by Eileen Wilks
“You didn’t want Lysander killing demons you’re meant to kill.”
“Ah. Well, Lysander’s fallen. He’s nearly one of them.”
“Say that to him, and I’ll have more broken marble statues to replace.”
Nathaniel saw a flash of himself and Lysander falling from the sky and crashing into solid stone. After which Nathaniel’s left forearm bones poked through his skin like a button through a button hole, and Lysander’s golden skin was mottled purple from a dozen cracked ribs that made his chest look like a canvas splattered with paint. It had been a brutal exchange, and Merrick had silently watched with a grim expression until they finished. After, Nathaniel had flown away. Lysander had stayed.
“Is Lysander the reason the ventala are hunting me?”
Merrick shook his head. “Lysander does his own hunting. What makes you think there are ventala after you?”
Nathaniel explained.
Merrick nodded, returning to the bar to make himself another drink. Nathaniel waited, but Merrick said nothing.
“I’m having a problem with my memory.”
“I noticed. New body?”
“New body?” Nathaniel echoed, leaning forward.
Merrick drained his glass.
“What did you mean by that question?” Nathaniel asked.
“Nathaniel, we’re not friends.”
“You allowed me into your home.”
“You asked to meet; I was curious. Also, refusing hospitality to an angel courts the kind of trouble that’s best avoided.” Merrick looked him over. “I don’t know what you’re doing in the Varden if you haven’t recovered your memory.”
“Where am I supposed to be?”
Merrick shrugged. “The Italian Alps? On some untouched, unreachable mountaintop in the country where you first lived.”
“So why would I wake up in the snow near Kate’s house?” Nathaniel wondered.
Merrick smirked. “There’s a woman?”
Nathaniel frowned, not sure how much he wanted to reveal about Kate. “There are many women,” Nathaniel said absently. “They make up half the world’s population.”
“They do. The more beautiful half,” Merrick said, setting his glass on the table.
Nathaniel appraised the ventala. Merrick seemed to have an appreciation, and perhaps an understanding, of women. His insight might be valuable. “Could an attachment to a woman have pulled me so far off course?”
“I don’t know, but on the list of things that make mortal men cross oceans, women are at the top.”
“So the trouble I find myself in may be Kate’s fault,” he mused.
“That’s one way of putting it—a way that will ensure she doesn’t talk to you until you get your next body. But, hey, it’s your dead end.”
“You’re right; fault isn’t a good choice of words. She’d be insulted. Kate’s got great spirit, but she takes offense easily.”
The corners of Merrick’s mouth curved up. “Yeah, you’re going to do really well with her.” Merrick walked to the door and opened it. “Good luck.”
“This is an end to your hospitality?”
“It is,” Merrick said.
Nathaniel sighed. Being asked to leave was a suboptimal turn of events. “May I ask for a piece of advice?”
“You can ask.”
Merrick’s hard edges were showing. A ventala who’d been befriended by a fierce fallen angel was likely more wild and dangerous than the lions of the Coliseum. But what choice did Nathaniel have but to seek counsel when he recalled so little about the modern world?
“Kate is in the Etherlin visiting her friend, but I don’t want to join her there. In my place, where would you go while awaiting your memory’s return?”
Merrick narrowed his eyes, suddenly attentive. “What’s Kate’s last name?”
“I don’t know. Why would that be of consequence?”
“Is her friend a muse?”
“Yes.”
“Which one?” Merrick asked, becoming very still.
“She called her Alissa.”
After a moment’s silence, Merrick said, “Kate’s an aspirant. Her last name is Devane.” Merrick rested his hand against the doorframe. “Nathaniel, how would you like my help for the night? With me providing information and advice . . . and clothes from this millennium?”
“I would appreciate that very much,” Nathaniel said, suddenly wary. “In exchange for what?”
“For delivering a package.”
“As long as the package isn’t an instrument of malice or harm, I foresee no difficulty.”
Merrick swung the door closed.
