It was a mistake. His eyes locked with hers. Her breath caught.
“Angel….” He stuttered. Then he frowned and cleared his throat, clearly at a loss for words.
Angel flushed. It was strange seeing Sam caught off guard. It was wonderful. His sudden show of weakness in that moment made Angel feel like the most powerful woman in the world.
Nothing he could have said would have topped that.
Sam composed himself quickly, however, and though his eyes still burned, he offered her his elbow like a true gentleman. “Are you ready to go?” he asked politely, outwardly once more in control.
She nodded. She was as ready as she would ever be. The last few hours had blown her clear out of reality and into the Twilight Zone. Now she was just along for the ride.
She slipped her arm into his, and suppressed the shiver that wanted to claim her at the intimate contact. But then he placed his hand over hers where it rested on his arm, and the shiver won.
If he noticed, he was gentleman enough not to mention it. They left her quarters and moved back to the recessed sitting room, where tea and cakes appeared to have been once more set, replaced, and refreshed. Angel caught the scent of fresh baked bread, cookies and croissants, pastries and chocolate, and that undertone earthy scent of freshly brewed tea.
“Is it the table that’s enchanted, or the tea tray?”
“Both,” he replied easily. He stopped beside the bowl on top of the side table against one wall. The bowl contained the pea sized glowing balls that he’d dropped into it earlier. They made a sound like rolling marbles on the inside of the glass as he scooped them all into his left hand.
“What are those?” she asked.
“Transportation orbs.” He deposited the majority of the orbs into one suit jacket pocket, and with his free hand, he extracted something from the other pocket. Sam raised that new object before her, and it turned slowly, brilliantly reflecting the fire light from the gas lamps in the room.
It was a yellow gold locket, smoothly polished, yet intricately carved. It was oval in shape and dangled from an equally gold, clearly high quality curb chain. She watched him in silence as he popped the locket open to reveal a good sized hollow inside. Into this space, he placed two of the tiny orbs, which fit snuggly and perfectly in the space, like peas in a pod.
“Just in case,” he said, closing the locket again. Then he deftly took her by the upper arm and turned her around. Goosebumps raised along her flesh as he moved her hair to the side and draped the necklace around her neck, clasping it easily behind her.
“This is what I used to transport us to the Nautilus, as I know you’ve decided to call it.” He turned her back around and gave her a knowing smile. “So you see, I truly did give up my powers as well. The bonus to using charmed objects rather than inherent power is that the magic cannot be traced. There is no signature to follow.”
The weight of the locket was extravagant and thrilling where it rested against Angel’s chest. She had arguments dancing on her tongue, and bitter injustice still burned in her veins, but the night was young and there was time, and for now, she was just once again surprised by the fact that coincidences seemed to be taking over her life. She’d chosen not to wear a necklace, despite the plethora of decorations to choose from, and then Sam had presented her with one that she was instantly enchanted with.
The synchronicity between her and Sam could no longer be denied. It was there. It was real. It only remained for her to wonder why.
“Shall we?” he asked, again offering her his elbow.
This time, she took it without hesitation, and he pulled one of the transport orbs from the same pocket he’d dropped them into. This, he clasped firmly in a closed hand.
The world opened up and spun around them.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Max shielded his eyes from the sun and gazed up at the higher levels of the Willis Tower, which nearly everyone who’d ever either lived in Chicago or developed any sense of loyalty for old architecture and history, still called the Sears Tower. They’d decided to come during the day, for various reasons. Forcing Rhiannon to wait had been difficult; the Fire Healer was even more headstrong than her archangel. However, she’d eventually acquiesced, Mr. Verdigris had returned to the foundation, and once the sun had risen, the rest of them had taken the doors of the crack-riddled Mansion to a doorway in an alley not far from the tower.
“This has to be the oddest thing I’ve ever done,” he said, referring to the fact that he was actually there, gawking up at the place where Sam spent most of his life.
“I think it’s also one of the strangest things many of these people have ever seen,” said Juliette. Max glanced over, and she nodded to a group of people across South Franklin Street who were standing under the awning and staring at them. He stared back. Then he looked around at the intersection. Everyone was staring at them, actually.
“Too many gorgeous men in one place, doing nothing but staring up at the same floor of Chicago’s tallest building,” Eleanore quipped.
“Stunning lasses, too,” Gabriel added with that lopsided grin that was so disarming to so very many women.
“You’re both right,” agreed Max. They did look a tad conspicuous standing out there in front of the Pret-A-Manger, doing nothing but craning their necks. Then again, that was rather the point. They were trying to get Sam’s attention.
Transporting directly into the Sears Tower had always been impossible. Wards and magic stronger than that belonging to the archangels had consistently kept them at bay, Mansion doors or not. And even if it hadn’t been impossible, it would have been unwise. Trapped within the walls of the building, locked away from the prying eyes of the public, absolute war could have broken out between the archangels and Samael. Out here, however, in broad daylight, on the street and in plain view, Max was hoping that any meeting between the two could be conducted in a more civil manner.
His ears pricked at the sound of leather-soled shoes approaching.
