Angel in Crisis

by C. L. Coffey

  “I’m tired,” she announced, her voice sounded crackly, like she was being played from a tape cassette.

  “You should probably go and get dried off,” Joshua said. A sad smile spread over his lips. “Miss you Beth.”

  “I haven’t been anywhere, Josh,” she told him, pulling a face. “But we should do this again sometime soon.” And then she was gone.

  I collapsed back to the ground, too exhausted to get up, and allowed myself to escape Joshua’s dream and succumb to sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Ghosts

  It was a little after eleven when I awoke. I poked open an eye, closed it and groaned. “Now who’s watching who sleep?” I stretched, trying to work out if I felt any different. As far as I could tell, I still had my wings.

  “You’re amazing,” Joshua told me softly. I opened my eyes when he brushed the hair from my face. “You gave me something back that I thought I would never see again.”

  “Don’t you dare start worshiping me…” I narrowed my eyes at him as I propped myself up.

  Joshua smiled. He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Not going to happen darlin’.” As he settled back down, he wrapped his arms around me, drawing me close. “I’m serious though. I hadn’t realized how much that memory was fading until then. Best birthday present. Ever.”

  I curled up into him and closed my eyes. I’d been tired to start with, but that mental activity had left me exhausted. All I wanted to do was sleep. I figured I had maybe a couple of hours before I should leave my bubble and return to the crazy life I was living.

  I was wrong.

  “Angel?” Cupid’s voice was clear, but he sounded strange. Like he was struggling to catch his breath.

  My eyes flew open. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, but I would appreciate it if you could cut your evening short and return to the convent.”

  It wasn’t a question, but it didn’t carry the same weight as an order. If it was urgent, I figured he would have come and gotten me. Maybe he and Darell were disagreeing again. I felt the arms tighten around me as Joshua’s chin nuzzled my hair. “Let’s stay here all night,” he muttered, as though he had heard Cupid’s words.

  “There is nothing I’d love more,” I said, sadly.

  “It’s time to go, isn’t it?”

  I nodded, and although I didn’t want to move, I made myself leave the warmth of Joshua’s embrace. I figured Joshua was just as reluctant to return to the real world watching him drag himself out of the bed and pull his suit back on. He helped me fasten my dress – with only two playful attempts to get me back out of it.

  We decided to walk back to the convent. There was no carriage awaiting me, and the taxis all seemed to be busy. It was a nice walk, most of it spent in silence as we strolled hand in hand back through the Quarter. I was still basking in that sated feeling, and from the few looks of Joshua I kept stealing, I figured he was the same. Every now and then, he’d tug me close and kiss me, and for the first time in a long time, I was happy, relaxed, and content – despite everything that had happened recently.

  Two armed men greeted us at the convent, once again, getting us to sign in with the platinum pen. “Should I bid thee farewell here?” Joshua asked, putting on a bad fake British accent which had me rolling my eyes at him.

  “Let’s see what Cupid wants,” I told him. “It might be something you need to know, and if not, maybe you could stay the night.”

  “I’m glad you said that,” he murmured in my ear before we stepped into the convent.

  I led him to the office and entered. It was empty. “Cupid, where are you?”

  “Michael’s office.”

  That explained the strange tone he was using. As we walked up the two flights of stairs to the attic office, I couldn’t help but worry about why we were heading up there. Again, I was certain it was something to do with Darell, so I wasn’t surprised to see him in there with Cupid. What did surprise me was how many other people were in there. On one of the couches, sitting very close to each other, were Raphael and Paddy. I hadn’t seen either of them in a few weeks. Raphael had taken off after Michael’s death and Paddy had been in Sydney, trying to see if there was any information at all about the traps the Fallen were using. From the way they kept reaching out to touch each other, it was clear they hadn’t seen each other until then. And yet, they were trying to concentrate on something else.

  “It’s good to see you both,” I told them. “I was wondering when you would be back. Did you manage to find anything out about the traps?” My question was directed at Paddy, and I was definitely giving them both a friendly smile, but it wasn’t returned. Paddy was chewing her lip, her eyes wide.

