Rebel Angel: A Sainted Sinners Novel

by Vivian Wood

  Walking barefoot through the sand, Aurora felt a sudden burst of gratitude for the coming day of solitude. Perhaps if she could get to the root cause of her fascination with Ezra, she could let it go.

  Let him go.

  Even though her heart skipped a beat at the thought, she forced herself to keep walking. She had a lot of thinking to do.

  Alone.

  14

  Ezra

  “How do we get to Heaven?”

  Ezra pulled on his leather jacket, turning to find Aurora behind him. She was outfitted in head to toe black, including her trademark sneakers. Her dark jeans and jacket clung to every curve, dangerous and alluring all at once.

  The handle of her sword poked out from behind her head. Her hair was bound in that same intricate braid that she wore the first night he met her. In fact, the whole outfit was the same as the first night he met her.

  It must be part of her battle ritual, he realized.

  The image of her advancing on an enemy, sword in hand, flashed in his mind again. An avenging goddess, punishing anyone foolish enough to block her path.

  “What?” she asked, catching him looking her up and down.

  “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. Now wasn’t the time to be fantasizing about Aurora, not in any capacity.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” she said. Her voice was softer than usual; she’d been quiet since the end of their day of reflection.

  “Have you eaten enough?” he asked.

  “Ezra, yes! We’re gone over this. I am ready, you are ready. Now you’re going to tell me how we get to Heaven.”

  “Ah. Well, you’re not going to like the answer.”

  She crossed her arms and eyed him. “Spit it out.”

  “Mere Marie is waiting outside. She’s going to mask your Null abilities, temporarily.”

  Aurora’s brows arched. “That’s an option?”

  “Just for a few hours, yes. You joked about eye of newt and hair of dog, but it’s probably not that far from whatever potion she’s made for you.”

  “Lovely. And this is to hide me in Heaven?”

  “That, and to help us get there.”

  She looked puzzled for a moment, then understanding dawned on her face.

  “We’re flying?” she asked, her nose wrinkling.

  “If you can be bothered to hold on, Queen Aurora, then yes. I will gladly fly us up to Heaven, just to help you.”

  She flushed. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  She glanced around the safe house one last time, then shrugged.

  “Probably can’t get much more ready than this,” she said.

  “Let’s go. Mere Marie doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  Ezra turned and led her out of the house. It was late evening in New Orleans, the humid breeze heavy with blooming jasmine and the distant clatter of the streetcar.

  Mere Marie stood just outside the safe house, waiting with three big burly bear shifters, armed to the teeth. With her white head wrap and silky purple robes, Mere Marie barely came up to their chests.

  “Finally,” she said, her French-tinged Creole accent more prominent than usual. She turned to the bears. “Gabriel, Rhys, Aeric. Three of my Alpha Guardians, here to ensure that your departure and return to New Orleans are… uneventful.”

  Ezra shook hands and introduced himself, though he’d met at least one of them previously. “You’ll be here when we return?”

  “That’s the plan,” Gabriel said in a crisp British accent. Ezra noticed that Aurora kept looking the bear shifter up and down, felt the slow burn of jealous anger in his gut.

  “Are you a mage?” Aurora blurted out.

  Gabriel arched a dark brow. “Indeed. That’s the other reason I’m here. Mere Marie made a tincture, but I’m going to apply it. I’ve removed stronger powers than yours before, I think it will work splendidly.”

  “Just for a few hours though, right?” Ezra asked.

  Aurora shot him a look, which he ignored.

  “Right,” Gabriel said. The shifter glanced back and forth between Ezra and Aurora, his curiosity about them plain enough. Luckily, he didn’t press. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” Ezra and Aurora said at once.

  Aurora glared at Ezra, and he couldn’t help but smirk.

  Gabriel produced a tiny glass vial. Uncorking it, he motioned to Aurora. “Stick out your tongue.”

  She threw her head back, eager. Gabriel poured a drop of the liquid on her tongue, then splayed his hand over her forehead.

