Messenger''s Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels

  “Ellie’s coming,” Gabriel gritted out. “Don’ bother.”

  “Let me try.”

  “Suit your bloody self,” Gabriel growled, letting his head fall back on his arm and closing his eyes. He felt Michael’s hand on his chest then, hot like a brand, and his teeth clenched so tight, he thought they might break.

  What remained of Michael’s power seeped through the archangel’s palm and into Gabriel’s body, spreading across the muscles of his chest until it had enveloped his entire upper torso. From there, it traveled across his petrified shoulder and Gabriel felt a tingling. He sensed the healing power as if from far off, through too many layers.

  It was too weak.

  “I can do your arm, but then I’m tapped,” Michael told him, slightly out of breath. Just as he’d said, Gabriel felt Michael’s magic de-solidifying his arm; it crackled and popped as it melted back into living flesh, and Gabriel put his good wrist between his teeth to keep from bellowing with the agony.

  When it was done, Michael sat back on his heels and ran a slightly shaky hand through his damp hair. Gabriel peered up at him through blurring vision. The pain was getting the best of him and he wasn’t even one-third of the way mended.

  Behind Michael, Gabriel could see the air begin to warp and swirl. “Sorry, Gabe,” Michael said, glancing at Gabriel’s petrified legs.

  “It’s okay, Mike. I’m here,” came a female voice from behind Michael. Gabriel watched Eleanore step through the widening portal and hurriedly make her way to his side. “Take a breather,” she told Michael, who slowly stood and stepped away.

  Uriel was by Eleanore’s side. Max and Azrael moved closer as well; Az had picked up the shard gun and was holding it ready in his right hand. It was the first time they’d managed to obtain an Adarian weapon; Gabriel imagined Max would want a good look at it later.

  “Christ,” Ellie whispered, surveying the damage. “How many were there?”

  “One,” Az told her. She glanced up at him as she knelt and placed her hands on Gabriel’s chest. Then she turned back to face him and closed her eyes. Gabriel shut his as well when her magic began pouring into his body. It was different from Michael’s. He was probably one of very few people who would ever be privy to this particular realization. But her magic felt smoother—like a beer instead of Scotch. It went down a little easier, but it worked a little slower.

  Despite her magic’s gentler touch, as Ellie worked, Gabriel jammed his forearm between his teeth once more to keep from screaming.

  What felt like ten years later, she was finally done. Gabe opened his eyes and sat up in time to see Uriel catch her as she wobbled on her knees and fell slightly backward.

  “How . . .” She closed her eyes, shook her head a bit, and began again. “How many times did he shoot you?”

  “Five,” Gabriel replied. “Twice in each leg, once in the shoulder.” The men in the room seemed to still at the slightly stunning news. But Gabriel didn’t stop there. “He was aimin’ for my head on tha’ last shot.”

  “He didn’t hold back,” Max stated, his expression deeply troubled. He stared at the floor, obviously deep in thought, and then took off his glasses, wiped them down with a cloth he kept in an inside pocket of his suit, and then replaced them on his nose. “He really hates you, it would seem. You saw no other Adarians with him?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “He was alone. An’ he told me I had no idea wha’ was goin’ on.” Gabriel tested his legs and looked past his brothers to where the officers still lay unconscious. Max had most likely already wiped their memories and Az was probably keeping them under until the situation could be contained.

  “Strange,” Max said. “I should think we were quite clear on what was going on. He wants you dead.”

  “Any idea what the hell he was after?” Michael asked. “Other than your imminent demise, I mean?”

  “Yes,” Gabriel said, coming to his feet. “He’s after Juliette.”

  * * *

  Juliette’s body felt so heavy and weak, it was nearly delicious. There was no pain, just a slow, peaceful thickness that enveloped her form like a warm, soft blanket.

  Wait a minute. . . . Juliette frowned and rubbed her hand over the front of her torso. It was a blanket. Fleece, from what she could tell. She tried opening her eyes, but her lids were heavy. She tried again, managing to blink slowly, languidly, allowing light to suffuse her senses.

  She was lying on a couch in a well-appointed living room. There was a fire blazing in the hearth across the room. A glass of water rested on the coffee table beside her.

