Angel in Crisis

by C. L. Coffey

  “That’s not quite accurate,” Veronica said, coolly.

  I cocked my head. “I’m fairly certain impaling a sword through an unarmed person who is running away is a pretty good example of killing in cold blood.”

  Veronica flipped her long black hair over her shoulder. “I gave you no such assurance,” she said, rolling her eyes at me.

  I thought back to the conversation. At the time, she had told me she had she never said they were hunting nephilim, as though I had been jumping to conclusions. Rather than asking her if they were, I had apologized. “You implied otherwise.”

  “I implied nothing,” she said with a casual shrug. Beside her, Garret was smirking. “I merely made a statement and you drew your own conclusion. We were hunting the Fallen. It just so happens that in the process, we are finding and destroying the nephilim vermin which are polluting this city.”

  “They’re not all vermin,” I said as a combination of ice and anger began running through my veins.

  “Did you miss all those conversations about the nephilim being evil?” Veronica asked me. She was looking at me like I’d told her wasps would make excellent house pets. “They need to be destroyed, just like the Fallen.”

  “No!” I responded, sharply. “No, they absolutely do not need to be destroyed. Not all of them anyway.”

  The ice in my blood had melted into a bubbling, boiling liquid. “How many times do I have to tell you that they’re half-human!”

  “One less time than I’m going to point out they’re half-Fallen,” Veronica yelled back at me. She stamped her foot so hard that she cracked the tile underneath her. “They are evil and they need to be put down before they can do any damage.”

  “Is that what you’re doing; now you’re no longer part of the convent?” I demanded. Veronica was a little fireball, and I was certain she could kick my ass given half a chance, but from the bottom of my soul, I knew this was wrong, and someone needed to put a stop to this. “You’re playing judge, jury and executioner – for people who haven’t even committed a crime yet? Jesus Christ, Veronica, even the US justice system doesn’t allow for this vigilante behavior.”

  “It’s a good thing I don’t answer to the US justice system, isn’t it?” she continued to shout at me. Our raised voices must have gathered attention – either that or Veronica had sent a silent call for help – because all of a sudden, the room was full. Fifteen angry teenagers had appeared in the blink of an eye, most glaring at me from behind layers of dark fringe.

  “Oh great, you called My Chemical Romance for back up,” I snapped.

  Veronica’s gray eyes became almost black as she glowered at me. “I think it would be a good idea if you left.”

  “I think it would be a better idea not to go around killing nephilim,” I disagreed. “You can’t make that call.”

  “Neither can you,” Garret chimed in.

  “Oh great,” I rolled my eyes. “And it looks like it’s time for the chorus section.”

  That earned me another death glare. “Angels have always been hunting nephilim and the Fallen,” Veronica said. “The difference now is that it’s not just the archangels who are doing it. This city is infested, and we’re going to exterminate them, one by one. Have you already forgotten that a nephilim is the reason that Michael is dead?”

  “It was Valac – a fallen angel – who was responsible,” and then I trailed off. The cherubim didn’t know. Afriel hadn't believed me and she hadn't passed on the news. “Michael’s alive.” I shot a glower at Afriel.

  “You’re lying,” Garret sneered.

  I opened my mouth to argue, but Garret grabbed my shoulder. Before I could stop him, he had dumped me somewhere that was no longer the Plaza, and then disappeared. “Real mature!” I yelled into the air.

  I looked around, trying to work out where the hell I was. The humidity told me New Orleans, but now that there were gray clouds covering the sky, I couldn’t say for absolute certainty as I didn’t recognize my surroundings. It was green… well, brown – wilted, like much of the city. There was a lake… that was generous… a pond in front of me. The water had a shimmering mirage hovering above it that extended out across the grass. The area was deserted.

  I tilted my head, closing my eyes to the clouds racing above me as I did so, and focused on Joshua. He was somewhere to the south of me, and reasonably close. Garret had at least dropped me off somewhere in New Orleans, which meant I didn’t have to put in a plea to Cupid to pick me up. I checked my cell phone – it was still without service – and decided to walk south towards Joshua.

  It was when I moved from the pond and crossed a dirt track that I worked out exactly where I was. The Fair Grounds Race Course. I didn’t hold much interest in horse races, but I’d been here before. This was where the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival was held. I loved the Jazz Fest. The race course put me closer to the French Quarter than to Joshua who was most likely at the precinct.

