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

  Eleanore wasn’t placated in the least. If anything, his words made her angrier. “What you’re all telling me is that angels are really nothing but holy parlor tricks?” she said softly. “Beautiful and bright and sort of flashy—but utterly fucking useless?” She whispered the last bit, turning in place to meet each of their gazes as she quietly but firmly put the accusation out into the open.

  It was a challenge, of sorts. She wanted them to tell her she was wrong. She was daring them—practically begging them—to prove otherwise.

  But none of them could accept such a challenge, because in the end, she knew she was right. Whatever their reasons, they had failed to save the world from the evil within it. And they would lose.

  “I’m no angel,” Eleanore repeated. “I am not one of you.”

  Though she had yet to raise her voice, she was clearly disgusted now; Uriel could feel her ire making his skin cold and his face hot. He felt like a starving man looking down into the water to watch a giant fish sniff at the worm on a hook—and then turn and swim hastily away.

  He was losing her. He would never win her back now; she was slipping from his grasp. Because she hated him. She hated all of them. And from her perspective, she had every right to. Hell, he couldn’t blame her either.

  Uriel stuffed his hands into his pockets, his lips pressed into a grim line. He felt the bracelet then; smooth metal caressed his fingertips. He closed his eyes as his heart rate picked up and his stomach did a flip. There was always that. As a last resort. If Ellie chose to fight them on this and refused to stay at the mansion, she would be easy pickings for Samael. He couldn’t let that happen.

  And speaking of the Fallen One, Uriel couldn’t even begin to tell her about Samael until she at least accepted who she was. The one depended upon the other.

  Eleanore finally lowered her head to rub her eyes. After a long pause of silence, she whispered, “I want to go home.”

  “It won’t be safe for you there,” Max told her. “I may have missed someone at the site of the accident this morning and we mustn’t forget the broadcasted message that Christopher Daniels sent out.” Here, he paused and shot Uriel a pointed look.

  “Hey, she said she forgave me for that.”

  Gillihan rolled his eyes. “I’m afraid that in any case, you’re better off remaining here until we can determine the best and safest course of action from this point on.”

  Again, Eleanore was silent and, not for the first time since knowing her, Uriel found himself wishing that he’d possessed Azrael’s ability to read minds. He wondered what she was thinking.

  Finally, she sighed and her shoulders slumped. “This is all just too much. . . .”

  Max was up and out of his seat in a flash. He strode toward her, his expression one of deep understanding and concern. “I know, Ellie,” he said as he came to stand before her and offered her his hand.

  She looked up at him and, for some reason, she took it. Uriel was impressed but not surprised. Max just had that way with people....

  “We will figure this out,” the guardian told her gently, giving her hand a squeeze. “In the meantime, we can have whatever you need brought from your apartment to the mansion.”

  “I need to call my parents,” she mumbled. From the tone of her voice, she sounded numb. It was a sort of soft monotone, without inflection; a distracted kind of muttering, done only as a vocalized reflection of some troubled internal thought.

  “Of course,” Max said, giving her one final squeeze and gently letting her go. He looked up at Uriel. “I had her car brought here and placed in the garage. Her purse and phone are in the passenger seat.”

  Uriel nodded. “I’ll get them.” He pulled his hands out of his pockets. “Ellie,” he said softly.

  She turned to face him and he saw the confusion in her eyes. It was coupled with weariness and doubled by disbelief. She was nearly in shock. He frowned and very gently cupped the side of her face with his hand.

  She instinctively closed her eyes at his touch, and hope blossomed inside of Uriel. It was a start.

  “Would you like to come down to the garage with me? Get some fresh air?” he asked. He recalled the tubs of Ghirardelli cocoa on her kitchen shelves. “And we can stop in the kitchen on the way out; I can make you some cocoa.”

  Eleanore gazed up at him and he waited with bated breath for her reply. Finally, she nodded. “Fresh air would be good.”

  And cocoa, he added with a smile. I bet I had her at cocoa.

