Archangel Rafe (A Novel of The Seven Book 1) (18 page)

Suspicion took root her thoughts. Uri could have set this fire. Although, why? “So this is the kind of fire you approve of?”

“Yes,” Uri spoke softly. “This is a perfect example of a fire that could be my handiwork. After all, fire is both destroyer and creator.”

“Yeah. But we know you didn’t set this. And we have to figure out who did.” Rafe dismissed the unspoken accusation.

“Your girlfriend here isn’t sure,” Uri sneered.

Angelina confronted him. “You said yourself that this looks like your handiwork.”

“Children.” Rafe stepped between the two of them. By the Cosmos, this did not make him happy. “Don’t fight. She’s got a point.”

“Great, thanks.” Uri puffed up his chest, as fists clenched and muscles readied for an attack. “You prick.”

Angelina stepped in front of Rafe as if to protect him. Which was silly. These two Archangels could probably crush her with little more than a thought. Uri could incinerate her where she stood, but she couldn’t let them degenerate into squabbling.

“Shut up and listen.” Rafe gestured to the destruction. “Look around you. If you weren’t you, who would you think set this fire?”

Uri turned in a circle to check all the ignition points. “No burn pattern–that’s a significant factor from an Angel burn, rather than an accelerant-based pattern. She is right, dammit.”

“Someone purposely set this so that we would suspect you.” Rafe snapped his fingers. “Zach. That’s why he was so pissed. He thought you set the damn fire.”

“Why didn’t he talk to me?”

“Uh, maybe it’s your ultra approachable personality,” Angelina said sweetly.

Rafe let out a bark of laughter. And then, he stopped and held still.

Uri looked as if Rafe had birthed a chicken. “I haven’t heard you laugh in....”

Forever
. They left the word unspoken.

“Yeah,” Rafe said quietly. “Let’s focus on the site again. Someone tried to set you up. We need to reverse engineer the crime so we can figure out how they torched the place. And then we need to figure out why they wanted to implicate you.”

Angelina tiptoed gingerly over to the far side of the decimated coop. “So the chickens had bird flu?” So it made sense that they burned the chickens.

“Yes. But why torch the entire farm and a dozen people?” Rafe kicked at a pile of embers. “Exactly why I’m sick of mankind.”

Angelina persisted. “Except that whoever did this wasn’t just human.” Because they had known to implicate Uri in a way that most humans wouldn’t even recognize. She hadn’t understood the significance of the burned area.

“She’s right,” Uri agreed. “Plus a regular human wouldn’t know about the Angel’s mark.”

“What about it?” Angelina rubbed at the mark that signified she was an Angel.

Uri and Rafe shared a look.

“Tell me,” she demanded. A sliver of fear pricked her. “What does the Angel mark have to do with this fire?”

“The night we were here. You saw the two Angels?” Rafe traced her Angel’s mark with a light finger. “Someone stabbed them in their mark.”

He was leaving something out. Something big. “And?”

“It killed them,” Uri said shortly.

Rafe exuded anger as he snarled at Uri, “That’s enough.”

“She needed to be told.”

Angelina shivered. “So, they killed the chicken, the humans and your Angels.” Nausea roiled in her stomach. She had agreed to be a simple healer like her Grammy. No one had mentioned bird flu and fire and death through Angel marks.

“This feels like more than a simple fire,” she whispered as fear slithered through her. As if a catastrophe of epic proportions was bearing down on her like a tidal wave. “I have children to raise.”

Rafe rubbed her back. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

As she thought of her children, she thought of the evil offspring wiped out by the flood. Or so everyone thought. “What if the Nephilim are back?”

Uri was incredulous. “You told her about the Nephilim?”

“It was supposed to be a deterrent.”

“Yeah, that’s working real well for you.” Uri shook his head.

“Let’s just focus on the problem at hand,” Angelina said calmly. “What do you think?”

“There haven’t been Nephilim for thousands of years,” Rafe refuted.

“They could have been dormant,” Uri said thoughtfully. “Waiting for the right time to make their move.”

Angelina talked through the scarf. “But how would they know about Uri? And why make this look like he set the fire?”

“To distract the Archangel Council,” Rafe speculated. “If we were concentrating on a tribunal to judge you we wouldn’t spend time worrying about why you set the chickens on fire.”