  Raphael was grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he relaxed back into the couch, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he nodded his head to the desk in front of him. I turned, my attention drifting to Gabriel and Cupid. They were both staring, eyes wide, like Paddy, but instead of seeming nervous like she did, they both seemed completely overwhelmed, as though they simply couldn’t get their eyes to believe something.

  That was when I followed their stares to the figure sitting behind the desk. He looked familiar but I couldn’t place him. “Hello, Angel,” he said. The voice sounded familiar too.

  I narrowed my eyes and studied him. He was seated, so I couldn’t tell how tall he was, but he was young looking. I had a feeling he was closer to my age, but he had a youthful look which made me suspect he would probably be able to pass as a high school student – or at least a high school student on the CW. He had golden hair that spiked up at the front, and brown eyes that reminded me of caramel: the guy was exceptionally good looking… Combining his good looks with the fact he knew my name, my heart sped up. He was most likely an angel.

  Given that I had awoken with my wings, and there was now a strange angel in the room, softly rapping the table with his fingertips, my senses were going into overdrive. “I’m sorry, but have we met before?” I asked, trying to remain calm, even though I could feel my hairline prickling, and my heart pounding.

  There was silence in the room. I looked to Cupid and Gabriel, but they were still too stunned to talk. Raphael merely nodded his head toward the newcomer once more, but it was Joshua who spoke. “We have met before,” he said, slowly. The unease was continuing to sweep through me as I turned back to the only blond in the room. “You were talking to him at the rest stop on the way back from Dallas.”

  “You were?” Cupid asked, sharply. There was anger in his voice which I didn’t understand, but I was too focused on trying to place this angel.

  I delved into my mind, trying to recall the memory. I didn’t really remember the trip back from Dallas. The highlights of the trip, other than talking to Darell, involved Joshua. That was when he had given me the necklace I was wearing. My hands flew up to my throat, fingering the fleur-de-lis charm. The unknown angel tilted his head, and just like that, I remembered him. I couldn’t remember exactly what we had said to each other – I’d mistaken him for Michael and apologized. That was pretty much it. “I remember.”

  “Then why would you not say anything?” Cupid exploded. “Why would you continue to let us suffer?”

  My mouth fell open as my gaze shot around the room. Joshua seemed as clueless as I did, giving me a slight one-sided shoulder shrug. Darell was somehow remaining completely impassive from his position by the door. Raphael and Paddy mirrored each other with their looks of disbelief. I swung back to Cupid and Gabriel. The latter was still staring at the other angel in… relief? Cupid’s hazel eyes were fixed on me, and beneath the anger, I could see the hurt and betrayal. “I don’t understand,” I told him. “Who is he?”

  The anger lessened, slightly. “You don’t know?”

  I shook my head, still feeling bewildered. “Am I supposed to?”

  “That is Michael,” he said, simply.

  “Okay,” I shrugged. There were probably thousands of angels. It made sense that there would be mo
re than one of them with the same name. I gave Cupid a sheepish look. “I’m sorry, I have been reading the religious books in the library, but with everything going on, I’ve not kept up with it. I only know the one Michael.” I gave the other Michael an apologetic smile, awkwardly smoothing the fabric of the skirt out. “I still don’t know all the angels yet.”

  “It is me,” he said. “Michael.”

  I shook my head again. “There’s only one Michael,” Cupid added.

  I stared at him. I’d heard the words, and individually, I understood what they meant, but in that sentence, in that order, they made no sense to me. Michael was dead. I watched him die in front of me – his body torn into pieces by a freight train. That wasn’t something anyone would forget in a hurry. I dabbed at my eyes before the tears could fall. “That is not Michael.”

  “I had to change my vessel. The only way I could survive was to escape my previous vessel,” the imposter told me. He remained seated in the chair, regarding me, his fingers continuing to move in a rhythmic pattern. His features were still, stoic, but his caramel eyes didn’t leave me.

