by C. L. Coffey
“You… turned down the volume of the crowd.” Michael’s chocolatey brown eyes were wide with astonishment.
I just shrugged at him. “Yes, well, there are already enough voices in my head. I don’t need two hundred others.” I leaned forward, sinking my head into my hands and rubbed at my eyes. “I’m asleep, and I feel just as tired as when I’m awake.” Keeping my head propped up in one of my hands, I turned to Michael. “I wish I knew how you did it.”
“It takes time,” he said, softly. “I’d ask what the worst is that could happen, but you’ve already burned the convent down.” It was small, but a smile appeared making his serious face look a little less severe than normal.
It disappeared the moment I let out something which was halfway between a choking cough and a laugh. “And found a potential, got him killed, and then lost one of the angels.” I rubbed my hands along my thighs, half registering that I was in the Kevlar jeans, then got to my feet.
I could sense Michael moving behind me, but I ignored him. Instead, I started walking towards the Mona Lisa, focusing on each person who blocked my path until they vanished, one by one. This way, I got closer to the painting than I had that day. It really wasn’t as spectacular as people had made it out to be. All of a sudden, I was feeling myself relating to a 500-year old painting: High expectations but a bit of a letdown.
“Impressive,” Michael murmured behind me.
“That’s what they say,” I couldn’t help but mutter under my breath.
“Stop comparing it and look at it for what it is,” Michael suggested, coming up beside me.
I leaned against the wooden rail which ran around the perimeter of the painting, and stared at the woman smiling back at me. “Did you know da Vinci?”
“I did,” Michael nodded. “A remarkable man of his time.”
I was about to ask him what Lisa was smiling about, then, figuring I would say some nonsensical response – via Michael, of course – decided against it. Instead, I ignored the painting and faced Michael. “Alright, brain. What is bothering me?”
“You tell me,” Michael said. He looked as confused as I felt.
I continued on my turn and leaned back against the rail, resting my elbows on it, as I glared out at what remained of the crowd. With a frown, I made everyone else in the room disappear. “Perhaps the question is ‘what isn’t bothering me?’”
“If we could go back to that night, would you choose differently?”
The night I died. I wanted to point out that I wasn’t given a fair choice, considering I thought I was choosing life and not Eternal Life. But I didn’t. It wasn’t important. “No,” I told him. “I’d still pick the same. But if I could do it over, I wouldn’t have taken us to the shipping yard.”
Michael stepped in front of me. “The events that unfolded there could hardly be considered your fault.”
“You might need to tell that to Zachary and Savannah,” I muttered, looking down at his feet. He had loafers on. That didn’t feel right. There was something about his whole appearance that seemed off.
“While both Zachary and Savannah are exceptionally good at the jobs they do, they have wanted to leave Heaven for some time now. I am not surprised that they would be reacting with jealousy.”
I snorted. “Those two are not jealous of me. I doubt many are.”
“Why would they not be?” he asked. I rolled my eyes. Michael reached forward, sliding his thumb under my chin and gently urged it up, forcing me to look at him. “Why would they not be?” he repeated.
“I’m an angel called Angel,” I said dryly. “I am the second human to earn her wings – following the first who organized a killing spree to release Lucifer from Hell. I managed to get the cherubim to leave the convent, and then burned the convent down. And let’s not forget, my shining moment where I got the archangel Michael killed.” I snorted again. “Yes, I’m sure they’re jealous of me.” I ducked free of him and started walking along the long room, staring up at the art, but not really looking at it. “I’m done dwelling on it,” I told Michael as he joined my side. “I’ll find a way to fix things. Or at least, fix them as best I can.”
“You will. I have faith in you.”
At least I believed in myself.
“I miss you,” I blurted out, my view of him suddenly becoming obstructed by tears. There was no way I needed my dream analyzing. I did miss Michael. The time which had passed had done little to ease the pain that comes from loss, and I had cared for him. Not in the way he felt about me, but I had cared.