  I needed to see Ty, but I also needed to see Joshua. Given that there wasn’t much difference in how long it would take me to walk to either, and the fact that I knew for certain where Joshua was, I opted for the latter. I left the Fair Grounds and when I hit South Broad Avenue, broke out into a jog, restraining myself to a more human pace. The sun might have been hiding, but the heat, along with my biker jeans and boots made for some funny looks as I passed by.

  Although Curtis, the officer on the front desk, knew who I was, I didn’t have my pass with me. He refused to let me in without it. I took a seat in the small waiting area and found myself hoping that I hadn’t stuffed things up with Joshua. I should have found him much earlier than this.

  The sound of the door opening had me looking up, my eyes meeting Joshua’s. I leaped to my feet and darted over, ignoring the other people in the waiting area. “It doesn’t excuse it, but I thought it was a dream,” I told him, searching his eyes for his reaction. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t respond, instead, watching me carefully. He didn’t seem angry, or even upset; more wary than anything. “I love you,” I told him. I was vaguely aware of a wolf whistle from someone in the room, but I ignored it. “I told Michael that too.”

  Joshua’s gaze softened, then, there was another wolf whistle. With an impatient stare at the person who had whistled, Joshua took my hand. “Come with me,” he sighed, leading me into the precinct.

  “Precinct’s worst kept secret,” I heard Curtis mutter as the door closed behind us.

  There was a feeling of déjà vu as I was pulled into the janitor’s closet. I spun around. “I’m sorry for not telling you about the dream.”

  Joshua held his hand up and I fell silent. Then he stepped forward and cupped my cheek. “I’m not angry, darlin’,” he said. “I’m not upset about the dreams: we don’t have any power over them, and even if you do, we all thought Michael was dead. I can understand that. I’ve had quite a few dreams myself, some of which included you, some included you and Jennifer Lawrence.” I arched an eyebrow and he gave me a brief sheepish grin. “I left because while you may not have realized it wasn’t a dream, Michael certainly did, and all I wanted to do was punch him. When you consider the fact the guy has come back from the dead, is an archangel, and something akin to your boss, maybe not the smartest of actions.”

  I gaped at him. “You wanted to punch Michael?”

  “Hell yes,” he said, his head bobbing. “Several times, to be completely honest. I don’t like it when other guys take advantage of my girlfriend.” He closed the distance to wrap his arms around me, holding me tightly before he leaned down and kissed me, hungrily. Slowly, his hands moved down my back, settling into my back pockets.

  I was in the process of forgetting about being in the janitor’s closest, surrounded by cleaning equipment, and I'd almost forgotten about every angel-related issue I had going on. Then Joshua pulled away, looking most regretful. “What’s the matter?” I asked him.

  He didn’t let go of me, but smiled ruefully. “Do we have time for this?”r />
  “I think we can always have time for this,” I assured him, reaching up to reclaim his lips.

  He complied briefly, before pulling away once more. “Darlin’…”

  I sighed. “There are plenty of things I need to be doing, but I’d much rather be doing this.” Joshua pulled his hands from my pockets and stepped back, folding his arms, and cocked his head at me. “Fine,” I grumbled. “I need to warn Ty that the nephilim are being actively hunted by a bunch of moody, petulant teenagers who happen to be lethal with a sword, and that the archangels wholeheartedly approve of their actions. And then I need to go work out how I pissed Cupid off and what I need to do to make things right. Oh, then there’s the issue of Eugene still being missing, which… Damnit, I have no idea who is taking care of the catering.”

  “Seems like that’s enough to get us out of this closet,” he pointed out. He frowned. “How do you know the cherubim are hunting the nephilim? I thought you said it wasn’t them?”

  “I caught one in the act this morning, a few minutes before she handed me my ass,” I started to shrug, then stopped myself as I caught Joshua’s expression. I held my hands up. “Still walking and talking!”

  Joshua slowly licked his lower lip and then stepped to the side, his hand making a sweeping gesture to the door. “Shall we?”

  “Don’t you have work to do?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head “I only came in for something to distract me from knocking Michael out. I’m not back in until tomorrow afternoon.”