Lilith had exited the building and was in the crosswalk, walking toward them. Her heels made a distinctive click against the pavement. As usual, she was dressed in a pencil skirt and blouse, her tall, svelte figure highlighted by the flattering cut of her clothing. Everything about her bespoke of femininity, yet intelligence. She was softness, yet strength.
It made perfect sense that she had been the first woman on Earth… she was the ultimate woman, to be sure.
She smiled at Max as she approached, and the secrets contained in the corners of that smile made Max wonder whether she somehow knew what he’d been thinking. He cleared his throat, and tried not to let the heat in his neck reach his cheeks. He nodded a greeting. “Lilith.”
“Max,” she returned pleasantly. “I must say, it’s quite an experience seeing you all here together like this.” She looked away, turning her attention to Az, who had his arm wrapped protectively around Sophie’s shoulders. “Especially with you in the crowd, Azrael. You’re a different sight to behold beneath the rays of the sun.” She made a face. “What sun we can get down here in the shadow of these beasts, anyway.” She smiled. “I’m sure it’s an experience for you as well.”
Az returned the smile. Who could not smile in Lilith’s presence? She radiated kindness and charm. “You could say that,” he agreed with just as much charm. He’d been capable of walking in daylight since he and Sophie had become an item, and by the way he often looked directly up and into the rays of that brightly shining star above, Max sometimes wagered the vampire king would never grow accustomed to, much less tired of, being able to do so without going completely blind and then turning to ash.
“Max,” Lilith began, turning back to him. The group grew quiet and attentive. “You’re here for Samael, and from the looks of it, you’re also expecting a fight.”
“We want to know if he sent Jason after Sophie,” said Rhiannon. Mimi, who had won all of their arguments with her and ended up tagging along, stood beside her. The two looked so much
alike, Rhiannon could have been Mimi’s mother. Or her much older sister, at least.
Lilith hesitated before speaking again, but when she did, her expression and tone were both resigned. “Do you believe that’s what happened?”
Michael’s gaze narrowed on her. “What are you saying, Lilith?” he asked. Ever the cop, his tone was all business and his question brokered for the facts. Like everyone, he could tell their doubts were probably justified.
“I know that Sophie was attacked,” Lilith said softly, with a respectful nod to Sophie. Sophie nodded back and tried not to look embarrassed. “And I understand it was Jason who harmed her.” Now her eyes peered right through Max, focusing intently. “What other information do you have, Max?”
The truth was, they had nothing else at all. They knew Jason was Sam’s right-hand man. And Gregori had warned them of Sam’s intentions. They’d come to find out the rest.
Without waiting for an answer she knew wasn’t coming, Lilith faced the rest of them. “Samael is not here. Furthermore, he’s currently untraceable. I believe he has given up his magic.”
Everyone was dead quiet.
Max tried to process what she was saying. “What do you mean, he’s given up his magic?”
Lilith sighed. She looked at the ground and shifted her weight. “What I can share with you is limited. But rumor exists that he’s taken himself off the grid. And Angel too.”
Max turned to look at the others. He met Michael’s gaze, analytical and processing.
“He’s trying to protect her from Gregori,” said Mimi.
Everyone looked down at her. She took a step back, likely feeling a little under attack with so many powerful gazes locked on her. “What?” she asked, shrugging. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Michael nodded. “It does.”
“We haven’t met, Mimi. I’m Lilith.” Lilith smiled and leaned forward, offering the red-headed girl her hand. Mimi took it with confidence, and Max could see the grip was firm.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Mimi returned. The fact that Lilith knew her name was not lost on the girl. The knowledge reflected in her wary eyes, despite her sure hand shake.
“I should have known Sam wasn’t here,” said Eleanore. “I mean, the sun is shining.” This, with a glance up at Azrael. “Storms have been hammering Chicago for weeks. We all know they were Sam’s doing.”
Lilith nodded sagely. “He’s… dealing with a lot. Things are changing.” Her eyes were back on Max. “They’re coming to a culmination.”
There was no doubt she meant to insert the double meaning in her words, but she left no time for them to ask about it, because she nodded then, and asked, “Have any of you eaten lunch yet? I think we could do with a sit-down and a long talk. There’s much to discuss – Adarians and all. Besides, we’re attracting quite a bit of attention out here like this. It might not all be welcome.”
It was three in the afternoon, but archangels and their archesses tended to be night people. So, of course, none of them had eaten. And she was right about gaining unwanted attention. They weren’t even doing anything, and they were making a scene. Even a cop down the street had turned his sights on them.
Gabriel spoke up. “You know where we can get a good pint?”
Lilith laughed. “In Chicago? I know ten places within walking distance.” She wove her arm through Max’s shoulder, which he didn’t even realize he was holding out for her. But was very happy she’d taken.
Max grinned as they all began making their way down the street. “I grew up here, you know.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The George Bernard Shaw Play House in Manhattan was to exclusive what Godiva was to chocolate. It wasn’t that it only allowed certain prosperous and influential humans through its invisible doors. It was that it barely let humans through them at all.