  “Then how come I still have a connection with Cupid?” I demanded. My hands flew to my hips as I glared at him. The only thing stopping me from drawing my sword was the fact that Darell was there with us. I was certain the first thing he would have done was check he wasn’t one of the Fallen.

  “Because Cupid remains in charge of this House, as do you remain his Second.”

  I shot Cupid a look, but he was still staring at me like I’d betrayed him. “Michael is dead,” I said, my voice feeling flat, but my heart aching at the bluntness of my words.

  “How can I be dead when I am right here? You seem surprised, but you have spoken to me on several occasions now.”

  “Are you joking?” Cupid snapped.

  “Oh my god!” I cried in frustration. “The only time I spoke to him was at a random rest stop somewhere between here and Texas, and I barely said a handful of words, much less had a conversation with him. Whoever he is,” I added, shooting Michael a venomous glare. How I wished that literal looks of death were a superpower angels were blessed with.

  “Do not take the Lord’s name in vain in my House,” Michael said.

  “I thought it was Cupid’s House,” I shot back at him, but there wasn’t much force behind the words. His stare, his words, his posture… it was eerily familiar.

  “Angel,” he sighed, patiently, his fingers finally stilling.

  “It’s him,” Raphael spoke up.

  “How?” I demanded. “I watched Michael die. You said-”

  “No, I didn’t,” Raphael cut me off. He stood and walked over. “You told me what happened that night. How he had been trapped, how you couldn’t get him out before the train hit hi-”

  It was my turn to cut him off as I tried to mask a shudder. “I remember perfectly well what happened.”

  “Yet one thing you never mentioned was an explosion,” Raphael continued as he stepped in front of me. “I guessed there was a slim chance.”

  “Then why didn’t you say something?” my tone accusatory. I jabbed my finger in his chest.

  Raphael caught my fingers and held my hand in his. “If you had not mentioned it because it was too painful, I was not going to make you relive it. You also said that you passed out. It was entirely possible that you missed the explosion. Either way, I could not allow anyone else to feel the hope I was feeling when we know so little about traps,” Raphael explained. “I could not allow anyone else to hope when the chance I was right was so small.”

  “If allowing us to hope was not something you were prepared to let us do, what in the hell makes you so certain he’s him?” I snatched my hand free and folded my arms under my breasts. “How in the hell do you know he’s not one of the Fallen.”

  “He’s not one of the Fallen.” The words came from Darell, his only contribution to the conversation so far, and even though he was giving me the good news I had already suspected, I couldn’t stop myself from sending him a withering glare.

  “He’s not one of the Fallen,” Raphael repeated. “He is my brother. He is Michael.”

  “Prove it.”

  I could see that Raphael was starting to become as frustrated as I felt. “I know my brother.”

  “Why is it you could accept I was an angel the first time we met, and yet you struggle now?” Michael asked.

  I glowered at him. “I was being rhetorical when I asked if you were one of the Fallen. I have no problem believing you’re angelic. What I don’t believe is that the person I watched die in front of me would be able to resurrect himself.”

  “It’s happened before.”

  I sucked in a breath. That sounded like something Michael would say. A statement of fact of something… “Michael never changed his vessel,” I said, icily. That was true: I’d seen Lucifer’s last moments with Michael, and Cupid had confirmed that he had never changed vessels.

  “I wasn’t referring to myself,” Michael said. There was another familiar look: he was taking me seriously, but struggling to believe I had missed something important through my lack of angelic knowledge.

  “I don’t give a damn,” I snapped at him. I was well aware of who else had been resurrected that he could have been talking about, but I really didn’t care. “For all I know, you could be Zach-ass.”

  “I am not Zachary,” the look had changed to being unimpressed. “I am Michael, and I am not dead.”

  “Then why have you been away from here for so long?” I demanded. “Why would you not return to the convent?”