  A man sat in the love seat across from the couch. “How’re yae feelin’?” he asked softly.

  Juliette didn’t answer. Alarm kicked off a fresh injection of adrenaline into her veins. She looked the man up and down, appraising him quickly. He was very tall—as tall as the man at the inn. The one who had kissed her and then saved her life. But instead of silver eyes, this man had green, and his hair was many shades lighter, at a sable brown. He was dressed in jeans and a thermal shirt and jacket. She could see leather straps running taut across his well-developed pecs. Shoulder holster straps, she thought. But in Scotland?

  The man smiled a friendly, dashing smile, and as if he knew what she was thinking, he glanced down at the shoulder holster. He shrugged off his overcoat, revealing the holsters and their weapons.

  “My name is Angus Dougal,” he told her softly, his brogue at once warming Juliette’s blood. “I’m the chief inspector in Lewis.” His smile broadened, flashing straight white teeth. “I promise I won’ shoot yae.”

  “What am I doing here?” Juliette asked, deciding for now just to believe he was who he said he was. She was so tired.

  “Well, I was goin’ tae take yae to the hospital, boot I happen tae know the nurse on dutae tonight, an’ fer yer own good, I brought yae here instead. This is ma home.”

  Angus Dougal chuckled; his green eyes were sparkling. Juliette’s mouth went a little dry. Slowly, she rested back against the pillow once more. Her head was spinning. This man was a cop. She was in his house. Some other man had broken into her room in the inn and tried to chloroform her. The man who had kissed her had suddenly come in and saved her.

  Juliette’s eyes widened at a sudden thought. “What happened to the stranger?” she asked, her voice still softer than she would have liked.

  “The one who attacked yae?” Dougal asked, his eyes pinning her with sudden stark attention.

  Juliette swallowed hard. There was something in his green eyes that left her feeling suddenly unnerved.

  “Gabriel Black has been taken intae custody. Yae’re safe from his advances fer the time bein’.”

  Juliette blinked. “What?”

  “The man who attacked yae—his name is Gabriel Black. Black hair, gray eyes—ring a bell?”

  “What?” Juliette repeated, feeling at once confused and angry. The man Dougal was describing was the one who had kissed her in the bar—the one who had saved her from the blond stranger. Gabriel Black, she thought. She liked the name. It suited him.

  Angus Dougal’s gaze narrowed. He watched Juliette like a hawk and seemed to carefully consider her reaction.

  Juliette sat up again. “Black wasn’t the one who attacked me,” she said, finding enough strength to defend the man who had saved her life. But her mouth was still dry, so she took the glass of water and downed several swallows before returning it and swinging her legs over the edge of the couch.

  “Gabriel Black saved me,” she told him. “It was another man who attacked me. Black pulled him off of me and gave me time to get out of the room.”

  Dougal considered this a moment more, his expression unreadable. And then he sat back on the couch and draped his arms over the cushions. “Oh?” he asked quietly. “That’s real interestin’ seein’ as how Black was the onlae man in the room when my men and I arrived.”

  Juliette frowned and tried to digest this. She looked down at the glass of water—the coffee tabl
e—the couch. And then she looked back up at the inspector. “Was he okay?” she asked, finding that she truly wanted to know.

  At this, Dougal cocked his head to one side and regarded her with renewed interest. She realized, at that moment, that in the space of half a second, she’d gone from being the victim to being a suspect. In what, she had no idea.

  Angus Dougal chewed on the inside of his cheek a moment and then stood, coming to a very impressive six feet and three or four inches. Juliette’s mouth went a little drier.

  Dougal stepped around the coffee table and closed the distance between himself and Juliette. And then, just when she was beginning to feel a little dizzy from staring up into his green eyes, the man sat on the coffee table in front of her.

  “Miss Anderson,” he said, his brogue gentle and deep, “yae’ve been through a lot tanight. When we found Black, he was in yer room, alone an’ more or less unharmed.” He let this sink in a moment and then leaned forward, folding his fingers together in front of him as he pinned Juliette to the seat with a hard, searching gaze. “Are yae sure yae saw wha’ yae thought yae did, lass?”