He smiled sadly, and embraced me in a hug. The action was something completely out of character for the stoic archangel, but hey, if my brain was acknowledging I needed a hug, I wasn’t going to deny myself one. The warmth in his touch also surprised me. I really did need that hug. “You have been coping without me.”
“I shouldn’t have to,” I told him, anger replacing sadness. I stepped out of his arms and glared at him. “I don’t care how selfish that sounds, but you’re an archangel, the archangel. How the hell could you let that happen to you? How could you leave me? Leave us?”
“I am sorry,” Michael apologized, looking at a nearby statue, rather than at me.
As quickly as the sadness had been replaced by anger, the anger was replaced by shame. “You’re not the one that should be sorry,” I told him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just miss you. It’s good to see you again, even if it is in a dream.”
“I shall see you again,” he told me. “Soon.”
“No,” I said with a reluctant sigh as I shook my head. “Even I know this isn’t healthy. If I can’t see you in real life, I can’t see you in my dreams.”
Michael tilted his head at me, considering the words I had said – the action feeling so familiar – and then he nodded. “I agree.” He strode over to me, pulled me to him again, only this time, he kissed me. I blinked several times and let out a whimper. Misreading the reaction, Michael pulled me closer, taking advantage and deepening the kiss. I didn’t stop him. In fact, my entire body melted. Hell, I might have even swooned. When he broke away, I stared at him with limbs like jelly, wondering how on earth (or Heaven) he had ever learned to kiss like that, and wafted my face. “Angel,” he said, giving me an uncharacteristically shy smile as he bowed. Then, he disappeared.
“Holy hell,” I muttered to the empty room.
* * *
The dream felt so real, I awoke to swollen lips and a flushed face and a panicked feeling. I had a boyfriend. Did this count as cheating? It was just a dream. I groaned and pushed myself into a sitting position. No, there was no doubt in my mind who I loved, and it wasn’t Michael.
Okay, so being in love with Joshua wasn’t exactly easy, though not through any fault of Joshua’s! Joshua was my charge. He was also human. The problem was that the rules said I couldn’t be with him.
But that wasn’t an excuse. Most of that dream made sense. Michael was my… rock. He was the one who had found me, saved me, and had been teaching me. So of course I was going to dream of someone who could give me answers. I just don’t know what my brain was playing at with that kiss?
I shook the thoughts from my head. It was bad enough that I was dreaming of Michael: I wasn’t going to allow my waking thoughts to be consumed with him too. That was certainly unfair on Joshua.
Speaking of Joshua, my eyes fell on the dress in front of me. I had exactly one hour to get ready before Joshua would be here to pick me up. I’d been asleep for much longer than I had planned. I hurried back into the bathroom and focused on my makeup. Normally, it was mascara and a bit of eye kohl, but tonight was special, and I was going to make an effort. It took a few attempts to make the smoky eyes the same – I really envy girls who can manage that – but I got there. Then I turned my attention to my hair. I made several attempts to create an elaborate up-do, but that wonderful quirk of a frozen-in-time vessel was preventing that. Yes, it would scrape back into a ponytail, but nothing would get the flicked out layers
to behave how I wanted them to. Oh well...
The bleeping of my phone had me darting back into my bedroom and I read the message. Joshua was already here and I’d spent more time getting my hair to do nothing than paying any attention to the time. Thankfully, all that was left was the dress.
I didn’t wear dresses often. Recently, my new uniform had become my outfit of choice: after being flung around one time too many, I had found a pair of jeans designed for motorbike riders. Joshua had never seen me in anything like this, and I was looking forward to seeing his reaction to it.
I pulled it from the garment bag and hung it from the bathroom door frame. It seemed to puff out and take up most of the doorway. I pulled on my underwear, including stockings, and then attached the sheath of one of the swords to my thigh – there was no way I was leaving the convent without it, even if the dress was impractical and Asmodeus was dead.
