Angel Tormented (The Louisiangel Series Book 3)

by C. L. Coffey

  Brent shook his head. “We’ve already concluded that this was an elaborate photo manipulation. We’ve yet to identify who the other girl is… If anything, this shows how good Angelina’s computer skills are: I bet that girl, that angel, is just a manipulation too.”

  Savannah leaned over and took the iPad from me. Numbly, I let her.

  A while ago I had thought about deleting my Facebook profile – and all my other social media accounts – but only because I was worried that I would one day log on and accidentally alert a friend that I was alive and well. Then everything at Halloween had happened and I never had the chance. The actual contents of my profile had never crossed my mind. If they had, I definitely would have found the time to delete it. Talk about considering your future employees when you post things!

  “You cannot judge her past actions from before she had even earned her wings, on her future potential to become an archangel,” Michael spoke up for me. “I agree, these stories do not highlight Angel in a positive and inspiring manner, but that is not the angel I see before me. This age has people seeking and finding their five minutes of fame – this will soon blow over and she will be forgotten about.”

  I wasn’t expecting Michael to jump to my defence so quickly but my anger was making it easy for me to keep the surprise from my face. “I don’t know who you two think you are, but you don’t know who I am. A couple of drunken nights out does not make me an evil person,” I told them.

  Savannah flicked her head to toss her hair out of her face and then turned back to Michael. “We are not looking at her future potential, Michael, and until now, we would not have even considered her past,” she wrinkled her nose. “Indiscretions.”

  “The only reason we would look into the past is because she has thrust it so willingly into the present,” Zachary pointed out. His bright eyes narrowed. “Just like she has now thrust angels into the spotlight. That is unacceptable.”

  There was a loud harrumph which caused me to jump and I whipped my head around in the direction it had come from. Behind me, next to the door, leaning against the wall with his arms folded was another guy. Like everyone else in the room, he could have had a job in Hollywood. However, with heavy boots, charcoal cargo pants and a black T-shirt under his formfitting jacket, compared to the others, he looked ready to lead a band of mercenaries into battle instead of star in the latest RomCom.

  Savannah let out an impatient sigh and dragged her eyes over to this other angel. “You have something to add, Gabriel?”

  Holy cow! This was Gabriel? The Gabriel? Don’t get me wrong, he had a friendly looking face and warm sky blue eyes, but I was expecting a serene, non-threatening messenger, not someone who looked like he could hold his own with Michael, Raphael and Cupid. It was stupid of me, really, considering that they were all archangels.

  “Zachary, you really need to lighten up. Angel and Veronica have done this in the most technologically advanced age yet. They’ve both got a long way to go before they obtain the same level of fame as Michael and I,” he grinned.

  Savannah’s eyes narrowed. “You were both sent to those humans. Angel and Veronica were not,” she told him, saying our names like they were creating a bitter taste in her mouth.

  “And as we were discussing before she walked into this room, the action was not planned,” Gabriel pointed out. “So, why don’t you just get to the point and stop dragging this out.”

  Savannah and Zachary shared a look. “Very well,” Zachary said, turning to Michael. “The virtues are not convinced of your leadership abilities. You are in charge of all the angels, archangels, and cherubim on earth, tasked with protecting mankind in secret. Under your watch, you have had one archangel conspire with the Fallen to orchestrate the killings of numerous potentials; your latest recruit has announced the existence of us to the humans – regardless of whether it was intentional or not – after thousands of years of being able to walk amongst them in secrecy; the cherubim have deserted you and set up their own faction; and both Beelzebub and Asmodeus are here in this city. Far from protecting the humans, you have put a giant target over New Orleans.”

  For the whole speech, Michael hadn’t moved. He hadn’t even blinked. Even now, it was impossible to read any emotion on him.

  “You’ve been waiting centuries for that, haven’t you, Zachary?” Gabriel said, taking a few steps to join Michael’s side. “When are you going to get over the fact that Grace wanted you to stay in heaven and Michael in charge on earth?”

  “This is nothing to do with jealousy,” Savannah was quick to interject. “Michael has a role and he’s not performing.”

  “According to you,” Michael said, slowly, finally responding. “I have been to Grace and she is aware of what has been happening here. She has also been informed of how I intend on righting this situation. Now, unless you have something to add from Grace herself, I think it is time you both vacated my House.”

  Both Zachary and Savannah straightened their posture at Michael’s words. “You need to get your House in order,” Savannah sniffed. “We came here to warn you that there will be consequences, but it is up to you to hear that warning and act before it is too late.”

  “Michael is not the only one who must think of the consequences of their choices,” Zachary added, directing the comment at me. The next moment, the pair of them had disappeared.

  “You leave them alone in Heaven for a couple of centuries and power they don’t even have goes to their head,” Gabriel muttered, clapping Michael’s shoulder, sympathetically. “We should get one of the dominations to have a conversation with them.”

  “There is truth to their words, and they have Heaven’s best interest in mind,” Michael responded, surprisingly diplomatically.

  “Doesn’t mean they have to be the biggest jerks about it,” I muttered under my breath.