“It couldn’t just be about implicating me,” Uri said. “Could it?”

“This would be considered a deliberate and aggressive act against the human race.” Rafe said softly, “Punishable by banishment.”

“Looks like we could be going together,” Uri quipped.

The sick pit in Angelina’s stomach revolted again. She couldn’t be responsible for Rafe’s downfall. She refused.

“Something else bothers me,” Rafe said.

“What’s that?”

“How did we learn about the fire?”

“I got the news late.”

“From Lev?”

“No.” Uri frowned. “Not Lev. And by the time I arrived, the fire was already too far gone. It was hopeless. Containment was the only response.”

“Who told you about the fire?”

“Zach.”

“Who is Zach?” Uri sure didn’t sound pleased about him whoever he was.

“He’s the Archangel of Forgiveness whose weapon is water. The exact opposite of Uri and the one most likely to go after Uri because of their acrimonious relationship.”

Uri sifted through a pile of ash, oblivious to the heat. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

“You think he set the fire?” Angelina asked.

“I’ll bind him,” Uri said furiously.

“Calm down. It doesn’t make any sense,” Rafe argued.

“Not only does he hate my guts but he was supposed to help put out the fire and he disappeared,” Uri growled.

“But what if they purposely used the two of you to play off one another?” Angelina theorized. “My kids try that all the time.”

“Is there any reason Zach would have killed the Angels?” Rafe wondered aloud.

“Zach doesn’t have a reason to kill them. He has enough guilt over the deaths in the Caribbean,” Uri said softly. “I can’t believe I just defended him. As much as part of me would like to think so, I don’t see it.”

And finally reason took over. “Let’s focus on the virus for now,” Rafe said.

“Should we check out the town, you know, investigate?” Angelina asked slowly. The puzzle of the fire and the virus had sparked her imagination. The feud between Uri and Zach only escalated the growing questions about this fire. Nothing about it was simple. And maybe she could help.

“There have been some reports of illness,” Uri said thoughtfully. “Maybe we can find out about that and hear if any strangers have been hanging around.”

“I had planned to observe the townspeople to see if any had the virus.” They needed all the evidence they could get to support their idea. Rafe surveyed the barren earth.

“We may be able to gather intelligence about the origination of the fire as well.”

That would only leave the mystery of who killed the two Angels. Angelina rubbed her mark again. As if he knew what she was thinking, Rafe said fiercely, “Stas served the Earth and people faithfully for years. Caring for the human population. He did not deserved his death.”

“Maybe whoever hurt them is still here,” Angelina said.

“We will find them and make them pay.” The expression on Rafe’s face made Angelina realize that he was more than just a healer. He was a warrior. And crossing him was a very, very bad idea.

TWENTY-SEVEN

She didn’t want to ask where Uri procured the transportation.

The old truck rumbled into the parking lot. The bass from the music inside the bar rattled the windows. Crammed between the two Archangels, she watched the windshield shimmy, and could only pray that the glass was solid.

As if she didn’t have bigger problems.

The heat from both of their bodies surrounded her. She would have thought that the testosterone combo would be distracting, except that her hormones had zeroed in on Rafe and no one else would sway them. With every shift in his shoulder or hip, pleasure zipped through her.

“What is this place?”

“Local dive,” Uri answered. “Farmers hang out here.”

“Won’t we stick out?”

As he shifted the gear stick into park, the muscles in his forearm rippled. She should be drooling. The guy was seriously gorgeous and built. Where Rafe had that lean, lanky look, Uri was ripped.

Nothin’
.

As if all her hormones were sucked out and Uri was completely asexual. She guessed the good news was her pheromones only intended to completely screw up one Archangel’s life.

Hooray for her.

There was a swift brush of air and suddenly their clothes were far more appropriate for a rural bar. Both the guys wore overalls and faded shirts with the sleeves ripped off to reveal bare arms.

She still had on her blue jeans, but her top was sleeveless, faded denim buttoned up the front, the shirt a little tight, so her breasts plumped together and created significant cleavage. A red bandana covered her streaked hair. Clunky old work boots protected her feet.

“How do you do that?”

“Has to do with laws of matter.”

“What law?”

“In closed systems, matter is not created or destroyed. It just changes forms.”

“I thought that was like liquid to steam or solid to liquid.”

