Angel in Training (The Louisiangel Series, Book One) (19 page)

My own hand replaced his, still feeling the
warmth from it. I was technically dead, so not having a heartbeat
shouldn’t have been a surprise. But it was. After flogging myself
on the treadmill, I knew for a fact that I hadn’t imagined my heart
pounding against my ribcage. I couldn’t explain it, and with Joshua
looking at me like I was a freak of nature, I did the only thing
that did make sense to me – I turned and fled.

* * *

I charged up the stairs as fast I could, the
sound of my flip flops slapping my feet echoing around the
corridor. Once in the safety of my bedroom, I darted into the
bathroom, stripping my clothes along the way until I was naked in
front of the mirror, to examine my reflection.

My cheeks were flushed and through a
combination of the running and my panic, I was breathing heavily –
both evidence that my lungs and circulation was working. I knew my
digestive organs were working because I could eat and had to go to
the bathroom. So where the hell was my heartbeat?

I pressed one hand against my heart, while
the other went to my throat to try to find the pulse there. Then I
felt one strong beat. I stood there for several minutes, counting.
At first, I counted four beats a minute, but as I calmed down,
relieved to feel even that, it dropped down to two beats. Two beats
a
minute
! That
wasn’t normal. I mean, I was dead, but I was moving around – so
that wasn’t exactly normal either – and I shouldn’t have been
surprised. But I was.

I moved back into my bedroom, pulling on my
nightclothes in a daze. As I sank into my bed, staring up at the
ceiling, I realized that of everything that I had discovered, this
was the most mind boggling. I wasn’t alive, and I wasn’t dead. How
on earth was anyone supposed to get their head around that?

I was still wide awake when the bells of
Michael began ringing in my head. I leapt out of bed, and quickly
dressed in my uniform, before hurrying up the stairs. Michael was
already in front of the door, waiting for me.

“We need to move now,” he informed me,
grabbing my hand.

I didn’t have time to prepare myself for that
feeling of water being dunked over my head, and the next thing I
knew, I was in another nameless alleyway, feeling like I was going
to throw up.

It was the sight of the girl that made the
sickness disappear. She was slumped against the wall, clutching at
her side. I ignored the sound of movement behind me and glanced up
at Michael.

“We still have time,” he whispered, pulling
his hand free from mine. “Do you think you can be tactful?”

“No,” I told him, sarcasm lacing my tone.
“I’m going to march over to her and tell her she has seconds to
live and she has to make a decision before she dies as bluntly as
possible.”

Michael sighed. “Perhaps you should wait over
there?” he said, pointing a little way away from the girl. I was
ready to tell him I was being sarcastic, but his expression told me
to back away. I took a couple of steps backwards, but stayed close
enough to hear what was going on.

Michael crouched down beside the girl. At a
guess, I figured she was old enough that she didn’t need a fake ID,
but I wouldn’t have pegged her much older than me. She was dressed
up for a night out, and her neck was surrounded in beads of every
color. “Help me.”

Even from my distance away, I recognized the
desperation in her voice. She knew she was dying. “I want to,”
Michael told her, as he dropped down beside her. “I can either give
you eternal life, or eternal happiness, but it has to be your
choice.”

She was crying now. “I’m going to die?”

I stepped back. I didn’t want to relive this
in the slightest. I looked up and down the alleyway for something
to distract me. It looked like we were off Bourbon Street again.
Great – just what this area needed: a serial killer who preyed on
drunken girls.

Movement behind me caught my attention again
and I turned to see what the source of it was. At the far end,
behind one of the dumpsters, I could see a shadow moving. I moved
over to it, expecting it to be a cat, or a raccoon or something
like that, so I was caught off guard when something heavy and
wooden connected with my head, sending me flying against the
opposite wall. Through my blurry vision, I saw a flash of red, and
that was it.

The next thing I knew, Michael was standing
over me, glowing in a golden light, looking every bit an angel in
it. “You’re golden,” I mumbled, trying to stop the world from
spinning while I coughed up my lungs.

