Angel in Training (The Louisiangel Series, Book One) (16 page)

Father Roberts chuckled again. Judging from
the crinkle lines around his hazel eyes, it probably wasn’t an
unusual behavior. “You have no need to worry, angel.” I blinked
certain that, for a second, he knew my name, then realized he was
referring to me generally. “My communications with Michael are of
the messages he wants delivered to his people. There is nothing
shared with me that won’t be shared with the public. As to what he
shares with others, well that is between him and them.”

Despite everything, I still wasn’t sure of my
beliefs enough, but that didn’t mean I wanted to offend him.
Instead, I nodded. I was ready to leave, but a thought occurred to
me and I opened my mouth before thinking about it. “What makes you
so sure there’s a God?” I froze, feeling awful. “I’m sorry; I don’t
mean to be offensive. I’m just curious.”

Thankfully, he chuckled that deep laugh of
his. “Are you not proof enough?”

Well, if you’re going to ask stupid
questions, Angel… “Sorry, that’s not how I meant to ask that. It’s
just, you’ve clearly got some faith going on to be doing the job
you are, but what convinced you so much to turn your life to
God.”

“You’re different to the other angels,” he
deduced, the smile never leaving his eyes.

I winced involuntarily. “Is that a bad
thing?”

“Just different,” he mused.

I could tell that whatever his reasons were,
he wasn’t going to share them with me, so I thanked him and started
to leave, but I stopped and turned back to him. “Father Roberts,
can I ask you a question? Another question?”

He gave me a patient smile. “Of course.”

“Why did Lucifer fall?”

Father Roberts cocked his head slightly. “I
would have thought you knew that answer better than I.”

I gave him a half smile and shrugged. “I’m
different to the other angels?” I offered, lamely.

“Why don’t we sit?” he suggested, pointing to
a pew. I shuffled over and sat down, waiting for him to join me. He
sat, reaching for a Bible. It didn’t take him long to open it to
the page he was after. “How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer,
son of the morning! How art thou cut down to the ground, which
didst weaken the nations! For thou hast said in thine heart, I will
ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God:
I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of
the north: I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be
like the most High. Yet thou shalt be brought down to hell, to the
sides of the pit.”

“For the record, poetry and Shakespeare make
more sense than that, and I can’t understand either,” I mumbled,
peering over at the text.

“Lucifer committed the Unforgivable Sin,”
Father Roberts explained, gently closing the book and setting it
down.

“
As opposed to a
normal
sin?” I asked. “You mean there are sins that can
be forgiven? Even murder?”

“
All sins
can
be forgiven,” Father Roberts corrected me. “Except
one.”

“The unforgivable one?” I asked, rolling my
eyes. “And what exactly did Lucifer do that was worse than
murder?”

“He was blasphemous towards the Holy Spirit,”
was the simple response.

“And that’s worse than murder?” I
scoffed.

Father Roberts smiled patiently. “One can be
forgiven if they trust in Christ and him alone for the forgiveness
of their sins. Those who are blasphemous will never seek Christ
because the Holy Spirit will not work on them.”

I raked my hand through my hair. “It would
have been helpful if it just said that,” I grumbled. And if it
sounded a little less like a fairy tale. I’m sorry, but forgiveness
for murder? “Thank you,” I said, rising to my feet.

“Can I make a small suggestion?” Father
Roberts asked as he walked me to the door.

I paused in the doorway. “Sure.”

“Have faith,” he told me, placing a hand on
my shoulder.

I gave him a smile and stepped out. I
probably shouldn’t have asked. The clock on the central tower told
me it was nearly midnight as I left the cathedral and I was ready
for some sleep.

I arrived back at the convent and unloaded
the boxes from the car, pleasantly surprised that even when I
stacked them on top of each other, I was able to carry them up to
my room by myself. I set them on the floor, looking through them
only long enough to find my England shirt and a pair of shorts, and
crawled into my bed – falling asleep as soon as my head hit the
pillow.

