My Lord's Judgment (9 page)

At first, nothing happened. Gadreel who had
been staring at the dagger in horror, focused on Sam with a big
grin on his face and started to chuckle. Suddenly, his silver wings
started to darken, slowly losing their radiance; becoming a soft
grey that grew and deepened until it was a rich black. The angel’s
features rearranged themselves as the amusement disappeared,
replaced by fear.

“No. Noooo!”

As they watched, a stark light flared out
from the Demon Dagger in Gadreel’s chest. He startled, and reached
for the hilt, tugging and pulling, trying to wrench the thing from
him. The light enveloped him, and with a final flash, he
disappeared.

The only thing remaining to remind them of
what had happened that night was the dagger on the floor, and the
human lying dead on the carpet. The two demons were gone,
transported to their eternity. Sam never had to deal with Gadreel
again.

Samael gazed down into Brandon’s face. “You
were so courageous and strong. I am very proud of you.”

The smile he received from the praise was
glorious. Sam leaned down to kiss Bran and as their lips touched, a
cough interrupted them.

They startled apart. Samael pushed Brandon
behind him and faced the danger. There in front of them were
Raphael and Michael. They stood there gawking at the two angels for
a moment.

Mike was the one to pull him out of his
stupor. “Hey, buddy.”

Sam snapped. “Now? You arrive now? I could
have used your help a little while ago, you know.”

His friends were both chagrined. Raph was the
one to respond. “We weren’t permitted to help you. That was
something you had to do on your own.”

Of course it was. “What brings you here,
then?”

Michael looked guilty. “Yahweh wants to see
you.” Without further conversation, they each took an elbow,
pulling him away from Brandon.

His Little Raven was standing there, looking
scared and confused. His expressive face was communicating a series
of “No” and “You promised you wouldn’t leave.” It broke Sam’s
heart.

There was nothing he could do; one moment he
was standing in the tiny apartment staring into pain filled,
chocolate brown eyes, and the next he was in Yahweh’s temple in
Heaven.

White marble columns extended three stories
up to an intricately painted ceiling, adorned in rose gold. The
solid silver floor was cool against his bare feet, and yellow gold
acted as crown molding and baseboards to trim the room. Statues sat
on pedestals near the walls, and colored glass turned the windows
into artwork. Large, sparkling, diamond chandeliers hung down,
creating rainbows when the light hit them. It was glorious, but
Samael could not appreciate it at the moment.

The angels released Sam and left him, closing
the solid oak doors on their way out. The sound of them shutting
reverberated around the temple. He did not know why he was back
here, but there must be a reason.

Sam strode forward, down the aisle in the
center of the columns, toward the large, adorned throne at the back
of the room. As he reached his destination, he knelt and bowed his
head in respect, raising his fist up to his heart. He knew he would
not see God in person. In his human form, with his powers removed,
he would perish in God's presence, so he was not surprised when the
Spirit entered.

The Devine Spirit looked like a mixture of
floating clouds and a mirage that one might see in a desert,
completely opaque, but there nonetheless.

The mist spoke. “Be at ease, my child.”

Sam relaxed his stance and looked up, but
remained on his knees. “You summoned me, My Lord?”

“I did. You have done well.”

“I apologize, forgive my impertinence, My
Lord, but I do not understand.” Samael was so confused.

The Spirit flowed over his body, offering
comfort. “No apology is required. I allowed your denouncement for a
purpose. You who have always been faithful and loyal to me, I would
never have permitted your removal otherwise.”

The mist moved away and back toward the
throne. Sam just knelt quietly, waiting for what God had to say.
“Brandon was in grave peril, not only his body but also his soul.
If Gadreel had succeeded, it would have destroyed Brandon, changed
him. I could not allow that. The boy required protection. Who
better to see to that, but the one who has had so much grief thrust
upon him from the source? Only, if I had disclosed to you that
Gadreel’s offspring was in need of the help, your animosity toward
him would have carried over to Brandon.”

Sam’s back went up at the pronouncement that
His Lord thought him unable to carry out his duties because of his
emotions. He had never before let that hinder him.

“Now Samael, I am fully aware of that.” Sam
was chagrined, but the amusement in the sovereign Voice calmed
him.

“My sincerest apologies, My Lord.”

“No need. Search yourself, my child. Would
you have been able to put aside your differences with the father,
to do right by the son? Or was it better that you grew to know
Brandon with no knowledge of his birth?”

Would things have been different had he known
Bran was Gadreel’s son? Probably. He would have done his duty, but
no more. He wouldn’t have given his Little Raven a chance.

“I agree. That is why I allowed what I did.
He needed you, and you, Samael, need him as well. You received your
justice, which is why you were given no assistance. You deserved
that privilege. Gadreel is where he belongs, and Brandon is safe.
Now it is time for you to make a choice.”

Sam looked up at the Spirit, wishing his Lord
was with him in flesh so that he could see his face. “A choice, My
Lord?”

“Your assignment has been completed. You have
fulfilled your duty and may be reestablished in the ranks. Of
course, you shall receive all your powers and be restored to your
station completely. Alternatively, if you should so choose, you may
go back to earth and to Brandon. If that is your choice, I would
expect you to assist him with his awakening powers. He has
prophetic dreams and will be continually coming into more gifts as
the years pass. You would be his advisor and teacher, and your
lives shall be tied, so that the day he passes, shall be the day
you return as well.” Yahweh’s voice held no inflection, as if he
did not care either way. “Make your choice, Samael.”

There was no choice to make. Sam had been
alone for millennia. As Death, he had few friends - like Michael
and Raphael - that understood him and stood by him. Nearly every
other being had looked upon him with revulsion and fear. He found
no acceptance, no inclusion, no succor; he was alone. Brandon
wanted him.

