Archangel Rafe (A Novel of The Seven Book 1)

by Lisa Hughey

  Okay, she was so not buying into this. “Right. You’re telling me you....” Wait. He’d just said that he knew of a thousand years of healers in her family. Not that he was a thousand years old. Phew. Her brain had short-circuited for a second.

  Angels.

  Yeah, like that in itself wasn’t crazy. “My mother used to faint at the sight of blood.”

  Rafe paused and the sun set behind him. “Your grandmother.”

  Grammy. Her head swam, and she didn’t see Rafe anymore, but her Grammy lying in that bed as she asked about the change.

  The surf seemed to be getting louder. White edged her vision as the blood rushed from her head.

  Grammy. Those cryptic little comments.

  Rafe watched her steadily but didn’t come any closer. And yeah, she’d said it before but she was willing to say it again. He was a lot more fun when he didn’t speak.

  “What happened when you healed the alternative healer?”

  Okay, so they were pretending. She’d gotten pretty good at this in the last year or so. Pretend your heart isn’t breaking. Pretend that although your life is completely falling apart that you’re fine with it. More than fine. Great. Couldn’t be better.

  Until she arrived home and cried into her pillow in her king-sized bed all alone.

  She sank down onto the cold sand, crossed her legs, propped her elbow on her knee and rested her chin on her fist. If she really was here, Angelina might as well enjoy the beach.

  “Angelina?” he prompted.

  “Um. I felt like I could see his bloodstream. Like I was in it.”

  “And what did you see?”

  She wrapped her arms around her knees and huddled in on herself. What she’d seen was crazy. She had gone off the deep end. And if she didn’t have her family to worry about she might have stayed there.

  “There were globs of what I assumed was cholesterol.”

  Rafe sank down beside her. “Okay. Then what?”

  “I scooped them all up, but it felt like I was choking or drowning.” Then Rafe had rescued her.

  He raised his eyebrows. She tried not to get lost in his brilliant gaze, gleaming silver with the setting sun. “And his blood was clear?”

  She shrugged. “Seemed to be.”

  He was silent, head cocked, as if he were running scenarios through his mind. “Amazing.”

  Whatever.

  “Do you realize what an incredible gift you have?” Rafe jumped up and began to pace, kicking up bits of sand and little pieces of driftwood. “Of course you don’t, because I’ve gone about this all wrong.”

  The temptation to believe him, to fall into his fantasy was so strong. A healer. Then she would have hope and a purpose. But then reality hit her.

  “I don’t have a gift.” She’d given up the dream of becoming a nurse long ago. She didn’t have it in her to go there now. “I don’t want it. Give it to someone else.”

  “What?”

  She’d surprised the Archangel. Maybe this was what she needed to do. Reject the gift and then she’d be back home.

  He worked his jaw for a moment, then narrowed his gaze. “You will be able to accomplish much good.”

  “I don’t want it. I have too much responsibility already.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach. “Don’t you get it? I can’t handle one more thing. I’m hanging on by a thread as it is!”

  I don’t want it. Take it back and go away. Her plea came out as a whisper. “I just want to go home.”

  His hand hovered over her, his bicep bunched under the leather jacket, and his mouth twisted in disgust. “You truly don’t want your gift?”

  “Not a gift. Another responsibility.”

  Rafe tried to entice her. “You’ll live a longer life. Be free of illness yourself.”

  Nope.

  “I’ll have to figure this out,” Rafe muttered under his breath. “You truly do not wish to learn how to heal?”

  He stood tall and imposing, arms across his chest emphasized an incredible set of pectorals and biceps. She sighed. Being held in those arms was the only peace she’d had lately. And she thought maybe she could keep him but get rid of the ‘gift’.

  She shook her head, completely spent. No. “I can’t.”

  His expression, so beautiful before, turned menacing. As if the anger on his face filled his body, he seemed to grow larger, harder, and scarier with every heartbeat. He didn’t understand. She couldn’t.

  “Damn the Cosmos. Not now.” Rafe shook his head.

  “What?”

  “I have to go.”

