Angel Tormented (The Louisiangel Series Book 3) (5 page)

Love? Woah… “No, I don’t,” I said,
carefully. There were probably more tactful ways to handle this, but thinking
first and acting second was never my strong point. “But neither do you; not in
that way, anyway.”

“You cannot presume to know what I feel,”
Michael snapped, getting to his feet and storming away.

I took a breath and hurried after him. “But
I do, Michael,” I said, trying to keep up with his determined pace. “I don’t
deny you care for me. I
know
you do.” I stumbled over the uneven ground
and let out a cry of frustration. “Can you please stop running off and face
this like a man.”

He whirled on the spot so quickly that I
barely had time to avoid him. “I am not a man,” he snapped at me, the anger not
quite covering the hurt. “I am an archangel. I am a principality, a virtue and
a seraph.”

“That has nothing to do with anything,” I
shot back at him. “Just…” I took a deep breath. “Michael, if you could change
something about me, what would it be?”

“Your vessel,” he said, instantly.

I knew what his answer was going to be
before the question had even left my mouth, but it didn’t make his words sting any
less. “And that’s how I know,” I responded sadly. “You shouldn’t want to change
someone you love because they should already live up to your expectations.”

“Angel,” Michael said, the anger
dissipating, to be replaced with pleading.

I shook my head. “This is partly my fault,”
I added. “I knew what Cupid was doing weeks ago, but I said nothing. When our
lessons had stopped, I assumed this had too. I should have just said something
sooner instead of letting it get to this.”

“Angel,” Michael tried again.

“I think that I’m just the first person to
come along who you could have a relationship with and you’re thinking of that,
rather than the fact you actually
want
a relationship with me,” I
finished.

I waited patiently for Michael to say
something, but whatever it was never came. Finally, he looked away, staring
through the trees. “We should get back.” He didn’t wait for my response,
instead continuing in the direction he had been heading, back to the SUV,
although his pace was somewhat more subdued.

I watched his back, how he was keeping his
head up, and dropped my own. I hadn’t lied – I really did care for Michael. I
just wasn’t the one for him. As he got further from me, I started to feel even
worse: there were dozens of ways I could have put that, but I went for the one
that ultimately left us both feeling hurt. He was going to find the right girl
for him, I could feel that, and I suspected it would be when he wasn’t
expecting it in the near future. But she wasn’t me.

And now I had to figure out how to tell
Joshua this, as well as figuring out what was going on between us. How on earth
could life be this confusing when you were dead?

With a deep sigh, I hurried after Michael.

* * *

The ride back to the convent had felt like
it had taken three times as long as it had to get to the park. Awkward silence
had filled the car, and Michael was not one who liked to drive with the radio
on.

When we arrived back at the convent,
Michael had left the car and disappeared inside before I could unbuckle my
seatbelt. I slid out of the Yukon and leaned back against the hot metal. It was
getting to the time where I really needed to be in the kitchen, finishing up
dinner, but I really didn’t want to go inside the convent right now. Or at all….

I raked a hand through my hair and then
let out a frustrated grunt. I’d left my cap in Couturie Forest. Great. The
kitchen it was. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened up the App Store.
Joshua had given me the phone so that we could get hold of each other, and he
was one of three contacts in it (the other two being Sarah and Ty). I wasn’t
sure if angels were supposed to have a phone, but I hadn’t advertised having it
to anyone in the convent.

I had been contemplating downloading the
various social media accounts so that I could delete all my profiles, but I was
supposed to be dead. Or I assumed I was supposed to be dead – I wasn’t sure
what the media exposure made me now. Seeing as I didn’t want a repeat visit
from Zachary and Savannah, I closed the app and instead opened a new message to
Joshua.

R U free this evening? For real
– not dream? I need 2 C U. Xx

Joshua’s response was almost instant:
Pick
you up @ 9pm. X

Well this was turning out to be a great
day, why not end it on the same note? I slipped the phone back in my pocket and
headed back into the convent.