  Closing his eyes, the mage muttered a long string of words. Mere Marie watched intently, leaving Ezra and the other two shifters to look about anxiously. Anticipating danger, though the night was silent.

  A burst of soft blue light fissioned around Aurora for a moment, making Ezra go tense. She opened her eyes a moment later, though. No harm done, it seemed.

  “I feel it,” she said, looking from Gabriel to Ezra. “Like I’m… lighter.”

  “No time to waste,” Mere Marie said. “Let’s test it out before anyone comes sniffing around.”

  “Right,” Aurora said slowly. She turned and came over to Ezra, suddenly bashful. The rejected kiss still hung in the air between them, and the audience doubled it.

  Ezra lost patience after a moment, frustrated. He swept her off her feet, enjoying her yelp of surprise. She clung to him, her arms locking around his neck.

  He released his wings, loving the look of complete awe on her face. A slow smile spread over her face, pure delight at the sight of his wings.

  That look, coming from her… it never got old. All he wanted in the world was for someone to look at him the way that Aurora looked at his wings.

  Not someone. I want her to look at me like that, he thought.

  Tearing his gaze and his thoughts from Aurora, he looked up and flapped his wings. They shot skyward, Aurora squealing. Her nails dug into his neck, the flat of her sword was hard and cold across his chest, but Ezra didn’t mind.

  The soft press of her body against his more than made up for the momentary discomfort.

  Still, he couldn’t let himself lose focus. He pumped his wings hard, taking them up, up…

  The world fell away beneath them, a dramatic drop. Aurora missed most of it, burying her face against his neck. As they rose, the air thinned, but gravity weighed down on Ezra more and more.

  He pushed through the last of it, knowing they would be through it any moment. Sure enough, he felt the air starting to thicken once more.

  “Hold your breath,” he warned Aurora.

  He felt the rise of her chest, knew she’d complied. In the next second, they soared straight up through the invisible boundary between the moral and divine planes. There was a distinct pop of pressure, and then they were flying free. Easy.

  “Ohh,” Aurora said, raising her head. “It smells like… oatmeal cookies and vanilla. Do you smell that?”

  “Actually, to me it’s the scent of fresh rain, that ionized crisp clean. Like the air is charged, almost. Heaven is tailored to the individual.”

  “Huh,” she said, looking around. “It’s just whatever we like?”

  “That’s the gist of it. There’s a reason people want to come here.”

  She nodded, eyes wide as she took in their surroundings. Clouds began to gather as he coasted upward, clinging to Ezra and Aurora’s skin like downy mist.

  They broke above the clouds, which reformed under Ezra’s feet. He landed on solid ground.

  “It’s beautiful,” Aurora murmured.

  “I’m going to put you down,” he warned.

  “No!” she said, holding tight to his neck. “What if I fall?”

  “You won’t.”

  “What if I do?”

  “I’ll come after you. But you won’t fall.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, those big blue eyes uncertain. Then, after a moment, her grip eased and Ezra set her on her feet
.

  “Oh!” she said, when the ground proved solid. “Wow. This is… something else. Terrifying, actually. That’s what it is.”

  Ezra smiled. “We’re very close to the Sea of Lights. I brought something special along to help guide us.”

  Holding out his palm, he summoned a piece of parchment, folded neatly in half.

  “Is it a treasure map?” Aurora asked, glancing around a little nervously.

  “Very funny. Here, you open it.” Ezra offered it to her, and she took it.

  After giving him another uncertain look, she unfolded the parchment. When the two halves parted, a tiny purple flame flickered to life.

  “Whoa,” Aurora said, watching as it rose into the air.

  The flame hung there, crackling. Aurora looked at Ezra. “What now?”

  “Tell it where we’re going,” he said.

  Aurora made a soft sound, shaking her head.

  “This feels so dumb. Um, flame? Can you take us to the Sea of Lights?”