  “Fine. Leave. I’ll just sit here on the beach and lose my mind.”

  “You’ll have to come with me. I don’t have time to take you home first.” Rafe wrapped his fingers around her bicep. “Hold on.”

  And suddenly they were in hell.

  ELEVEN

  Rafe translocated Angelina with him and into the heart of this new problem. Fire raged around them, flames licked high into the night. He deposited Angelina out of reach of the blaze that thundered nearby.

  “Stay here.” Before she could argue, he strode into the fire. Rafe had been summoned by Stanislaus, an elder healer in his mid-fifties. Uri had to be here somewhere. With a blaze of this magnitude, he would be right alongside his Angels attempting to wrestle control of the beast.

  The sky was layered with a gray, somber ash. Heat licked at his skin. Rafe erected a molecule shield between his body and the flames automatically as he searched for Stanislaus. The signal Stas had used to summon him just a few moments ago grew weaker.

  “Stas.” Rafe yelled into the inferno, and catalogued details as he searched. The fire was consuming some sort of farm. Long rows of hen houses burned out of control, the wood from the old structures a conflagration.

  Burnt feathers and chicken meat sent putrid smoke into the air, along with the more acrid scent of scorched human flesh and hair. He tromped around the farm, and found a large pile of incinerated chicken carcasses. Ignoring the animals, he continued to search for humans. Outside the main access doors were two human casualties, their bodies burned beyond any recognition. Their clothes melted to their skin and bits of ash swirled around them.

  Rafe strode through the increasing heat, and narrowed in on Stas’s beacon. Suddenly, he could see him, at the end of a row of burning buildings, near the edge of the flames where Rafe had deposited Angelina. Stas hadn’t been there before, so he must have come around the other side.

  Stas hobbled away from the flames, hampered by the fireman he carried. He dropped to his knees as the burden in his arms weighted him down. A huge fireball lit the sky as Rafe ran toward the pair. His only thought was to save them, his only hope that their injuries would not be too great to mend.

  Rafe skidded to a halt by the two men. He glanced back to ensure Angelina was safe, and saw her watching, shading her eyes with her hand. Stas gently laid one of Uri’s Angels, a firefighter, on the heated ground, and curled over the man as if he could protect him with his own body. Stas’s hand was clenched around a stick. Rafe knelt beside them and held his hands over the body of the fallen firefighter. He wanted to ask what happened but business had to come first. Stas knew he couldn’t save the Angel. Only Rafe, the Archangel of Healing, could heal Angels. Stas should have concentrated on the humans here.

  “Status.”

  “They’re all dead,” Stas said flatly, his muscles tense.

  “Where?”

  “On the other side of the farm, you will find them laid out in rows, like the rows of the hen houses.”

  “You couldn’t save any?”

  “Only one alive when I got here.” Stas spat on the ground, still hunched over, fists bunched. He shifted his chin toward the firefighter. “Can you save Lev?”

  The life energy of the Angel faded quickly but not quietly. His body strained against some invisible force, and agony distorted his face and contorted his body. His death would not be easy. These were the ones Rafe hated. The Angels who tried
to save the humans from their own greed and stupidity. The waste of a pure life in pursuit of preserving a tainted one always frosted him.

  Only one alive. “Where’s the one who’s alive?”

  “Gone.” Stas’s breath wheezed in and out.

  “Gone where?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head violently. “Don’t care.”

  Rafe sat back on his heels. Stanislaus was a great big bear of a man, one with an easy smile and a desire to heal that used to burst from every pore of his body. His enthusiasm had never waned before, but now he sounded old and broken.

  Rafe would have to deal with him after he took care of Lev.

  The man’s soul would leave his body soon and Rafe was helpless to stop it. He’d been too late. He could only ease Lev’s suffering. He placed his hand upon Lev’s heart nadis, and slowed the breath and beats of the faithful Angel’s heart. Until the organ pumped no longer.

  Uri ran up to the three of them, a hundred pounds of gear on his back, hair tied back in a stub of a ponytail, and sweating enough to put out a fire with just his body fluid. Streaks of soot smeared his face and ash coated his hair. He stared down at the body of his Angel.