  Juliette could have groaned with the amount of foreboding she felt in that moment. She had no idea what was going on. Why Black would be alone. Who the stranger was who had just suddenly . . . appeared in her room. Something was happening that wasn’t supposed to happen. Something with a clearly supernatural bent.

  Juliette swallowed hard and fumbled with the warm blanket she’d kicked off beside her. When she didn’t answer right away, the inspector leaned back a bit, his gaze sharp and penetrating.

  “From wha’ I hear, Miss Anderson, Gabriel Black assaulted yae in the pub downstairs before comin’ to yer room an’ kickin’ the door in.”

  Oh Christ, thought Juliette. The kiss.

  “Um,” she mumbled, feeling her cheeks grow pink. “He kissed me.”

  Angus Dougal’s mouth curved into a knowing smile at this and he leaned forward once more. “Yae hit evera man who kisses yae, then?” he asked softly.

  Juliette felt her blush deepen and became distinctly uncomfortable beneath the inspector’s keen gaze. She was all too aware in that moment of how handsome a man he was. And of the fact that she was sitting on his couch in his home. Alone.

  She cleared her throat. “Inspector,” she said, “is Gabriel Black in custody right now?”

  “Aye,” he said. “There be a fine amount o’ damage done tae the room, an’ by all accounts, yae were attacked.” He stopped there, as if waiting for her to contest his words.

  She did so. “But he’s innocent,” she told him steadfastly. “I was being attacked by another man. He was blond and very large and very strong. Gabriel Black may have been a little drunk and maybe he shouldn’t have kissed me downstairs, but he did save me from the man who attacked me.”

  The inspector studied Juliette closely for a moment in that ultraobservant way of his, and Juliette tried her best to stare unflinchingly back. And then Dougal shook his head. “We found no evidence of anyone else in the room, Miss Anderson.” He paused and his gaze narrowed. “Exactly wha’ did this other man attack yae with?”

  “Well, for one thing, he was using chloroform.” If the cops hadn’t found evidence of anyone else in the room, then that meant that they hadn’t found the rag with the chloroform on it. The act had been completely covered up and Juliette didn’t know why. But whatever the reason, it couldn’t be good.

  Dougal considered this in silence as well, his green eyes never wavering from Juliette’s face. And then he sighed. “Miss Anderson, there was a lo’ of damage done tae tha’ room. Yer belongin’s were scattered everaewhere an’ the lamps are all shattered. Do yae mean tae tell me tha’ one man with a rag an’ a bottle o’ chloroform did all tha’? I cannae see why, tae be honest. Yae’re no’ a big lass, if yae’ll permit me sayin’. A verra large an’ verra strong man would no’ have sae much trouble as that, noo, would he?”

  Juliette blinked. She found her throat felt tight and tried to swallow; it was hard. He raised a good point. The man who attacked her hadn’t broken the lamps and thrown her things around the room. She had. Telekinetically. And she was still trying to accept the fact that this new power of hers had surfaced; there was no way she could share it with Angus Dougal, the chief inspector.

  So, she remained quiet. After a long while, Dougal nodded. “Verra well,” he said, coming to his booted feet.

  He’s so tall, thought Juliette. But then, most men were tall compared with her. She also took note of the way his muscles flexed enticingly beneath the material of his thermal shirt.

  Jesus, she thought. What’s wrong with me? I’ve got skin on the brain.

  This, too, did not go unnoticed by the inspector, whose green eyes flashed with something equally enticing as he looked down at her. “It’s clear tae me tha’ yae’ve go’ somethin’ under wraps aboot this case. I suppose I’ve nae choice but tae keep yae under house arrest until we have more information tae go on.”

  He waited, his gaze locked on hers, as this statement settled in. When her jaw dropped open and she stood, it was clear he’d gotten the reaction he was hoping for. Juliette couldn’t believe this. Could the police do this? Keep witnesses locked up? Especially when no real crime had been committed? Vaguely, she recalled something about people being guilty until proven innocent in the UK and her stomach began to feel strange.

  “For what crime?” she asked.