  Gabriel finally turned to me, smiling. “So you’re the new recruit I’ve heard so much about,” he said.

  “It’s not all true,” I said, remembering the videos I had just watched. “Well, some of it is, but I’m not the same person I was when I was alive,” I shrugged, wearily. It was only mid-morning and I was already exhausted.

  “You should consider training to become a virtue instead of an archangel,” Gabriel declared, before turning to Michael. “I have a meeting with Francesco in a few minutes, and have several other appointments this afternoon, but I will return tonight.” He glanced back at me, nodded his head, and then disappeared.

  The room was suddenly very empty. I gave Michael an awkward smile. “I’m sorry you got told off because of me.”

  “That was not a reprimand,” Michael responded wearily. “That was a warning; a warning that is well intended. The words Zachary spoke were the truth.” He turned his back to me and walked around to the other side of his desk to sit.

  I watched him, chewing my lip. He really did look tired. I wasn’t helping here. The best thing for me to do was keep my head down. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” I said.

  Although he nodded a response, his attention was elsewhere. He didn’t seem to acknowledge me leaving the room as I ducked out.

  I walked down the stairs, surprised at how angry I was getting with every step. Angry at Zachary and Savannah who had appeared and judged me with no real understanding of what had happened that night.

  Yet the brunt of my anger was directed at myself. A lot of what they had said had been true, and none of it would have happened if I had thought before acting. Michael was bearing all the responsibility, and yet it was wrongly placed. Yes, I needed to keep my head down, but I also needed to step up and own my actions. I needed to prove that I should be here, and more importantly, it was time to stop Michael taking all the blame.

  I wasn’t sure how I was going to accomplish that, but I was sure that I was going to think first and act later. I was going to come up with a plan and I was going to try to think of all the possible outcomes before I acted – like I was playing a game of chess.


  The question was, what piece was I?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  La Douleur Exquise

  My aunt was settling into her bedroom while I was cleaning up after lunch. I was up to my elbows in soapy water, singing along (only slightly off key!) to the radio. The kitchen had an industrial dishwasher, but I had learned that it didn’t work on the bigger pans, so elbow grease it was. I rinsed off the pot I had been scrubbing and turned to place it in the draining rack, then let out a startled squeak as it fell from my hands. Before it hit the floor, Michael had caught it. “Thank you,” I said, as he set it in the rack.

  “I never thanked you,” Michael said, softly.

  “What for?” I asked him, suspiciously as I reached for a towel and dried my hands off.

  Michael gestured to the sink. “For this. You have taken on the role of the cherubim without hesitation.”

  I pulled a face. “There’s no need to thank me for the same three meals.”

  “They are meals nonetheless,” Michael disagreed. “It is not just the meals. I am aware that you’re trying to keep on top of the communal areas, unaided. We angels have allowed ourselves to become complacent and expect that someone else will do the work.” He took a few steps back. “I am also aware that only your archery lessons with Cupid have continued since Halloween as Raphael and I have been occupied with other matters.”

  I stood, wringing the towel around my hands. “That’s kind of understandable,” I told him. Don’t get me wrong, I was willing – and wanting – to improve my sword skills, but if the other option was two archangels succeeding in removing two of the Fallen from the city, I’d rather that option.

  “Maybe so,” said Michael. “But it is not acceptable. There will come a time when you will be an archangel in charge of your own House.”

  I set the towel down on the side before looking at Michael. “Are you planning on going somewhere?” I asked, remembering the earlier conversation with the virtues.

  “No,” he replied, firmly. “One day, you will be. When that happens, I want you to be prepared.” He looked into the sink and at the dirty water. “How much longer will you be?”

  “I’m done, why?” I asked him. If he had walked in even a few seconds later, I would have been pulling the plug out.

  “I think now is as good a time as any to resume your lessons with me.”

  I glanced down at myself. I had never bothered getting changed from earlier, so I was still wearing the skirt and vest top – not suitable for any form of training Michael had in mind. “Give me ten minutes to change?”

  “You are fine in what you are wearing,” he said, his eyes skimming up my body. They came to a stop at my head. With a frown.

  I sighed. “I can grab a cap.”

  Michael pursed his lips and nodded. “I think that would be for the best.”

  I pulled the plug to allow the water to drain. “I’ll be five minutes.”

  “I’ll be in the parking lot,” he nodded.

  I hurried upstairs to retrieve my cap, pulling my hair back into a ponytail to feed it through the loop. Michael had never seemed all too happy with the color of my hair; even so, normally I would be happy not to wear a cap – my ears really stick out when I do – but today, it seemed like we were staying local. Before I left, I swapped my flip flops for a pair of red cowboy boots.

  When I had gotten back to the convent earlier, I had taken my sword to the armory. I half considered not collecting it for this excursion, but quickly changed my mind: it was best to be prepared, even if I was going somewhere with Michael. I hurried down the corridor to the armory and pushed the double doors open, making my way to where my sword was stored. I had grabbed it and hidden it in my boot, when I noticed something was off about the room. It took me a few moments to work out what it was. There were a lot of empty spaces – where there had once been shelves and racks of swords and bows, there were now gaps. I stared at a gap next to my own sword, frowning. When I had returned it earlier, there hadn’t been a space. I glanced around. There were certainly fewer weapons than there should have been.

