Angel's Blade

Evernight
Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2014 Erin M. Leaf

 
ISBN: 978-1-77130-719-2

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor:
JS
Cook

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
copyrighted work is illegal.
 
No part of
this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written
permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are
fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To the one
who loves me
unconditionally.

ANGEL’S BLADE

Angel Shifters, 3

Erin M. Leaf

Copyright
© 2014

Chapter One

Zeke stood in front of Castle
Archangel, shivering. February was not his favorite month of the year. Ice
slicked the sides of the stone steps leading up to the front doors, dark and
ominous in the fading light. He sighed and hefted his pack a little higher,
careful not to poke himself with the sword hilt sticking up out of the top of
the battered canvas. He’d shrugged on his leather jacket a few miles down the
road, but it didn’t help much with the cold. Winter still had its hands around
the throat of the land and no mere angel was enough to fight that demon’s grip.

He’d flown for hours on this last
trip. Or rather, days. Years. His shoulders ached from the long, desperate
journey. He’d begun his northward trek a week ago, but he hadn’t expected it to
be so brutal. His wings looked worn when he’d shifted back into human—proof
that he’d come too far in too short a time. He ran a hand over his face, trying
to shove down the loneliness that followed him everywhere. It didn’t work. He
was alone, as he was always alone now, even in the midst of others.
A solitary angel, looking down at the earth and wishing for some
sort of peace.

Since his family had faded into the
mist, he’d become the last of the great angel weapons masters, not that his
skill with blade and will was much use these days. He could shape metal with
his mind, create weapons of heartrending beauty and menace, but as soon as his
creations hit mortal ground, they shattered. He’d been forced to learn human
methods to create ordinary blades. He was nothing more than a blacksmith, a
skilled craftsman whose anachronistic trade meant little to anyone except
himself.

“Because you are weak,” he murmured
to himself. “Some angel you are.” The cold wind snatched his words away. Zeke
glared up at the castle, still not certain coming here was the right thing to
do. He’d heard that his distant cousin, Gabriel, had finally killed Samael,
their leader, but he was afraid to believe in good news anymore. He’d lost his
mother, his father, and his grandparents to despair. He’d watched them fade
before his very eyes, their bodies going grey as they let themselves drift into
the clouds, more mist than thunder.

It had been worse than death,
witnessing that. Worse than anything. He didn’t think he could handle the
memories anymore. He’d come here to fight and maybe die in service to God. If the
rumors were false and Samael killed him, so be it. He couldn’t be solitary
anymore. He couldn’t bear it.

His arms twitched as his mind ran
in circles, the muscles telling him it was time to get out of the cold. He was
going to be sore from walking on the ground in winter, but truth was, he’d
needed the time to clear his head. For some reason, flying shoved all his
worries and isolation into the front of his head, tormenting him with his lack
of family and clan. When he flew, he felt powerful and blessed, but he couldn’t
help looking around for his family in the skies. Every single time he saw
nothing but empty blue infinity, it hurt like a dagger stuck in his heart.
Every single time.

“So stop staring and get moving.
You have no reason to linger here,” he told himself, looking down and away from
all the windows. The setting sun fell behind the castle, casting it into a
stark silhouette, harsh and unforgiving. He shivered again, then forced himself
up the stone steps.

“You want me to come with you?
Seriously?” Nathaniel asked, surprised enough to almost drop the wet dish in
his hands. He quickly put it in the drying rack.

His father nodded from the kitchen
stove, stirring vegetables into the stew. Outside, rain lashed the windows, but
neither man noticed. Rain was the norm for Corvallis, Oregon, in February.

“You’re my son. Of course I want
you to come with me,” Orifiel said, putting the lid on the pot and turning down
the heat. The dim light filtering in through the window over the sink made his
grey eyes seem even lighter than usual.

Nathaniel looked away from his
father’s too-wise gaze. “I’m human. Not like you.” He shook his head, still
confused. “Why would you want me to come meet the new Alpha of the angels?”