“In your limited brains yes,” Uri said offhandedly. “We just manipulate the molecules to the images in our brains.”

“Huh. Cool.” She hunched her shoulders stiffly. “Could you manipulate just a little looser? I’m bigger than you thought.”

“Nope. I know exactly how big you are.” Uri grinned, his teeth white as dusk deepened. “That was on purpose.”

Rafe shifted closer to Angelina and shot Uri a dirty look.

“Relax, Romeo.” Uri slung an arm around her shoulders and maneuvered her toward the entrance. “She’s our distraction, so I can listen to the gossip and you can scan for the virus.”

“If she’s ours, why is
your
arm around her?”

“Because if you have your arm around her no one else will come near her,” Uri chided. “They’d be able to sense your possessiveness from across the room.”

Rafe scowled.

“You’d better cut it out.” Uri’s warning hung in the air between the two men.

They stood outside the halo of the single light. Uri held her so tightly against his side she couldn’t move even if she’d wanted to. His embrace felt strange, off. He wasn’t Rafe. Tension crawled over her skin and settled in the base of her neck.

She held immobile.

“Let’s go.” Rafe put his hand on Uri’s shoulder. “But, she’s with me.”

“Rafe....” Uri shrugged off Rafe’s hand.

“I don’t care,” Rafe said through clenched teeth.

“Okay, okay. But tone down the ‘if you touch my woman I’ll have to kill you’ vibe.” Uri released her shoulder and suddenly she felt much better.

Rafe picked up her hand and threaded his fingers with hers. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Angelina melted at Rafe’s touch. The tension in her neck dissolved into a puddle. Everything felt right.

Uri shook his head and headed for the door. Jon Bon Jovi belted out, ‘We’ve Got It Goin’ On’, the music boomed through the open windows along with the clink of glassware and the roar of conversation. Cigarette smoke haloed the roof of the single story building. The rancid odor of fry grease and spilled beer belched out in a gust as Uri opened the door.

“Uri,” the entire bar called out as he entered.

“
Kopsnij piątkę.
” Uri strode in arms spread wide as if he was welcoming the entire population into his own home.

Angelina blinked.

Rafe shrugged. “Uri has that effect on people.”

Huh. “Not on me.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” He nuzzled his face into the fall of her hair, but she felt his smile. His body was suddenly warmer and, as if a switch had been thrown, her body responded to his heat.

“Put on some more American music for our good friend,” the bartender yelled across the noisy bar.

“Everyone, this is my cousin Rafe and his friend, Angelina.” Uri pointed them out, and the patrons called out greetings to them in a mix of Polish and English.

Someone shoved a table toward them and four chairs appeared. At the bar, Uri squeezed in beside a barrel-chested man with a green John Deere cap perched over a grizzled face and a buxom blond in tight, ripped Levi’s and a t-shirt two sizes too small. The smile she gave Uri indicated she’d be willing to let him plow her fields.

Several people, men and women, waved hello but left her and Rafe to their table.

A brawny arm slammed down three drafts in ornate glass mugs. “Welcome.” A bear of a man straddled a chair that looked ready to break under his generous bulk. He scooted up to the table. He was probably in his mid-twenties, with shoulder length blond hair, freckles, bulging muscles of a well-worked body, and an attitude that said he probably flirted with anyone who didn’t have a penis.

That could be very good for the ego.

“Hi.” Angelina smiled at him. His gruff demeanor and the mischievous grin reminded her of Brandt.

“Ah, good I will practice my English on you.”

Rafe shifted in his seat. Surreptitiously she laid a hand on his upper thigh to restrain him.

“Practice away.” She smiled a little wider. “What’s your name?”

“Kasimierz.” He executed a mock bow. “But call me Kaz.”

She grabbed a mug before she could offer his hand for a shake, and lifted the glass as if to toast him. “Nice to meet you.”

“It is pleasure to meet you also.” He smiled at her, his sharp gaze rested on her wrist, then flit away. But his demeanor struck her as off. His smile seemed strained as if it were a chore to keep his lips curved.

Out of the corner of her eye, she kept some attention on Uri.

The rumblings in the bar had started soon after they entered. Everyone was talking about the illness plaguing several families. The jovial response to Uri’s entrance had settled back down into somber conversations between the locals.