Brandon looked at him with affection and
approval.

He wanted his Little Raven.

“That, my dear Samael, was why you needed him
as much as he needed you.” He could hear the smile in God’s
voice.

“If it should please My Lord, I would choose
Earth.” He was grinning.

“Granted.” God pronounced. More softly, he
added, “I approve. You more than most, deserve some happiness. Go
now. I shall have Michael escort you home.”

Home
. Brandon was his home now.

Sam bowed once more to his Lord, taping his
chest with his fist before rising and starting back toward the
door.

He was almost there when Yahweh stopped him.
“Samael?”

Sam turned. “Yes, My Lord?”

“You should have trusted my Judgment.”

Bran stood
there gaping at the place where Samael had been. He was gone. He’d
just disappeared, one minute there, the next…
nothing
.

Was he coming back? Brandon remembered what
Chris had said to him about the cheating.
“For you?”
He
didn’t think so. The guy was an angel, he probably got his wings
back and would look at his time with Bran as ‘some fun he’d once
had with a silly human.’ Wait, did angels do that? He didn’t
know.

Bran didn’t even think he was considered
human anymore. If his father was an angel, what did that make him?
A half angel?

Well, one thing at a time; he couldn’t keep
standing there staring at nothing. He walked over the door, lifted
it up as much as he could to level the hinges, and slowly fought it
closed.

What now?

Bran looked around the room. Carlos was dead
on his floor. He should probably call the police department, but
how was he supposed to explain what happened to the cops?
Umm…yeah, this guy broke into my apartment with some demons and
angels, they were holding my boyfriend and me at gunpoint, and so
my boyfriend killed them and then disappeared with some more
angels. Right. Sure.

Can you say loony-bin-lock-up three times
fast?

Brandon scrubbed his hands down his face. He
was lost. And alone.

Again.

He couldn’t bear to look at Carlos’ dead body
anymore. Seeing dead people on T.V. was nothing like in real life.
The man’s eyes were still open and glazed, his mouth lax, and there
was a gapping maw in his neck where Sam had slashed it. Blood
pooled under his whole body. Bran didn’t even know people had that
much blood. It was seriously gross. He knew he should probably feel
bad for the guy, but he didn’t. The man deserved everything he got
and more.

He strode over to the closet to get a sheet
to cover Carlos, and as he was walking, back to the living area
there was a knock at his door. Bran froze.

After the last time, he wasn’t sure what he
was supposed to do. Were there demons out there? Angels?
Leprechauns? The Keebler Elf?

Ugh! He couldn’t keep from answering
forever.

Slowly he stepped around the couch, keeping
his ears pealed. All his senses were heightened and his hands were
trembling, white knuckled on the sheet he had grabbed.

The knock came again followed by “Bran?”

He knew that voice.

Brandon ran toward it, throwing the cloth he
held in his hands. He pulled and tugged on the stupid piece of wood
in his way, until he could get to…his angel.

Then, there he was – his beautiful, wonderful
Sammy. He looked exactly as he had when Bran had last seen him. He
didn’t know what it was that he’d expected, maybe wings and a
glistening white robe. Sam was still barefoot and shirtless,
wearing loose black shorts. It was the best sight in the world.

“You came back!” Bran whispered,
grinning.

“Of course I did, I made a promise. Besides
that, I could not leave you.”

Brandon threw himself at Samael, nearly
knocking him to the ground. Sam wrapped him up in his arms,
chuckling. “I assume this means you are happy to see me?”

“No,” he replied, still grinning. “I’m
thrilled.”

He grabbed Samael’s hand, dragging him in the
apartment. “Where did you go? What happened to you? What…”

Sam interrupted him, and pulled him into a
bear hug once more. “I will explain everything, I promise. For now,
I want only to hold you a moment.”

Bran squeezed his Sammy tight, smiling so big
his cheeks hurt. Then he saw Carlos out of the corner of his eye
and reality hit him hard.

“Sammy, what are we going to do? There's a
dead body on my living room floor.” Brandon looked up into caring,
indigo eyes.

“We will take care of it, and anything else
that comes our way. Together.” Sam smiled down at him, and
everything was okay. Everything was perfect. They could deal with
anything, together.

Taylor Law is a northern
born, southern girl, with a free spirit. If it is romance, she
loves it. Taylor has lived in the southern United States most of
her life, along with her huge family. She started writing at a very
young age; her first poem at six, her first song at seven, and
stories followed directly after. She hasn’t stopped since. A
romantic clear to her soul, Taylor continues to believe in the
elusive ‘Happily Ever After.’ On any given day, you can usually
catch her with a book in her hand, or creating something. Taylor
loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her at
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Dear reader,

If you enjoyed My Lord's Judgment, please
leave a review at the book distributor where it was purchased and
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reading for an excerpt for the next Shenandoah Pack book. Thank you
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Hugs and spanks,

Taylor

The
Shenandoah Pack Book Two

George Washington National Park

THE SOUND of flapping wings vibrated the air
overhead before silence reigned. The hunter lowered the weapon and
let out the breath he'd held while taking the shot. Finally, some
action. Flipping the rifle over his back, he scrambled down from
the god-forsaken tree stand and squirmed out of the safety harness.
He’d been in the damn thing for hours and was stiff as hell.

He really preferred guided hunts, but a few
friends thought good, old-fashioned buck hunting in the Virginia
woods would be something different for him and snatched him up for
the weekend. All day Saturday, and all of Sunday, sitting fourteen
feet up in a tree, and for what? He was stiff, his fingers and toes
numb, and not one antler to show for his trouble.

Now he remembered why he'd stopped doing
this.