Kate approached the Dome, which was headquarters for the Etherlin Council. A reimagined version of the iconic blue and white Greek buildings, the white stone had a slight shimmer from crystalline paint and the blue dome was rimmed with silver swirls around the base.
Kate had visited the Dome’s reference library once before with Alissa as a chaperone. When they’d left, Kate had turned in her electronic parking key card rather than the identical-looking key card to the library archives. The investigative reporter in her always resisted giving up access to any amazing source of information. Now having the card would allow Kate to do some reading without relying on Alissa, which was good because that might have been awkward since Grant and Alissa were involved and Grant likely wouldn’t approve of Kate’s research into Nathaniel’s history.
Nathaniel. His name roused memories of the kiss. Well, of both kisses. The one born of heat and frustration that had demanded her attention at the Etherlin gates. And the cooler, wistful one in the dorm room that she’d witnessed in the memory or whatever it was. A bond that ties us together, she reflected. How to feel about that? She wasn’t sure. Apparently the connection to him had been thrust upon her by chance when she’d found his ring, and that didn’t sit well. She didn’t want to be at fate’s mercy, just a plaything with which to be toyed. She pursed her lips. She’d never consented to a lifelong connection, but clearly one did exist. She would have to figure out a way to break it or learn to live with it. With the feel of Nathaniel’s body still fresh, it didn’t seem like such a hardship, but in terms of having him around, it was early days.
Down wide hallways of mosaic tile, she kept her head up and nodded at the security officers she passed within the Dome. In the hushed corridor that led to the locked collections, she showed her identification and held her breath.
The ES officer facing her was older. He had light hair and wolf’s eyes.
“This is an unusual time to be doing research. Aren’t you going to the holiday party?”
“Of course.” Which is why I’m in a hurry! I’ve got to go back to the guard post for my bags and find a ride to the Clarity Hotel since an alleged angel took off with my car. Then I need to check in and make myself presentable for what may be one of the most important networking opportunities of my life. Jeez, what the hell am I doing here trying to sneak in to look at thousand-year-old books? I’m a complete head case.
“Which books are of interest, and what’s the urgency?”
Damn. He wasn’t supposed to ask that.
“Actually,” she said, leaning slightly forward and lowering her voice. “A council member has asked for help with his speech, and I’ve agreed to help—very discreetly. It’s got a historical theme, and he suggested”—she rolled her eyes—“that maybe I should look in the original archives for some inspiration. He suggested documents by Tacitus,” she said, grasping for material that would cover Nero’s reign. Actually, what interested Kate most were the writings of whatever muse had lived in or near Rome at that time. Muses were keen observers and attuned to supernatural phenomena. If Nathaniel’s life on earth had begun during Nero’s time as emperor, a muse may have noted it. “And before you ask anything else, let me just say that that’s all I can tell you. If you’d like to turn me away, go ahead. Honestly, I’m really pressed for time, and I’d love to tell him that I couldn’t get past ES.”
The corner of the ES officer’s mouth curved toward Heaven. He tipped his head forward and said in a low voice, “Since no one called ahead to let me know you were coming down, I don’t think speech-writing is the reason you need to look at those books.”
Her heart thumped in her chest. If he called Grant or a member of the council and caused trouble, Alissa would not be pleased with Kate. She cringed inwardly at the thought. Alissa had been extremely good to her. Kate didn’t want anything to damage their rapport.
“You do some brilliant work, Ms. Devane, so I’m going to trust that if you’re here on the night of the holiday party, you’ve got a good reason.”
Thank God! She pressed her lips closed and nodded.
“Don’t disrespect my trust. You remember how to handle the materials?”
She nodded again.
“Then go in.”
She didn’t exhale until she was inside the climate-controlled, moisture-controlled safe-deposit box of a room.
Nathaniel ate spiced lamb with peppered figs in an apricot glaze. It might have been the most delicious food he’d ever consumed, but given the current state of his memory it was hard to tell.
