel set them up to do basic katas, warming and stretching muscles, watching them critically and giving praise and advice, correcting stance and movement. He was absorbed in his task now, but he could feel Michael’s eyes on him, feel that heated gaze boring into his back. Unable to resist the urge to put a slight swing in his step when he walked, Gabriel played up on the knowledge that Michael was watching him like a hawk.
It was Sarah who suggested an end to the training session after nearly four hours. “Gabe, I’m beat. Can we maybe take a break?”
Gabriel blinked, looking up at the sun to gauge the time. “Shit, I lost track of how long we’d been at this. Aye, of course. Let’s call it a day, and I want you all to practice between now and tomorrow. I’ll see you all here again, same time, okay?”
They agreed and headed back to the house, talking among themselves. Gabriel moved to Michael, grinning smugly at him as Michael silently held out his T-shirt.
“Thanks.” Gabriel tugged it on, ignoring the sweat cooling on his skin.
“What did you think of them?” Michael’s voice was tight, and Gabriel quirked an eyebrow as he looked at Michael’s face.
“I think they’ll be good. By the time I’m done with ’em, they’ll be excellent. What’s up with you, then?”
“Nothing.” Michael took a deep breath. “I am merely tired, I believe. I have work to attend to, so I shall see you tomorrow, Gabriel.” He gave Gabriel a shallow bow, and before Gabriel could say anything, Michael had rushed inside the house.
Gabriel blinked, staring at the spot where Michael had been standing only a moment ago. “Well, all righty, then,” he said to himself, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, he considered following Michael inside and asking him what was going on, but he decided against it. Gabriel did not want to fight with Michael, and he had a feeling that if he pushed the other Archangel right then, there would be an argument. With a sigh, he moved from Michael’s backyard to his own house in Wisconsin.
SAMAEL smiled at Mira as she joined John in sprawling on the floor of the living room. While some of the Heavenly Host might sneer at the prospect of spending time with Gabriel’s adopted human children, and consider it little more than babysitting and a demeaning trial and waste of time at that, Samael was entirely the opposite. Humans were made by God; Archangels were commanded to guide and protect them. To Samael, it was as simple as that.
Gabriel’s two children were also two humans that Samael was deeply fond of. Mira, with her long, wavy blonde hair and green eyes, was a delight; her laughter was infectious, and she had always, even from when she had been a small child, questioned him closely about the meaning of the stories he had told her. He had helped Gabriel teach her, helped raise her, comforted her in the night when she had woken from nightmares while Gabriel had been away on a mission. He had bonded with her almost from the moment Gabriel had handed her to him as a tiny two-year-old toddler, her eyes wide and glassy with tears, her lower lip wobbling as she tried not to weep as he took her into his arms. She had been so small then, so delicate, he had been half-afraid he would break her. But Gabriel trusted him, and Gabriel’s trust and confidence in him were not things that Samael intended to lose. When Mira had smiled a small, shy, hopeful smile at him that day, she had reached out with her tiny hands and claimed his heart. Samael was as devoted to Gabriel’s daughter as he was to his son, as he was to the rest of his kind.
John, Gabriel’s younger child, had come to Gabriel in tragic circumstances, and Samael remembered the day that he, Gabriel, and Remiel had found the infant, squalling helplessly upon a crude altar in the jungles of South America. He had felt rage unlike anything he had experienced for thousands of years as he had beheld the zealot who strove to sacrifice the child to the Son of God. Gabriel had lopped the head off the man wielding a knife above the baby’s sternum without a word and scooped the child up in his arms, as Samael turned and laid waste to the cultists who had rushed to defend the man who would sacrifice an infant.
That day was one of the days that Samael, Archangel of Death, would never forget, and he had seen many such days. John, once he had settled into life with Gabriel and Mira, had grown into a quiet, shy, intense child. His intensity had given him a gravitas that made him appear much older than he really was. He had eschewed the companionship of humans his own age, preferring to spend his time with animals, and at school he had spent his free time in the library or helping his biology teachers. He was as introverted as Mira was extroverted and had dark blond hair and hazel eyes.
The two children also resembled Gabriel. Perhaps it was a mark of the Archangel who had raised them as his own that had somehow imprinted itself upon them, but there was a familial resemblance that sometimes made Samael do a double take. Gabriel had adopted children from all over the world over the many centuries of his life, and none of them had resembled him so closely physically as Mira and John.
Now, with Gabriel away training humans in specialized combat for Michael, Samael had taken it upon himself to spend the day with Gabriel’s children. The way they called him “Uncle” never failed to stir his Grace, the light of an angel’s soul, and he treasured every time they used the term with him. While he and Gabriel were not brothers, they were of the Archangel Brotherhood, and Mira and John’s love for him as their uncle was one of the most precious things in Samael’s life.
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