by C. L. Coffey
“Maybe it’s me that needs the hug,” I countered.
We stood there for a while – long enough that most hugs would have turned awkward but I could tell Cupid needed it. “I miss her, you know?” he admitted, finally.
“I know,” I said.
“I just want to know she’s okay,” he added.
I pulled back slightly to look up into his sad brown eyes. “Can you not just ask Michael where she is?”
Cupid shook his head. “I already have. He doesn’t know.”
I finally stepped back out of the embrace, frowning. “I thought he had a connection with all the angels in the House?”
“Only if they’re part of the House,” Cupid explained. “And the cherubim are no longer part of any house.”
“Surely there’s someone in Heaven who has a trace on them?” I suggested. “I mean, it’s not like they fell, is it?”
“No,” Cupid agreed, his expression grim. “But this is only half a step away from that. They’re lucky Michael didn’t consider it a rebellion. They have you to thank for that.”
“Me?” I repeated, dumbly.
Cupid nodded. “You stormed into Michael’s office and you got him to listen. You made him realize that he was as much to blame for their leaving as they were.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. My memory of that conversation was a little hazy: I’d seen red and shouted at the most famous archangel. I also wasn’t in any particular hurry to remember that conversation either. I’m fairly certain I resorted to some form of name calling. He probably should have kicked me out.
* * *
After the angels had left the dining room, and I had cleared up after them, I turned my attention back to the dinner I had planned. Chili without onions didn’t seem right. Strangely, it was a missing ingredient which made something in me snap.
Enough was enough. I was getting out of this convent. Alright, so maybe I had revealed the presence of angels to the world – something which had been successfully hidden for millions of years. Or had it? If I remembered correctly (I had finally taken it upon myself to start reading the Bible) there were several angels (including Michael!) who had made an appearance to man, so I wasn’t the first.
I was just the first to do it in a world of social media.
Whatever. I hurried up to my room to grab a cap I knew I had buried in the bottom of the closet. I pulled my hair into a high ponytail so that I could feed it through the cap loop and examined myself in the bathroom mirror. It covered my head well, making the tail less noticeable, and with the denim skirt and white tank top I was wearing, I could probably pass unnoticed. I stuck a credit card in my pocket (it turned out that the House had a bank account – they needed to pay for the groceries somehow) and was about to head for the door when I grabbed a purse at the last minute.
Downstairs I made a quick detour to the unlocked armory and ducked in to collect my sword. My heart sank. It did every time I saw the black metal – it always reminded me of how I had turned it black. I fought back a sudden burst of pain as I thrust it in my purse and then exited the convent.
Michael’s House is the Old Ursuline Convent on Chartres Street. Although the convent is no longer open to the public, St Mary’s Church, which technically lies on the convent’s ground, is still used for services in the local Catholic community. Thankfully, the main entrance to the church doesn’t involve going through convent grounds. The convent also has a brick wall that has to be at least ten feet tall going around it.
Unfortunately, I could hear a gathering on the other side. Although my ‘publicity stunt’ had been written off as a hoax by most there were still a few individuals who believed. According to Paddy there were a few people lingering around all the churches in the French Quarter – just in case they came across an angel.
The angels still used the main gate, but aside from their good looks, there was nothing to hint they were something other than human. Even though I was wearing a cap, I still had bright red hair that might act like a neon sign to this group of believers.
I made for the side gate Veronica had shown me. It was half hidden in the undergrowth and I don’t think many people knew it was there. From the street, it was around the corner from the main entrance and as it looked badly maintained, I don’t think anyone associated it with the convent. Even so, I pulled it open cautiously, sticking my head out to make sure there was no one around. Only when I was certain it was clear, I stepped out quickly pulling it closed behind me.
I had taken only a few steps when a van rumbled past me – okay, I was maybe a little paranoid, but I didn’t want to risk anyone linking me back to the convent. I was wincing at the image of Michael yelling at me for that; caught up in my imagination, I didn’t notice anyone behind me until a sack was yanked over my head and arms clamped around me.
I tried to jerk myself free, hoping the sudden movement was unexpected, the grip didn’t loosen. In fact, it tightened so much, I could barely draw a breath, much less wriggle free. There was only one kind of being that would attempt this and have the strength to keep me subdued: the Fallen. Before I could scream, I was dragged into something – judging from the growl of the engine and the metal floor, quite possibly the van which had just passed.
Cupid was right. I did need to work on my observational skills, and if I survived this, I was going to make damn sure those lessons happened.
If I survived this.
CHAPTER TWO
Keep Your Friends Close
The bag was hessian and, thanks to it brushing over my mouth, tasted of sugar and dust: it wasn’t a fresh bag. The cap had been knocked down over my eyes so I could only see snippets of light shining through under my nose. I couldn’t see anything useful. Apart from what were likely to be red lights, the van didn’t stop for nearly twenty minutes. I tried to keep count of the turns to work out where I was going, but at one point I was certain we had just circled a block so I gave up and instead tried to focus on the arms around me.