The high end restaurant featured the very best in culinary creations, and the finest actors from various realms performing what were arguably the crème de la crème of life’s plays. Tonight’s performance was “The Diaries of Adam and Eve” by Mark Twain, otherwise known as Samuel Clemens. It was Sam’s favorite play, and the actor playing Adam and the actress playing Eve were currently the best actor and actress in the realm. Of course, it just wasn’t the mortal realm. Not that it mattered, effect-wise. They looked mortal enough. Mostly.
The Play House catered to seven supernatural realms in all at the moment, but the owner was always vying for more exposure, and word was getting around, because the owner was a very good businessman. The fact that Samael was currently all but mortal was fortunately not going to be an issue with management, seeing as how he was the one who owned the play house.
Sam approached the brick wall that disguised the entrance to the restaurant and theater beyond. It was a normal brick wall, crumbling in places, and nothing more to the casual observer than a part of an alley in a mid-range neighborhood in the business district of Manhattan.
Sam was distracted. He was on edge. He had been the moment Angel had opened her door in the Nautilus, and suddenly found himself standing before the most stunning creature in the multiverse, stripped down to what she truly was, and then wrapped up in red silk like a gift for the luckiest son of a bitch in the Cosmos.
She’d taken his breath away. He didn’t know whether he’d been capable of hiding it; he’d tried so hard. It wasn’t like him to be caught off guard. It wasn’t like him to be surprised, not in any capacity. He knew damn well what Angel really looked like, despite her non-stop attempts to hide her true form behind one magical disguise after another. He knew what she looked like, smelled like – she smelled like freshly fallen rain, just as he did – and sounded like. He even knew the feel of her skin, so teasingly perfect, soft as the silk she now wore…. No. Softer.
But in that moment, just after her door had opened and he’d stumbled into a time lapse of immeasurable proportions, he was not only reminded of how perfect she was, he was presented with just how much better than perfect she could be.
How much better than him she could be.
Because the thing about Angel is that she was just that. She was the epitome of goodness, of strength, and of everything that was right in the world. He’d known it the first time he’d glimpsed even the tiniest part of her in a fevered dream months ago. That impossible goodness poured out from her like a moonlit glow. It encompassed her like some sort of prismatic cocoon, and the inherent, disproportional beauty that was a direct result of that goodness, was a painful reminder for him of just how far out of his league she really was.
It also acted like a dark mirror on Samael. Instead of seeing any good in himself when he looked at her, he regressed. He saw everything good that he wasn’t, and rather than reflect her own kindness and strength, all he wanted to do, immediately and intensely, was be everything that she considered bad: Brutally powerful, stubbornly over-protective, jealously possessive, and positively primeval.
He couldn’t help it. He really couldn’t. She couldn’t mean to, but she was bringing out the monster in him. All he wanted to do was grab hold of her, pull her against him, and destroy everything that so much as glanced in her direction. Even as they entered that alley with that waiting, magical door, he sensed the beast stirring within. He heard it growling, deep down low. He knew it was sheer seconds and one fool’s mistake away from awakening full-force and taking over.
May the fates have mercy on anyone who dared cross him that night.
To say he was distracted, in fact, was a gross understatement. So, rather than making a show of revealing the play house as he’d originally hoped to do in his plan to impress Angel, he simply placed his fingertips to one of the higher bricks and stepped back.
The stone lit up in its place, as if it had caught fire from the inside, and the glow spread into the mortar connecting it to the wall. There was a brief flash, followed by the sound of rock moving against other rocks.
Sam reached out and took Angel’s arm, moving her back a few pace
s alongside him. His fingers automatically wrapped securely around her forearm, then slid to her wrist. The grip was possessive… and even after the doorway magically outlined itself and slid inward and to the side like the charmed masonry that it was, he had trouble letting go.
Fortunately for him, Angel didn’t seem to notice his hesitation. She was transfixed by the magic entrance and what she’d just seen. This was odd to him. Unlike the other archesses, Angel had been around for the full two-thousand years since her spirit had been dispersed to the planet. In all that time, she had known about the supernatural world, just as he had. Something as simple as a hidden door into a private play house should not have surprised her.
But a moment after the conundrum presented itself, Sam figured it out. Angel was not accustomed to things of this nature because she was not like him. She spent little to no time relaxing in magical retreats, enjoying the finest things life had to offer. She used her powers to save the world.
And that was about it.
A pain moved through Sam’s chest. It was hard to identify, but he would wager a cool thousand easy that it had at least a little to do with the fact that this was yet one more reminder that Angel was too good for him. There was no way in the nine hells she would ever come to accept him. Not as anything other than what she saw him as already.
“What is this place?” she asked a little breathlessly.
Sam impressed himself. He should have been the one acting as Adam up on stage that night. He was the best actor in the world. He smiled his calm smile and, in a smooth, even tone, he said, “This is the George Bernard Shaw Play House. It’s lovingly referred to as “The George” for short. A rather exclusive play house, it’s my favorite place to both dine and relax.”
He gestured gallantly to the entrance, which was a white marble stairwell leading down. “Shall we?” He offered her his elbow.
Candle sconces in the walls on either side gave the entrance an ethereal glow, and the sound of softly playing music mingled with quietly speaking voices below.