Copyright © 2021 by Serenity Rayne
Cover art Copyright © 2021 Dazed Designs
Edits by: CB Editing
Formatting by: Blood Queen Publishing
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Also by Serenity Rayne
Do you know what it’s like to have wings and not be allowed to fly? In the privacy of my own home, and at work, I can unfurl my wings but not out in public. Whose craptastic idea was this? I mean seriously, I have wings that are merely ornaments.
Because of my unique situation, not quite light not quite dark, it could be centuries before I’m invited to the Mate Trials. My best friend Joscelyn is barely a hundred years old, and she was invited to the first round this past winter. To be my age and not invited at least once scares me. I’m nearly three hundred and seventy-seven years old, and I’m seriously starting to feel like an old maid.
Stretching my wings, I look at them over my shoulder. Damn smoke gray … I’m not quite a dark nephilim but also not a light nephilim. Running my fingers through my flight feathers I flex my wings several more times, enjoying the brief freedom, before putting them away.
Shaking my head, I dress for work, sticking my long, ash-blonde hair up into a bun—night shift, gotta love it. All the demons come out to play on a nightly basis, and I’m here to send them back to where they belong. I rush down the stairs and out the front door to where I parked my challenger. I hit unlock before I reach the drivers’ side door. Once within my hellcat, I fire her up and take off towards St Michaels Hospital.
There’s nothing like banging through gears listening to some of my favorite songs. Dragula by ‘Rob Zombie’ pops up in my play list, and as the bass hits, I shift into the next gear. The roar of the engine almost drowns out my music, driving a stick and controlling the rpm makes the hellcat sing. I do several laps around the hospital lost in the melody of my favorite song.
When the song finally ends, I drive over to the east lot and park in my usual spot far away from everyone else. With a small piece of terry cloth in hand I dust off the road dirt from my pride and joy. I start singing the next song on my playlist ‘Never gonna stop,’ still on a Zombie kick, as the back door to the hospital opens automatically. The time clock is only a few steps inside the door, so I swipe my badge and head up to the third floor in the elevator.
Once out of the elevator I head directly into the locker room to get ready for my night. On my locker there’s a fancy white and gold embossed envelope. I stand there in a daze, staring at the envelope, Joscelyn got one just like this when she was invited to the Mate Trials. My heart is in my throat, pounding away, drowning out all other sound. Reaching out, my right hand trembles from nerves, but I gently grip the envelope and pull it free from my locker.
Without a second thought I leave the locker room and go in search of my guardian Raphael. Several turns later I arrive outside his office door. Pacing, I keep looking at his door debating on knocking, but just as I raise my left hand the door opens.
Raphael stands there in all his celestial glory, dirty blonde hair disheveled, pale hazel-green eyes seeing right past my gun-metal gray ones and into my soul. His intense gaze steals the breath from my lungs. All I can think to do is raise my envelope to show him. His eyes move from me to the envelope as a smile graces his full lips. “Are you excited?” His baritone voice surrounds me.
“Is it?” I can’t even finish the sentence. Every other female I know prays for this day to come. Me, it scares the hell out of me. It’s the invitation that means that Azrael and Raphael have to test me to see if I’m truly worthy.
“It is, congratulations, Thana, you have your chance at the Mate Trials.” He chuckles to himself. “How does that district lady say it. May the odds be in your favor?” His hand comes up to the back of his neck, defining his broad shoulders and muscular arms and making my nether regions pulse in anticipation. He smiles. Raphael, my impossibly sexy serious boss just cracked a joke.
“Doubtful, but you never know what the big guy has planned.” I crack a grin as I playfully point up. Raphael’s smile is infectious, and I can’t help but smile too as I shake my head on the way back out the door to start my shift. This little five-by-five fancy card can be my ticket to a better future—or death if I’m unworthy. Only time will tell.
St. Michaels Hospital.
I always laugh as I walk into work. It's kind of ironic that Raphael is in charge of St. Michaels Hospital as the medical director. Michael just so happens to be the police chief at the local precinct. Somehow, I manage to punch in on time and get report from the nephilim healer and my best friend, Mark.
“There are at least two close to dying today,” Mark tells me as we walk the halls. His floppy brown hair moves in time with his head shake. Sadness floods his hazel eyes as he looks from me to the hall that we need to head down. My cat tattoo starts to itch, letting me know someone is near their time. I nudge Mark and show him the black whisps that rise up from the cat. He nods slowly, knowing what it means.
We check the hallway twice before I stick my left arm into the room and allow my familiar to rise. The spectral cat leaps out of the tattoo, walks across the floor, and gets up onto the bed with the patient. My cat nudges the patient's hand till the old man touches him. A serene smile crosses the man's lips as he pets the cat. Now having direct contact with the man, I know that he has approximately an hour of life left.
I drop my gaze to the floor. “Is there anyone we should call?” I ask quietly.
Mark sighs and runs a hand through his dark brown hair. “He doesn’t have anyone. He was found at a bus stop a few days earlier and his dementia makes him think he’s a young man returning from the war to his waiting bride.”
