Angel Tormented (The Louisiangel Series Book 3)

by C. L. Coffey

  I curled up into him, struggling to catch my breath through shallow gasps as he created a protective cocoon around me. “He’s gone,” I gasped, repeating the words over and over again, despite the bitter taste they were leaving in my mouth. Joshua said nothing, just tightening his hold around me.

  When I finally moved, it was because I could feel the bile rising in my throat. I leaped from the bed, stumbling from the pain in my feet, and just made it to the toilet before I emptied my stomach. Joshua was there in an instant, holding my hair away, as he rubbed at my back.

  When my stomach had emptied and the dry heaving had stopped, I slumped back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. Silently, Joshua handed over a bottle of water so I could rinse my mouth out. I finally relaxed back, watching as Joshua closed the lid and flushed.

  “I need to see to the rest of your injuries,” he said, softly, sitting down opposite. “I need to do more to your wrist than bandage it up. I think it’s broken.”

  Numbly, I shook my head. “It will heal,” I told him, my voice cracking.

  “Angel,” he started, but stopped at the knock on my bedroom door. “Hello?” he called, when my croaks went unheard.

  Cupid walked in, lingering in the doorway, but I couldn’t look up and meet his eyes. “How are you feeling?” he asked me, his voice thick. I stared blankly at the water bottle next to me. “We need…” Cupid cleared his throat. “We need to talk,” he finished.

  “Can it wait until morning?” Joshua asked, even though all three of us knew what the answer to that question was going to be.

  “We need you in the conservatory, please,” Cupid said. “Joshua can come too.” From the corner of my eyes, I could see his feet change direction, getting ready to leave, but they paused. “I’m glad you’re all right,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. And then he was gone.

  “I will go tell them it can wait, if you want me to?” Joshua offered.

  The thought of him telling a bunch of angels where to stick their request amused me, but I couldn’t get my face to show that emotion. “No,” I muttered.

  Joshua got to his feet and reached over, wrapping his hands around my waist. “Ready?” he asked. When I nodded, he helped me to my feet. I took a step and stumbled again, crying out at the pain that shot through my foot. “At least let me see to that?” he requested.

  “I want to get this over with,” I told him, firmly, despite the hoarseness which remained in my voice.

  “Okay,” Joshua relented. He scooped an arm under my own to give me some support, knowing better than to try and carry me there, despite how much pain I was in.

  We’d gotten into the corridor when I stopped. “Does Sarah know?” I asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Joshua replied. “I had just walked into the building when Cupid appeared in front of me, carrying you. He said something about Michael being gone and to take you. He told me how to find your room and then disappeared,” Joshua explained. I took a deep shuddering breath and nodded, allowing us to continue on.

  It took some time to limp to the conservatory. I pushed the door open and walked in, to be greeted by a dozen faces – some I recognized, some I didn’t. The last time I had been in here, there had been a small circular table in the middle of the room – an intimate setting for dinner. Now, furniture had been moved around and the small table replaced with an enormous oblong one with only two free seats.

  Joshua and I sat. If he was nervous it didn’t show; I, on the other hand, would have been fidgeting if it wasn’t for the fact that not only was I exhausted, but it also hurt. Under the table, my good hand sought out Joshua’s. He took it, giving me a gentle yet reassuring squeeze.

  “Welcome, Angel,” a woman at the head of the table said, her tone warm. “Joshua.” I tried to give her a smile in return, but my lips weren’t cooperating. From the reflection in the table’s shiny surface, it looked more like a grimace to me. She was, unsurprisingly, stunning. Tall, elegant, her black hair sleek with a hint of a curl to it. “I am Grace,” she said, her dark eyes focused on me. “I am sorry to meet you under the circumstances.”

  “What are the circumstances?” Zachary announced from the other end of the table.

  Grace shot him a glare and he sank back into his chair. There was no question as to who was in charge here. “I assume you do not know most of the people around this table. We shall spare a few moments for introductions, for your benefit and for Joshua’s.” She looked to the other angels. “As you all know, this is Angel, the human to have earned her wings. To her right is her charge, Joshua.” Grace turned her attention back to me and Joshua. “You know some faces, Raphael, Paddy and Cupid, I believe you are both acquainted with?” she said, directing her question to Joshua.