  Uri dropped the gear unceremoniously. The ground shook with the vibrations from the heavy weight. He knelt beside his fallen firefighter with his head bowed and a soft prayer for the faithful’s soul. “This fire is...wrong. We’re on the brink of....” Uri gestured in frustration. “I don’t know. Change?”

  An edge of disquiet bled into Rafe’s mind. The Universe had seemed just a little off for the last few weeks. A strange unease hovered in the air. But he would have to figure out what was going on later.

  “How is the fire?”

  “I’ve managed to contain the rest. The burn area won’t exceed the perimeter in place.” Uri’s gaze swept the devastation.

  “We lost many souls tonight,” Stanislaus whispered from the ground, his body had already begun to fail.

  Uri asked Stas, “What happened to Lev?”

  Stanislaus glared at them both. “Exactly what happened to me.” He held out his hand and opened it so that Rafe could see what he had clenched so tightly. Blood oozed from the wound. “I was stabbed.”

  Stas had been stabbed directly through his angel’s mark. The seemingly innocuous Bic pen protruded from both sides. Shit.

  An ancient death blow.

  “Don’t judge them,” Stas implored. “Don’t. They are the same as me, just...different.”

  Rafe frowned. What the hell did Stas mean? But before he could ask, the old Polish healer fell over. Gone. His heart had just given out. He said a small prayer for the soul of Stanislaus. Tonight was a loss for the entire Angel community.

  “What the hell?” Uri said softly.

  Rafe said, just in case Uri couldn’t see where Stas was attacked, “He was stabbed through his mark.”

  Uri whispered a curse. “Certain death.”

  Rafe’s mouth tightened. As far as he knew, no Angel on earth had been killed in this manner since the great flood. His unease heightened. “What in the Cosmos is going on?”

  “This is serious.” Uri glanced back at Angelina. “Only one survivor?”

  “No, that’s my transitionee.” Rafe ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Why is she here?”

  “I didn’t have time to get her somewhere else.”

  “We’ll get to her later.” Uri swept his arm to gesture towards the destruction. “We need to figure out why Lev and Stas were killed. Because this was deliberate.”

  Rafe agreed. “Stas said, don’t judge them.”

  “Don’t judge who?” Uri propped his fists on his hips.

  “I don’t know.” Rafe said, “We need to take this to the council.”

  “Agreed.” Uri looked at Angelina. “You need to take her home first?”

  “Yes.” He could also use this time while they were figuring out what happened to their Angels to figure out how to convince Angelina to become the healer she was meant to be.

  Rafe must have spoken out loud.

  “She needs to be convinced?” Uri snarled.

  Rafe was compelled to stick up for Angelina. “She’s had a rough time lately. She has very little joy in her life.” He swallowed. He certainly hadn’t helped.

  Joy. Angelina had little. He had none.

  “And she can’t find joy in healing others?” Uri shook his head, and sweat flew to the dirt. “I can’t believe Angelina Guerisse’s granddaughter would think that way.”

  “The old lady is an exceptional healer.” And her granddaughter Angelina was following in her footsteps. She had instinctively healed a very difficult condition without any training or the correct technique.

  Uri continued to extoll the virtues of the old lady. “I still remember right after she first transitioned and she rushed into that building without regard to her own safety to save those people.”

  Uri was right. The elder Angelina was an uncommon woman. “The granddaughter is uncommon also.”

  Uri snorted in disgust.

  “I need a creative solution.”

  “Why?” Uri took the towel tucked into the back of his pants and wiped the sweat from his face and neck. “She’s proved your complaint that humans want more, want the next best thing. I would think you’d be happy that she conformed to your expectations.”

  Uri had a point. But instead, Rafe was stuck. He could accept her decision. Find a new human to transition. As far as he knew, the Virtues were not monitoring his progress. He was only to report to them after the transition was complete.

  But if they knew that she’d rejected the power, the Thrones would take immediate action against Angelina. Her Vis viva would be transferred and she would begin a slow decline into poor health.

