Archangel of the Fallen

by Devin Lee Carlson

  “The butler asked for it. I invited him to go with us. He offered to help keep an eye out for Chambers and Wayde.”

  That remark drew the line, pulled the final straw. This cool, self-assured brother of hers had somehow managed to hire a James Bond type of butler to watch over them. When? Her mind reeled; the bacon repeated as her stomach churned. Tonight could not come soon enough. To match his attitude, Ariane replied in an equally confident voice. “Yes, you have it all covered.” She tossed the items into the mini-sized cart. A package of men’s boxer briefs caught her eye. She shook her head. “See you at the mall then.”

  He stole a glimpse at the exit. “I have a wee bit of business with a ghost.”

  “Ghost? Be careful!” Ariane called out as he exited the shop. Relief that he finally mentioned the ghost made her think everything had returned to normal until a stark reminder, a visual flashed in her mind: the blond albino in the pub flaunted a deadly smile of white teeth. Handsome but deadly, charming but intimidating. She glanced at the sunbeams shining through the store window, reflecting off the colorful glass balloons strung between the mannequins. What trouble could he get into in broad daylight? A lot.

  She glanced at the packages of socks, sneakers, and black dress shoes, none of them Brian’s style. “Definitely possessed.”

  Uncertain how much time had been wasted in the men’s department, Ariane pulled out her new phone to check the time. Ten o’clock. That gave her an hour and a half in H&M before she had to meet him at the Waverley Mall. She continued to browse, making her way to the lady’s department. What worked for the brother, worked for the sister. She could use a new black dress. Black heels too.

  In front of a dress rack, Ariane held up a sleeveless black dress, glancing between it and another one with spaghetti straps draped over the cart. Spaghetti won over sleeveless, so she hung the runner-up back on the rack. Ariane paused. Something seemed off, as though someone had invaded her personal space. Maybe Brian forget something. She spun around, expecting her forgetful brother to hand her more clothing. She gasped. Thinking fast, she shoved the cart between her and the stranger.

  4

  Sabree 3.0

  T he search for Sabree 3.0 turned out easier than expected. No need to look for someone who had been following me all morning. Besides that, the alarm inside my head pinged like an obnoxious UFO blip on an air traffic control monitor.

  At first, Sabree lurked outside the café, probably drooling over the giant frosted cinnamon roll I had for breakfast. I smacked my lips, tasting the remnant sugary sweetness of maple. One of Sabree’s favorites.

  Next, on our way to H&M, he trailed us on the opposite side of the street. Once in a while, his infamous boater’s hat bounced above shorter patrons. Why wait to smash the ugly hat underfoot when I could zip over and knock it off his head. Make him think the wind tossed it about. Such do-over pleasures made my day.

  Exiting H&M, I sensed him across the way hidden amongst a crowd of people milling together outside the mall. The surprise sidewalk sale. To set the bait, I crossed the street and strolled along Princess Street toward Carlton Hill. Up ahead, a side road that kept tourists at bay, locals too, gave me an idea, a plan of action. As I turned, my gaze skimmed the tourists down the street while I feigned interest in the view of Edinburgh Castle. The boater’s hat popped into view from behind a tall woman with a headful of curls. “Here Fang, good boy, come and get me,” my tease whispered.

  Sideswiping a parked car, I shot down the road about halfway and stopped. Wait for Sabree to break away from the tourists and turn down the same road. As expected, looking everywhere except my way, Sabree walked into the trap. When I waved at him, he took a few steps forward and paused. Confusion marred his features. A quick glance behind confirmed he was alone. In a flash, I disappeared from point A to reappear a few feet in front of him—point B.

  Alarm brightened his turquoise eyes as crimson pooled the edge of his irises. Anguished shock replaced confusion. Be careful, I warned myself with a chuckle. Sabree had no way of sneaking up on me, not even if he misted into my bedroom while I slept. My radar, forever on, zeroed in on his devious aurora, thus preventing any and all surprise visits. Spitfire too.

