Angel in Training (The Louisiangel Series, Book One) (29 page)

“It was blue?” I asked.

Michael’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t seem as
surprised by that as I would expect.”

I shook my head. “Mama Laveau told me-”

“Mama Laveau?” he repeated, cutting me off.
“She’s still here?”

It was my turn to frown. “You know her?”

Michael nodded. “Our paths have crossed
several times over the last few centuries.”

“So she really is the same Marie Laveau
that’s buried in St Louis Cemetery?”

Michael gave me a look that seemed to verge
on the edge of pity. “Angel, she’s not buried in a tomb. You’ve
been talking to her.”

That wasn’t what I meant. “What does the blue
mean?” I asked him, wearily. I figured it was easier to move on
then attempt to explain myself.

“It’s not just blue,” Michael explained.
“It’s a royal blue. A beautiful crisp, soothing shade that showed
your life mapped out. It showed your highly spiritual nature, how
you were on the right path and how, in the right circumstances, you
were destined for greater things.”

It took everything in me to keep my face
neutral and not snort at the highly spiritual nature comment.

“The thing that would have given it away was
the bright white flashes – like lightning expelling from your
body,” he continued. “By the time I found you, it was completely
white.”

“What about Callie’s aura?” I asked slowly.
“And the one before me? Lilah’s?”

“They would have been like yours,” he
agreed.

I took a moment to consider what he had just
said. “So that is what connects us? The color of our auras?”

“Almost,” Michael said, nodding. “Those who
have the right shade of royal blue auras are the only ones with the
potential to become angels, but there are certain elements which
must also be in play when it happens.”

“Such as?” I pressed, subconsciously moving
even closer to the edge of the seat, as though getting closer would
yield more information from him.

“It glows. It glows like a beacon, or the
light from a lighthouse. It glows so bright that a person looking
out for it would be able to see it from a mile away – even with
buildings in between – because it sends a beam of light into the
heavens.”

“That’s the part that only last for a handful
of minutes?” I asked, remembering what he had told me earlier.

Michael nodded. “That is the large part of
the reason why we cannot create many more angels. The other part
being that we have to have consent, of course.”

I scratched at my head, processing the
information. I had been right about my theory on what had connected
me with the other murder victims.

“As you can imagine,” Michael added,
interrupting my thoughts. “With just one of me, it is hard to spot
the potentials, especially as, with the duties I already have
consuming so much of my time, it is incredibly hard to find them,
much less at the right moment.”

My mouth fell open and I leapt to my feet,
putting the couch between me and Michael. “It was you?” I accused.
“You killed me on the off chance I would say yes to being an
angel?”

There was a moment where I thought I was
going to pass out, but my legs sprang into action and I leapt at
the door. My hand had just curled around the handle when Michael
was on me, one hand grabbing my waist, while the other slammed the
door shut.

I jerked myself free, ducked under his arm
and dashed for the other door in the room – his bedroom. I had
covered the distance, gone into his room, and slammed the door
shut, using my weight to keep it closed, faster than I thought was
possible.

Behind me, Michael was hammering on the door,
calling something to me, but I wasn’t paying much attention. I was
scanning his bedroom for something that would help – a weapon, even
a phone to call for help... but there was nothing. Maybe I could
escape through the window?

“Angel, I’m coming in,” I heard Michael yell,
just seconds before the door was thrust open, sending me flying
across the room, just missing the soft landing on the bed.

I slid across the hardwood floors, coming to
an abrupt halt against the wall. “You really are a lunatic!” I
yelled at him, getting to my feet.

Michael’s hands were in the air in front of
him in the universal ‘I’m unarmed and I’m not going to hurt you’
gesture’. “Angel, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“No, you’ve already done that,” I snapped at
him. Then I swung at him. I don’t know who was more surprised at
the fact I moved fast enough that he didn’t have time to duck, but
my fist connected with his cheek with enough force to send him
reeling backwards.

I didn’t hesitate in swinging for him again,
but this time he was prepared for the blow, blocking it with his
forearm. Still channeling the super speed he had been trying to get
me to locate all week, I spun on the spot, swinging around to hit
his side with my other arm.

