Angel Tormented (The Louisiangel Series Book 3) (6 page)

BOOK: Angel Tormented (The Louisiangel Series Book 3)
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But I could also feel something else. Even
as I continued to fend of the blows, beneath me the ground was vibrating. At
first I thought it was one hit to my body too many, but then Valac pausing in
his punches long enough for us both to look up along the tracks.

TRAIN!

“Michael!” I screamed. I reached out,
grabbing onto a rock, and then swung my arm with all the strength I could
muster. It hit the back of Valac’s head hard enough to cast off blood. Valac
lurched, swearing, and I swung again. He fell to the side, clutching the side
of his head. I scrambled away from him as the train sounded its horn in short,
loud blasts.

I lunged for the nearest sword, half-clambering,
half-crawling across the ballast. My hands curled around the hilt, finding my
grip, just as Valac threw himself at me, and his arms wrapped around my legs.
My head was spinning and there was the coppery taste of blood in my mouth – I
was surprised I could only feel a large cut in the side of my cheek instead of
a gaping hole where a tooth had come out. From somewhere deep inside, I found
one last burst of energy.

I jerked a foot free, losing a boot in the
process, but kicked it at Valac’s head. I hadn’t done as much damage as I could
have done with the boot still on, but Valac grunted, nonetheless, and his grip
on me lessened. I pulled myself out, just enough that I could sit and get a
reasonable angle as I swung my arm around, my hand clutching tightly to the
sword as it impaled Valac through his chest, all the way to the hilt. He dropped
limply on top of my legs, the blade preventing him from completely trapping me.
I pushed his body up with my foot, feeling a wet trickle down my leg as I pulled
the sword free. With one last thrust, I kicked him off me and collapsed back on
the ground, trying to get my vision to stop dancing while willing myself to
stop trembling.

The train blasted its horn again. It wasn’t
just a beam of light and a horn anymore. The metal dragon was taking form, its
body so long I couldn’t see the end, just the silhouettes of the shipping
containers on the carriages behind it.

I ignored the blood covering me and started
to hobble over to Michael. My ankle was hurting – I think I had twisted it –
and my good foot was missing a shoe, but if the choice was between a broken ankle
or losing Michael, there was only one option.

I had barely taken two steps when
something seemed to explode behind me, the energy of a shockwave knocking me
off my feet. The impact of my hands hitting the ground, jarring the bones sent
pain shooting up my arm. My wrist snapped from under me and I crumpled, my arms
unable to keep my weight. I lay on the ground, screaming at the agony. My
vision went white.

“Angel?” Michael called, the panic in his
voice forcing me to lift my head up.

“What was that?” I grunted, looking behind
me, barely seeing anything past the dancing white spots.

“Valac. When angelic beings are killed,
their energy is released from their vessels violently,” he explained.

The hot, burning pain from my wrist was
making my world spin. Using my good arm, wincing as the grazed palm bit into
the stone below, I pushed myself to my knees, screaming at the exertion. “Sweet
mother of God,” I sobbed, trying not to throw up at the sight of my left wrist
lying limply in my lap. The pain was excruciating. Just the action of
breathing, the arm rising and falling slightly as I did, sent agonizing bolts
of pain pulsing everywhere.

“Angel!” Michael called again, causing me
to look in his direction. Michael was finally standing, although rocking on the
spot. I dug deep. I was hurt, but I was alive. If I didn’t move, and quickly,
it would be Michael who would … With a roar of determination, I managed to get
to my feet and hobble over to him, gritting my teeth against the blinding agony
as I moved. “Angel, you need to get out of here,” he told me, his voice already
sounding weaker. Michael’s skin had a sheen to it, and under the artificial
security lights looked gray. His eyes flickered anxiously as he looked over my
wounds.

“Not a problem,” I agreed, doing my upmost
to not sound – or feel – like I was going to pass out. “Only you’re coming with
me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Michael said
quietly. He sucked in a deep, shaky breath and tumbled to his knees, his eyes
momentarily losing focus. He took another breath and clenched his fists against
his thighs. “We don’t have time to break this trap.”

