Angel Tormented (The Louisiangel Series Book 3)

by C. L. Coffey

  “Don’tcha be too angry wit Michael,” Mama Laveau said, sounding unnecessarily sympathetic for an angel who had willingly left Heaven. “All de angels be agreein’ to dat covenant, an’ dey be believin’ dat for so long, dat be de truth to dem. Dem truths be what stopped dem from fallin’, but dey be takin’ vows. Breakin’ vows be sayin’ God not be important and dat be makin’ dem fall.”

  “How?” I demanded. “How the hell is not having a glass of wine going to stop me from falling?” The glass of lemonade in my hand suddenly exploded, sending the sticky liquid mainly over myself.

  “You might want to calm it down a fraction,” Joshua suggested as I just stared in horror at the blood pooling in my hand around the shards of glass that were stuck into it.

  As Joshua wiggled his hand free of my other hand he had been holding, a wave of nausea barreled into me. “Please tell me I didn’t hurt you,” I whispered.

  “A bit of lemonade never hurt anyone,” he shrugged, tugging my glass-ridden hand over. We both knew that wasn’t what I was talking about, but his hand seemed to be functioning properly. What the hell was wrong with me? “I’d say you’d need to see a doctor and get some stitches, but you’re not human and they’ll probably only need a band aid. Ma’am, may we use your bathroom?” he asked Mama Laveau.

  She nodded, gesturing towards the house. I allowed Joshua to lead me inside, and he quickly found the bathroom. Holding my hand over the sink, he plucked the larger pieces out, dropping them in the trash can, then he hunted out a pair of tweezers from the cupboard. By the time the last piece was out, all of the cuts had already scabbed over. It wasn’t until then that either of us spoke. “What are you getting angry for?” Joshua asked me softly.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted, miserably. I sat down on the edge of the bathtub, glaring at my hand. “I guess I’m angry at myself. If I’d have just trusted myself more, then… I feel like this has just set everything back, like I could have stopped Lucifer, or saved Michael.”

  “It’s not like you’ve been doing nothing,” Joshua said. At my pointed glare, he shrugged and sat down next to me. “Okay, so you may have spent a few weeks in bed, but I think that’s pretty justifiable, darlin’. I think you’re putting way too much pressure on yourself.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I muttered, leaning and resting my head on his shoulder. I was lying: I didn’t think I was putting enough pressure on myself. I mean, how could I run a House and be responsible for other angels? I hadn’t kept Michael alive, and I had a strong feeling that the only reason Joshua was alive was, as Asmodeus had suggested, because he and Beelzebub wanted him alive. I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that I was missing something obvious too. “We should finish up with Mama Laveau,” I sighed. “I know you have to get back to work.”

  We returned outside, and found that my broken glass had been cleared up and replaced with another. “You be havin’ more questions, Child?” she asked.

  “Just a couple,” I nodded. “You said that they believed the rules to be their truth, but why? Who came up with these rules?”

  “I don’t be rememberin’ who, Child,” Mama Laveau told me. “It was such a long time gone. But dey be created to make sure no more angels be fallin’. If you don’t drink de wine, you don’t be makin’ mistakes. If you don’t be tellin’ people what you be, they can’t be lookin’ atcha like you be a god. Dat covenant was to protect, not hurt, and no more angels be fallin’ since.”

  Much as I hated to admit it, that made sense. I couldn’t be angry at them for not wanting to lose any more of their family, and what I hated to admit even more was that I couldn’t blame them for thinking the covenant was set in stone considering how old they were, how long ago it sounded like these ‘rules’ had been created, and that they’d taken a vow to uphold them.

  Except Cupid knew he could tell Leon what we were.

  The question now was, was I going to call Cupid on it, or let it go? Or more realistically, was I going to call Cupid on it, or was I going to stew over it for the next few months?

  I already knew the answer to that.

  “So why did you leave Heaven?” I asked. I was curious.

  “My gift,” Mama Laveau replied.

  “You have a gift?” I asked. “Like Dream Walking?”

  “Mine be more unique dan dat,” she responded, shaking her head. “I not only be seeing auras, but I be seeing people for what dey be.”

