The Kiss of Angels (Divine Vampires Book 2)

by Selena Kitt

  The woman leaned over him, smoothing his dark hair away from his stubbly cheek, three days growth of beard there, dark tinged with gray. Her soul was a deep, golden amber color, an easy enough target. It was his impossibly black soul that made Muriel hesitate. She’d never doubted her skills before, ever. Jari prided herself on her marksmanship, but Muriel could outshoot her at a thousand yards, and they both knew it. Muriel had always been a natural. She didn’t practice much because she really didn’t have to.

  She shot intuitively. She just knew when she had aimed her arrow true.

  But this… impossible. His soul hung over the man’s head like a storm cloud, a weight. He moaned, eyes closed but moving underneath the lids. The woman leaned in and touched a water-filled sponge to his lips, wetting them. Her name was Elizabeth—the man in the bed knew her as Eliza. His name was Norman.

  The Maker had sent everything they needed to know, as usual, in one image. She knew everything about them she needed to know—and far more about Norman than she wanted to. Muriel had seen souls change colors in an instant—from silver to red, from gold to purple—triggered by some horrible, precipitating event, but that didn’t happen often. Usually, souls darkened over time. Like flesh, the soul was subject to injury, and if it was battered enough by life’s inevitable turmoil, it showed painful wear.

  This man’s soul hadn’t changed suddenly, although many of the events that had occurred in his forty-two years would have broken many, Muriel thought, as she watched Eliza wring water from a washcloth and place it on his forehead. These two had loved once before. Muriel hadn’t been the one to join them, but whatever golden thread had once bound the couple had snapped long ago.

  “Sarrr…” Norman spoke, but the word or words weren’t clear. His eyelids fluttered and Muriel wondered if he was waking.

  “Shhh.” Eliza soothed him, taking his hand in hers. “Sarah’s gone. She’s gone.”

  The woman’s eyes filled with tears and she let them fall, lowering her dark head.

  Muriel knew that Sarah was the daughter they’d had together. She’d been twenty when she’d died. A frat party, far too much to drink, so much the amount of alcohol in her blood had killed her. Like father, like daughter. Norman cried out again in his sleep, something sibilant, probably his daughter’s name again. That incident alone might have broken some men, but Norman was well on his way over that cliff before his daughter had died. His divorce when his daughter was just five had been followed by years of alcoholism, a stint in prison for eight years for breaking and entering, and most of his last few years spent homeless. This was the first bed the man had been in for months, and he would likely die in it.

  Muriel had heard of black souls, but in eons spent working as a cherubim, she had never seen one for herself. They were that rare. She had expected to find a man whose history reflected the darkness of his soul, an evil man who had done evil things. Who she saw was a man whose life had unraveled slowly over time, a man who had been beaten down so far there was simply no light left. He wasn’t evil, he was just horribly, ineffably sad. Why did one soul manage to keep its light under similar or even worse circumstances, while others grew murky, fading to dusk?

  It was a question for The Maker, and one Muriel knew she’d never have the answer to.

  Human life could be both joyful and tragic. Often within moments.

  “Muriel!” Jari jolted her out of her thoughts. “Are we going to do this or not?”

  Of course they were. If Muriel could find her target. The dreadful thought of failing in any task The Maker gave her was enough to get her to raise her bow and cock her arrow. There was simply nothing to aim at.

  “Right in the center!” Jari prompted from the other side of the man’s hospital bed. “It’s a pinprick, but it’s there. I swear it.”

  “I don’t…” Muriel murmured, the bow shaking in her hands. She hadn’t been this nervous drawing her bow since she’d faced Jari across the Nile when Cleopatra had met Marc Antony.

  “Close your eyes.” The words came from behind her—most definitely not The Maker—although when Muriel looked, she didn’t see anyone. “Just close your eyes. You’ll find your mark.”

  “Muriel!” Jari again, impatient. “Let’s do this thing!”

  She glanced behind her once more, looking for the source of the voice, but there was just darkness. The room was dim except for a small fluorescent light over the bed. She supposed there could have been someone hidden in the shadows, but humans couldn’t see angels, and if it was another cherubim, she would have known in an instant.

  Maybe I’m losing it. Muriel frowned at nothing, turning back toward her target, trying to focus. For a moment, she thought she saw a glimmer of something in the man’s soul, a pinhole of light. She raised her bow, glancing over at Jari, whose hands were perfectly steady.

  “Ready?” Jari asked.

  “I don’t know.” Muriel’s voice shook. Maybe it was time for Jari to find a new partner and for her to retire to a desk job. Something in the administration on the Fey Advisory Board, perhaps.

  “Close your eyes.” The voice was closer now, right behind her. She could have sworn she felt the warmth of a presence. “You can do it.”

  She took a deep breath and did exactly what the voice told her to do. She closed her eyes. It was crazy advice, wherever it had come from, but she intuitively knew it was right.