“Maybe I can pull you out,” I suggested.
My voice had gone high-pitched, desperate, and I couldn’t keep the sob from it.
I glanced down the track towards the train. In a few minutes, the headlight
would pick us up. There wasn’t much time. I took another step towards Michael –
I was getting him out of there.

“No!” he snapped. I froze. “If you cross
the line, you will get stuck too.” I dropped to my knees, looking for the outline
of the tracks. Did dark traps work like dark sigils? “It’s the tracks,” Michael
told me, as though he knew what I was looking for. I didn’t acknowledge him,
instead getting closer to the steel tracks which were now humming loudly from
the vibrations of the approaching train.

“I can stop the train!” I cried,
scrambling to my feet. I limped a few steps, trying to keep on the wood which held
the tracks in place, without crossing the steel, but I was in so much pain, a
fresh wave of tears fogged my eyes.

“Angel, the train is too close and moving
too fast. You will not stop it in time,” Michael called after me.

I gritted my teeth. “I just have to move
fast,” I ground out, forcing one foot in front of the other, trying to ignore
how light-headed I was feeling.

“Angel, stop!” Michael cried, desperately.
It was only because the cry was so feeble – something I would never associate
with Michael – that I turned back. I couldn’t leave him.

The horn blared again. The train was finally
close enough now that the light was hitting us. Time was running out. I looked
to Michael and saw he knew it too. No, he was giving up too easily. There had
to be something!

“Cupid,” I said suddenly, pulling my phone
out of my pocket with my good hand. The screen had an enormous crack running
down it but it seemed to work. Only I didn’t have the convent’s number saved.
My fingers desperately hammered at Safari as I urged the page to load.

“He won’t get here in time,” Michael told
me, his tone had changed from fear to acceptance, sending a fresh wave of tears
to my eyes.

I looked up at him through blurry eyes and
angrily wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. “Summon him,” I demanded.
“You share the link with him, right? He falls under you? Hell, summon any of
the angels – Cupid will come.”

“I can’t,” he said quietly. “I’ve been
trying. This trap is blocking me.” He swallowed. “Angel, you need to leave,” he
pleaded. “You don’t need to see this.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I snapped. “So
stop telling me to go or I swear to God, I will step in there and join you,” I
informed him as my voice broke. I sniffed and turned my attention back to my
surroundings, frantically searching for something to help me. My eyes fell on
the sword I had abandoned. Could I use that to break the track, and therefore
the trap? “How strong is a sword?”

“Angel, don’t you dare do anything which
will hurt someone on that train. They are innocent humans.” How did he know I
was fully prepared to derail that train if it meant saving him? “I mean it,
Angel. I’m not worth it.”

“There’s got to be something I can do,” I
yelled in frustration, trying to make my hoarse voice heard over another horn
blast. There was a lump in my throat I couldn’t swallow and I was shouting as
loud as I could have, but I was too busy looking for some way to free Michael
than care if he heard me.

“There is not enough time and you’re not
strong enough to pull me free. Angel, please,” he begged. “Please go.”

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave him. I
looked at the train. It was close – maybe only a hundred yards away and getting
closer much too quickly. “Michael, I can’t do this without you,” I told him,
turning back to him. “There has to be something!”

A serene expression had fallen over
Michael. “When you asked me earlier what I would change about you, I said your
vessel,” he said.

I stared at him, eyes wide. “I’d change
that right now too,” I agreed, looking at my weak and damaged limbs. If I’d
have had a stronger, faster vessel, I would have stopped Valac sooner and
would’ve had more time to get Michael free. A better vessel would have been
able to get help.

“You misunderstand me,” Michael said. “I
would change your vessel to your original appearance. I wouldn’t change
you
.
Your vessel is the thing that is not perfect. That red is artificial, a mask,
hiding who you really are. You
are
perfect as you are,” he took a
staggered step closer to the rail. “I am sorry if I have
ever
given you
cause to doubt that.”

The train blasted its horn again; this
time like someone was yanking frantically at it, the blasts short and erratic,
rather than sounding it off with long steady bursts.

“Angel, my biggest regret has been holding
back with you,” Michael told me. “I should have been completely honest with you
from the beginning about everything – including my feelings for you. My life
had meaning when I met you and has continued to every day since, yet every day
I have questioned whether, if it came to it, would I put you over a human. At
least now I don’t have to test that. Angel, I-”

The tears were streaming down my face as
the train driver finally slammed the brakes on, sending deafening screeches
echoing around me, drowning out Michael’s final words.