Outdoor Activities

I surprised Cupid the following morning by
already being dressed in my workout gear, and being busy
personalizing my room. There were posters of my favorite bands,
celebrities and television shows hiding the awful white walls.
Trinkets and mementos covered my chest of drawers and all kinds of
beauty products were spread out on the dresser. My clothes had
already been put away into the wardrobe, and I was in the process
of stacking my few books on the empty shelves while singing along
to an old rock song while I did so.

“Wow!” Cupid exclaimed, coming to an abrupt
halt in the middle of my room. “You’ve been busy.”

“I hate white walls,” I shrugged, powering
the laptop down.

“I think I want to stay in here and stare,”
Cupid muttered, staring in wide-eyed amazement. That had me
surprised. The room was very much like a standard dorm room –
nothing special about it – so I was curious as to what his room
looked like.

“We can, but as I missed yesterday’s archery
lesson, I’m sure Michael won’t be impressed,” I pointed out. I
ushered Cupid out of the room, pulling the door closed behind me.
“But I did remember those DVDs, so we can watch them at some
point.” That cheered him up.

We headed down to the dinner hall where I
grabbed a quick breakfast of fruit and yogurt. I might not gain
weight, and I could probably cure myself of any heart disease, but
as the food I had been eating since I had died consisted of
different kinds of fat, I was feeling guilty.

Outside, it was… hot and humid. I wasn’t
expecting anything else. As far as I’m concerned, the four seasons
of New Orleans consist of Hot, Hot and Humid, Hot and Wet, and Mild
and Wet, although locals have tried to convince me for years that
they are crawfish, shrimp, crab and oyster. Currently, we were
stuck in Hot and Humid.

With the odd candy floss cloud dotting the
sky, we moved to a table where an array of items awaited me. “Does
this mean I get to shoot something?” I asked eagerly, quickly
spotting the two bows.

“Maybe?” Cupid offered, grinning cheekily.
“But first, we have to get you outfitted.”

“I should have known you’d be the one to
accessorize me.” I gave the collection of items another look over.
“Are you trying to teach me archery, or get me ready for the
Armageddon?” I joked.

Strangely, he didn’t laugh. “Your vessel will
heal quickly from mortal means,” he told me instead. “If you were
to use a human’s bow, aside from the fact you would break it before
you fired your first round, any friction from the bow on your skin
would heal instantly. Our bows aren’t made for a human. They look
antiquated compared to that compound bow I showed you last
time.”

I glanced over at the bow. He was right. The
last one he had shown me looked military grade in comparison to
these. The limbs were made of simple wood – maybe oak – polished
into a brilliant shine, all the swirls and lines visible. The thin
silver thread looked less likely to withstand my strength than the
wire on the compound bow had. The only thing that really made it
stand out was the golden hand grip, but even then, I would have
thought the compound bow was the stronger option.

“They may not look it, but those bows are as
old as time and are more likely to survive a nuclear explosion than
a cockroach.” At the look of obvious disbelief on my face, he ran
his hand lovingly over one of the bows and smiled softly. “The wood
came from the trees in the Garden of Eden.”

I had trouble believing that, but I did my
best to keep the skepticism off my face. “What’s all that stuff?” I
asked, diverting the attention to the collection on the table.

“Stay still,” Cupid instructed me, reaching
for an assortment of items. The next thing I knew, I was covered in
various accessories and protective gear. “We carry our arrows
here,” he started to explain, pointing to the quiver that was
attached to my right thigh. “With the speed we move, when the bow
is carried over the shoulder, the last thing we need is the quiver
getting in the way.

Despite the fact the quiver was full of
arrows it was light and still allowed me a lot of freedom in my
movement. The fletching brushed the palms of my hands. “Where did
these feathers come from?” I asked curiously, the fine hairs
glowing in the sun.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,”
Cupid shrugged.

I pursed my lips, running my fingertips over
the feathers. “Try me?”

“They’re angel feathers.”

He was right. I didn’t believe him. The
arrows were in the perfect place to grip, being right handed. But
something was off about them. I examined the black leather quiver
more closely and finally discovered what it was. “Cupid, these
arrows are tiny.”