They were like a clamp which had been welded shut. It wasn’t painful – only uncomfortable – and they only tightened when I struggled, and trust me, I struggled. So far it seemed like they weren’t out to hurt me. They also weren’t the chattiest of companions. They ignored every one of my demands to be released and they didn’t respond to any of my questions. Aside from the driver and the person holding onto me, there was at least one other person in the van with us. No one said a word, but when I tried to head-butt the person holding me, a second set of hands appeared, pushing my head down.
We eventually came to stop, but instead of the doors opening and being manhandled out of the van, one minute we were sat on the uncomfortable metal floor, the next, we were standing on something which felt soft under my feet, like carpet.
I’ve been transported from one side of the city to the other, in the blink of an eye, by Michael on several occasions. It used to affect me so badly, I would throw up. When I earned my wings, the nausea disappeared, but I was still aware of what was happening: I felt like what I assumed a balloon felt like when it was popped.
The arms loosened fractionally and I took advantage of that. I slammed my heel down on my captor’s foot, wishing that I had chosen to wear something with a heel rather than flip flops. As soon as there was a cry of pain, I whipped my head back connecting with something behind me. I heard a crunch.
I was thrown forward, away from the person who had been restraining me, but using my head as a weapon left me dizzy. I stumbled forward a couple of steps and yanked the sack off my head, pulling the cap with it. With blinking eyes, my hands trying to push my disheveled hair from my face, I desperately tried to work out where I was.
“Jeez, Angel!” a familiar voice cried. “Will you calm down?”
My gaze settled on Veronica, her hands on her hips. Her gray eyes glaring at me as though I was wrong for reacting the way I had. “Veronica!” I yelled. “What the hell are you doing?”
“We needed to get you here,” she shrugg
ed.
My mouth fell open. “And that required being bundled into the back of a van?”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” Garret asked, appearing behind me. He was nursing his nose and while I couldn’t see any blood coming from under his hands, I took a sliver of satisfaction at that.
Garret, like Veronica – and all the other cherubs – looked around sixteen… Sixteen, with black hair and too much eyeliner. Unlike their stereotypes, they were pretty terrifying when armed. Actually, they were pretty terrifying when they weren't armed. While I considered Veronica a friend, I barely knew the others, though I sincerely doubted that would have prevented the glare I was receiving from Garret.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. “I'm glad you're all safe. We've been wondering where you have been.”
“You're telling me Michael has noticed we're gone?” Garret asked, his eyes clouded with disbelief.
I slowly shook my head, not wanting to lie. “It's probably more that he's had the same meal three times last week.”
“I told you Angel would be the one keeping things running!” Veronica suddenly declared, making me jump. She turned to Garret and held her hand out.
Garret pulled something out of his pocket and handed it over, all the while looking like he was sucking on the bitterest of lemons. “I bet the place is barely holding it together,” he grumbled.
That was a pretty accurate assumption but I was still pissed at him, so I kept my lips sealed. “Why am I here?” I asked. “And why did it involve kidnapping?”
“Oh stop being melodramatic,” Veronica said, dismissing the statement with a wave of her hand. “I'm sorry you had to be blindfolded.” I was fairly confident she hadn't been one of my kidnappers. “We wanted to show you around the new place,” she informed me with a dramatic flourish of her other arm.
I looked around: the new place was a dump. We were standing in the center of an enormous room, but, judging from the various piles of rubble and what looked like a dozen or so different types of flooring, this was several rooms knocked into the one. I glanced back at Veronica. She looked proud.
“I like what you’re doing with the place,” I offered weakly, trying to find something in there that I could compliment and sound genuine. With the mismatched furniture which looked like it had been left in here when the building had been abandoned, I was struggling.
And then I happened to glance out the window. “Holy crap,” I muttered, taking several paces closer. From here, I could clearly see a familiar curve of a river, a large barge passing by a riverboat. I turned, looking out in another direction, spotting the twin cantilever bridges that made up the Crescent City Connection. We were still in New Orleans.
There weren’t many buildings that would afford this view, but I wasn’t given enough time to be able to try and work out where I was to know which one I was in. A pair of hands landed on my shoulder and jerked me around. “Hey!” I objected, glaring at Garret. “If you didn’t want me to know where you are, maybe you shouldn’t have let me look out of the window, you moron.”
“We didn’t bring you here to fight,” Veronica cried, stepping in front of Garret.
I took a deep breath, bringing my focus to her. “Then why did you bring me here?” I asked through gritted teeth, unable to rid the frustration from me completely.
Veronica looked at the various other cherubim in the room. “Disappear,” she instructed them. One by one, they all did as she requested, until it was just her and Garret left.
Of course, the one I thought was a douchebag would stay.
Veronica gave me a bright smile, leading me over to a section of the room that had an enormous dinner table. There were several mismatching chairs around it, and she pulled one of the more comfortable looking ones out. Dubiously, I perched on the end of it. “So why did you kidnap me?” I demanded.
“We didn’t kidnap you,” she said, sinking into a chair next to me.
“Veronica,” I started, trying to remain patient. “Thrusting a bag over someone’s head and bundling them into the back of a van without their consent is kidnapping.”