It was too little, too late.

One moment Michael was there, and then he
wasn’t.

I stood, rooted to the spot, watching the
large metal wheels that seemed nearly as big as I was passing in front of me
sending dust and gravel whipping at my skin until, suddenly, Cupid was stood
between me and the train, horrified. “Angel!” he cried. “Angel, stop screaming
– I’m here.”

I was vaguely aware of the ground hurtling
towards me as I blacked out.

CHAPTER SIX
Lassitude

 

I awoke in my bed some time later. For ten
blissful seconds I thought it was a dream – a nightmare… then instantly all I
was aware of was the pain. There was the constant, deep seated pain which would
never go away – the one caused by killing Lilah – but that was just the start
of it. My hands, knees, face, and various areas of skin were stinging. My left
wrist felt like it was pulsing pain everywhere in sharp bursts.

All of which only momentarily made me
forget about what had happened.

Then the memory hit me like a tsunami,
causing me to gasp and struggle for air as a new pain sucked me under.

“Angel?” Joshua was at my side in an
instant and I launched myself at him, clutching at his shirt with my good hand
as he wrapped his arms around me. Without a word, he scooped me up, taking more
care with my physical injuries than I had, and maneuvered himself underneath me.

I curled up into him, struggling to catch
my breath through shallow gasps as he created a protective cocoon around me. “He’s
gone,” I gasped, repeating the words over and over again, despite the bitter
taste they were leaving in my mouth. Joshua said nothing, just tightening his
hold around me.

When I finally moved, it was because I
could feel the bile rising in my throat. I leaped from the bed, stumbling from
the pain in my feet, and just made it to the toilet before I emptied my
stomach. Joshua was there in an instant, holding my hair away, as he rubbed at
my back.

When my stomach had emptied and the dry
heaving had stopped, I slumped back against the cool tiles of the bathroom
wall. Silently, Joshua handed over a bottle of water so I could rinse my mouth
out. I finally relaxed back, watching as Joshua closed the lid and flushed.

“I need to see to the rest of your injuries,”
he said, softly, sitting down opposite. “I need to do more to your wrist than
bandage it up. I think it’s broken.”

Numbly, I shook my head. “It will heal,” I
told him, my voice cracking.

“Angel,” he started, but stopped at the knock
on my bedroom door. “Hello?” he called, when my croaks went unheard.

Cupid walked in, lingering in the doorway,
but I couldn’t look up and meet his eyes. “How are you feeling?” he asked me,
his voice thick. I stared blankly at the water bottle next to me. “We need…”
Cupid cleared his throat. “We need to talk,” he finished.

“Can it wait until morning?” Joshua asked,
even though all three of us knew what the answer to that question was going to
be.

“We need you in the conservatory, please,”
Cupid said. “Joshua can come too.” From the corner of my eyes, I could see his
feet change direction, getting ready to leave, but they paused. “I’m glad
you’re all right,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. And then he was gone.

“I will go tell them it can wait, if you
want me to?” Joshua offered.

The thought of him telling a bunch of
angels where to stick their request amused me, but I couldn’t get my face to
show that emotion. “No,” I muttered.

Joshua got to his feet and reached over,
wrapping his hands around my waist. “Ready?” he asked. When I nodded, he helped
me to my feet. I took a step and stumbled again, crying out at the pain that
shot through my foot. “At least let me see to that?” he requested.

“I want to get this over with,” I told
him, firmly, despite the hoarseness which remained in my voice.

“Okay,” Joshua relented. He scooped an arm
under my own to give me some support, knowing better than to try and carry me
there, despite how much pain I was in.

We’d gotten into the corridor when I
stopped. “Does Sarah know?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” Joshua replied. “I had
just walked into the building when Cupid appeared in front of me, carrying you.
He said something about Michael being gone and to take you. He told me how to
find your room and then disappeared,” Joshua explained. I took a deep
shuddering breath and nodded, allowing us to continue on.