“Angel, stop this,” he shouted at me.

For the first time, his words were powerless.
All I could see in my mind’s eye was him hovering over me, asking
me to make a choice. I swung again.

This time he caught my fist, then, with a
loud cry, pushed me backwards. His enormous wooden sleigh bed went
flying against the wall with a resounding smash as we fell against
it, and then to the floor.

“Let me go, you monster!” I yelled at him,
pinned to the floor beneath his weight, despite my struggling.

“
Angel,
stop
!” he bellowed.

This time, although my mind was trying to
persuade my limbs to listen, my body stopped moving, and I lay
there, motionless beneath his weight.

“Angel, I was not the one who killed you,” he
told me firmly. “Human life is sacred – under no circumstance are
we allowed to take it.”

“Then why must you find the potentials?” I
demanded, unable to keep the tears leaking from my eyes.

Michael sighed, looking sad. “For that one in
a billion chance that their time is up while I am near. I do not
hope for their death, and I would certainly never ensure it
happens, but we need angels, Angel. The more our numbers grow, the
more we can help others.”

“Really?” I whispered, unsure that my voice
would hold out.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.
When he opened them, he looked straight at me. “I swear to you that
I would never have wished you dead, and if there was any way to
undo it and the suffering it has caused you, I would.”

Gently he moved himself off me, sitting
beside me, then pulled me upright, his warm, chocolaty eyes never
leaving mine. His hand moved upwards to my face and gently wiped my
tears away.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, feeling guilty
and terrible for attacking him. I should have known that he
wouldn’t do that – he was an archangel, for crying out loud! My
hand reached up to his cheek and hovered by the bruise that was
already forming.

“You’re forgiven,” he whispered.

I flicked my eyes back to his and was
surprised to see he was still staring at me. I was also about to
question if I had hit my head at some point during our tussle,
because I swear something in his eyes had me convinced he was no
longer looking at me like I was just another angel.

Great. I wasn’t allowed to have sex, and I
was seeing it everywhere, in every form – when it wasn’t even
there!

Then he kissed me.

The Archangel Michael kissed me.

It was by no means like the hot, steamy kiss
I had shared with Joshua (albeit in a dream), but it was enough for
me to know that there was no way it could be considered a chaste
kiss between relatives.

Before I could work out what to do, he was on
his feet at the opposite end of the room, looking completely
mortified and at a loss for words. Then he disappeared from the
room in a blink of an eye, leaving me sitting in the middle of his
bedroom floor, my mouth hanging open, still in shock.

I sat there, frozen in that position, for a
very long time. At some point my fingers had moved to my lips, and
at some point after that, I had convinced myself I had imagined it
all. The dream kiss with Joshua seemed more real than that had.

Finally, I felt myself coming out of the
trance. I rose to my feet, straightened my skirt and ran a hand
through my hair. I didn’t have a clue what the time was, but I did
know I was late. Pushing the incident from my mind, I hurried from
the room, and outside past the empty reception desk.

The grounds had become quiet and I guessed
all the other angels were getting ready for bed. That didn’t bother
me – I didn’t particularly want to see any of them anyway, and I
was fairly certain Cupid would be able to tell something had
happened.

I hurried through the gardens to the
pedestrian entrance, my heels clicking on the brick path beneath
me. As I passed the statues of the nuns, glowing in the moonlight,
I noticed the lights coming from St Mary’s Church. No doubt Michael
was in there praying for forgiveness for kissing me. It wasn’t like
I wanted to spend the rest of my life with the guy, but that
thought hurt. I sped up, eager to put some distance between me and
the convent and followed Chartes Street before cutting over to
Bourbon Street.

The Dead Donkey was midway down Bourbon
Street.; down past the usual busy bars near Canal Street, but still
close enough to get plenty of foot traffic, and ultimately
customers.

Joshua was waiting for me outside, busy
playing away at something on his phone. It wasn’t until I was in
front of him, holding my hand over the screen that he realized I
had arrived. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Just checking for updates on
Tabitha.”