Getting the dress on was a little awkward: the bodice to it was fastened with hooks and eyes, like a bra, but it was a whole lot easier than had it been ribbon. The bodice had a sweetheart neckline, the effect coming from what looked like a wave of diamantes curling over up from my stomach at the top of the skirt, up along my right side, finally curling over my breasts. The rest was covered with a black mesh, matching the layers of tulle that created the skirt. On, it fluffed out, but it was quite conservative.
The shoes were a little awkward. I’d worn heels with the original uniform – a cute suit – but since pulling the biker jeans on, I had changed my footwear to a practical low-heeled boot. These heels were three inches high and would put me almost eye-level with Joshua. I slipped them on, found my center of gravity, and carefully made my way to the dresser. Although I still had no cell service, the network provider had still not switched over, I tucked my phone into the small purse. It had a camera that I was going to put to use tonight.
Finally, I put on the black opera gloves I’d bought earlier in the afternoon. If it wasn’t for the bandaged forearm and the cut underneath it, which was still throbbing painfully, I would have done without them. The white bandage, damp from where I hadn’t managed to protect it in the shower, didn’t really go with the dress. The only jewelry I wore was the necklace Joshua had given me.
I felt like one of those girls in the movies as I descended the stairs and found Joshua staring at me open-mouthed, and I couldn’t stop grinning… until I pulled my attention to what he was wearing. I would have toppled down the last few stairs if it wasn’t for my lightning reflexes kicking in. Like me, Joshua was wearing black. I’d never seen him in a suit before – even for work, he wore smart jeans, and a dress shirt, favoring blue. I always thought the color matched his eyes well, but the black suit with a white shirt and tie, combined with his black hair? I was about to turn into a slobbering mess right there, just by looking at him.
We just stood there, staring at each other. I couldn’t get my brain to formulate words – it was working overtime to stop my mouth from drooling. It was Joshua who broke the spell. “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” he said, rubbing at his jaw.
I dropped back into reality. We were in the convent, and whatever the rules were, no one knew about us. We were lucky Pascal wasn’t manning the front desk. I cleared my throat. “You’re not looking too shabby there yourself, detective,” I told him. “But we’re going to be late.”
Joshua quickly caught on. “Shall we?” he said, holding the door open. I stepped outside and he followed, closing the door behind him.
Despite the fact it was December, the night was as warm and humid as an August evening. While it didn’t affect me, I was tired of it. It was Christmas. I wanted snow. Okay, I was unlikely to get snow, but at the very least, some frost and a crisp night’s air would be good.
Instead of heading to the parking lot, or even the main gates, Joshua led me to the not-so-secret side gate. I shot him a questioning look. “St. Mary’s still has a crowd,” he explained.
The night I had discovered that there were two Princes of Darkness in New Orleans, Beelzebub had arranged for the world to discover that there were angels. After a few hellish weeks where I had been the target of a few news stories making me out to be a problem child (and worse), most people had written it off as me wanting attention. A hoax. Unfortunately, there had been a few people in the city who had believed there were angels, and ever since, many of the churches had at least a handful of people lurking outside their doors, waiting to see their own miracle. That had been some time ago, though. I hadn’t noticed anyone there for a while now, considering there was nothing really to congregate around.
“Yes, but getting cars in and out of the grounds has never been a problem,” I felt obligated to point out to him. “And St. Mary’s burned down the other week.”
Joshua just smirked. “We’re not going far.”
It was a twenty-minute walk through the Quarter.
Only, a walk was not what Joshua had in mind. We walked a block and then Joshua announced, “Your carriage awaits, my lady.”
And it did. Literally. Joshua had arranged a horse drawn carriage. Okay, technically that’s wrong. This is New Orleans, not New York. We don’t do horse drawn carriages – ours are mule drawn. Either way, I didn’t care. I let out an excited squeal, relieved to see the seasoned mule did little more than flick its ears in annoyance, and launched myself at Joshua. “You are amazing!” I gushed before kissing him.
“I know.” He smirked. “But I’ve got to make this date memorable.”