  “Michael,” I called, hesitantly. As the archangel of the House, he shared a psychic connection with the angels which resided in it. He couldn’t read minds, but we could communicate telepathically. I didn’t like using it – it seemed a little invasive for me – and on the few occasions when I had, I had always been in the same room, so I was unsure if it would work.

  “Angel?” his response came quickly and clearly.

  “This does work,” I muttered, shuddering. “I’m in the armory.”

  “You are. Why?”

  Having a conversation like this was weird. “Because I refuse to be unprepared if I meet Beelzebub in the street.” I frowned, looking around the room again. Under normal circumstances, there were hundreds of weapons lining the walls – swords, daggers, and bows – now there were a lot of empty shelves. “There seems to be a number of weapons missing.”

  There was a moment’s pause and then I was joined by Michael. His eyes were instantly scanning the walls and shelves designed to house enough weapons to lead an army bigger than the numbers that had ever been in the convent. As he took stock of the missing items, his expression darkened. “Veronica,” he growled.

  “They took their weapons?” I asked, surprised. “I was in here earlier this morning and there had been nothing missing then.”

  Michael’s face remained stoic, but I could see the anger in his eyes, and the telltale vein was pulsing at his temple. “I need to get out of here,” he announced suddenly. He let out an agitated grunt and stormed out of the room. I hurried after him.

  He didn’t stop until we were outside; standing in front of the small fleet of silver Yukon’s which belonged to the convent. There was a few missing, but the numbers indicated there were more angels in the convent than there were out delivering messages. By the time he turned to face me, his anger levels seemed to have dipped fractionally enough that the vein was no longer pulsing. He waited for me to catch him up, examining my outfit.

  Michael’s expression told me he wasn’t really fond of my choice of clothes, but he said nothing. He was still wearing his immaculate charcoal suit and I did look remarkably casual beside him, especially considering he was wearing the jacket, despite the early afternoon heat.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  He let out a deep sigh. “Not where I originally intended,” he responded vaguely. “I need to get away from here.”

  Given that he had the ability to take us to anywhere in the world in a blink of an eye, that covered a lot of potential locations. When he unlocked the SUV we were standing beside, it confirmed my earlier belief that we were heading to somewhere in the nearby area. I slid into the passenger seat remaining quiet.

  We drove for a while in silence. The further away from the convent we got, the calmer Michael seemed to get. By the time we had found a space to park, he seemed much more relaxed. He had taken us to City Park.

  City Park is huge. I know Katrina did a lot of damage – thousands of trees were pulled down – but the city had been working hard to replant and restore the area. It’s really quite pretty, and houses a lot of things ranging from stadiums to stables, a botanical garden to a golf course. Michael had parked so that when we entered, we were almost central. I hadn’t been here for a while, but this was where the Couturie Forest grew.

  Even in the summer the park was busy. There was enough to occupy most people within a short walk, and miles of paths to follow for exploring. Today it was quiet. The heat seemed to hang in a haze under the trees and everything looked hot and wilted.

  It was a good job that it was quiet, really. Michael was still wearing the suit jacket and he looked as fresh as if he was in air conditioning. We walked along one of the trails. It was peaceful. There was hardly any breeze, so the leaves of the enormous oak trees remained still. Even the birds and cicadas must have been feeling the heat as they didn’t seem to be chirping as noisily as they
usually did.

  “I like it here,” Michael suddenly announced.

  “It’s pretty,” I agreed. I wasn’t really the outside kind of girl, but this park had an ageless charm. The path turned a corner, revealing a swing and a vacant fallen tree trunk which had been fashioned into a bench. Michael walked over to it, lowering himself on it with a weary sigh. “Are you okay?” I asked him, watching him as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

  “I’m tired,” he admitted.

  I sat down next to him and stared out at the bayou water peaking between the trees and the overhanging Spanish moss. I pulled my cap off, and tugged the hair tie out of my hair. When I looked to Michael, I found him watching me. “It makes my ears stick out,” I told him.

  “I suspect that’s the last thing people think when they look at you,” Michael told me.

  “No,” I agreed. “I bet they’re trying to decide if I’m really an angel, or an out of control child who needs to check in to rehab.”

  “I do not think that is the case either,” Michael said softly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and sighed. “The cherubim will not return to the convent,” he said, suddenly.

  “I don’t think they’d want to,” I said, thinking of the new base they’d set up somewhere in the city.

  “I mean no cherubim will return to the convent. Raphael and Gabriel have both confirmed that the cherubs in their house were also considering leaving, but both have dissuaded them for now. All the archangels have confirmed this, and they have also confirmed that none will relocate to New Orleans. I, like the angels of my house, have become complacent, allowing the cherubim to perform duties that we were perfectly capable of doing.”

  Cupid hadn’t called them the help for no reason. They were a twenty-four hour maid service. “You weren’t the only one,” I told him. I had been there a few months and had found it easy not to pick up after myself. If Sarah knew how little I had done, she would have thrown a fit.