  Samael glanced up from behind his desk at the tentative sound of a knock at his door. He knew the knock well; he’d heard it, in its different forms, for thousands of years. Except for when it wasn’t a knock, but a slow and anxious peek behind the flap of a tent. But that was another world and another time.

  “Come in, Lilith.”

  The door opened to reveal a petite woman in a wool skirt, warm tights, knee-high leather boots, and a button-down silk shirt. A pair of reading glasses hung on a long string of beads around her neck. Her dark brown hair was neatly pulled back into a low ponytail that shimmered under the office lights. Her skin was smooth and held a youthful glow, but her dark eyes were ancient.

  She stopped inside the office, gazed at Samael for a long, silent moment, and then slowly closed the door behind her. Then she cocked her head to one side and said, “You wanted to see me.”

  Samael sighed heavily and sat back in his chair. “I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Another one?” she asked quietly, almost sadly. “This behavior of yours is self-destructive, Sam.”

  She was the very embodiment of contradiction, Lilith. She should have been as bitter and as angry as he was. More so, in fact. She had been the first of the Old Man’s creations that were thrown out, tossed down, and forgotten. When it happened, all of those eons ago, the moment had marked the dawning of Samael’s ultimately damning epiphany.

  That the Old Man was not, in fact, all he pretended to be.

  But that was another issue altogether. Lilith should have been filled with righteous wrath and a desperate desire for vengeance. Instead, she busied herself with reading and traveling and learning—and perpetually worrying about Samael.

  It was confounding.

  Samael thought for a moment before he sat back up in his leather office chair. “This is different.”

  “Oh?” Lilith asked as she came forward and took a seat in one of the similarly lined chairs on the other side of his desk. She crossed her legs and placed her hands in her lap. “If this is different, then it doesn’t involve a contract, of course. And it wouldn’t have anything to do with your brothers.” She blinked a few times, to convey a faux innocence, and waited for him to reply.

  A muscle in his jaw twitched and his gray gaze narrowed. “They’re not my brothers.”

  “They’re more yours than mine.”

  “That’s not saying much.”

  “We all have the same father, do we not?”

  Samael leaned forward and laced his hands together on the desk. “Will you do me the favor or not?”

  Lilith sighed and pursed her lips. It was an oddly endearing gesture. She was a very attractive woman with porcelain skin, fine bone structure, and a delicate frame, though she always chose to dress conservatively, caring more for comfort and function than appearance. The effect was one of cuteness to a nearly painful degree.

  She waited a long while before speaking. Finally, with a tone that reflected a weariness she must have felt deep, deep down, she asked, “What do you want me to do?”

  “I’m in Hogwarts,” Eleanore murmured when they passed yet another corridor that shouldn’t have been there. The mansion was immense and didn’t seem to be tied to the laws of physics. It just went on and on.

  “You get used to it,” Uriel told her, the corners of his lips curling into a self-deprecating and entirely attractive smile.

  When they reached the garage door, he turned to face her and Eleanore found herself growing nervous. She was alone with C
hristopher Daniels again. She’d been nervous enough when he was just a movie star. But now he was also an angel.

  “Listen,” he said softly. “I really am sorry for what I did to you on national television.” He shook his head and laughed low. “I was so desperate to see you again, I seriously wasn’t thinking clearly.” He paused and asked, “Will you allow me to make it up to you?”

  “You really are an archangel?” Eleanore asked.

  Uriel blinked. “I was. I’m not sure what you’d call us now.” He shrugged. “Two thousand years on this planet will do strange things to a man. We’ve changed.”

  “In a good way or a bad way?”

  He squinted a bit as he considered how to answer that question. And then he shook his head. “We’re just different. Some good, some not so good.”

  Eleanore processed that and took a deep, cleansing breath. The hot cocoa had helped a lot. He’d made it perfectly, with tons of tiny marshmallows.