Merrick’s knowledge of archangels was secondhand but useful. Apparently the fallen archangels kept their bodies for eternity, but those who had not fallen were given new and better bodies on occasion. It took about a day for the soul to bond with its new shell and for the angel’s memories to organize themselves within a new brain. It was fascinating.
“If this body is new, how did you recognize me?” Nathaniel asked.
“You get upgraded DNA with each body, but you look the same.”
Nathaniel nodded. “That explains how Kate recognized me from her dreams.” Nathaniel paused as warmth flowed through him at the thought of her. He had woken near her house, so it stood to reason that Heaven had wanted him to find her, but to what end? Was his association with her meant to provide him with information he needed? Or was there something else—something more emotional—that he was to gain from his relationship with her? He hoped for the latter, recalling the feel of her soft lips against his.
Nathaniel asked, “Do you consider yourself skilled with women?”
Merrick quirked a brow. At moments like this, the dark-haired ventala seemed to regret the bargain they’d forged. Talkative wasn’t an adjective ever associated with Merrick, and at present, Merrick had apparently far exceeded his conversation quota for the day.
For him to do this, that muse must be very important to him, Nathaniel thought.
“You’re an angel, Nathaniel. Once you bond with that body, very few women will be able to resist you. Give it a day, and you won’t need my help. Or anyone else’s.”
“I’m not certain it will be that easy with Kate.”
Merrick steepled his fingers. “Then find out what she wants and what she needs, and give her those things.”
“How can I find out what she wants and needs? By asking her?”
Merrick laughed. “No. She may not even know, and if she did, she wouldn’t tell you. It’s your job to figure it out. Spend time with her and pay attention.”
“The problem is that I want her now. Without delay.”
Merrick smiled. “Welcome to the plight of being male.”
Nathaniel tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I wish there was a demon she needed me to kill. I could accomplish that with pleasure and efficiency.”
“That would be convenient.”
“It seems to me that it was easier in the time of my birth. Women needed men for many things. Less so now. Kate lives alone and earns her own living. And though she was quick to offer me aid, she doesn’t want to admit that at times she needs help in return. It puts us at odds.” Nathaniel glanced at Merrick, whose expression revealed less than the Sphinx’s. “She was angry when I left. I was gruff because I was jealous that she chose to enter the Etherlin with another man, rather than come with me. She was so friendly with them. It infuriated me. I want her for myself alone.”
“Be careful of jealousy.”
Nathaniel nodded. “I recognize the danger, but her appeal is distracting. I find it challenging to organize my thoughts when I’m near her.”
“The muses’ holiday party will be a good opportunity. Humans like celebrating, and they’re sentimental during the holidays. Kate will probably be in a good mood and a little better for wine; she’ll be more likely to forgive you if you make a mistake.”
“Good. Kate’s important to me,” Nathaniel said. “At moments, it’s hard to think of anything besides her. That seems significant. Perhaps she was chosen for me. If so, I have to comply with what’s ordained, and so must she.”
“Don’t tell Kate, or even imply, that you’re pursuing her because you’re under orders to.”
Nathaniel frowned. “You suggest subterfuge and dishonesty? Demons deal in those, not angels.”
“I’m not suggesting that you trick her. I’m telling you that you have to be selective about what you share. And when. And how.”
Nathaniel’s scowl deepened. “I don’t know. Being direct and pushing for a quick resolution appeals to me.”
Merrick shrugged. “Then don’t take my advice. Follow your instincts.”
Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. “But you don’t think I’ll succeed if I do?”
“I didn’t say that. If Heaven’s your matchmaker, I’m sure the girl doesn’t stand a chance. But you probably won’t win her over as fast as you’d like.”
“You have something more to say on this subject. I wish to know what that is.”
Merrick smiled. “Vampires and demons have seduced their way through entire continents. Both the angels I know could fit what they know about women in a shot glass.”
Nathaniel frowned. “I don’t believe that learning about women has been my priority. This body was made for fighting.”
“Yeah, but you’d like to use it for something else, right?”