It took some time to limp to the
conservatory. I pushed the door open and walked in, to be greeted by a dozen
faces – some I recognized, some I didn’t. The last time I had been in here,
there had been a small circular table in the middle of the room – an intimate
setting for dinner. Now, furniture had been moved around and the small table
replaced with an enormous oblong one with only two free seats.

Joshua and I sat. If he was nervous it
didn’t show; I, on the other hand, would have been fidgeting if it wasn’t for
the fact that not only was I exhausted, but it also hurt. Under the table, my
good hand sought out Joshua’s. He took it, giving me a gentle yet reassuring
squeeze.

“Welcome, Angel,” a woman at the head of
the table said, her tone warm. “Joshua.” I tried to give her a smile in return,
but my lips weren’t cooperating. From the reflection in the table’s shiny
surface, it looked more like a grimace to me. She was, unsurprisingly,
stunning. Tall, elegant, her black hair sleek with a hint of a curl to it. “I
am Grace,” she said, her dark eyes focused on me. “I am sorry to meet you under
the circumstances.”

“What are the circumstances?” Zachary
announced from the other end of the table.

Grace shot him a glare and he sank back
into his chair. There was no question as to who was in charge here. “I assume
you do not know most of the people around this table. We shall spare a few
moments for introductions, for your benefit and for Joshua’s.” She looked to
the other angels. “As you all know, this is Angel, the human to have earned her
wings. To her right is her charge, Joshua.” Grace turned her attention back to
me and Joshua. “You know some faces, Raphael, Paddy and Cupid, I believe you
are both acquainted with?” she said, directing her question to Joshua.

Joshua leaned forward to see around me.
Next to me was Paddy, and between her and Grace was Raphael. Cupid was opposite
me. “Yes,” he responded.

Grace nodded, her bob brushing over her
shoulders. She indicated to the man sat opposite her. “This is Metatron.”

I glanced down the table and blinked.
Trapped in the convent, I had finally found some time to read. Tired of Cupid’s
mocking as well as my own embarrassment, on my reading list was the Bible.
Admittedly, it was a child’s version, written in a style I could understand,
but I had read it. I’d also read the Qur’an, and was part way through the Torah
(yes, both child versions, but I had to start somewhere… and yes, I may have
skipped through some of the less interesting sections). Actually, I had spent a
lot of time in the convent’s library: it consisted of mainly religious books.
On occasion, Cupid would join me and fill in the blanks.

The image of Metatron Cupid had painted
was of a warrior – my mind had pictured him as someone with the physique of a
wrestler. He had explained that Metatron was the most important seraph after
Grace. Both were His aids. Metatron looked like he belonged on a teen drama on
the CW – tall, black with a shaved head and a diamond in his ear which somehow
didn’t seem out of place with the suit he wore. In front of him, the only thing
on table except for my bottle of water was a thin book. The pen he was using to
write in it hadn’t stopped moving since we had entered the room, despite the
fact that even now Metatron’s attention was on Grace.

“He is here only to record,” Grace
continued. “As this discussion directly involves the archangels, they are here.
Uriel, Raguel, Gabriel, Remiel and Sariel,” she said, as the various archangels
nodded their greeting. “For representatives of the virtues Zachary and Savannah
have joined us. I shall report back to the remaining choirs upon our decision.”
With poise, she sat back down, crossing her fingers and resting hands on the
table.

Heaven was organized. Considering the
amount of angels, the different roles, and the amount of people they were
trying to help, I couldn’t fault them for it. The highest ranking angels were
the seraphim, the cherubim, and the thrones. The seraphim, like Grace and
Metatron were the only ones who had a direct audience with God. Cupid had
called them His bodyguards, but looking at the pair, they looked more like the
board of directors, and there was no question that Grace was being treated like
she was the CEO.

“Why do we have the virtues here?” Gabriel
asked. His tone was light, curious, but his posture was tense. For whatever
reason, he didn’t like the virtues – or maybe it was just Zachary or Savannah.
Either way, he had a valid point. From what I had learned, the virtues were
nothing more than the PR people, deciding who got the miracles. Much as I
wanted a miracle to bring Michael back, I knew that wasn’t happening today.

“Our job,” Savannah sniffed, flipping her
hair. “We need to know how much work we need to do. And to do that, we need to
know what’s happening.”