  The flame flared immediately, then drifted away from them, leaving Aurora and Ezra to follow.

  “O…kay,” Aurora said, starting after it. “I guess it works!”

  “You can thank Kirael for this later,” Ezra said, right on her heels.

  They walked for a few minutes, following blindly. Ezra didn’t doubt the flame’s magic, but he did start to worry about exactly how far they were going to have to go to find the Sea of Lights.

  “Look,” Aurora said, pointing.

  A building rose in the distance. Gleaming white marble, Greco-Roman columns all around. A set of low steps led up into the temple’s shadowed entrance.

  As they got closer, the flames grew and danced, until Ezra and Aurora were nearly standing on the steps. Then the flames flared high, guttered, and died.

  “I guess we’re here,” Aurora said.

  She looked at him, fear written plain on her face. Not fear of their surroundings, nor of the danger they were in. Fear of what she’d find inside, of facing the task that lay ahead.

  She was mere moments away from releasing her mother’s soul, once and for all.

  Ezra didn’t have the words to comfort her. He needed to wipe that look off her face, but he had only the simplest means to convey what he felt.

  He reached an arm out and snagged her waist, pulling her close. He expected resistance, but Aurora melted into his arms. He just held her, his eyes squeezing shut when her arms closed around him.

  She hugged him hard, taking a shuddering breath. Another few seconds of silent comfort, and they both pulled back. She gave him a lingering, thankful glance… and then turned to face the temple once more.

  They both took the first step, but before their feet could even touch the marble, Ezra and Aurora both stumbled back, rebuffed.

  “What the—” Aurora started, but she was cut off.

  Before them, two white marble podiums appeared before them. On each was a bronze bowl full of murky silver, the surface much like a tarnished mirror. The air around the bowls seemed to shimmer, beckoning. Ezra glanced at Aurora.

  “Is this the trial of truth?” she asked.

  “Only one way to find out,” he said, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll explore first, just to be safe.”

  After a couple of deep breaths, Ezra stepped forward and looked down into the bowl.

  The world around him extinguished, leaving him completely in the dark but for the glowing silver in the bowl. He stared and stared until his vision began to waver.

  Slowly, the silver faded away and a scene formed in his mind’s eye. He watched from a short distance, suddenly detached and isolated.

  To his surprise, he saw a vision of himself.

  He stood on a lone cloud, lost in thought.

  A gentle breeze blew, ruffling his white robes. He stared out across a sea of clear blue sky, the dividing point between Heaven and the mortal plane.

  He liked to come out here, get some space from the rest of the angels. Though most were polite enough, they were reserved and distant to him. His gift frightened them, or perhaps they simply thought it unnatural.

  Either way, Ezra had long since learned to retreat into his solitude. Here, he was left to his thoughts, unburdened by the distrustful stares of others.

  Metatron approached, flying down in a graceful arc to land beside Ezra.

  Metatron was impossibly beautiful, tall and broad, with gleaming ebony skin and a kind of graceful strength. Ezra turned and greeted him with a short nod.

  “Metatron,” he said.

  “Destroyer,” Metatron rumbled.

  Ezra’s head dipped. He hated that Metatron never used his name. Instead called him by his purpose, his rank. A constant, frank reminder of just what Ezra was worth.

  “What brings you out to the edge of Heaven?” Ezra asked the archangel.

  Metatron squinted out at the blue abyss, his expression unreadable.

  “There is a storm coming, Destroyer.” When Metatron’s dark gaze cut to Ezra, it was nearly electrifying. “Cracks in the wall. Soon it will come crumbling down.”

  “I… see…” Ezra said, though he did not.

  “Lucifer is gathering allies,” Metatron said.

  “What for?” Ezra asked.

  “I believe he intends to defect from Heaven,” Metatron said.

  Ezra stared at him, disbelieving. “It is impossible.”

  Metatron glanced away, silent for a few beats. “I’m afraid not.”