  Two things had to happen before he misted away. My hand moved faster than his eyes could detect and pulled the poison ring off his finger. Just as fast, I stabbed it into his neck. The entire dose jetted into his jugular. “Touché.” In the same instance, his Spitfire stone shot out of his pocket and flipped into mine. The two stones merged as one. “C’est la vie, Sabree. The Lighted rule dictates that all celestial bodies must exist as one entity in all dimensions and universes.”

  His eyes narrowed into slits as his lower lip rolled over the upper in an effort to speak. If memory served, the toxin numbed my mouth like a double dose of topical anesthetic. Sabree tottered until he sank to his knees and then crumpled into a heap. Still open, but not for long, the turquoise eyes dulled to a sedate gray.

  A welcomed reward, my sneakers mashed the boater’s hat into the ground. The unwarranted destructive dance made me feel good. So why the desire to harass a dear friend? We were also cousins, however, those good old days, while long gone on another branch of time, would replay again, this time a lot sooner. Paybacks then? For the grief he put me through when we first met. Haunting me, biting my neck, threatening to turn me into dog food, and let’s not forget stealing the flash drives from under my nose. Since I was never a ghoul, Sabree would have no choice but to respect me. Respect what I am.

  A nervous hiss escaped my lips. Sabree would soon wake up, very pissed off—more like bamboozled—because I had turned his ploy against him. Nipped him in the neck instead.

  How would Chambers and Wayde react to his failure? Certain my defensive action altered the natural order of events, no doubt we’d still meet. Either way, I’d make sure of it; however, under my own terms.

  Feeling a bit too overconfident, I pulled out my phone to check the time. Not even half an hour passed by since I left Ariane. Wait. No longer distracted by Sabree’s antics, my radar zeroed in on my sister as her entire body tensed. Danger approached. Before this threat had the chance to sneeze, I sped back to the shops, flew inside H&M, and body-slammed into her cart.

  “Brian! What the hell?” She backed away from the overloaded cart. “Where’d you come from?”

  “You were in trouble.”

  She glanced around. “It’s that creep. The gun-toting man with Wayde in the pub.” She pointed at the spot where she last saw him. “We’ve been playing cat and mouse.”

  My gaze darted around the shop until it narrowed in on the man. Chase Unwin, one of Wayde’s muscle. “You,” I hollered at him. Ignoring the Glock stashed in his shoulder holster, I grabbed his collar and dragged him toward the handbag display next to the glass-panel door. “Tell Wayde to stay away from my sister. See me if he has anything to say.”

  “Tell him yourself,” Chase growled.

  “Wrong answer.” A solid shove landed Chase onto the sidewalk before he could shout a comeback. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of Wayde.” The coast clear, I bared my eyeteeth and hissed at him to encourage his getaway. He ran toward a dark van parked farther down the street. Oddly enough, I had not flaunted the fangs in a long time, especially since the Colton tabs had become part of my regular diet.

  A sudden dread, similar to zombies clawing up my spine to feed on my brain, alerted me to nearby danger. Stiff fingers massaged my forehead as my gaze sank to the sneakers, settling on the piece of straw tangled in the shoestring. All that remained of the ugly boater’s hat. Too much going on too fast. Screw overconfidence. Replace it with cockiness. Blame it on Sabree for stealing my attention away from Wayde’s men. I best snap out of it and maintain some semblance of focus for this do-over to succeed.

  When I peeked from behind all ten fingers to make sure Chase had not returned with reinforcements, a high-pitched yelp echoed between my eardrums. Every nerve in my body jolted with a zap equ
al to sticking a finger in an electrical outlet. On the other side of the door, two radiant teal eyes rimmed in red glared through the glass pane.

  Spitfire shot into my hand, its blade piercing the door, fusing through the glass instead of shattering it. The energized blade missed Sabree’s leg by an inch. My terror-filled gaze locked onto his until a fine mist enveloped his body. Fangs bared, Sabree smiled his infamous Cheshire cat grin as he vanished. Probably pissed off because I stole his sword.

  Making sure no witnesses had spied our confrontation, I withdrew Spitfire. The intense heat mended the glass on exit. So much for my radar warning me about surprise visits from Sabree. Too easily distracted as usual. Before today, before the nasty stunt of shoving the poison dart in his neck, those eyes had never shown such animosity. I sank back and leaned on a tray of handbags. A deep inhale slowed my thumping heart, the sword in hand now a stone. After a few more breaths, I gathered the wits to find out how Ariane fared.