“Anything?” I asked him, peering past him
into the bar. There were a fair amount of people in there, but it
wasn’t busy enough that if we wanted to get served that we would
have to wait for long.

He slowly shook his head, slipping the phone
into his pocket. “Just the same as...” he trailed off. “Angel, are
you alright?”

“Yeah, why?” I asked him carefully.

“You look like...” he frowned. “Are you sure
something hasn’t happened?”

I scratched my head, giving him a small
smile. “Nothing important.”

He took a step closer, peering at my face.
“Have you been crying?” he asked me quietly.

I sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to drop it.
“I might have accused the Archangel Michael of killing me. Then I
might have punched him for it. And that fight might have ended up
as a full-on attack, which might have ended when he threw me across
a room to pin me to the floor. So yes, there may have been crying
involved.”

Joshua gaped at me, and finally he burst out
laughing. “Oh, I would have paid to see that,” he told me.

I was not in the mood for this. “Can we just
drop this and get on with it?” I asked him, shortly.

The laughter quickly stopped and Joshua
frowned, studying me. “Are you sure you’re alright? You don’t have
to do this, you know? If you want to head home, you can.”

Part of me wanted to. That part of me wanted
to bury my head in a pillow, but it was also the same part of me
that would have the past hour on constant replay in my head, and I
really wasn’t in the mood for repeating that again. Then again, I
wasn’t sure if I wanted to spend any more time with Joshua
today.

But, this wasn’t about me, Joshua, or
Michael. This was about a serial killer and trying to stop him
before he killed anyone else. “I’m fine,” I found myself muttering.
“We have work to do.”

Joshua nodded, then as though seeing me for
the first time, cocked his head. “What are you wearing?”

My attention was dragged away from my
thoughts and quickly to my outfit.
Maybe,
I figured, it was a little too much, but as I looked
around, it wasn’t as bad as some of the things the women out
tonight were wearing. “I thought it was appropriate,” I sighed in
frustration. “I can go home and put on something less,” I frowned.
“Slutty?”

“Angel, you look... hot,” he told me.

I looked up at him, rolling my eyes,
expecting to find that smirk of his there. Only I didn’t. I saw
surprise.

For a brief moment, our eyes met, and it was
suddenly like we were the only ones there. The passersby, the
smells, the noises leaking from each bar... they all melted away
into a dull blur, and judging from the lusty expression in Joshua’s
eyes, all he wanted to do was drag me away and have his wicked way
with me.

I broke the gaze by punching his arm. “What
have I told you about that flirty crap, mister?” I demanded. “It’s
strictly professional.”

The motion brought Joshua out of his daze
too. “It’s all in your head, darlin’,” he told me smoothly, turning
and pointing up at the sign hanging over the entrance to the bar.
“The Dead Donkey,” he said, looking back at me. “Is this ringing
any bells?”

I stood in front of the bar, my back to the
door, and glanced to my left. That direction took us back to Canal
Street and was decidedly busier. I had been working my way in the
opposite direction, so I was sure I hadn’t double backed on myself.
Also, we weren’t far from where we had found Emily. “That way,” I
said, pointing to my right.

“Ladies first,” Joshua said, gesturing for me
to take the lead. He fell into step beside me as we walked slowly
down the street. It was Bourbon Street – I had been out along it
countless times, so everything looked familiar – but nothing was
ringing any bells of recognition from the night I had died. I had
no clue, and the further we walked, the more I realized I was going
to be no help.

“I think I’m just wasting your time,” I told
Joshua as the bars began to fade away.

“I think you’re thinking about it too hard,”
Joshua responded.

I shook my head, coming to a stop in the
middle of the street. The crowds had stopped coming this far down,
and I was certain I wouldn’t have come down this far by myself. I
turned, looking back in the direction we had come in. I could just
make out the Dead Donkey from where we were. “Maybe we should...” I
trailed off, noticing a steady stream of people who were veering
off down one of the streets leading off Bourbon Street. “We should
follow them,” I said, firmly.