  The conversation lapsed for more than a minute, Ezra’s thoughts tumbling into chaos. At last, he realized that Metatron must want something.

  “Why are you here?” he asked, trying to be as blunt as the archangel.

  Metatron considered that for a moment, his lips curling in a humorless smile.

  “I want you to do what you do best,” he said. “I want you to Destroy.”

  “Destroy… Lucifer?” Ezra asked, taking a step back.

  “Yes. Those who plot against the Heavenly Host must be eliminated.”

  Ezra stared at him, speechless. The boldness of Metatron’s request astonished him. As far as Ezra knew, no angel had ever killed another angel.

  “I believe it is possible,” Metatron said, staring at Ezra. For a moment, he wondered if the archangel could read his thoughts. “

  “I cannot do it,” Ezra said, shaking his head.

  “And yet, you must. It is what He wants.”

  Ezra flinched. “How can he wish that upon the angels that He himself created?”

  “He created you, so that you may Destroy. It is perfectly clear, if only you are willing to see it.”

  Ezra looked away, having no response.

  “If you do not complete this task, Destroyer, you must follow the others to their doom,” Metatron warned.

  Ezra shook his head, unwilling to hear more.

  Ezra came back to the present, the shifting silver swaying before his eyes once more. He thought perhaps the trial would release him, but he had no such luck.

  In a moment, the silver sucked at him again, pulling him down. Another vision of himself, this time in Hell. The scene was eerily familiar.

  Lucifer clapped Ezra’s shoulder as they walked through a dark tunnel. It was only one of the endless honeycombed paths through the bedrock of Hell, leading from one level to another.

  “You’ve done well,” Lucifer said.

  Ezra knew better to shudder from Lucifer’s touch, but it was hard. Just the sound of Lucifer’s posh English accent gave him chills.

  “I only culled Azirah because he attacked me. He was determined to kill me, of that there was no doubt. It was self-defense,” Ezra finished lamely.

  Lucifer tossed back his perfectly-coiffed blond hair and winked at Ezra.

  “Of course.”

  Ezra forced himself to look away. He did not want a fight with Lucifer. Lucifer was strong, and he fought dirty. One wrong word, one misstep, and Lucifer might sic a dozen Fallen on Ezra.

&
nbsp; The worst of them, the ones that truly belonged in Hell, would gladly rip Ezra limb from limb. Not just kill him, but take pleasure in it.

  Ezra, the Destroyer. They’d love it, brag about it later, even if it was a hundred to Ezra’s one.

  And he would be one, for he had no more friends in Hell than back in Heaven.

  “I want you to give Useral a little talking to,” Lucifer said, ushering Ezra down the tunnel. “Now that I know how loyal you can be, I think we’ve got a lot to discuss…”

  The vision shimmered and vanished. The silver swirled again, showing him many quick images.

  Le Medcin, giving Ezra orders to protect Aurora.

  Mere Marie smirking as she sent Ezra on some small errand, knowing he would not refuse.

  Belial, calling Ezra a good soldier.

  Lucifer.

  Metatron.

  Le Medcin.

  The faces swirled and morphed, changing until they nearly blended into one. All around, he heard voices whispering.

  Duty.

  Honor.

  Obedience.

  And then, everything stopped, silent and still but for one final, booming word. A hundred voices suddenly cried out to him:

  Servitude.

  The silver swirled, the darkness descended once more. He floated there, suspended, uncomprehending.

  His trial of truth was creating more questions than answers.

  Then he blinked, and he could see the temple again. He took a step back, looking around wildly.

  He was free.

  Beside him, Aurora was still standing over her golden bowl, staring down at it. Her eyes gone silver, her expression rapt.

  Clearly, she was still in the throes of her own trial of truth.

  The hairs on the back of his neck rose. He held out his hand to summon his sword and whirled around. Far above, he could make out a dozen pairs of white wings, silhouetted against the bright blue sky.

  In moments, a pack of angels began to descend, Armeros leading the charge.