  The aisles between the dress racks were bare. No shoppers in sight, including my sister. My chest tightened, and Spitfire sparked in alarm. Just as fast, relief washed over me, rinsing away the panic when I spotted her cart parked outside the dressing rooms. “Ariane? It’s okay. Chase is gone.” An elderly woman peeked out from behind a pink curtain and frowned.

  The next stall over, Ariane peered out with darting eyes. “Are you sure he won’t be back?”

  “Positive.” I stood guard while she strolled over with the cart, her gaze glancing around the aisles. “They won’t be bothering us again.” Sabree was another story. “Let’s pay for this stuff and check out the costumes.”

  “Can we eat lunch at home?”

  “Good idea, Sis, good idea.” Like hers, my eyes darted about, tuned in for a certain color. A flash of turquoise jump-started my heart.

  5

  Do-Over Battle

  B ack home, Ariane hung the expensive Halloween costume and black dress in the closet. She cursed Chase for butting in. The creep had distracted her from shopping for a pair of black heels. The trip downtown had happened all too fast. A blur, although one oddball detail stood out—her brother.

  Brian literally freaked when she asked if he liked an Egyptian queen costume that cost a mere forty bucks. She thought he balked at the price until he picked out a $200 Renaissance gown made of crushed velvet, satin, and brocade. The luscious tawny velveteen and cream satin enhanced her amber eyes and honey highlights in her hair. She hung the brocade jeweled crown and chiffon veil next to the gown.

  Another reason she didn’t feel like herself today was lack of sleep. During the night, she had tossed and turned, and when she finally dozed off, weird nightmares woke her—Brian weird. A young girl about her age floated overhead, whispering pleas for help. She begged Ariane to look for the stones and white ghost. Was it a warning about the albino?

  Should she ask Brian about it? What could it hurt? But first, Ariane stepped into the shower to wash away the morning woes, especially the altercation with Chase. As she massaged her scalp, her mind eased into a cocooned warmth that calmed frayed nerves. The hot suds rinsed away her worries, all except for one nagging concern. Brian.

  Aware of his quirks, the way he behaved day in and day out, the man downstairs was none other than an imposter. Immature, jittery, and hyper best described Brian prior to the flight here. After the hike, besides an aloof confidence, he seemed settled, more mature. And now she had agreed to meet him for lunch to discuss something important, life changing. The shower finished, her anxiety returned as she dressed. She opened the bottle in her purse and swallowed a well-earned anti-vamp pill.

  As Ariane descended the stairs, roast beef and melted Swiss cheese enticed her taste buds. She sniffed in the heavenly aroma. The cook Brian hired had already proven herself as excellent. Ariane entered the small dining room that overlooked the back garden. She could get used to such luxury.

  “Feel better?” Brian asked as he poured a bottle of cabernet into two goblets.

  A blend of black cherries and oak teased her nostrils. “Yes, almost. Maybe I am hungry. The pancakes left me feeling light-headed.”

  “I know what you mean. Fine wine and roast beef should ease the sugary high.” He pulled out a chair.

  As she sat, her gaze focused on the kitchen door. “Where’s the head butler or his cute assistant.” When he shook his head, his smile forlorn, she asked, “Did he quit already?”

  “Quit? No. I asked them to dust the library, so we could have time to ourselves. Let’s eat first.” Brian lifted his glass to toast hers. Contact between the fine crystal rang a musical ting. “Have a glass or two. You’ll need it.” He winked playfully.

  When she raised her glass to take a sip, Ariane inadvertently caught her brother’s gaze. She could not fathom his eyes, the brightness equal to the amber glow of orange topaz. His hair while still unruly, shined with candlelit highlights. Surreal came to mind until he opened his mouth to comment on her crushing over the butler. She changed the subject. “Tell me why you’re spending so much money to refurbish Duncan’s estate.”

  “Our estate.” Brian paused and raised the glass to his mouth. “Drink up, Sis.” Without waiting for her, he swallowed the entire contents and poured himself another. In anticipation, he held the bottle to refill her own after she emptied it. He poured the rest into her glass before she set it down.