  “Have you tried to reason with her?”

  Their interactions had been brief and he’d been so careful not to touch her since that last dream. “Ah....”

  “Did you appeal to her duty to the human race?”

  Rafe was silent.

  “Did you tell her what would happen if she refused?” Rafe still didn’t answer. He hadn’t told her much. He’d been too busy sticking his tongue down her throat.

  “Jeez Rafe. What did you do with her?”

  “What do you mean?” Uri couldn’t possibly know that he’d had inappropriate contact with Angelina.

  “You haven’t told her anything, you haven’t reasoned with her, you haven’t explained her rights.” Uri wrapped the fire hose, using his hand and his elbow to loop the hose into a tight roll.

  “No.” Rafe’s voice was tight with concern but he could no more stop the emotion than he could stop his response to her. He knew what should be done. What had been decreed long ago. But he couldn’t stomach the thought. He would have to wipe her memory and her time on earth would be limited. “I haven’t done a very good job of communication.”

  Uri’s smile faded. His tan took on a grayish cast. “I don’t like what I’m thinking right now, Rafe.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t think it then.” Avoidance had worked so well for him.

  Rafe knew Uri had figured it out. If he was truthful, he wasn’t trying very hard to hide it. He needed a freaking solution.

  “You didn’t.” Uri didn’t say the rest out loud for which Rafe was grateful.

  “Not technically.”

  “How the hell did this happen?” Uri whispered harshly.

  Rafe didn’t know how to explain what had happened. He still wasn’t sure exactly why he couldn’t stay away from her. “It’s complicated.”

  “It’s more than complicated.” Uri paced back and forth, his gear forgotten. “It’s suicide.”

  Rafe nodded. Miserable.

  Uri crossed his arms over his chest. “Why did you tell me?”

  “You’ll kill me quickly?” Rafe quipped.

  “Not funny, my friend.”

  “Yeah. I know.” Rafe hesitated. “I need a little time.”
r />   Uri tunneled his fingers through his blond hair and pulled the chin length strands from the rubber band. “I knew you were disenchanted but aren’t there easier ways to quit?”

  Rafe heard what he didn’t say. And did you have to use me to do it?

  “Help me out.”

  “I can’t for very long. The only reason I’m agreeing to this is because you saved my ass and I have a soft spot for the old woman.”

  “I understand.”

  “I don’t think you do.” Uri shook his head. “This is bad.”

  “I know.”

  “Yeah but you were done with this life anyway. I love what I do, Rafe. I love my existence. I don’t want to screw it up.”

  Rafe’s indiscretion had put more than himself and Angelina in jeopardy. If the Virtues discovered that Uri had covered for him, he could be sanctioned. “I will not let that happen.”

  “How much longer does the elder Guerisse have?”

  “She’s stable for right now.” But her condition could change. It was her mind that continued to deteriorate, not her body.

  “You have a week to figure it out.” Uri gave him a deadline. “After that I can’t keep quiet any longer.”

  “Okay.” Rafe had monitored Angelina while they talked. Out of the corner of his eye, Rafe saw someone stalk toward her. From this distance it was difficult to determine whether male or female, friend or foe. Two Angels had been stabbed through their mark. An execution in the old style. The stealthy figure could have a nefarious purpose.

  The figure crept up behind her. Because her attention was on Rafe and Uri, she seemed unaware of the looming danger. Rage engulfed him, stronger than the heat of the incendiary flames.

  “No!” Rafe roared, and sprinted toward Angelina.

  TWELVE

  Rafe thundered toward Angelina. Sweat coated his skin. Soot streaked his arms. His muscles bunched and released as he ran flat out toward her. His face was hard, the expression murderous, the lines of concentration so fierce that she jerked back. He launched his body over her head and she finally realized that he hadn’t been screaming at her. He hit the other body with a thud.

  Angelina whirled around and scuttled away from the intertwined fighters. They rolled on the ground amid the sickening thunk as fists hit flesh, the crunch as bones broke, and the grunts of mortal combat.