  “What are you doing?” Jari called.

  “Just tell me when.” Muriel definitely felt someone behind her now, but she didn’t move or open her eyes. She felt a warmth in her hands, touching the bow. She raised it and aimed, not with her eyes, but with something else altogether. She pictured the man in the bed, the woman beside him. There was only a pinprick of a chance she was going to make this shot, even with her eyes open.

  “Are you serious?” Jari snorted.

  “On three.” Muriel shifted her weight, still feeling that presence behind her. Strange. It was comforting, calming. Her hands weren’t shaking anymore at all. “One… two…”

  “Three.” The voice behind her whispered. She felt a brush of breath on her cheek, light as a feather.

  “Three,” she said, letting her arrow fly.

  She opened her eyes to fireworks.

  It never failed to thrill her, that moment when two people connected for the first time. She’d watched hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, of people fall in love through the ages, and still, it moved her. Jari didn’t pay attention anymore to the human emotion, the result of her marksmanship. She was always far more interested in hitting her target, and this case was no exception.

  “Bullseye!” Jari cheered, her wings buzzing with excitement. She was actually turning in circles like a dervish, whooping the whole time, so proud that she’d made the shot. Muriel was already anticipating the bragging that would go on later when they were gathered for practice at the archery range. Not many cherubim, none that she knew of, could claim they’d ever hit the center of a pure black soul with their arrow. She supposed bragging rights were in order.

  Of course, the humans in the room had no idea an angel was cavorting just a few feet away over what she’d done to them. They had no idea that, when Norman’s eyes fluttered open and settled on his ex-wife’s face, a spark was kindled that lit them both from the inside. Muriel watched those fireworks with the light reflected in her eyes, a warmth spreading through her as the thread that now connected them began to braid itself organically, with no prompting at all.

  And the two humans hadn’t even spoken to each other. Just their eyes met, but Muriel sensed a million things being said in the silence.

  “How in the world did you make that shot with your eyes closed?” Jari had stopped celebrating long enough to glance over the bed at her.

  “I don’t know.” Muriel blinked, remembering the voice and looking behind her again.

  Nothing.

  But somehow that invisible presence was still there.

  “Well come on, let’s go!�
� Jari flew toward the door, slinging her bow and quiver. “I can’t wait to tell everyone. A black soul, Muriel! And you hit it with your eyes closed!”

  Muriel looked at the black soul in question. It hung over the man’s head, still dark, but not quite black. She thought she saw a tinge of red in it now, like heart’s blood. It reminded her of a dark placenta, with a golden, twisting umbilicus, as if the man was somehow being reborn.

  The two were talking now, in hushed tones, connecting—reconnecting. They had been down this road before. There had been love there, and the arrows she and Jari had let loose had just tethered them once again, rekindling something remembered.

  “Muriel!” Jari turned back at the door, exasperated. “Come on!”

  “I’m going to stay a minute.” Muriel hovered, leaning closer to the couple, wanting to catch their whispered words.

  “Whyyyy?” Jari drew the word out, almost a whine. Muriel knew she wanted to get back, eager to start telling everyone about the amazing shot they’d made, ready to make them into legend, if she possibly could. And Muriel also knew Jari only wanted her there to back up her tale.

  But Muriel was more interested in Norman and Eliza and how this was all going to progress. Besides, The Maker hadn’t sent them another call, and until they got one, Muriel wasn’t obligated to be anywhere. Even practice was optional.

  “Go on, Jari.” Muriel waved her away. “I’ll be along soon.”

  “Don’t be too long.” Jari sighed, her wings drooping. Muriel had done this enough that Jari knew when she was beat.

  She didn’t really pay close attention, but she sensed when Jari had gone. Muriel hovered over the hospital bed, watching the couple, fascinated by the way the man’s soul had begun to change.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Muriel whirled around at the sound of the voice, determined to be fast enough to catch the source this time, and she was.

  “Who are you?” she demanded, bringing herself up to her full height—her wings gave her a little extra—but she was only about half the seraphim’s size. How in the world had she missed him? She had only ever encountered a dozen or so seraphim before, and had never had one speak to her.

  “I’m Chariel.” The seraphim gave her a nod. His wings fluttered lazily behind him, an impressive span, more than twice her own. “You can call me Char.”

  Char—his name burned in her mind like that, like fire, leaving only charred remains.

  “You were the one who spoke to me… before?” Muriel remembered the presence behind her, the whispered words. “But I didn’t see you? How?”

  He smiled. Angels’ expressions were quite human, even if they weren’t made of flesh.

  Then he disappeared.

  Muriel gaped at the space where he’d been. No cherub she’d ever known had the power to disappear or make themselves invisible. She didn’t know much about the seraphim—except that they were the caste of angels closest to The Maker. Presumably, they knew almost as much, although she didn’t know that for sure.

