by Pamela Aares
“I say only what I saw, Jane. And I know something of men. He didn’t look at you as if you were a dalliance. The man was smitten.”
Though she wanted to believe Serena’s observation, Jane could not. Though she’d spent years imagining and writing about the passions that lit her characters, passions that drove them to overcome obstacles that stood in the way of their love, she couldn’t imagine such a path for herself. And certainly not with him.
***
Two weeks passed and Jane heard no word from Mr. Grace. Life at Anderley smoothed into the gentle patterns of summer in the country. Serena’s parents began to accept that Serena was resolved to marry Darcy, although Lady Baringdon still simmered with pique that her daughter’s union would do little to advance the family’s status in the London ton. Jane still was unable to write and resolved that soon she should return to Chawton. But there was little privacy there and she’d yet to corral her spiking emotions. Late at night as she lay in the massive bed at Anderley, her body shook with tears, tears that told her mind what her heart would not yet admit. How could she be so changed by such brief encounters? How had she allowed herself to so stupidly fall for a product of her own imagination? She’d been transported by Mr. Grace’s company, by the happiness he inspired, and had simply failed to keep her wits about her. She, who once prided herself on her unerring eye for the folly and caprice of humanity, was now caught in the very web she wove around her heroines. She was far too old to open herself to such fancies.
But her heart resisted the clear messages of both her will and her mind and wouldn’t allow her to dismiss her feelings. Already her will was bending to the lure of the passion the man had aroused. And worse, it was more than passion. Though she tried to deny it, he had touched her soul. She’d read about such things, had thought she knew what Dante and Shakespeare had meant when they’d penned their words about pure love, about love beyond imagining, love beyond words.
But she’d never had an inkling.
And though the suspicion that she’d fallen prey to her self-created delusion continued to nag at her, the deep knowing that she felt in her body curled around her heart and cradled it and would not let go. Her awareness battled with what she knew was sensible. Try as she might, she couldn’t reconcile any of it. Never before had her body battled so relentlessly with her mind.
Chapter Eleven
Iago led Michael through the warmly lit hall of Gabriel’s townhouse and up the stairs to the billiard room. With a nod, Michael dismissed him and closed the door; what he had to discuss was for Gabriel’s ears only.
“Come to pay your dues?” Gabriel asked without looking up from the table.
“Worse.” Michael crossed to a side table and poured a substantial drink from the crystal decanter.
Gabriel paused mid-shot, then walked to Michael and plucked the glass from his hand.
“Didn’t Mr. Hathloss’s return go well?”
“It went well ... thank you.” Michael snatched the glass back from Gabriel. “Meant to say that straightaway.”
Gabriel eyed him. “I’ve never seen you so ... disturbed.”
Michael circled the billiard table, handing the untouched drink to Gabriel when he passed him. He took a long, deep breath. Circled the table again. Leaned his hands against the wood frame near the side pocket. Met Gabriel’s amused glance.
“I came to be embodied.”
Gabriel stared at him, his amusement instantly erased. They both knew the implications of those words.
“This,” Gabriel complained, “this is why we should never commission as angels those who’ve never been in love.” He lifted the glass and downed its contents in a gulp. “It causes all sorts of complications.”
He banged the glass on the table and eyed Michael, no doubt assessing the possible damage, ahead. But Michael was never one to be overly concerned about future damage. If he wasted energy considering mere possibilities, he couldn’t’ accomplish anything and certainly not the miracles he’d been sent to perform.
“Ah yes, I see it now”—Gabriel said with a sarcastic tone that told Michael he’d already conceded—“the spark of captivation that elicits fire and leads one to hazard all.” He pressed his lips into a firm line. “There’s obviously no undoing this—that’s the trouble with love. And it’s never convenient—odd thing that, still haven’t worked it out.” He stretched his head to one side and rubbed the muscles in his neck. “Why is it that every time you come around, there’s a major breach in protocol?”
“It’s my special gift,” Michael replied with a half-hearted laugh. He liked winning.