“Angel, what happened?” he demanded. “Are you
alright?”

I groaned and sat myself upright, regretting
it as I did when the world lurched and spun. My hand instinctively
went to the point of contact, causing me to cry out in pain as I
touched it. I jerked my hand away, spotting something wet on my
fingertips in the dim light.

“Angel, we can’t stay here,” Michael told me.
“I need to take Emily to Peter.”

Before I could ask who Emily or Peter were,
he had grabbed my hand and the sensation of water being poured over
my head numbed the throbbing pain. With a flash of light, we
appeared in the middle of a beautiful flowery meadow, with the
flowers dancing gently in the wind, and the sun shining down around
us.

I didn’t really have time to take in my
surroundings as I stumbled to the ground and brought up the chicken
dinner I had eaten a few hours ago. Once out, I was already feeling
better, despite my throbbing head, and I made myself stand.

Michael was watching me with a small frown on
his face. Next to him, in a pretty white summer dress, was the
blonde haired girl from the alleyway, watching me in confusion. She
was also glowing with this brilliant pure white light, which was
making my eyes water. “I’m glad I chose eternal happiness,” she
muttered.

I couldn’t say I blamed her, as I once again
questioned if I had made the right choice. “I’m supposed to get
used to it?” I offered.

Michael ignored me and turned to the girl.
“You made the decision that was right for you. This is as far as we
can go now.”

“You’re leaving me?” she asked, looking
scared again.

“You have nothing to fear,” a new voice told
her. We both looked to its owner. If I’m honest, he looked like
Father Christmas in a dressing gown, with the same golden hew to
him Michael had, but he greeted Michael like an old friend.
“Michael, you bring me another?”

Michael nodded. “She is yours to watch over
now.”

“Is this going to hurt?” Emily asked Father
Christmas.

He gave her a kind smile and wrapped his arm
around her shoulders. “There is no hurt or pain here.” He glanced
at Michael. “Until next time.” Then the pair of them walked into
the horizon, slowly fading from sight.

I turned to Michael. “Who was that?”

He gave me a look of complete disbelief.
“Who? Saint Peter?”

I shrugged. “I guess. What’s he a patron
Saint of? Meadows?”

“Saint Peter?” Michael repeated in disbelief.
“As in Saint Peter, Keeper of the Keys of Heaven.”

It took a moment for me to think, thanks to
the relentless ache in my head, but I shook my head, and then
winced at the action. “I take it that should mean something to
me?”

“You have never heard reference of Saint
Peter standing at the Pearly Gates?” he asked. He looked like his
eyes were going to fall out of his head.

That reference did ring some bells.
“
That
Saint Peter?” I glanced around.
“Did I just throw up in heaven?”

Michael merely shook his head in exasperation
and grabbed my hand. I had barely managed to cry, “Oh no!” and we
were back in his office. This time, he caught me before I hit the
floor and led me over to his couch. When I looked up again, he was
offering me a glass of water, which I took and drank greedily. “I
don’t like teleporting,” I mumbled.

Michael knelt down in front of me, and gently
lifted my face, examining the cut. “It is healing already. You
should be recovered in a few hours.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“What happened?” he asked me.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I thought I saw
something, and then that something hit me around the head and sent
me flying. Then I saw you and you were glowing this wonderful
golden color.” I frowned. “You still are.”

“That’s my aura,” he said slowly. “Are you
sure you don’t remember anything?”

I closed my eyes, trying to replay the scene.
The dumpster’s lid was partly open, overfilled with bags and it was
sitting in a puddle of what could have been trash juice. Ducked
down behind the dumpster was a figure. My eyes flew open. “It was a
woman. I didn’t see her properly. I think I may have startled
her.”

There was a very long silence before Michael
spoke again. “You should get some rest.” He got up and walked over
to his desk. “Cupid will keep you busy tomorrow.”

I got up and left the room, confused. I
couldn’t be entirely certain, but I swear he knew something about
this that he wasn’t telling me. My head was still throbbing by the
time I climbed back into my bed and a squeezed my eyes closed,
clearing my mind.