  “Okay, you’ve made your point.” She took another swig. “We’re not going back to Arizona, are we?”

  “No. Too dangerous.”

  “Since when? What’s changed?” Another swallow gave her the courage to speak her mind, assured the wine did the same for her brother. “We can’t just up and leave. What about my business? I don’t care if we are rich. COLT is my livelihood.”

  “Livelihood my ass,” Brian muttered under his breath. “Why waste time? Colton Labs never took off in Arizona.” He swigged the rest of his wine and winked. “Start your business here, in Edinburgh. The downstairs has a huge lab more than able to accommodate the equipment you need. Expense no limit. I’ll give you a tour after lunch.” His hand slid over to bottle number two, picked it up, and refilled both glasses on her nod.

  Ariane sought to argue with his negativity but shared the premonition that COLT labs would never work. The Edinburgh proposition curdled her stomach. “A secret laboratory? Duncan’s?” Her forehead flushed, uncertain as to whether the wine or news of the lab incited the heat. “What about Jesse? Eric will never leave Arizona.”

  “Screw Eric, screw his spelunking. We don’t need him. Anyway, Jesse won’t say no.”

  “Eric’s my boyfriend!” Too late. Ariane sucked in a breath to stifle her gasp. The relationship had been a secret, the couple not yet ready to tell Brian. “Damn it, look at what you made me do.” She swallowed another mouthful as he chuckled.

  “No biggie. Nothing I didn’t already know. Caught you two love birds sneaking kisses behind my back. Anyway, drop the loser. He’s no good.” Brian stood when she started to shake her head. “He worked for Duncan, hired to keep an eye on us. Hired to fall in love with you. The scapegoat also reports to Wayde.”

  Stunned, Ariane stared at him until she gathered her wits. Brother dearest evolved from clueless nitwit to an over-confident know-it-all. When did that happen? What did she miss? “Who are you? We’ve only been here for two days…” She rose to match his stance, reluctant to have him look down on her. “How do you know this?”

  “Duncan’s notes. No sign of the journal, the three sections of three stored on disks somewhere. That’s another chapter. Even better, I found the recipe for the Colton ta—the anti-vamp serum.”

  His lip twitched, a sign that he was lying. The sideway glance confirmed her assumption. But what would he have to gain? “Where’d you find it?”

  “At the university. Chambers moved Duncan’s research into the basement. Boxes of stuff. I broke in last night.”

  “Broke in?” Ariane sat back down and swallowed the rest of her wine without t
aking a breath. The numbing alcohol soothed her frayed nerves. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes. I refuse to take no for an answer.”

  Her hands slapped the edge of the table. “Do you now?” Ariane stood up again and rushed for the door. Lunch would have to wait. She spun around and yelled, “My answer is no. I’m leaving at the end of the week.” She pinched her brow. “I can’t take your crazy antics anymore. You’ve lost it for sure this time.”

  A rush of air swept her against the wall. “What the—” Brian stood in its wake, blocking her exit. No longer the timid, sleep-deprived underdog, her brother, if it was truly him, reeked of arrogance. Even the faint scent of honeysuckle smelled stronger than ever. She glanced at the table where he had stood seconds ago. “How?”

  “Forget the fits. This is me, as sane as I’ll ever be. Deadly serious too.”

  When Ariane found the nerve to glimpse into his eyes, clarity stared back, his gaze lucid and bright. No darting glances, facial twitches, or sweat-ridden brow marred his features. The calmness of his persona rubbed off on her own. Her tension eased. “Prove we are in danger and I will stay. But only if Jesse agrees to work for me here. Keep the cute butler too.”

  His eyes crossed in frustration. “Why didn’t you fall in love with Jesse instead?” Brian asked. “Sabree and I like—” He bit his lower lip. “I always thought Jesse was a great guy. Smart too.”

  Sabree? “Don’t press your luck. Two days. Two days to show me proof.” Ariane returned to the table and took a big bite out of her sandwich. Before he could sit, she filled up her glass. “I’m taking this to my room.” She left him with his mouth hung open.

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