The cooking experience was much more fun
than it had been for a long time. Thanks to my aunt’s cooking skills, there
hadn’t been a single complaint about the food. As an added bonus, she also
ensured that all the angels not only returned their plates to the kitchen, but
that they loaded them into the dishwasher as they went.

I was amazed that the whole experience,
including washing the remaining pots and wiping the kitchen and dining room
down, was over with before six. Sarah suggested I could join her in the library
– she had been exploring the convent, apparently – but reading was not my
thing, and I wanted to work out what I was going to say to Joshua without my
aunt suspecting there was something wrong.

Thankfully the sun had set by then. Aside
from the fact it meant this day was nearly over, it also meant that my hair
would not stand out as much. I slipped outside and left the convent grounds via
the side gate.

I hadn’t gone far before I sensed
something following me. I glanced back, but the street was empty. I chewed at
my lip, wondering if the best option was to head to a more populated street – I
was only a block away from Bourbon – where, should anyone (thing) be
considering attacking me, the public would put them off, or whether I should go
somewhere quieter so that I could stop whatever it was without drawing another
crowd.

I didn’t get a chance to make a decision.
A shadow stepped out from behind a parked truck and grabbed my shoulder.

Some form of instinct kicked in. I seized
the arm on me, bent over, and flipped the person over my head. As he landed
with an ‘umph’, I pulled my dagger out of my boot. It was already at sword
length by the time the tip was pointed at my assailant’s throat. “Ty?” I cried
in surprise as I finally looked at the attacker.

“I guess I deserved that reaction,” Ty
winced in pain, holding his hands up.

“What the hell do you want?” I demanded.

“I came to give you some information,” he
replied.

“Which is?”

He winced again. “Can I give it to you
from somewhere other than the street?” he requested.

I glared at him, but pulled my sword away,
shrinking it back down in size. Instead of helping him to his feet, I stood
back and waited for him to get up.

He spared a couple of seconds to brush
himself down and then turned his attention to me. “You’re obviously still upset
with me.”

“Well yes,” I agreed, folding my arms. “But
you did also try and sneak up on me.”

“Both fair points,” Ty nodded. “So,” he
said, drawing out the word. “How have you been?”

“Since I saw you this morning?” I asked,
not even bothering to rein in the annoyance I was feeling. “Well, my aunt has
had to abandon her house because reporters are camped out on her lawn, and the
virtues have me as their top example of what an angel
doesn’t
look like,
so all in all, I’m pretty pissed off.”

“I deserve that too,” Ty sighed. He took a
couple of steps back and leaned against the wall. “I split up with Claudia.”

“Gah!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms in
the air. “I swear to God, if the next words to leave your mouth are ‘I love you’,
I’m going to punch you.”

“What?” Ty asked, pulling a face. “No
offence, but hell no.”

“Good,” I grunted.

“Is that a problem for you? Guys declaring
their love for you?” Ty asked with a grin. The grin quickly disappeared with
the death glare I sent in his direction. He cleared his throat. “Claudia and I
got into a huge argument about how she shouldn’t have released your personal
information. She told me that the story was more important, which I get, but I
realized that actually, I didn’t agree with her,” he shook his head. “Either
way, we split up. Which means if any more information ends up in the news, it
didn’t come from me.”

I relaxed fractionally. “I didn’t want you
to break up with her.”

“It was a long time coming,” Ty shrugged. “But
that’s not why I came to see you. Asmodeus joined us for dinner this evening. I
was in the other room, so they don’t know I overheard this, but they were
talking about the Port. They’re planning something and it’s going to happen
there.”

“And did they happen to indicate what that
something was, and when it would happen?” I asked, skeptically. “Or where at
the Port, considering it stretches both sides of the Mississippi?”

Ruefully, Ty shook his head. “West
Riverside. They were talking about someone called Ramsey. I know it’s not much
to go on, but I wanted to show you that I’m on your side.”