Nathaniel took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, trying to overcome the urge to send his fist smashing into Merrick’s amused face. “Yes, I want her the way men want their wives. The desire runs deep,” Nathaniel said, pausing as thoughts of making love to Kate diverted blood to the lower part of his body and made him ache. “But I won’t compromise my nature during the negotiation.”
“The negotiation,” Merrick said, and from his dubious expression, Nathaniel knew that wasn’t a word to which women would respond favorably.
“The courtship?” Nathaniel said.
“Sure, if we were in Regency England. Listen, archangels have the gift of tongues. You probably speak a dozen dead languages. When in doubt, lapse into one of those. Something like Etruscan, so she’ll have no idea what you’re saying.”
“Merrick?”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck off.”
Merrick laughed.
“How was that for use of the modern vernacular?” Nathaniel asked.
“Not bad.”
Kate’s initial excitement at gaining access to the archives had given way to impatience and fatigue. The pages were so stiff and fragile that she couldn’t quickly thumb through them. And Nathaniel’s heavy ring had caused a cramp in her hand.
She returned to the metal table with the two last resources on the period when Nathaniel had supposedly lived. Sitting on the uncush-ioned metal chair that was modern, sterile, and incredibly uncomfortable, she carefully examined page after page of the original texts and the corresponding translations. She pictured the modern muses in monks’ robes slaving over the ancient documents. The work must have been so tedious.
The joint at the base of her thumb ached and she slid the ring forward, rubbing her skin. Then she turned a page and sucked in a startled breath. Pictured in a gilded full-color illustration was Nathaniel, bloody and restrained by men who forced him to kneel; standing over him was the very blond, eerily pretty man who’d held the knife to her throat in her dreams.
The t
ext seemed to leap out at her, and she had to stare and concentrate to read the words. The white-blond man was identified as Gaius Gadreel Seneca, the brother of Nero’s tutor and advisor. The muse wrote, “His external beauty disguises the darkest of souls. I believe Gadreel to be a demon in human form, for it’s hard to accept that anyone human who was capable of such depravity and malice could be so embraced by reasonable men, no matter what services he’s performed or aid he’s rendered them. His hold is supernaturally strong. I have heard Gadreel boast of using both the young emperor and his mother Agrippina as whores. Nero’s advisors are clearly afraid and in awe of Gaius Gadreel. How can anyone wield such power over the most powerful people in the whole of the Roman Empire? It is unnatural. He is a vortex of evil, and my influence has been no match for his. Murder is rampant, and not only for political gain. For Gadreel, humiliating and destroying good Roman citizens is a ripe plum. Impotent and unable to watch any longer, I am bound for the coast tomorrow. I hope never to lay eyes on his terrible face again. I hope also that my prayers for justice are answered.”
Staring down at the page, Kate slid the ring back on her thumb. The world seemed to tilt and blur and waves of pain crashed over her. She was on her knees, bloody and battered, swallowing dust. Everything hurt. Bones broken. Flesh torn. She saw her swollen hands in the dirt, but they were a man’s hands. Bruised, calloused, and tan. Memories of a hundred hours of torture roared through her mind as she looked up through tear-blurred eyes. Pain screamed and screeched within the body—Nathaniel’s body. This again was his memory, but she felt everything, the hurt so pervasive, so profound that she wanted to wail, but Nathaniel only groaned, his hoarse voice nearly gone.
“I warned you, Nathaniel, that God would not protect you, didn’t I?” Gadreel said. “I promised you that Nero would not help you. And he did not. That his advisors would not listen. And they did not. No one can stop me. Now your family is dead. Where is your precious God? Not with you, that much is certain, because he cares not for the suffering of men. He allows me to do what I will.”
A knee slammed into Nathaniel’s chin, jarring his body and causing a fresh wave of sharp pain that made him crumple into a heap. Blood gushed from his split lip. Kate shrieked in frustration. She wanted to cover Nathaniel’s body with hers, to protect him from any more abuse. She wanted to tear Gadreel to pieces.