I take a shuddering breath. Stories like his break my heart every time I hear them. We finish up report quickly, and I text Raphael letting him know to keep the other nephilim out of my wing. If I am to take this man’s soul tonight, I can’t expose my wings to the others before the Mate Trials.
I remain at the nurse's station until he arrives and goes with me to the old man's room. Raphael is a handsome man; he looks so unassuming with his glasses and unruly hair despite being over six feet tall and a solid block of muscle. The light dusting of stubble along his jaw makes my hands ache to feel its roughness. He stops just outside the patient’s door and unbuttons his dress shirt's sleeves and rolls them up to his elbows. I'm hypnotized by the flexing of the corded muscles of his forearms. It's something about the potential strength of a man's hands that gets my blood boiling. He catches me staring and smirks at me. "Focus, Thana," he says softly. I do, however, notice he blushed over my attention.
Raphael enters the room ahead of me, and I close the door behind us. His hands take on a soft white glow just before he touches the old man. His inhale is audible as he makes co
ntact with the old man's flesh. Raphael's eyes close, and he tilts his head back, letting his dirty blonde hair flop backward. He stays perfectly still as I watch his eyes move rapidly under his closed eyelids. I wonder what it's like to see someone's life flash before your eyes.
Several minutes pass before Raphael lets go of the man and turns to me. "He's all yours, Thana; he has a place in paradise waiting for him." Raphael's voice sounds almost musical to me. Gently he rests his large hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze before walking out of the room.
Closing the door behind him, I place my left hand on the glass. Raphael places his hand on the glass over mine and gives me a firm nod. We must work in tandem when someone passes. My job is to comfort the soul and embrace it, then remove it from its earthly bonds. Raphael needs to accept the soul from me and allow it passage into Heaven. My eyes remain locked with Raphael's hazel-green ones as I close the curtains. I swear, sometimes I think I see something more in his gaze.
Before I return to the side of the bed, I draw in a deep breath and unfurl my wings. Carefully, I stretch each one out before leaving them half open. My hands caress my smoke-gray feathers making sure they look presentable. Next, my fingers run through my long golden blonde hair, trying to remove the tangles the best I can. My hands ghost over my scrubs' fabric and change my outfit to a black wedding gown of my own design. Death shouldn't be scary; it should be peaceful and beautiful. Finally, I appear at the old man's side and reach out and take his cold hand. His pale blue cloudy eyes look up, and he smiles.
"It’s time?” he asks me weakly, and all I can do is nod yes.
“Does it hurt?” he asks next. I shake my head, no.
I sit with my hip next to his and bend forward to place my lips to his forehead. Gently, I lay my hands on his cheeks in a comforting caress. I offer up a silent prayer for his soul to find his loved ones when he crosses over. My wings lower and cover us gently, shielding us from view.
As I lift my lips from his forehead, the whisp of his soul follows me, rising into the air. Carefully I cup the swirling white wisp of his soul in my hands and retract my wings, returning to looking human. “Raphael?” I say softly trying to contain the emotions that threaten to bubble over.
The door opens quickly, and he stands before me. A look of concern always crosses his chiseled visage as he looks me over. After all this time, he still isn’t used to me getting emotional. I always cry when I take a life, which is why I am such an anomaly. Angels cry, not nephilim—definitely not dark nephilim.
Gently, Raphael wraps his thick muscular arms around me hugging me, giving me the comfort that I so desperately need. The warmth that radiates from his body cocoons me and my hands ache to grip his waist, but I need to provide him with the soul I am holding. Before I can open my mouth, his thumb and forefinger grasp my chin and tilt my head up. As I stare into his eyes, they take on their angelic quality; the hazel-green turns golden. I’m lost in the swirling mass of liquid gold, softly he presses his lips to my cheek and stays there for a moment before releasing me.
“You will make someone a perfect mate, Thana.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he releases my chin. He holds his hand out for me to give him the soul.
Reverently, I place my precious cargo in his waiting hands. The wisp dances over his flesh for a moment before he closes his hand and it’s gone. I remain staring at his closed hand for a few seconds too long. “No matter how many times I see you do that, it still amazes me.” Slowly I raise my eyes to gaze into his, and he smiles at me.
“This is precisely why you’re so special, Thana. The others just pass the soul off, never giving it a second thought.” Raphael tilts his head to the side, studying me.
“You still care. Thousands of souls later, you still care what happens to them before and after death. Your charges are lucky to have someone as caring as you in the end.” He lightly caresses my cheek running his thumb over my cheekbone before turning on his heel to leave.
“There’s a murderer that was brought in by the police up on the third floor.” Raphael looks up at the ceiling; I swear he can see the person he’s speaking about.
“I’m going to transfer you up to his floor. His deeds have brought him a one-way ticket to Hell. Azrael will collect his soul from you himself.” The tone of Raphael’s voice changes as he mentions Azrael’s name. For centuries the original angel of death has been trying to corrupt me to his side. Every advance he’s made, I’ve rejected time and time again.