  “I don’t understand,” I frowned, glancing at Joshua. It didn’t look like he did either.

  “People be havin’ auras, an’ angels be havin’ auras. I be seein’ people when dey be de Fallen, an’ I be seeing dose which be between human an’ angel,” she explained.

  It took me a minute to fully understand. “You can tell when someone is a nephilim or when they’re being possessed? Why would you leave Heaven because of that?”

  “Because Heaven be wantin’ me to hunt out the Fallen, an’ I’m not gonna be huntin’ out my brothers an’ sisters for dem to be murdered,” she said, firmly.

  I was an only child, and I had never been in the situation where I would have to hunt a sibling out so they could be killed, but I was certain that I wouldn’t be able to do that, unless I was unfortunate enough to be related to someone like Beelzebub. “I understand,” I responded, even though I didn’t really. “Thank you, Mama Laveau.”

  “Now, I be answerin’ everythin’ you been askin’, but now I have one request.”

  “And what would that be?” I asked, hesitantly. I wanted answers, but I wasn’t sure what price I was prepared to pay for them.

  “Michael not be knowin’ what I am, an’ I be needin’ to keep it dat way, so you not be tellin’ anyone who I am, Child,” she told me.

  I closed my eyes, wincing as a wave of pain rose up in me, and a selfish part of me wondered how long it would be until I didn’t have to break the news of Michael’s death. “Michael was killed,” Joshua said, taking the burden from me. Once again, he took my hand and squeezed. I shot him a grateful smile.

  Opposite, Mama Laveau sucked in a gasping breath, and she muttered a quick prayer under her breath. “Who?”

  “Valac,” I muttered, numbly. “We think he was working under Asmodeus’ orders.”

  I studied her closely and realized she wasn’t as surprised at hearing Asmodeus’ name as she was at hearing the news about Michael. “You knew he was here,” I said. It wasn’t a question, but she nodded. “And you didn’t think to tell anyone?”

  “As I be tellin’ you before, I’m not hunting my brothers and sisters out,” she snapped.

  I narrowed my eyes. “You might want to reconsider that considering your great grandson was killed thanks to a scheme Beelzebub dreamed up, and mentioning that Asmodeus was around before now might have kept Michael alive.”

  “Maybe it’s time to be going, darlin’,” Joshua suggested.

  “I think that’s a mighty good idea,” Mama Laveau said, her words suddenly as clear as her tone was cold.

  “What happened to your accent?” Joshua asked slowly. “If that’s fake, what else that you’ve told us was lies? Are you really just a crazy old lady?”

  She glared back at him, then with no warning, she flung the table aside. For once, my focus was not on the drinks that had gone flying, but on Joshua. I was on my feet, leaping over to him, but so was she. Just as I landed in front of him, so had she and with a swipe that seemed far too powerful for a frail old woman, but certainly not for an angel, she launched me to the side. And by launched, I mean I went soaring through the air like a missile, coming to a stop so hard against one of the oak trees, my body knocked it to an angle.

  It took me exactly four seconds to untangle myself from the mass of roots, branches and dirt, and ignoring the slight dizziness, was back at the pergola with my sword drawn – but I wasn’t quick enough. Mama Laveau had her hand wrapped around Joshua’s neck. She wasn’t tall enough to have lifted him off the ground, but that hadn’t stopped her pinning
him against the corner piece of the pergola. “I am not crazy, and I will not have anyone accuse me of anything like that; disrespecting me in my own home!” she roared at Joshua.

  Joshua’s face was already red as he tried to free himself of Mama Laveau’s grip. “Let go of him,” I growled at her.

  “I have spent more than one hundred years in this body, and I will not allow you, an impure angel who is no better than the nephilim, to ruin what I have built up here,” she spat at me. I glowered back at her, but as I took one step forward, her grip tightened. “I will have snapped his neck before you could get close,” she said, her attention on me, and not at the man she was choking.

  “Rules or covenant, you can’t kill a human,” I told her. My voice was surprisingly steady, considering I was starting to see the whites of Joshua’s eyes turn slowly red. “And there’s nothing stopping me from killing you.”