“My side?” I repeated. “You do realize
that the sides you are talking about are angels versus Fallen, right? That when
it comes down to it, Beelzebub, your
father,
is a fallen angel and my
job is to destroy him?”

“I was kinda hoping that there may be a
compromise with that,” Ty asked, hopefully.

“Compromise?” I laughed. “I would love a
compromise, Ty. I would love for there to be no more bloodshed. You tell me, if
I give your father the option of staying alive provided he basically doesn’t
commit anymore evil for the rest of eternity, what odds would you give that?”

“I know it doesn’t look good, but he’s my
dad. Maybe I could convince him,” Ty said. At the look of disbelief I shot him,
Ty straightened his back. “I could convince him,” he said, more resolutely.

I shrugged. “Good luck.”

I left Ty and returned to the convent,
heading straight for my bedroom, where I sat down on my bed, bringing my knees
up in front of me. What exactly was I going to do with that information? It
wasn’t exactly descriptive. I also wasn’t ready to face Michael. I was such a
wimp.

With a frustrated grunt, I rolled onto my
back and stared at the ceiling. I could wait for Ty to come back with more
information, but what was the likelihood of that? He’d only overheard by
chance, and how soon would it be before Asmodeus returned to his house?

Alternatively, I could head on over to the
port and have a nosy around myself. I had a couple of hours until Joshua was
coming to get me… that sounded like a better option. It was dark, and it was
late, which meant there would be minimal people around, and the cover of
darkness to be able to do some snooping. I could see if there was anything
substantial to Ty’s claims before I reported in to Michael.

I’d never mentioned to Michael who or what
Ty was. Despite everything, I didn’t want to see anything happen to Ty, and I
was certain that by telling Michael he was a nephilim I would be signing his
death sentence – I didn’t want that guilt on me too. I was still getting
flashes of pain whenever I thought about Lilah, not that they were ever going
to disappear.

No, a little recon was definitely in order…
As was a change in outfit. I quickly changed into a pair of shorts, a vest top
and jacket, and a different pair of boots which I could hide my sword down the
side of. With a quick detour to collect some keys to an SUV, I was on my way.

To say there was something happening at
the port was vague enough, but the Port of New Orleans essentially stretched
around the curve of the Mississippi and had both cargo and cruise ships. I
wasn’t sure what two fallen angels could be up to with ships, but my guess was
that they weren’t having a dining experience on the river. If I was going to
get up to some nefarious scheme, it would probably involve some form of illegal
goods or contraband, and I would be using shipping containers to hide it – they
all looked the same and thousands of them lined the banks of the river.

As soon as I parked up, I knew I had made
both the right choice, and the wrong choice. Ty had been right about the name –
I was staring at an area of the Port being used by A.R. International. The area
was quiet, and the moon was covered by clouds which would never drop their
load, creating a more eerie darkness. The Port loomed behind a tall wire fence
which had swirls of barbed-wire looping over the top, and at least one row of
train carriages. From here, I couldn’t see the water – just the odd crane from
over the top of the train.

Seeing it in front of me, deserted and
barely visible in the dark, I knew I shouldn’t have come by myself. I blew out
a breath. Now was as good a time as any to see just what the range on the
psychic connection with Michael was, even though I didn’t want to drag him out
here.

“
Michael
?” I called, hesitantly.
Part of me was hoping I was out of range because surely tackling this by myself
would be a better experience.

“
Angel
?” Michael’s voice responded,
still crystal clear. Just what was the range on this psychic connection?

“
Are you busy
?” I asked as I
stepped out of the vehicle and locked it behind me. Michael was standing in
front of me instantly. “Okay, that’s freaky,” I muttered under my breath.

“Why are we here?” Michael asked, looking
at the large wire fence between us and the port.

“I had a tip that Asmodeus and Beelzebub
were up to something at the port. I was going to have a look by myself and wait
until I had more to go on before I came to see you, but then I decided I should
probably let someone know what’s going on first,” I told him, feeling sheepish.
Now he was here, I felt like I’d made the wrong decision again.