My eyes widen at the news that Azrael himself will be collecting the soul. My gaze darts around the room, then back to Raphael. “He scares the hell out of me. He takes the dark nephilim to Hell himself. He wants me to join him in the darkness.” I shudder with the thought of him wanting to take me away.
Raphael gives me a knowing look then smiles. “I won’t let him take you. You're too precious to me.” He says the second sentence softly so that I barely hear. My treacherous heart dares to hope that I’m more than just another nephilim to him. He stands there for a beat too long before taking off to make the assignment changes for the rest of the shift.
Almost thirty minutes later, the human nurse that I’m replacing comes down to my floor, and we sit down to give each other report. Her assignment mostly has prison transfers, and various other offenders brought in by law enforcement. I’m really starting to feel like I’ve gotten the short end of the stick in this swap.
I make it upstairs, and who did they assign to guard the inmate? None other than Christian, a five-foot-ten, one-hundred-and-eighty-pound kung fu master. Not that the humans know that; all they see is a handsome, distinguished Japanese man with his long hair in a bun. “Kon'nichiwa Christian,” I say as I bow low to him, showing him the respect he deserves. He’s been alive for centuries and has attended hundreds of Mate Trials, but since the passing of his first wife he is yet to find himself a suitable mate.
His chocolate eyes light up as he brings his fist to his palm before bowing lower than I did. “Kon'nichiwa, Thana.” He winks at me and opens his arms wide, offering a hug. I go to him without hesitation and rest my head on his shoulder for a moment.
“How is my night angel doing today?” he says, kissing the top of my head and releasing me.
“Great up until I was informed that Azrael himself is coming for this one’s soul.” Hesitantly, I peek around Christian and into the room behind him. The evil radiates from this man. It looks like a black, inky mass moving over his skin, kind of like that anti-hero symbiote alien.
“Azrael will be fine; you’re safe, Kichōna mono,” Christian says as he clears his throat. “This one's death should be a painful one. He killed a pregnant mother as well as her two children in the house.”
My eyes flare, and my eyebrows raise in shock. The dark gift from my father starts to rise to the surface, and I battle to suppress it. I will not go dark; I’ve finally ascended enough to be considered good enough for the Mate Trials. Christian watches me closely as I rein in the darkness. “Sorry, I hate when innocents die. It makes my heart ache,” I say as I absently rub my chest over my sternum.
He nods solemnly as he looks back into the room for a moment. “Anyone that murders children deserves to burn for eternity. Children are a gift. Life is a gift.” His eyes lighten slightly as he looks into mine. He’s also an angel, not as high up as Raphael, but he’s much higher than I’ll ever be.
I reach out and grip his muscular bicep and give it a reassuring squeeze. My hand remains on his arm as I look up into his eyes. “Someday … You’ll be a fantastic mate and an even better father.” I smile as my crow tattoo starts to itch. He blushes at my comment then looks up towards the heavens. I hope he finds his mate this time.
As I release his arm, I move past him into the room. Azrael is already sitting in the corner, book in hand, waiting for the inmate to die. “Azrael, sir. I wasn’t expecting you this soon,” I say as respectfully as I can. The man scares the ever-loving daylights out of me. I think I’d rather have my fea
thers plucked one by one than have to stand before him.
“I know. It’s exactly why I’m here. I want to watch you take his soul,” Azrael says with a growl to his voice that makes Christian pop the door open.
“I’m unmated; I’m not permitted to expose my wings with males present before the Mate Trials.” I look frantically between Azrael and Christian.
Azrael rolls his eyes at Christian. “Please, as if he’ll find his mate this millennium.” Azrael motions to Christian, and pain crosses over Christian's perfect sun-kissed features.
“I need permission from Raphael before I can. This is his domain, and his law rules this building,” I say, getting out my phone to text Raphael. Basically, I tell him to get his white-feathered ass upstairs; Azrael wants me to break the rules. Within seconds of hitting send, Raphael appears in a golden shimmer next to me.
“What is the meaning of this!” he bellows, his wings on full display, filling the cramped space of the patient's room.
“Settle down, golden boy; I need to watch Thana take this man's soul.” He motions to the murderer before us.
“With her being of mixed blood, I need to make sure she’s in full control of her dark side before the Mate Trials.” Azrael leans back and folds his hands behind his head.
“You’re both are welcome to stay and watch; then again, I am the only one mated out of the four of us,” he says smugly, looking between Christian and Raphael.
My eyes dart between Raphael and Christian. I really don’t want to break the rules, but on the flip side, I would love to find out if either of them is mine. Christian lowers his eyes, not wanting to meet mine. “I’ll step out. I’m sorry, Thana,” he says as his heartache is evident in his voice. In his gaze, I can see that he doesn’t want to leave me. Honestly, I don’t want him to go either. Rules are a bitch sometimes. As Christian leaves, I turn to face Raphael.
Discovered: The Dark Angel Chronicles Page 1