His father frowned. “You’re still
my son, even if you have no wings.” He crossed his arms, highlighting the
legacy marks that trailed up his arms like a tattoo.

Nathaniel stared at the marks. He
knew they travelled over his father’s shoulders and down his back, but they
were simply the small, outward signs of his father’s heritage. The thing that
set Orifiel truly apart was his ability to shift those marks into huge wings
and take to the skies. With the ease of long practice, Nathaniel stifled the
tiny spark of envy he felt as he looked at those marks. He couldn’t fly. He
held no inherited legacy. He was merely human, thanks to his mother.
And you’re
okay with that,
he told himself, not for the first time. He’d loved his
mother dearly, and so had his father, right up until the day she’d died three years
ago from breast cancer.

“We’ll have to take a plane,”
Nathaniel said slowly, pushing his bleak thoughts aside. “And you hate flying
in planes. I don’t want to put you through that.”

Orifiel grimaced. “True, but I’ll
manage. It’s not that terrible a thing.”

“I don’t see what you’re hoping to
prove by bringing me with you. You’ll only offend the new Alpha.” Nathaniel
began to set the table. It didn’t take long. Only the two of them were eating
tonight. He had no siblings, and though his father was their small clan’s
leader, the others tended to leave them alone unless they were having a clan
gathering.

“I don’t think Gabriel is as easily
offended as all that,” his father remarked, pulling out a chair and sitting
down.

Nathaniel sighed. “Dad, I have a hard
enough time with the clan here. I don’t want to screw things up for you with
the rest of the angels, too.” He pulled out a chair and sat down too, fooling
with the napkins until they were folded just right. He adjusted the spoons and
butter knives until they were perfectly aligned.

“If the new Alpha can’t deal with
you, then I will know I want nothing to do with him,” Orifiel said mildly. “It
will be a useful trip regardless of the outcome.”

“So you’re… what? Using me to
figure out what kind of man Gabriel is?” Nathaniel rubbed his eyes. “That’s a
bit manipulative. It isn’t like you, Dad.”

Orifiel laughed, leaning back in
his chair. “I didn’t become clan leader here because of my good looks,
Nathaniel. You’re coming with us. That’s final.”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “Dad, I’m
gay. I’m half-black, thanks to mom. And I can’t fly. I’m neither human nor
angel. I am the very definition of interracial. Or to put it even more bluntly,
I’m an inter-species hybrid. That doesn’t really go over well with anyone. I think
you’re trying to cause trouble for no good reason.” He tapped a finger on the
table. “What if I said I’m not comfortable being used like that?”

Orifiel sat up. “You’re just as
much angel as I am, regardless of your skin color or sexuality.” he said intensely.
“And flight is a genetic fluke, not the determining factor regarding who is
angelic and who is not. God works in mysterious ways.”

“Oh please, don’t use that cliché
on me.” Nathaniel pursed his lips and stared at his father, thinking hard. “Who
else is coming?”

“Raguel and Maion,” his father
answered immediately.

Nathaniel blinked, then burst out
laughing. “You’re trying to kill two birds with one stone. You clever, clever
angel.”

Orifiel smiled and leaned back
again. “Now who’s throwing clichés around?”

Nathaniel shook his head, still
smiling. “Bringing Maion—that makes sense. He’s my best friend. And he’s one of
your strongest supporters. But Raguel hates me. You’re just doing this to drive
him crazy.” Nathaniel thought about the man who’d been his tormentor since they
were children. “He can’t stand the fact that I’m gay, your son, and that I took
after my human mother. He regards it as infecting the angels with mortal soil.”

“And that’s precisely why he’s
coming. If he could just get past his unreasonable prejudice, he’d make a good
angel,” Orifiel said as he stood up and checked on the stew. “He needs to learn
how to accept that God has plans for us, and those plans don’t include allowing
bigotry in our midst.”