She stared at me, blinking and then glared at Garret who was standing at the other side of the table glowering at us. “We agreed we would bring her willingly,” she snapped at him. Garret stared blankly back at her. It was Veronica’s turn to take a deep breath. She turned back to me, giving me an apologetic smile. “We’ve been waiting ages for you to leave the convent. We had someone watching and they were supposed to ask you to come with them.”
“I might have been a little more willing if I hadn’t had the bag over my head,” I told her. “Was it even clean?”
My cap landed on the table in front of me and I looked over at Garret as he continued to scowl at me. Nope: he wasn’t getting a thank you for returning it. “You were still going to have the bag over your head.”
“Well I would have at least taken the cap off first,” I snapped at him, pulling the ponytail holder out of my hair so I could reset my ponytail. I turned back to Veronica. “Tip number two: don’t send that jackass next time.”
She disappeared and reappeared before I could get the cap back on my head, placing a box of pralines in front of me.
“This doesn’t make up for kidnapping me,” I informed her as I grabbed one.
“We didn’t…” she trailed off when I paused in eating to glare at her. “We don’t want Michael to know where we are. We don’t want anyone to know where we are.” When Garret cleared his throat and gave her a pointed stare, she sighed. “We need you to take an oath.”
“Of course you do,” I sighed, pushing the box of pralines away. “Well, you can forget it.”
“I told you she wouldn’t agree,” Garret sniped.
I ignored him. “Veronica, if you don’t want to tell me anything without me swearing an oath, that’s fine,” I shrugged. “Don’t tell me. I am not doing it.”
“We can’t have Michael knowing where we are and what we’re doing,” she told me, her voice taking on a pleading tone.
“Newsflash: you left his House. Michael doesn’t give a damn what you’re doing now,” I pointed out, feeling slightly bad when she winced. “But he does care what I do, and right now, I still want to be part of his House. More importantly, I’m certainly not about to do anything that could put Joshua’s life in danger.”
“You don’t think he’s not in danger already?” Garret suddenly burst out. “That archangel refuses to acknowledge that Lucifer is alive.”
“Why is it so goddamn important that Michael doesn’t know I’m here?” I demanded, leaping to my feet.
“Because you can say that!” Veronica exclaimed.
“Veronica!” Garret bellowed angrily, slamming his hand on the table. The bang echoed around the cavernous room.
With inhuman speed, Veronica reached out, wrapping her hand around my wrist. Before I could blink, we were in another room, alone. “What is going on?” I demanded.
Veronica released me, exhaling deeply as she took a step back. “I can’t tell you everything, Angel,” she said quietly. “I can’t betray the cherubim. Not now.”
I folded my arms under my chest and watched her. “I am not about to take another oath to not tell Michael things,” I told her. “I refuse to be in that position again.”
She considered me for a moment. “Then I can’t tell you everything.”
“Fine,” I shrugged.
She took another deep breath and began pacing back and forth. A few minutes passed before she said anything again. “We haven’t changed our minds,” she finally admitted. “We think Lucifer is out there. We’ve always thought that. You said you had released him, and you said that Beelzebub confirmed it.”
I nodded. I believed it too, even if Michael didn’t.
“We’re going to find him and we’re going to do what Michael couldn’t,” she told me, pausing to gauge my reaction.
I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible. “It took all these year
s before you found Asmodeus and Beelzebub,” I said, carefully. “And both have been in New Orleans the whole time. Hell, it was me who found them. What makes you think you can find Lucifer? We don’t even know what his vessel looks like.”
“That’s why we need your help,” she said.
I blew out a breath and let my hands fall to my sides. “Right now, my priority is Joshua,” I told her. “I need to focus on getting him out of Asmodeus’ crosshairs.”
“You’re going to let Lucifer go?” Veronica asked, her mouth falling open. “You’re the reason he’s walking free!”
Heat flashed through my cheeks. “I didn’t set him free intentionally,” I responded. “I have every intention of sending him back to wherever the hell he’s been for the last however-many years it has been, but we don’t actually know that he is free,” I told her. “For all we know, Beelzebub is trying to get us to focus our attention on chasing ghosts instead of what he’s doing. He’s another one of the Fallen that’s here in the city and has been for some time,” I pointed out. It was Veronica’s turn for the discomfort. “Look, I’m not going to ignore Lucifer if he strolls past me in the street, but I have to sort my priorities out: my main focus has to be Joshua.”
Veronica stared at me for a very long time. I stared back. This was one argument she was not going to win: Joshua came first. Finally, she seemed to realize that I wasn’t going to budge on this one. “I’ll have Garret drop you off.”
“Or you could let me walk out of here?” I suggested.
“Not going to happen,” Garret announced, appearing beside Veronica as though he knew he was being spoken about. “Until you take an oath, this place remains a secret.”
“Whatever,” I shrugged. The more time I spent with Garret, the less I liked him, and the less I was inclined to care what he thought. He took a couple of steps towards me, holding out the bag which had been used to cover my head previously. “Do you really need that?”