  Joshua leaned forward to see around me. Next to me was Paddy, and between her and Grace was Raphael. Cupid was opposite me. “Yes,” he responded.

  Grace nodded, her bob brushing over her shoulders. She indicated to the man sat opposite her. “This is Metatron.”

  I glanced down the table and blinked. Trapped in the convent, I had finally found some time to read. Tired of Cupid’s mocking as well as my own embarrassment, on my reading list was the Bible. Admittedly, it was a child’s version, written in a style I could understand, but I had read it. I’d also read the Qur’an, and was part way through the Torah (yes, both child versions, but I had to start somewhere… and yes, I may have skipped through some of the less interesting sections). Actually, I had spent a lot of time in the convent’s library: it consisted of mainly religious books. On occasion, Cupid would join me and fill in the blanks.

  The image of Metatron Cupid had painted was of a warrior – my mind had pictured him as someone with the physique of a wrestler. He had explained that Metatron was the most important seraph after Grace. Both were His aids. Metatron looked like he belonged on a teen drama on the CW – tall, black with a shaved head and a diamond in his ear which somehow didn’t seem out of place with the suit he wore. In front of him, the only thing on table except for my bottle of water was a thin book. The pen he was using to write in it hadn’t stopped moving since we had entered the room, despite the fact that even now Metatron’s attention was on Grace.

  “He is here only to record,” Grace continued. “As this discussion directly involves the archangels, they are here. Uriel, Raguel, Gabriel, Remiel and Sariel,” she said, as the various archangels nodded their greeting. “For representatives of the virtues Zachary and Savannah have joined us. I shall report back to the remaining choirs upon our decision.” With poise, she sat back down, crossing her fingers and resting hands on the table.

  Heaven was organized. Considering the amount of angels, the different roles, and the amount of people they were trying to help, I couldn’t fault them for it. The highest ranking angels were the seraphim, the cherubim, and the thrones. The seraphim, like Grace and Metatron were the only ones who had a direct audience with God. Cupid had called them His bodyguards, but looking at the pair, they looked more like the board of directors, and there was no question that Grace was being treated like she was the CEO.

  “Why do we have the virtues here?” Gabriel asked. His tone was light, curious, but his posture was tense. For whatever reason, he didn’t like the virtues – or maybe it was just Zachary or Savannah. Either way, he had a valid point. From what I had learned, the virtues were nothing more than the PR people, deciding who got the miracles. Much as I wanted a miracle to bring Michael back, I knew that wasn’t happening today.

  “Our job,” Savannah sniffed, flipping her hair. “We need to know how much work we need to do. And to do that, we need to know what’s happening.”

  The table looked at me expectantly. “Michael…” I started, but stopped, the words getting stuck in my throat.

  “We know,” Cupid said, softly. I looked up at him, finally seeing him. Although he sat straight, his eyes were ringed with red and full of heartbreak.

  “Michael cannot be dead,” Zachary said, fi
rmly. “Michael is Heaven’s greatest warrior.”

  Cupid whipped his head around to look at Zachary. “I have the connection with the angels in this House. It is how I knew something had happened to my brother.”

  I blinked. “Cupid?”

  Cupid quickly looked back to me. “I heard your scream,” he said.

  When I realized his mouth wasn’t moving – that the words had been said in my head, I suddenly felt faint. I don’t know why: I saw it happen right in front of me. As Zachary had said, he was… Michael. A train seemed too ordinary… too… human...! Hearing Cupid was the confirmation I didn’t want… The knowledge that it would never again be Michael sent a wave of nausea washing over me.

  Wearily, Cupid slumped back into his seat, casting his eyes down at the table. “It defaulted to me when it shouldn’t have.”

  “Everything happened as it should,” Grace corrected him. “We all know that should something happen to the lead; the second-in-command steps into position.”