“This is far beyond complication,” Gabriel bit out. “You’re testing a rule of the most consequential sort—I doubt I need to tell you that. If you step wrong, you risk permanent exile, my friend. And I need not mention the implications for Miss Austen, I’m sure. You’ll have to tell her.”
“I intended to,” he said, trying not to bristle under Gabriel’s scrutiny. “It has to be her choice—after she knows the truth.”
“It had better be a carefully abridged version of the truth,” Gabriel countered. “Very abridged,” he repeated. “While I can intercede with the powers that be on your behalf and secure some leeway allowing you to reveal yourself, you know there are strict limits regarding what you can tell her.”
“I know what I can and cannot say,” Michael said with perhaps more heat than was necessary.
“You knowing the rules is apparently much different from you following them.”
“I’ll tell her only what I can.” Michael was tired of Gabriel’s relentless scrutiny, but he needed his help. And if he couldn’t face Gabriel, he certainly wouldn’t be able to face the challenges ahead.
“After you tell her, you’ll have only a few hours—you’ll have to leave her before first light,” Gabriel said.
Michael nodded. Though he’d heard of such a rule, he’d never had to consider it. Until now.
“Michael.”
When Gabriel used that tone, Michael was sure it could stop the planet in its path. He raised a brow.
“Before first light means exactly that. Before. Not during, not after. Before,” he repeated solemnly. “Swear that you will leave.”
“Yes.” Michael raised two fingers to him, made the holy sign of oath in the air.
“You’ll be reassigned.”
“Yes.”
Gabriel pressed his palms to his temples and let out an exasperated sigh. “I can’t tell you more.” There was no hint of rebuke, just a steady seriousness. “You’ll put her at risk if you tell her too much. Her life, Michael, her future.” Gabriel poured himself another swirl of amber brandy. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but she hasn’t long to live in any case. A few years at the most.”
“I knew that, my friend, from the beginning.” He didn’t want to think about that, not right now.
Gabriel held him in a steely gaze, unsurprised. “Then you also know you can’t tell her that, not even intimate it. This is an instance where you absolutely cannot disobey divine law.”
“I wouldn’t,” Michael said quietly. “It would do no good.” Angels couldn’t discuss the time and place of death, not under any circumstance. But Michael knew that death was no enemy of life, never would be. “Sometimes I do wonder—if people could see what you and I and the other angels see ... especially what we have seen of the world in the future ... ”
“Well, they can’t.” Gabriel said flatly.
He picked up the cue and executed a perfect shot, the ball dropping into the pocket with a soft thud. He looked over at Michael and shrugged. “You may not believe me, but I think I understand. And I suspect that your destiny and hers are intertwined—but of course you probably knew that from the beginning as well.”
“I never would have fathomed this,” Michael admitted. He paced to the window, then circled the table. Having chosen his path, crafted his plan, he didn’t like the jangling uncertainty that gnawed in him.
Gabriel
studied him. “It’s possible that you knowing love may deepen your powers, somehow strengthen ours.” He laughed. “I’m starting to sound like you. Dangerous thing, that.”
He slid his gaze away.
“Out with it,” Michael prodded. “Whatever’s on your mind.”
“The timing is unfortunate, as is often the case with such matters.” He leaned the cue stick against the table and faced Michael squarely. “It’s my turn to request something. I need you to break into the English War Office.”
Michael groaned. Gabriel was right; the timing couldn’t be worse.
“When?”
“We’re waiting for final word. Likely tomorrow. Your analysis of dispatches and ammunition records will spare countless lives. Munitions have been tampered with, but we can track them and induce General Wellington to find a way to postpone the assault, maybe avoid a battle entirely. This tampering,” he added, no trace of humor now, “is no mere human scheme. We’ll all have to keep our guard up.”
Michael suspected as much. If evil forces hadn’t been at the mission’s heart, he wouldn’t have been tapped to command it.