Just like that, there was a small flock of geese flying around in my stomach. It was ridiculous really, considering how much time we’d spent together and how much we’d been through, but all of a sudden, I felt nervous. I could feel the blush spreading across my cheeks and to combat it, I pulled out my phone. “I need photographs,” I declared. Joshua didn't object, posing with me. Even the driver took a few for us. Once I was satisfied, Joshua held a hand out to help me in the carriage. I took my seat, my hands resting in my lap for all of three seconds before I started fidgeting. My nails were scruffy. I should have put nail polish on them, or something. Not that you could see them under the gloves, but still...
At least I hadn’t gone out the night I died wearing nail polish, otherwise I’d have bright red nails that would not go with this dress.
The reason I hadn’t gone out wearing nail polish was because I didn’t wear nail polish.
Why was this suddenly important now?
I clenched my fingers into fists, swallowed, and turned to Joshua. He was watching me with an amused smile. “And she’s back.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, averting my eyes to the Quarter as we rode through it. This was ridiculous. I looked like a princess, but that didn’t mean I had to act all shy and helpless like I was one. That wasn’t me. When I looked back to Joshua, his attention wasn’t on my face, but my hands, the stare intense. I released my fists and smoothed out the dress. “Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Your hands look heavy,” he declared, finally looking at me. His gaze was so serious; I couldn’t help but feel alarmed. Were the gloves too tight for the bandage? Was he just saying I had fat hands? He reached over and grabbed one, before I could jerk them out of the way. “Here,” he said, leaning over to speak into my ear. “Let me hold that for you.”
I stared blankly at him as the smirk reappeared on his lips. Then I realized what he was saying. “Oh!”
“It’s a good job you’re wearing gloves,” he continued, lacing his fingers through mine. “I think you’d be too hot to handle without them.”
That earned him a sharp bark of laughter – but not from me.
The gentleman steering the carriage, turned in his seat still chuckling. “Oh son, we need to work on your game.”
I bit my lip trying not to laugh as Joshua puffed his chest out. “You think you can do better?” I could see the amusement in his eyes as he squared off against our driver.
The driver wiggled his eyebrows at Joshua,
and then pulled the carriage over. He hopped down on my side and proceeded to give me a large sweeping bow. The next thing I knew, he had jumped up into the back of the carriage and wiggled himself between the two of us. Although his body was angled towards me, he glanced over his shoulder at Joshua. “Watch and learn, young man.” Then, he devoted his attention to me. “When I first saw you approaching my carriage, I wasn’t sure if you were a beautiful angel, or a sexy devil, but now I know. I see Heaven in your eyes. There’s no doubt that Heaven is missing an angel.” He reached over, took the hand that Joshua had been forced to drop and took it in his own. With a grin that rivaled the Cheshire Cat, he kissed the back of my hand. “And now I get to go tell all my buddies that I, Lincoln Brown Senior, was touched by an angel.”
The guy had to have thirty years on Joshua, but with the sparkle in his eyes and wide grin, Lincoln still had game. I glanced over at Joshua and saw the alarm in his eyes. I was certain it came from Lincoln’s choice in chat up lines, but I wasn’t worried. Hell, it was hilarious and charming: I giggled.
With a satisfied smile, Lincoln turned back to Joshua. “They respond to ‘giddy-up’, and ‘whoa’,” he said, nodding at the mules.
Joshua looked to me and I shrugged, still giggling. “Sorry, Joshua, but Lincoln has definitely got more game.”
Lincoln pressed another kiss to my hand then jovially bounded out of the carriage with the nimbleness of someone half his age. He gave me another bow, and then turned to Joshua. “You have time to learn, young one.”
“I clearly do,” Joshua agreed, a smile returning to his lips. “But I’m not giving this one up without a fight.”
“And I would fight you for her if it wasn’t for the two things stopping me,” he declared.
“What are they?” I asked, faking a pout.
Lincoln climbed back into the front of the carriage and we started moving again. “Firstly, that your boy is too pretty to be fighting and I don’t want to get any blood on that mighty fine dress of yours. Secondly, is that there would be no contest when she’s clearly chosen you, young man. There’s no denying that look of love between you.”