  “But I don’t want it,” Cupid snarled, slamming his fist on the table. I jumped: I’d not seen Cupid angry before and it didn’t seem right. “I never wanted it before, and I certainly don’t want it this way.”

  “Cupid,” Gabriel muttered his name, gently. He reached over, wrapping his hand over Cupid’s fist.

  Cupid shook him off. “It’s not right,” he told him, withdrawing his hands back under the table.

  “There is no other option,” Grace pointed out.

  Cupid’s eyes narrowed at her and then he looked at me. “There’s Angel.”

  “For what?” I asked, blankly.

  “Michael is confident in her abilities,” Cupid continued.

  “Clearly the grief is getting to you,” Savannah snorted, cruelly. “She has had her wings for all of three days.”

  “Do not even begin to assume that my grief is affecting my judgement,” Cupid shot back at her. He gave her a look of disgust. “He was my brother and my partner – I am allowed to grieve. We should be grieving: we lost one of our own.”

  “Nobody is questioning anybody’s grief,” Remiel spoke up, with a prominent middle-eastern accent I couldn’t place. He had dark hair which fell in waves around his face. He had a strong brow and pointed chin, but looked the oldest at the table. Late thirties, maybe? Cupid had told me he was the archangel based in Iraq. It still seemed strange to me that there were angels based in places where Christianity wasn’t the first religion, but who was I to judge? As Michael had said, who said Christianity needed to be the main religion? Hell, I considered myself atheist before I had died.

  “We are all grieving, mate,” Raguel agreed from beside him. He glanced over at me, acknowledging me with his sad blue eyes. Raguel had sun-kissed hair and skin, and I was certain, under his pale blue shirt, there would be a surfer’s body. As it was, he was the most relaxed in the room, despite the topic, and his dress was the most casual – his shirt was unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up. Despite his tranquil demeanor, I was willing to bet he would be ruthless with a sword.

  “No, but it’s safe to assume that Cupid’s grief is such that he cannot make a levelheaded decision,” Zachary chimed in.

  “Zachary, I will say this only once,” Grace spoke up, her tone once again acidic. “Only archangels are permitted to run the Houses on Earth.”

  “What about Sariel?” Savannah snapped, pointing at the Latino model sitting opposite her. With the way Savannah shriveled up in her chair at the look Grace gave her, I was certain Grace had some form of heat rays for eyes.

  “This was discussed, voted, and agreed upon six thousand years ago, Savannah,” Sariel responded hotly. “So you can take that line of thought, wrap it around your scepter and stick it-”

  “Michael is dead,” I blurted out. The room descended into an awkward silence, the only noise coming from the scratching of Metatron’s pencil. “Arguing is not going to bring him back,” I squeezed my eyes closed. “We need to work out what to do next, what Michael would have done next… it wouldn’t have been bickering between ourselves,” I added, grateful that Joshua was allowed in this discussion as he held tightly to my hand.

  “And that’s why Michael wanted to leave this House to Angel,” Cupid said. I opened my eyes and found his brown ones watching me.

  “Well, as Grace said, Angel is not an archangel,” Savannah sniped. I had been to school with mean girls like her.

  “Savannah, either pipe down, or go home,” Gabriel sighed, glaring at the angel in question. “No matter how you dress it up, neither you nor Zach will be running a House any time soon. That is not your job. Virtues are to remain in heaven.”

  “I don’t want it to be my job either,” I pointed out. The words somehow earned me stormy glowers from both virtues. Considering we were both agreeing on the same point; that bothered me. I didn’t think I had any more energy in me for fighting this evening, but I found myself sitting upright to stop myself shrinking back into my seat.

  “Enough,” Grace said, her voice echoing around the room. “I have had many conversations with Michael and I know his intention was for Angel to become an archangel before this House is left in her hands. However, I think most would agree that she is not yet ready for that responsibility, even if she had earned that status. For now, I feel the best course of action would be for Cupid to lead the House with Angel as his second, until such a time that she is ready.”