“There’s more,” Gabriel said letting out a breath. “You’ll have to work with Alithea. She’ll get the information into the right hands. We have to make it appear that Wellington discovered the tampering himself; there’s no other way forward. And you know how good she is with men.” When Michael rolled his eyes, Gabriel added, “Consider it part of my deal for helping you. She’s undercover at a hospital in London. You’ll find her.”
“For an angel,” Michael grumbled, “you certainly make an awful lot of deals.”
Gabriel’s stare pinned him. “For an angel, you sure do break a lot of rules.”
A half-smile stretched across Michael’s face as he looked at his friend. “I like to think of them as guidelines.”
Gabriel turned back to the billiard table and considered his next shot.
“It appears that I shall earn back any favors I’ve exhausted” Michael said. “You know Alithea and I don’t mix well.” Not only didn’t they mix, they usually set one another off into distinctly non-angelic behavior. He mulled over this new twist, considered the timing. He wanted to return to Jane immediately, but this was undeniably a task he’d have to take care of first. “Since I actually have no choice in the timing or the team, I can only assume it will go smoothly?” His words were more protest than question.
Gabriel nodded over his shoulder. “Yes. That is if you manage to stay out of trouble—more trouble, that is.”
Michael began to consider the most efficient way to tackle the assignment, but a different question burned in his mind. “How does it happen?”
Gabriel looked up from the shot he was about to take. “Embodiment?”
Michael nodded.
“When you wake, it’ll be done. But I warn you, Michael—there’s an immediate risk. During the transition, as you begin to embody, you’ll be out of holy protection, except what you carry as your own right. I can use my powers to guide you, but I can’t guarantee the outcome.”
“I understand.” The risk paled beside the alternative: without embodiment he was definitely not allowed to reveal himself to Jane. And without it he certainly couldn’t be with her in anyway that would feel true to her, or even to him. Embodiment was his only choice. He shook his head. The quirks of heavenly laws and rules stumped him, most of the time. This one definitely did. But he was determined to get around it.
Gabriel turned from the table and held Michael’s gaze.
“I’m not sure you do. But I also recognize there’s no stopping you. I can only hope that divine providence won’t abandon you.” A wry smile curved his lips. “Although considering your many talents, I rather think you’ll be kept on.”
Gabriel wasn’t one for empty sentiment. Michael recognized the kindness and respect behind his smile.
“Perhaps you should wait to embody until after the mission,” Gabriel said in a tone that made it clear his words were more than a suggestion.
“The War Office is hardly a danger to me,” Michael countered. “But I could be pulled away at any moment to another assignment, to another time or place and not get to be with Jane.” He pointed at Gabriel. “You know it’s true.
Gabriel nodded. “It’s also true that this mission isn’t about munitions, or battles, or even the future of England. It’s about defusing the forces driving this scheme—it’s clear what’s behind it, who’s behind it. That little scuffle you ran into at Anderley was only a taste.”
Michael folded his arms across his chest. “I’m willing to take the risk.”
“You have demanding days ahead of you,” Gabriel said, his mouth smiling but his eyes sober. “That is, if you are to restore balance to the world and bring happiness to your lady.”
***
Michael fell into sleep that night with an unusual sense of dread. And though he remembered tossing quite a bit, he was astonished when he opened his eyes and saw sunlight already streaming through the windows. He had no recall of details from the night. The door to his room creaked open, and a tall man walked in with a breakfast tray.
“You’re not Iago.” Michael said, shaking his head to clear a strange grogginess.
“I should hope not.” The man smiled. “Never thought the job of imp had much appeal.”
Michael watched as the man poured out a cup of coffee and then handed it to him. Though the servant had an easy smile, it didn’t lighten his deep green eyes.
“Where’s Gabriel?” Michael asked as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and tried again to shake the spongy feeling from his head.
“He had business across town. Asked me to tell you. He decided to go to the War Office himself. It seems he was keen on freeing you up to visit your lady.”
Michael lifted the cup to his lips, but paused, considering this news.
“So you’ve decided to become a Watcher,” the man stated with no emotion.