“Where did this information come from?”
Michael asked.

“I can’t say,” I said, scrunching up my
nose.

“Very well,” Michael nodded. With no
warning, he took hold of my hand and then we were standing on the other side of
the fence. “What are we looking for?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, blinking
rapidly as I got my bearings. Michael fell silent. I couldn’t tell if he was
humoring me, or genuinely trusted me. We crossed the train tracks and we walked
around the area in silence.

This particular section of the port
consisted of rows upon rows of stacked shipping containers in front of several
long warehouses, belonging to A. R. International. Opposite was the port
itself, only one enormous ship docked at the far end, and a handful of boats
dotting the water behind. Aside from the not so pleasant smell of the water,
combined with the lingering traces of diesel, the area smelled strongly of
coffee: The Port of New Orleans was actually the country’s major coffee
handling port.

Finally, Michael broke the silence. “This
may go quicker if we split up.” I looked up at him in surprise. “You stay on
this side,” he said, indicating to the warehouses beside me, half hidden by the
long freight trains, parked for the night. “I will take the area by the water.”

I couldn’t say I blamed him for not
wanting to be with me right now. I nodded my agreement and stepped out from
behind one of the containers. To avoid the sharp ballast, I followed the
natural path alongside the train tracks so shiny they glinted in the few
security lights which were dotted around. I continued in silence, scanning the
area, catching Michael’s silhouette every so often as we both crossed a gap between
the containers.

We had gotten to the end of the shipping
company’s land and found nothing. I stared down along the tracks spotting a
light in the distance, but nothing else. Ty had been right about the location
and the name, but what was to say he was right about something going on here?
Tonight.

“
Angel, I see nothing,
”
Michael
said, matching my thoughts.

“
No,
”
I agreed. “
Me
neither.
” I rubbed at my neck and looked back at the next shipping yard. “
Maybe
my information was wrong? Maybe the timing was wrong.
” I kicked at a stone
and turned, heading back in the direction we had come from. Michael remained
silent, but I could see his figure walking back from the other side of the
containers. Great: he was ignoring me.

I hadn’t gone far before I spotted
something. Something that certainly hadn’t been there when I’d walked this way
not that long ago. “Am I hallucinating?” I asked myself. In the middle of one
of the tracks, between two sleepers, protruding from jagged rocks was a sword.
It was sticking out enough to be seen, and probably enough that it would get
knocked over by a train should one pass over it.

I glanced up and down the tracks. It was
deserted. I made my way over, sticking to the correct side of the tracks. “Where
the hell did you come from?” I muttered as I stared suspiciously at it. As I
got closer, I realized the black blade belonged to an angelic sword, the hilt
mirroring the black one in my boot. “
Are you missing a sword
?” I asked Michael,
wishing I had better night vision as I tried to find its owner – someone had to
have put it there.

“
Only the ones taken by the cherubim, I
believe,
” Michael responded. “
Why
?”

“
Because there’s one in the middle of
the tracks, and it wasn’t there before
,” I responded, ready to step over
the steel rail. Before I could, Michael was beside me.

“Don’t!” he bellowed at me, stopping me in
my tracks.

I lowered my foot and turned to him, my
eyebrows arched. “I don’t think it will make me the king of England,” I told
him.

“Stay back,” Michael instructed me.

I was about to move away when a blur shot
past me, knocking me face first to the ground – I only just managed to put my
hands out to stop me face-planting. I rolled over, unable to stop myself from crying
out in pain as the sharp ballast bit into my bare skin, the large chunks of
sharp stone drawing blood.

When I looked back to Michael, he was
between the tracks, in front of the sword, on his knees and doubled over. I
blinked, trying to work out how he had gotten in there when I noticed the man
stood over him, obscured by the shadows. I didn’t recognize him. He was a tall,
white male who was possibly in his mid-fifties – certainly not young enough to
be moving as fast as he had. Given the fact that he had managed to get the jump
on both Michael and myself, he had to be one of the Fallen.