  “Ellie, please accompany me to the gala on Saturday?” He asked the question so suddenly and so softly, she wasn’t sure at first that she’d heard him correctly. But the look on his handsome face was one of such earnest hope, it seemed to surpass anything he’d ever pretended to feel on the big screen. A lot of women would have killed for him to look at them that way.

  “Would I have to buy a new dress?”

  “I don’t care if you go in hot pants and Rollerblades,” he said with a smile. And then his green eyes flashed with something mischievous. “In fact, that might not be such a bad—”

  “And would you be picking me up?” Ellie interrupted quickly to change the subject.

  He chuckled. “Of course.”

  Eleanore paused and swallowed hard. The next question was the only one that really mattered. “And would you be able to . . . to deal with it if something happened?”

  Uriel frowned. He leaned in, just a little. “Like what, Ellie?”

  She loved it when he said her name like that. He’d never called her anything else and it sounded perfect coming off of his tongue.

  “I don’t know . . . like SWAT teams and helicopters and handcuffs and men in white lab coats with needles full of tranquilizer?” She shrugged and tried to smile, but it had happened to her before and the images running through her head were very real and they scared her very much. She lowered her head and looked at the floor.

  Uriel gently took her chin between his fingers and raised her head until she met his gaze. His green eyes had hardened, pinning her to the spot beneath their weight. His tone lowered further. “Ellie, talk to me. Did someone hurt you?”

  Fragments of images flashed in her mind’s eye: rain-soaked skies, mud puddles, barking dogs, and needles. She shivered and at Uriel’s very determined, worried expression, she sighed in resignation.

  And she told him everything. Then and there, in the hall outside the garage in his magnificent, magical mansion, Eleanore told him the story of her life, her powers, and the strange men who had hunted her family down. She told him about her narrow escape when she was fifteen, about how she was always on the move, and much to her horror, she found herself sharing how lonely she sometimes felt. Friendships were long-distance. Relationships with the opposite sex were nonexistent.

  She’d only ever had a crush on one boy, Kevin, when she was fifteen—and that had never gone anywhere because she’d had to leave her home before she’d even had the chance to speak with him in person.

  Uriel was the only man she had ever kissed.

  And though she tried to stop herself, she actually told him as much. As she admitted this final, damning bit, she choked back a sob and willed her eyes to stay dry. He touched her arm and she shivered; the feeling was electric. She felt exposed in front of him now and couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.

  But the thought of him kissing her was chasing away her bad memories. His nearness beside her was like standing next to a sexual furnace. She felt not only vulnerable, but suddenly expectant. Hopeful.

  For the second time that day, Uriel cupped her chin and tilted her head, forcing her to look at him. She gasped when she saw that his eyes were glowing as they had when he’d lifted everything in the room with his telekinetic powers.

  He looked like an angel now, supernatural and powerful. She could easily imagine wings at his back. Those glowing green eyes held her in place as surely as his arms could have.

  “Ellie, I won’t allow anyone to harm you. Not now. Not ever.” He shook his head once. “Do you understand?”

  Eleanore managed a nod. Barely.

  Then Uriel released her chin and placed his hands on the wall behind her, trapping her against it; she stepped back into the hard surface and could go no farther. Her eyes flicked to his lips and back again. He was so close....

  “I know you don’t understand it fully yet and I know it will take some time for you to accept, but you and I are . . .” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “You were made to be protected by me,” he finally told her. “There isn’t a force on Earth that can get through me when you’re standing on the other side.” He shook his head, lowering it to stare at her through those unnatural, determined eyes. “I promise to keep you safe,” he swore. “Always.”

  Eleanore’s head swam. He smelled so good; he always smelled so good. Like the leather of his jacket and that perfect, masculine spiced soap or deodorant. He was filling her senses, leaving no room for thought.

  Again, she swallowed hard. She was suddenly having some difficulty breathing. But something niggled at her consciousness. There was something left undone, unsettled, floating in vagueness and ambiguity.

  She had always possessed a hard stubborn streak and it came into play now. Just as it seemed he might kiss her—and, God did she want him to—she rallied all of her strength and forced herself to straighten. With some effort, she squared her shoulders, reached up, and placed her palm against his chest.