The table looked at me expectantly. “Michael…”
I started, but stopped, the words getting stuck in my throat.

“We know,” Cupid said, softly. I looked up
at him, finally seeing him. Although he sat straight, his eyes were ringed with
red and full of heartbreak.

“Michael cannot be dead,” Zachary said,
firmly. “Michael is Heaven’s greatest warrior.”

Cupid whipped his head around to look at
Zachary. “I have the connection with the angels in this House. It is how I knew
something had happened to my brother.”

I blinked. “
Cupid
?”

Cupid quickly looked back to me. “
I
heard your scream
,” he said.

When I realized his mouth wasn’t moving –
that the words had been said in my head, I suddenly felt faint. I don’t know
why: I saw it happen right in front of me. As Zachary had said, he was… Michael
.
A train seemed too ordinary… too… human...! Hearing Cupid was the confirmation
I didn’t want… The knowledge that it would never again be Michael sent a wave
of nausea washing over me.

Wearily, Cupid slumped back into his seat,
casting his eyes down at the table. “It defaulted to me when it shouldn’t have.”

“Everything happened as it should,” Grace
corrected him. “We all know that should something happen to the lead; the
second-in-command steps into position.”

“But I don’t want it,” Cupid snarled,
slamming his fist on the table. I jumped: I’d not seen Cupid angry before and
it didn’t seem right. “I never wanted it before, and I certainly don’t want it
this way.”

“Cupid,” Gabriel muttered his name,
gently. He reached over, wrapping his hand over Cupid’s fist.

Cupid shook him off. “It’s not right,” he
told him, withdrawing his hands back under the table.

“There is no other option,” Grace pointed
out.

Cupid’s eyes narrowed at her and then he
looked at me. “There’s Angel.”

“For what?” I asked, blankly.

“Michael is confident in her abilities,”
Cupid continued.

“Clearly the grief is getting to you,”
Savannah snorted, cruelly. “She has had her wings for all of three days.”

“Do not even begin to assume that my grief
is affecting my judgement,” Cupid shot back at her. He gave her a look of
disgust. “He was my brother and my partner – I am allowed to grieve. We
should
be grieving: we lost one of our own.”

“Nobody is questioning anybody’s grief,” Remiel
spoke up, with a prominent middle-eastern accent I couldn’t place. He had dark
hair which fell in waves around his face. He had a strong brow and pointed
chin, but looked the oldest at the table. Late thirties, maybe? Cupid had told
me he was the archangel based in Iraq. It still seemed strange to me that there
were angels based in places where Christianity wasn’t the first religion, but
who was I to judge? As Michael had said, who said Christianity needed to be the
main religion? Hell, I considered myself atheist before I had died.

“We are all grieving, mate,” Raguel agreed
from beside him. He glanced over at me, acknowledging me with his sad blue eyes.
Raguel had sun-kissed hair and skin, and I was certain, under his pale blue
shirt, there would be a surfer’s body. As it was, he was the most relaxed in
the room, despite the topic, and his dress was the most casual – his shirt was
unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up. Despite his tranquil demeanor,
I was willing to bet he would be ruthless with a sword.

“No, but it’s safe to assume that Cupid’s
grief is such that he cannot make a levelheaded decision,” Zachary chimed in.

“Zachary, I will say this only once,”
Grace spoke up, her tone once again acidic. “Only archangels are permitted to
run the Houses on Earth.”

“What about Sariel?” Savannah snapped,
pointing at the Latino model sitting opposite her. With the way Savannah
shriveled up in her chair at the look Grace gave her, I was certain Grace had
some form of heat rays for eyes.

“This was discussed, voted, and agreed
upon six thousand years ago, Savannah,” Sariel responded hotly. “So you can
take that line of thought, wrap it around your scepter and stick it-”

“Michael is dead,” I blurted out. The room
descended into an awkward silence, the only noise coming from the scratching of
Metatron’s pencil. “Arguing is not going to bring him back,” I squeezed my eyes
closed. “We need to work out what to do next, what Michael would have done
next… it wouldn’t have been bickering between ourselves,” I added, grateful
that Joshua was allowed in this discussion as he held tightly to my hand.

BOOK: Angel Tormented (The Louisiangel Series Book 3)
11.42Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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