  Before she could open her own mouth to ask where he’d gone to, he was back again.

  “How… where…?” she sputtered, but the cry of pain from the man in the hospital bed interrupted her.

  “Do you want me to call the nurse?” Eliza glanced toward the door, then back to Norman in the bed, concerned. “Is it time for your pain meds?”

  “No,” he croaked, shaking his head. His eyes were open now and Muriel saw they were blue, surrounded by a yellow that was almost orange where there should have been white. His skin, too, was sallow, jaundiced. “They just make me sleep.”

  “But it takes the pain away.” She smoothed his hair, leaning close. “I hate to see you in so much pain.”

  “I don’t care.” He clasped her hands, both of them now, in his. “I’ll take the pain. I want to be awake. I want to be with you.”

  This moved Muriel beyond words.

  “You can come home with me,” she told him softly. “I talked to the doctors.”

  “With you?” He frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t want to burden you, Liza…”

  “They said they would call in hospice to help,” she countered. “You’re not a burden to me, Norm.”

  “Look at that, the more they talk,” Muriel murmured, as if her words might be overheard. She talked to the seraphim, Chariel, who hovered beside her, watching the couple. “I’ve never seen a black soul before. Have you?”

  “A few.”

  “I thought it would be different,” Muriel confessed.

  “Different how?”

  “Oh I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I thought he would be… evil.”

  “Evil?” The seraphim looked at her in surprise. “What is evil?”

  “You know. Like that awful Hitler the humans just warred with.” Muriel was often shocked by the way humans behaved. Hers was the language of love, not war and death, but so many couples had been torn apart by that horrible war. “I guess I thought someone with a black soul would have done truly heinous things.”

  The seraphim chuckled.

  “What?” Muriel frowned back at him, narrowing her eyes. “Why are you laughing at me?”

  “I saw Hitler’s soul,” he informed her. “White as snow.”

  “How is that possible?” She gaped at him in disbelief.

  “The soul becomes a reflection of who humans think they are,” he said. “Not who they really are.”

  She turned back to the couple, considering this information. They were talking close, in whispers, even though they were all alone. Muriel knew the sound of lovers, the sweet intimacy. They shared things only the two of them would ever know. There was something tender in their tone, even though she couldn’t hear the words. If Chariel hadn’t been there, Muriel would surely have been eavesdropping much closer.

  “That bothers you?” Chariel asked, his wings brushing hers.

  “Not exactly.” Muriel shrugged. It made some kind of sense. “It just makes me wonder… who are they, really? At their core, I mean…”

  “You’ll see, if you hang around with me a while.” He nodded toward the hospital bed.

  “You’re going to take it, aren’t you?” Muriel looked up at him, the realization suddenly hitting her. “His soul?”

  He gave a slow nod.

  “You’re an angel of death?”

  “I am,” he agreed.

  “But they’ve just fallen in love!” Muriel protested.

  “And look how healing it’s been already.” Chariel pointed to the man’s soul. It hadn’t been long since she and Jari had shot an arrow into them both, but the dark cloud above the man’s head had already lightened from black to a dusky gray.

  “But his body is going to die,” Muriel lamented. Of course, she’d known this all along, given the circumstances. A man in a hospital bed who looked and sounded as badly as he did usually didn’t get better, but worse. The fact was, she knew that every human coupling she’d ever created would someday end in pain or death.

  “It is,” he agreed again.

  He wasn’t cavalier or matter-of-fact, like Jari and so many of the other cherubim often were about the fate of humans. It was the side-effect of the job, she supposed. There were so many humans, and each of them had their own story. But Chariel didn’t look at the couple with that sort of celestial indifference Muriel had come to expect from most angels.

  He looked at them like she did. He sounded as if he understood the gravity of the brief time humans spent in this realm. Like, just maybe, he understood that the experience of joy and love might actually outweigh the inevitable end to come.

  “He’s going to leave her alone.” Muriel moved closer to the seraphim beside her, feeling his wing covering her back. “She’s going to have to grieve him so soon after getting him back. It’s cruel.”

  “It is.” Chariel nodded, meeting Muriel’s searching eyes. There was a depth of understanding there she hadn’t seen in her peers. What did he know? She wondered.
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br />   “Can’t you give them more time?” she asked, brightening at the thought.

  “It’s not up to me.” He shook his head, the soft beat of his wings a gentle pat on her back. “The Maker tells you where to shoot your arrow. The Maker tells me when to retrieve a soul.”

  “So it’s going to happen soon?” She sighed, knowing those constraints well. “Today?”

  “It’s going to happen now.”

  Chapter Three

  Muriel had never seen a human die this close up before. How had she avoided it this long? And she knew, as she watched, that she had been avoiding it. She’d seen humans killed by accident, but she was rarely called to a place where the dying were getting busy, well… dying. This was an exception, a strange request from The Maker, that she join this couple just before one of them passed on.