  “I was… not myself,” he admitted. This time his gaze dropped to the desk in front of him, before looking back at me. “But I assumed you had realized that when we had spoken.”

  “For the love of God!” I cried, stamping my foot. “I have not spoken to you, or Michael, since he died.”

  Michael stared straight at me. “You kissed me this afternoon.”

  “No I didn’t,” I spluttered as the room stared at me.

  “No,” he agreed, tilting his head. “I suppose it would have been yesterday afternoon now.”

  “I did no such….” I had kissed Michael. In my dream.

  Behind me, someone cleared their throat. “I think I should leave. This seems more like an angelic matter than one I’m needed for.”

  I was still staring at Michael when the door opened, that I didn’t realize until the door closed that the person who had spoken was Joshua. “It was a dream,” I whispered. “My dream.”

  Michael’s gaze burned through me. “While I am flattered that you think your subconscious thinks of me that fondly, although it was a dream, it was my dream.”

  I could feel my thoughts shutting down. Too much was happening and I couldn’t process it. I felt like my brain was an Internet Explorer tab – slow running at the best of times – and someone had opened three dozen tabs. “I… I need some time,” I managed to mumble, before dashing from the room.

  I slowed in the hallway, deciding at the last minute that I needed to be out of the convent. I wanted cool, fresh air, but with the warm, sticky night I would have been better staying in the convent. Now that I was out, I didn’t want to go back in. Ignoring the two men on the door who were watching me with curiosity, I began pacing back and forth, my heels clicking loudly on the paved ground beneath me.

  Thoughts slowly began returning, and I knew that it was time to leave the convent grounds. I was about to have a meltdown, and the last thing I wanted was to do it with Darell’s men watching me.

  I managed to keep it together as I left the convent and headed east along Ursuline to the river. I hurried past the tram station, across the tracks, and to the water’s edge on the wharf. With several trucks providing me shelter, the façade I’d been trying to hold together started to crumble. I sank to the ground, the long skirt cushioning my knees and burst into tears.

  I had done so much crying of late, that I was surprised I still had tears left in me, b
ut these tears were of relief, of happiness. I hadn’t shown it when I’d bolted from the room, but I was grateful Michael was alive.

  But I was also confused. I hadn’t known those were Michael’s dreams, and even now, as I replayed them in my head, I still couldn’t find the clues to tell me otherwise. It still made more sense to me that my subconscious missed Michael enough for him to be conjured in my dreams. Hell, forget my subconscious. I was fully aware that I missed him.

  My gloves were soaked with tears I’d tried to wipe away when I got the sense I was being watched again. While one hand began to creep up under my skirt, seeking out my sword, I slowly turned my head. When my eyes fell on Michael, I relaxed.

  “I did not realize my return would be so upsetting to you.”

  I got to my feet, willing myself to stop crying as I used my fists to wipe away the last of the tears from my cheeks. The light from the warehouse behind him was just behind his head, making Michael’s new body look even more angelic as it created a halo. “I’m not upset,” I told him. “Not about you being back, anyway.”

  “But you are upset.”

  It was a statement not a question, but I found myself nodding anyway. “I’m upset because for the last few weeks I thought you were dead – we all did.”

  “I came to you,” he said, coming closer as he did.

  “I thought I came to you,” I said, my tone accusatory. “Or at least, I thought I was recreating my memories of you.”

  Michael paused, before bowing his head. “That is true.”

  “Why didn’t you come straight back?” I asked. “Or, at the very least, why would you not tell me in those dreams that you were alive? Why did you let me continue to believe you were dead? Why wouldn’t you let Raphael tell us you were safe?” I shook my head, not sure if I wanted the answer, and broke away from him. I walked over to the water’s edge. There was probably a ten foot drop into the black waters below. The waves were gently lapping against the side, but I suspected they were deceiving – turbulent below. Exactly how I was feeling. I was also feeling exhausted again. I sank down, this time, kicking off my shoes first so I could dangle my legs over the edge without worrying about losing one of them. “Why did you come back now?”