  He smiled a wry smile and glanced down at her hand.

  God, he feels good....

  She could feel the muscles beneath her touch, hard and coiled and strong—waiting, like magic untapped.

  Christ, I can’t concentrate. . . .

  She closed her eyes and said quickly, “I need to get something straight.” She spoke in a rush, as if she might not get the words out if she didn’t do it all at once. “You said that I was created, along with three others like me, and then we were tossed to the wind—and landed down here. Just like that?”

  She opened her eyes again and let her hand drop. It was hard to do. Her fingers immediately missed the feel of him. But she clenched her teeth and forced herself to push onward. “And then you chose to come after us? Just like that? There’s nothing more to the story? I mean, why were we thrown out like garbage in the first place? Are we . . .” Here, she paused, shocked at how much the next words hurt her to say. “Are we mistakes?”

  Uriel’s eyes widened. He instantly shoved off of the wall. “God, no.”

  Eleanore gasped as he grabbed her arms and drew her to him, his entire form now radiating an intensity that hadn’t been there only seconds before. His glowing green eyes sparked orange fire as he shook his head. “No, Eleanore. Absolutely not. You are . . .” His gaze trailed over her eyes, her cheeks, her lips, her blue-black hair, and then returned to her eyes. The space between their lips was suddenly like that space between Adam’s fingers and God’s on the Sistine Chapel—charged, electric, so small and yet too big at the same time.

  “You’re perfection,” he told her, his voice no more than a whisper. “In every sense of the word.”

  “Then why did I get thrown out?” she whispered.

  Uriel frowned, and she could see the wheels spinning behind those gorgeous eyes. There was something else there—something he wasn’t telling her.

  “What is it?” Eleanore asked, needing to know.

  “It’s complicated.” He shook his head, just a little.

  His jaw set, and for a moment, Eleanore thought he
was going to keep it from her.

  But then he let out a breath though his nose, and closed his eyes. “But you were honest with me, so . . .”

  His tone was one of such weariness and defeat, it was clear to Eleanore that he would rather have talked about anything else in that moment than what he was about to say.

  He opened his eyes and stepped back, just a little, letting his arms fall from where they had trapped her against the wall. “My brothers and I were not the only archangels,” he began. “There were others. One, in particular, had been the Old Man’s favorite since his creation. Then Michael came along and—” He paused, as if unsure of how to phrase his words. “In a way, Michael took his place. There was a lot of mistrust. Some of the angels didn’t feel the Old Man had his head screwed on right anymore. Dissention caused rifts and separated us into factions.”

  Uriel’s gaze traveled to Eleanore’s hair and he gently lifted a lock of it to slowly rub it between his fingers as he spoke. “One day, the Old Man pulled the four of us aside and told us he had a gift for us. He showed us four stars in the sky. They burned brighter than the others. He told us there was one for each of us. Our soul mates—our archesses.” Uriel released her hair and ran a hand through his own. “We’ve existed for so long and”—he smiled a small, strangely wry smile—“we’re all male. We were lonely beyond belief.”

  Eleanore did as he said and imagined such a world. She couldn’t help but do so. And as it always did when faced with something sad, her empathic heart hurt for him.

  “The Old Man had decided to reward us for the loyalty we’d always shown him by creating these female angels just for us.” He gently cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, warming her to her core. “So that we would no longer be lonely,” he added softly.

  Uriel blinked, frowned, and looked at the floor now, as if lost in the darker parts of his memory.

  “As we were standing there, the archangel who had fallen out of the Old Man’s favor came up behind us. His name was Samael. He was not alone. And he demanded that the Old Man create archesses for him and the other archangels. He was like that—always wanting anything anyone else possessed. It was his idea of fairness.” Uriel sighed. “When the Old Man refused, there was an uprising. Your safety was threatened. To protect you, he decided to hide you by sending you out of our realm and into this one.”