  “I doubt there’s much difference between leaving Heaven voluntarily and actually falling,” she shrugged, but I could see the hesitation.

  “Okay,” I said, allowing the sword to shrink to its dagger size, but refusing to put it away. “You don’t want anyone to know who and where you are, right? What if I vow not to tell anyone?”

  “And what about him,” Mama Laveau asked, nodding her head at Joshua.

  I sneaked another glance at Joshua and realized that his struggling was slowing. “I’ll make sure he says nothing either!” I yelped. “Please, just let him go!”

  “Say it,” she demanded.

  “I vow it: I vow to God I will not tell anyone who you are and where you are, and I will make sure Joshua says nothing either!” I told her, the words coming out half sobbing, half begging: Joshua’s hands had fallen limply to his side.

  Mama Laveau tilted her head, nodded, and then, acting like he was nothing more than a rag doll, flung him in my general direction. I dropped my sword and leaped over, catching him clumsily as we both tumbled to the ground. The fall seemed to jolt him awake, because he suddenly started coughing and struggling. “It’s me!” I sobbed. Although the coughing continued, he relaxed in my arms. I sucked in a deep, haggard breath, and tipped my head back. “Thank you,” I muttered.

  “Child, I think it be time you be leavin’,” Mama Laveau called over to me. I looked over: she was righting the table and clearing the mess up like nothing had happened.

  Refusing to take my eyes off her, I reached over for the dagger I had dropped, and then focused my attention on Joshua. “You think you can walk?”

  There were tears lining his eyes, though I suspected it was from all the coughing, but he managed to nod his head. He opened his mouth, and I could see him attempt to say the word ‘yes’ but all that came out was a horrible rasp before he started coughing again.

  “Don’t speak,” I instructed him. “Just rest,” I added, helping him to his feet. Slowly, we left the back garden and made it to his car. He started towards the driver’s side, but I stopped him. “Not a chance,” I said, pulling him towards the passenger side, ignoring the way he was twisting his face at me.

  I opened the door – thankful that to open and start Joshua’s car, the key fob (it wasn’t actually a key, as the car had a start/stop button) only needed to be close to the car, and being in Joshua’s pocket, this was safely covered – and ushered him in.

  I hurried around to the driver’s side and got in, then, without looking back, peeled away in a smoke of burning rubber, ignoring Joshua’s glare. “I’ll buy the new tires,” I grunted at him. As soon as we were far enough away, I pulled over and reached into the back for a bottle of water I knew was rolling around. It was warm, having been in the baking car for a couple of hours, but figuring it was probably going to be easier on his throat than a chilled drink, held it out to Joshua.

  It was then I realized my hands were shaking. Joshua’s hands reached out and clasped mine, his touch just as warm as the water. He gave me a reassuring smile and took the water bottle from me. While he sipped at that, I relaxed back into the chair and tried to calm myself down.

  How could she do that? Mama Laveau passed the platinum test, so she hadn’t fallen, yet she could hurt a human? It took everything I had not to burst into tears – relief? Anger? Horror? Who the hell knew anymore…?

  Finally, I looked down, spotting the time. Joshua was supposed to be getting to work. I glanced over and found him watching me in between taking small sips, wincing as he did so. He couldn’t go to work today. He needed to see a doctor. I didn’t have Leon’s number, but I could see that Joshua’s phone had already synced up to the car. While Joshua watched me questioningly, I fiddled with the system and dialed.

  “Detective Roi,” Leon answered.

  “Hi Leon, it’s Angel,” I said. “Is it safe to talk?”

  “Yes, I’m in the car, by myself,” Leon replied, all business.

  “Joshua needs to call in sick,” I told him. There was a pause from Leon as Joshua shook his head and then started coughing, and I sighed. “Don’t speak,” I hissed at Joshua.

  “Is this one of these instances where I really don’t need to know what my partner and his girlfriend are up to?”