  I tugged my hand free of Joshua’s, using it to rub at my temple. “This is not a discussion,” I said, bluntly.

  “Excuse me?” Grace asked.

  I shrugged. “You said we were here for a discussion. That implies that all parties will be allowed to comment and you’ve shut them down. That’s not a discussion: that’s a decision.”

  Grace’s lips disappeared into a thin line. “You have something you wish to add, Angelina?”

  I had a feeling there weren’t many people who continued to talk back to her, and I was probably going to regret it in the long run, if not right now, but Michael was dead. “If you’re going to use my full name, do it properly,” I told her. “Otherwise, don’t bother. Frankly, I couldn’t give two flying hoots about who is in charge of this House. What I do care about is how the only person who wants to discuss what happened was that Zach-ass,” I said, jamming my thumb in Zachary’s direction. Every time we met, he and Savannah had seemed set on making it a point that I wasn’t the most obvious choice to be an angel, much less an archangel, and I was certain this was going to be another example of ‘how Angel sucks at being an angel’, but they needed to know what had happened. “How come no-one in here seems the slightest bit concerned about doing something about what happened?”

  If Grace’s lips got any thinner, they were going to disappear altogether. “You imply that we should be discussing vengeance?”

  I snorted. “Imply? No, I’m damn well telling you that we should be out there, working out why the Fallen were so desperate to protect something that one of them put Michael in a trap and… Not that a single one of you has asked who that was.”

  “We are not Angels of Vengeance,” Grace declared, her voice taking on that acidic quality again.

  “I am not talking about some petty feud,” I cried, leaping to my feet. Pain shot through my ankle and I rested my good arm on the table to take some of the weight. “I am talking about hunting down the Fallen who set us up – the Prince of Darkness who killed him! If you’re not Angels of Vengeance, then maybe it’s time we became them!”

  “Now is not the time for that discussion,” Grace shouted back at me.

  “Then you know what?” I snapped back at her. “You call me back when it is time for that discussion, because I am not wasting my time with this damn crap.” I pushed back the chair and limped for the door as quickly as I could.

  “Angel!” Grace yelled at my back.

  I ignored her, exceedingly grateful that the one person who had the power to stop me wasn’t doing so. “I’ll handle this,” Cu
pid’s voice told me, on cue.

  “And that’s why she shouldn’t be in charge of a House,” I heard Zachary mutter as I yanked the door open.

  I stepped into the hallway, ready to pull the door closed behind me when something stopped me. I looked up to find Joshua had followed me. I gave him a questioning look as he joined me in the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him. “You think I’m going to let you limp upstairs by yourself?” he asked me. He offered me an arm which I accepted gratefully.

  “They didn’t ask,” I mumbled after a few steps. “Not one of them wanted to know what happened,” I added. Joshua exhaled slowly. The next thing I knew, he had scooped me up in his arms, carrying me down the hallway. “What are you doing?” I demanded.

  “You’ve fought enough battles tonight,” he responded. “Don’t add this one to your list.” I nodded and relaxed into his arms as he carried me to the stairs. He paused in the foyer. “You can stay at mine if you want?” he offered.

  It was tempting, but that was a battle I really didn’t want: no doubt the angels were continuing their “discussion” and if they needed me, while they could zap in and get me, I really didn’t want to explain being at Joshua’s. I shook my head.

  Without objection, Joshua carried me back upstairs to my bedroom, depositing me on the bed like I was made of fractured glass. He peered down at me and pursed his lips. “Your cuts and bruises are healing,” he said.

  I nodded. “The wrist and ankle should be done by the morning too.” The pain had slowly started to change from sharp pulses, to a strong throb.

  Joshua glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late.”

  “Stay,” I said, surprising myself. Despite not wanting another battle with the angels, I wanted to be left alone even less. Joshua nodded.

  I was exhausted and sank into my bed, still fully clothed. Minutes later I was joined by Joshua. The bed was a single so there wasn’t much room, but it was the first time we’d ever shared a bed together and it felt way more awkward than it should have done. “I feel like Michael is going to walk in on us,” I muttered.