Notifications

I awoke to another bright, sunny morning, and
Cupid bouncing on my bed with his usual excited puppy cheer. “Today
you are going to hit that target,” he announced.

“We’ll see,” I sighed, grabbing my workout
clothes and ducking into the bathroom. I re-emerged, dressed and we
headed downstairs for some breakfast.

“What’s wrong?” Cupid asked.

I looked down and realized I had been pulling
a banana muffin to pieces, rather than eating it. “I met Saint
Peter last night.”

“Pete? How is he?” he asked, leaning back in
his seat.

“I didn’t really get to have a proper
conversation with him. I didn’t realize who he was,” I
muttered.

Cupid pulled a face. “You mean, you didn’t
realize who he was, or you didn’t realize who he was when Michael
told you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t like you,” I
informed him as he started laughing at me.

“How could you not know who Saint Peter is?”
Cupid asked, laughing loudly.

“I didn’t think Saints existed any more than
angels did,” I muttered, poking my finger into the soft muffin. “I
never exactly sat down and read up on any of this when I was alive.
Besides, the guy looked like Father Christmas!”

“Maybe you should,” Cupid suggested. “Read up
on it, I mean. It might make it so that less things surprise
you.”

“Maybe,” I agreed, quietly. “Can we get this
archery lesson over with? I think I need to see Joshua.”

“If it is urgent, we can put the lesson on
hold,” Cupid told me without missing a beat. “Your charge is much
more important.”

I shook my head. “It can wait.”

Cupid’s grin rivaled the Cheshire Cat’s.
“Great. Well, if you’re only going to play with that,” he pointed
at the muffin. “Shall we go?”

I nodded and followed him to the armory to
collect my things. I strapped the quiver on and pulled my gloves
on, having stuck them into the waistband of my shorts earlier. I
picked the bow up and somehow felt a feeling of peace – strange
coming from a weapon, but I didn’t want to think about it. We moved
out into the gardens and took our positions.

* * *

We had been out there for three hours and I
had yet to hit the stupid target. I was becoming more and more
frustrated, and I was ready to scream. I was trying to clear my
head and ignore the fact that I was still trying to work out what
my heartbeat made me; that I had been murdered by a serial killer;
that I had virtually watched the live adaptation of said murder;
that I had no clue about any of this world I was a part of; that my
charge was as freaked out as I was – and that I couldn’t hit a
stupid target.

When the last arrow soared through the air
before stabbing the ground three feet short, I shoved the bow at
Cupid. “I quit,” I announced. “This is pointless.”

“It’s not pointless,” Cupid corrected me,
setting my bow down.

“
Really?” I asked, my hands on my hips. “I
thought angels weren’t allowed to kill people. Isn’t there some
rule that states
thou shalt not kill
?”

Cupid looked at me in amusement. “Some rule?
You know that’s one of the Ten Commandments, right?”

“
Yes,” I told him, rolling my eyes. I
wasn’t
completely
clueless.

He leaned back against the table with a sigh.
“No, we are not supposed to kill. That is why our weapons turn
black. But in the natural hierarchy of things, humans are more
important than we are, and it might be that you need to stop a
fallen angel.”

“Stupid Unforgivable Sin” I grumbled.

“It was Lucifer who fell through committing
the Unforgivable Sin. The other angels fell from grace by following
him,” Cupid explained. “Despite everything, angels aren’t
infallible, but if we make the wrong choice, we must live with the
consequences and our wings are clipped.”

“So what you’re saying is that if I make a
wrong decision, I could fall?” I asked, hesitantly. It’s no secret
I have a habit of using a certain name in vain.

Cupid nodded. “Yes.”

“Well how can I be an archangel and not fall
if I kill a fallen angel – is that not taking a life? And what
happens if I kill a person?” the thought suddenly occurred to
me.

“Why would you kill a person?” Cupid asked
me, confused.

It was clear that they didn’t have many human
converts around to pull apart their logic. “If my main job is to
protect my charge, and someone is trying to kill him, but I shoot
that someone and he dies, what then?”