  It took me a moment to work out what Leon was insinuating. “Oh, no!” I exclaimed. Beside me, Joshua started sniggering, before it turned into another coughing fit. “And this is why I’m calling in sick for you,” I snapped at him. “Leon, there was a bit of an incident. Joshua is okay, mostly,” I sighed. “He was choked and now he can’t speak. I need to get him to a doctor,” I explained, ignoring Joshua who was now vigorously shaking his head.

  “I’ve got you covered,” Leon said, simply. “Look after him.”

  When he hung up, I finally turned to Joshua, and discovered he was sulking: his arms were folded and he was pouting. I couldn’t help myself: I laughed. I laughed so hard, the tears were back and my side ached. “I’m sorry,” I said, sniffing. “I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I have never seen you sulk before and you just look so adorable,” I explained, earning myself a glare.

  “Do not,” he just about managed to whisper at me, before coughing again.

  All humor dissipated. “We need to get you to a doctor,” I muttered.

  “No,” he hissed.

  “Joshua, you can’t talk, and there are handprints around your throat,” I told him. His face had quickly gone back to its normal healthy looking pink, but his throat had clear red handprints, and, I squinted, nail grooves. “I should go back there and kick her ass,” I grumbled. At Joshua’s look I rolled my eyes. “I’m not going back. I’m getting you to a hospital,” I told him impatiently.

  “No,” he hissed again, and promptly started coughing.

  “Will you please stop trying to talk?” I begged. “Your throat is sore, it’s irritating it when you speak, and then you hurt it further with coughing.”

  After another glare, Joshua pulled out his phone and started typing furiously. Finished, he held it up for me to read: No doctors.

  “Handprints and no voice,” I countered. Joshua continued holding the phone up. “Joshua, you’re hurt,” I said, quietly. “Why not?”

  He brought the phone back and started typing again. Don’t need them jumping 2 conclusions.

  I raked my hand through my hair, then took his phone off him. I did a quick internet search, found a site listing hazards with strangulation, and handed it back. “I’m taking you to a doctor.”

  Dr. Miller.

  “Who is that?” I asked, sighing in relief. When I read his response, I couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow at him. “The coroner? As in, the Angel of Death?” I wasn’t completely certain, but I had a pretty good hunch that Joshua felt the same about, what he called Grim Reapers, as I did alligator infested waters. At his nod, I shrugged, and put the car in drive.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Silence Isn’t Golden

  The building which housed the New Orleans Coroner’s Office had a sign, but it was small enough that the tall, pink building was pretty non-descript
. I had been in it before, yet even as I entered now, it still surprised me. I guess it’s because I used to watch too many procedural crime shows with my aunt, but I expected it to be dark and gloomy, not bright and full of plants.

  This time, as we were visiting during normal working hours, there was a receptionist. The elderly woman regarded us suspiciously as we walked up. I didn’t blame her: I was in a vest top while Joshua had pulled his NOPD jacket from the trunk and was wearing it with the zipper pulled all the way up in an attempt to hide the marks on his neck.

  “We’re here to see Dr. Miller,” I told her.

  I don’t know what she was about to say to us, but whatever it was, when Joshua flashed his badge at her, she sighed and jabbed her thumb to a door behind her. “I’m sure y’all know where you’re going,” she muttered, grumpily.

  I followed Joshua into the back and found Henry wheeling an empty gurney. “We need your help,” I told him, before he could say hello. “Joshua has been injured.”

  Henry looked at Joshua and then nodded. He led us into his office and pushed the door closed behind us. Once he had locked it, he indicated that Joshua should take a seat. “Where?” he asked. Joshua unzipped his jacket. The marks were still an alarming shade of red, especially under the office’s florescent lighting, and I swear his neck looked like it was swollen. Henry pulled a small bottle of clear liquid from his pocket and squirted it on his hands, rubbing it in, before stepping closer. He crouched in front of Joshua to get a better look, his hands reaching out, when Joshua winced. “I didn’t touch you,” Henry said.

  Joshua glanced helplessly over at me. I gave him my best reassuring smile as I nodded. “I think it’s the whole Angel of Death, thing,” I told Henry.

  Henry looked from me to Joshua, and arched an eyebrow. “You came to me,” he pointed out.

  “Not ready to die,” Joshua forced out.