  “Disturbin’ the peace an’ destruction of public property,” he told her calmly. “If Black is no’ responsible for the damage, as you say he’s no’, then I can onlae assume yae were in on it with him.” His gaze traveled across her face to her neck and collarbone and back up again. His voice lowered a bit. “Which means, yae’re responsible yaerself, Miss Anderson.” He smiled a gotcha smile and added, “Of course, yae can always pay for the damages an’ be on yaer way.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  General Kevin Trenton ran his tongue along the edges of his teeth for the thousandth time that afternoon and frowned.

  “You look troubled.”

  He turned to find Ely standing in the doorway, leaning against the wall. The Adarian was studying him closely. Kevin wondered how much the big man had noticed.

  “I have to orchestrate the killing of four very beautiful women,” Kevin told him, his tongue feeling strange against the new sharpness in his mouth. “I should look troubled.”

  Ely said nothing, but he continued to stare at his leader a moment before his gaze slid to the shut blinds at the window behind Kevin. “Is the sun bothering you again, sir?”

  To this, Kevin said nothing. He didn’t have to answer. He was the General. And it didn’t matter anyway; whatever he said, Ely would know the truth. He was a smart man and he’d been chosen to receive the blood of an archess for a reason.

  Instead, Kevin changed the subject. “Xathaniel has not been found. If there is anything Daniel is good at, it’s hiding. I suppose an inherent invisibility will create that in a man.” He turned away from the window that he had just indeed shut his blinds against and walked to his desk. “I want him found.”

  “Sir, we’ve—,” Ely began softly. But Kevin held up his hand and the Adarian fell silent at once.

  “Change tactics, Ely. Think like he would. We can’t afford to allow him to leak information about our organization. Think on it for a moment.” He cocked his head to one side and pinned Ely with a hard stare. “Going to the press or the American government would be one thing. But that’s not what he would do. He would go to the archangels.” He paused, allowing the information to sink in. “My job is hard enough, Ely. Understand?”

  Ely straightened and cleared his throat. “Perfectly, sir.” With that, the Adarian left his general’s office and Kevin was once more alone. Kevin looked up at the empty doorway and took a deep breath. The last few days had been incredibly difficult.

  Completely destroying an Adarian was not easy. Not by any means. The men who served under Kevi
n had served him for many millennia. Human beings would have no idea what kind of a bond this amount of time formed. And that bond was broken earlier that week as Kevin had chosen his victim.

  The Adarian’s name was Hamon. His power was slightly more impressive than Daniel’s invisibility, but still expendable. Hamon was able to control the will of nonhuman animals. It was a power that might come in handy at a zoo or an establishment guarded by Dobermans, but, other than that, bore little significance.

  Kevin approached Hamon when he was alone and immobilized him with a shard gun. As the soldier lay petrified on the cold slab of metal Kevin had laid him out upon, the General had proceeded to drain his strong body of every last drop of Adarian blood. He then decapitated and burned the body in the building’s incinerator. The blood he then drank. As he drank, he concentrated on absorbing the power he wanted. As it had been when he’d taken Ely’s blood, it was nauseating at first and Kevin had been forced to swallow his own bile in order to keep the thick red substance down.

  But he’d managed. And after the second glass, the blood’s consistency seemed to change as it went down. It felt thinner, cooler, less like metal. By the fourth glass, it was almost cold and nearly refreshing.

  When he’d finished, he licked his lips, and as he’d suspected, all he had to do was consciously reach out for the power he’d absorbed, and it was there for his using.

  Covering up the homicide wasn’t easy. It had required careful planning. First, Kevin paraded around in front of his men in the guise of the Adarian he had killed. He told them he was going out for drinks. Then, a few hours later, Kevin, now dressed as himself, alerted his men to the fact that Hamon was missing and would not return Kevin’s summons by cell.

  Puriel, or Paul, as he went by now, was an Adarian capable of “sensing” the existence of other Adarian minds. It was only one of the man’s abilities, and the far less valuable one at that, but it was the one that Kevin then called upon. He asked Paul to send out his mental feelers in order to “make sure” everything was all right with Hamon. When Paul could not feel the other man—the Adarians assumed the worst. Hamon was dead.