“Beg your pardon?”
“A Watcher. You know, angels who decide to ... Well, let’s just say mix with the lovely ladies who walk this delightful earth.” He held out his hand.” Glad to have you back; that was quite a night you had.”
Michael noticed the elaborate insignia on the man’s glove. And as the lace of his cuff skewed to one side, he saw the tattoo.
Lucifer.
Michael’s senses shocked to alert as he looked up into the green eyes of his nemesis—the fallen one, formerly the most magnificent of all the angels. He hadn’t been this close to Lucifer since he, newly named as commander of the Almighty’s forces, had crushed the revolt that pitted angel against angel in a war for dominance of the heavens.
And now here Lucifer was, personally trying to sway Michael to his schemes. He was certainly consistent.
“I made no such agreement,” Michael bit out as he put down the cup without tasting the coffee. He knew better than to eat or drink anything in Hell, for if he did, he’d come under Lucifer’s power.
Lucifer set a steely gaze at him.
“Clever move, my friend. But you couldn’t have tasted it anyway.” He laughed. “Such a fine elixir would be wasted on you as you are, still bodiless and such.” A smile lingered on his face. Michael was astonished at the sweetness of his expression.
“And here I’d hoped to spare you additional pain,” Lucifer continued, idly straightening the lace of his cuffs. “I still could.”
He lifted a nearly loving gaze to Michael, but his tone barely concealed his menace.
“In fact, according to the deal we struck last night, I shall be sparing Miss Austen a great deal of pain. So good of you.” His compliment oozed like rancid oil, making Michael’s skin crawl. “Without your intervention, her untimely death would’ve been exceedingly painful.”
“Leave her out of this,” Michael commanded. “This is strictly between us and always has been. You know that.”
“Oh, but I don’t. In the night, you agreed Miss Auste
n would be spared in exchange for performing a few services for me—very minor services, I might add. And just think,” he said, his smile morphing into a smirk, “in the bargain, you’ll bring her the bliss of angelic love. It’s touching, really.” Lucifer straightened the ruff of lace at his throat. “And, I must say, it was quite generous of you to snatch her from certain doom—very chivalrous.” His expression went flat before he said, “When Gabriel returns later, he can attest to it.”
Michael leapt from the bed and launched himself toward the lying bastard. If the fool wanted a battle, he would have it. A fierce wind roared into the room, forcing him chest to chest with Lucifer. Darkness descended and engulfed them, swallowing all light. Though they’d fought before, Michael knew the powers he’d used to beat Lucifer then might not be at his command now. With a sneer, Lucifer broke through the energy shield Michael had summoned and twisted him in a viselike grip of teeming demonic energy. Michael tried to ignore the bursts of blistering agony that snaked through him, each ripping at him more intensely than the last, but he couldn’t hold back a howl of pain. A horrific smile curled the fallen angel’s lips.
A pressure greater than Michael was certain he could bear crushed in on him. He was trapped in the crucible of dark energy that Lucifer commanded. The furious power wound around him until Michael felt his breath stop entirely. Breath? Breath meant body. Michael groaned—it was an execrable time for his embodiment to have begun.
Lucifer threw back his head and laughed.
Demons swirled around them, hissing and lashing out, their thousands of eyes flashing like scything daggers. Michael felt himself being dragged deeper into fathomless darkness. He hadn’t come this far to be beaten by one of Lucifer’s conjured tricks. But as he wrestled to free himself from the tentacles of the seething trap, he knew the force he struggled against was no trick. Lucifer had found a way to bind his energy, to block his power. Gabriel had been right—Michael’s powers were diminished just enough by the embodiment for Lucifer to have a good whack at him. And though he didn’t like to ask favors from Heaven, as another wave of pain slashed through him and threatened to pull him into unconsciousness, he realized that now would be a very good time to call one in. Invoking the words that he’d rarely had to use, he called out to the pure power of the Almighty. Asking for help never came easy for him, but at the moment he had no other choice.