“For storage and transportation, yes,” Cupid
agreed. He reached over and pulled one out. Magically, the arrow
extended, becoming the full sized item I had expected it to be. My
lower jaw hit my chest. “That’s impossible,” I mumbled in awe.

Cupid shook his head with a sigh. “How much
have you seen that you have said is impossible, Angel?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “A few
things?”

“Yet you don’t seem to have realized that
there is very little that is impossible?”

I wasn’t ready to get into a big theological
or philosophical debate on what I believed in and the
impossibilities – or possibilities – that surrounded them. “So
what’s with the gloves?” I asked. “It’s September in New Orleans –
they’re not really necessary, even if they are holey,” I added,
smirking at my own joke.

Cupid didn’t share my amusement, instead
rolling his eyes at me. “The holes are intentional, Angel. They’re
for your fingers. You need the gloves to protect your hands, but
they need to be fingerless for the grip.”

“I’m sure that defeats the point,” I mumbled,
flexing my fingers in the soft black leather.

“You try nocking arrows when you’re
fingertips are covered,” he suggested.

My hands found their way to my hips. “Try
giving me the opportunity and I will.”

“All in good time,” Cupid grinned. He turned
and focused his attention on the smaller of the two bows. With one
hand on each limb, just by the grip, he lifted the bow from the
table, allowing the silver thread to drop to the bottom.

He waited, staring at me expectantly, until I
realized he wanted me to take the bow from him. I started to move
my right hand out, but at the shake of his head, wrapped my hand
around the grip with my left hand. He didn’t allow me to take it
from him completely, instead, keeping a light grip on the wood. He
closed his eyes and he bowed his head.

Although his lips moved, I couldn’t catch
what he was saying, and it took me a moment to realize he was
praying. By that time, he was already opening his eyes again.
“Angelina, angel in training,” he addressed me. “As an archangel of
the Lord, I present to you this bow, blessed by my Father. By
accepting this bow, you are accepting a weapon that is capable of,
when wielded correctly, killing any evil being. As such, with the
bow comes a responsibility to use this weapon for good.” He looked
straight at me, the most solemn I have ever seen him. “Angelina, in
the belief you will earn your wings, will you also undertake the
training necessary to become an archangel?”

All joking and the fun had gone from him.
From the passion and conviction in his voice alone, I knew he
wasn’t playing around. A tiny part of me wished he was – that was a
hell of a lot of responsibility to accept. It wasn’t just
potentially becoming an archangel, but, as Michael had suggested,
the very real possibility that I would have my own House and my own
army. Despite that, the majority of me was ready to accept and face
the challenge – hopefully without the killing evil part.

I nodded, and keeping my voice steady, strong
and even, I told him so. “I accept that responsibility and I am
prepared to undergo any training necessary.”

It felt strange having such an important
moment in the humid air of the convent grounds. I was accepting
what was easily the most responsibility I was ever going to in my
eternal life and I was dressed in a tiny white Lycra workout outfit
to do it in. It seemed like the kind of moment that needed a stage
and my aunt, as well as my closest friends, present. Maybe some
form of ball gown with champagne to follow. And yet, despite the
lack of ceremony, something strange happened.

The silver string began vibrating, so fast,
it sounded like a long, low hum. With the humming, the string began
glowing, getting brighter as the humming got louder. In comparison
to how slowly it built, the sound and light vanished in an
instance. I was left holding a bow which somehow felt more
powerful.

“Now that the formalities are over,” Cupid
grinned, suddenly reverting back to his exuberant self. “Let’s see
how good you are at archery.”

He stepped back and waited. I had hoped that
somehow, being an immortal with extra strength, combined with
whatever magic that had just fallen on that bow, that I would be
able to shoot as well as I had seen Cupid do.

I don’t know who was more disappointed when
the arrow I shot nosedived firmly into the ground a handful of
paces away from me. “Well that was a little less dramatic than I
was hoping for,” I muttered.