“As far as trespassers go, you’re the last
person I ever expected here,” the man said, looking genuinely surprised to see
Michael there. His expression turned smug. “I’ve been waiting millennia to do
this,” he declared. “I guess this is my lucky night.”

“Do what?” I demanded, my eyes switching
between him and Michael.

The man gestured to Michael. “Kill this
archangel, of course.”

For some reason Michael was still on the
ground. “Michael, get up,” I hissed.

“It’s going to take him a while before he
can do that,” the man informed me.

“Who are you?” I asked, wondering how long
‘a while’ was.

As if he could hear what I was thinking,
the man laughed. “It’s going to take much longer than me telling you my name is
Valac,” he told me as I brought myself off my knees and into a crouch. “And
he’s stuck in a trap,” he added.

“Angel, get out of here,” Michael grunted,
turning his head with effort to face me.

I stared at him in horror: his usually
golden skin was gray and clammy, with beads of sweat lining his forehead. I
could see the pain in his eyes. Like hell I was going anywhere. “Why?” I asked Valac
instead, ignoring Michael. “What are you trying to do?”

“Trying?” Valac laughed. “I’m fairly
confident I’m succeeding: succeeding in killing Michael. And it’s
really
going to hurt as he’s ripped apart.”

My eyes widened in horror. There was no
way I was going to let that happen. “No, you’re
trying
,” I corrected
him. “But you’re not going to succeed. Not while I’m here.”

Valac rolled his eyes. “We’re going to do
this, aren’t we?” he sighed, dramatically. “Guess I’ll need this then.” He
reached down and plucked the sword from the ground beside Michael, somehow not affecting
the trap. The next thing I knew he was launching himself at me.

I was prepared. Sort of.

I drew my dagger, taking a couple of steps
backwards to get a firmer gripping beneath me as the dagger grew in length, so
that when he flew at me, I was ready to block the blow. I wasn’t expecting the
strength he was wielding as it sent painful vibrations reverberating down my
sword and along my arm, making the metal hilt bite into my already injured
palm. The swords sparked at the impact as the metals collided. The two blades
scraped along each other, sending a high-pitched screech echoing around us.

Much of my training had revolved around
defense, and for several minutes, that was all I could manage, blocking blow
after blow. Finally, I caught his sword at the right angle and purely through
fluke, managed to twist my arm, jarring it free. It shot from out of his hands.

I was so startled at that accomplishment,
he caught me with a high kick to my hand – he may have looked old, but he
didn’t move like an old man. Without meaning to, I let go of my sword and it
went flying to the side, clattering across the stone just out of reach. My eyes
followed the sword to where it had landed instead of keeping their focus on Valac.
He had punched the side of my head so hard, I thought I was going to throw up.
Stunned, he took advantage once again and swung his fist once more. The blow to
my cheek sent me tumbling down, my side taking the full impact as I hit the
ground.

The fall winded me, but before I could
catch my breath, Valac was on top of me. I only just managed to get my arms
over my head so they could field the worst of the blows aimed at my face. Still
winded, and with Valac’s weight pressing down on my chest, I couldn’t breathe,
much less work out how to get him off me.

“It’s in your head,” Michael’s voice rang out
as I struggled to inhale while fending off the blows raining down on me. “Your
vessel does not need to breathe in the same way your body did.”

Being an angel meant that I could move
faster, and be stronger, for longer. It didn’t mean that I could survive
without breathing. My heart didn’t beat the same way it used to, but it still
beat. I could feel it hammering in my chest now. From under my hands, I caught
Michael staring helplessly at me: I had no choice but to survive this. I knew
in my gut if I didn’t survive, Michael wouldn’t either. Why did I always have
such a problem believing in the impossible?

I closed my eyes, sent a quick, silent
prayer out, and then allowed what oxygen was left in my lungs to leave. I was
dead. I was an
angel
. This wasn’t my body, but my vessel. I allowed
myself to believe it – to accept it. No sooner had I done that, then I could
feel the restrictions in my chest lifting.