  We left the precinct, making a beeline for his car. It wasn’t until we got in that I turned to Joshua, voicing an idea I’d been thinking about. “How insane would it be to introduce Ty to Veronica?”

  “I think you’ve had more insane ideas,” he said, sounding like he was trying to be diplomatic. “But at the same time, Ty is perfectly aware of how dangerous angels are, so I figure if he’s willing, then go for it.”

  Truth be told, the idea was insane. But I was really struggling over what else I could do. Short of introducing them and showing them that not all nephilim are evil, there didn't seem to be any other options. Let them meet and make their own conclusions. “Can I borrow your phone?”

  Joshua frowned, but pulled it from his pocket. “Something wrong with yours, darlin’?”

  “I bought all the angels new phones and got myself one at the same time. I’m just waiting for the service provider to switch over,” I explained taking his and calling Ty.

  I quickly explained the plan to Ty – or I tried to do it quickly. Most of the conversation was him repeating the idea back to me and declaring me crazy. Then, much to my surprise, and although sounding reluctant, he agreed. I told him where to meet us, and then hung up.

  Joshua, having heard my side of the conversation, drove us straight to the location. We parked up and got out. We were waiting for Ty when it started to rain. There were several people walking along the street, and like we had all been hypnotized, we all stopped, staring up at the sky as big drops of water started falling on and around us. There were several cheers of joy, but the water had the opposite effect on me, sending chills down my spine.

  “After so many months of sun and heat, I should be overjoyed, but I’m not,” Joshua muttered as we picked up our pace. Dancing around the traffic, we darted over to a sheltered section of street given by the Pontchartrain Expressway above.

  “I know exactly what you mean,” I agreed. The traffic rumbled over us like thunder, but the weather didn’t show any signs of a thunderstorm; just water falling at a constant speed.

  We didn’t have to wait too long for Ty to arrive. He’d had the same idea as we had and parked up further down the street, darting through the rain to join us. He didn’t look happy to be there, but I couldn’t blame him for that. He was about to walk into the lion’s den. I’d have looked just as reluctant if I was going to meet with a collection of the Fallen.

  “What gives with the rain?” I asked as he joined us.

  Ty shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoulders hunched. “Dad mentioned something about needing water,” he muttered, not quite meeting my eyes.

  “Let’s get this over with,” I suggested. When Joshua nodded his agreement, I led us back into the rain and across the street. The place I had chosen was an abstract art sculpture. It was right outside the entrance to the Greyhound station, around the corner from the Superdome, and conveniently near a busy junction and the Expressway… Most importantly, it was also directly across the street from the Plaza Tower.

  I wasn’t crazy enough to take Ty straight into the cherubim’s home. This area offered a lot of protection from the passing traffic, although the rain had done a good job of driving the foot traffic away. Hopefully, the cherubim wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack in broad daylight. The question was, was it close enough to the Plaza Tower to get the attention of the cherubim?

  “Now what?” Ty asked. His hands were still in his pockets and he was still hunching his shoulders against the rain.

  “We wait.”

  We didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes we were joined by half a dozen cherubim, including Veronica, Garret, and Afriel. My eyes scanned the others – Liam, Jophiel and Charmeine. We’d fought alongside each other at the Port of New Orleans and they were just as lethal as the other three. I was glad I had opted for a public venue as I was sure these were the six best fighters the cherubim had.

  “What are you doing here, Angel?” Veronica asked, her tone guarded.

  The other cherubim circled us. I could feel the discomfort radiating from Ty. “I’m taking a massive risk,” I told her honestly. “I want to change your mind about the nephilim.”

  Veronica’s eyes switched to Ty, growing wide, then quickly narrowing into slits. “That’s one of the nephilim?”

  “Ty,” Ty said, stepping forward with his hand outstretched.

  Veronica just glared at it. “Which of the Fallen is responsible for you?”

  “That’s not important at the moment,” I said, jumping in before Ty could answer. I knew with absolute certainty that the judgement of all the cherubim would be clouded if we dropped that bombshell.

  “You brought a nephilim to our base, I think it is important,” Garret disagreed. That earned him a glower from Veronica as dark as the one she’d given Ty.

  “It’s not fun when people turn up on your doorstep unannounced, is it?” I shot at him, before mentally shaking myself. I was doing it again: arguing was not going to help this situation one bit. I took a breath. “I want you to meet Ty. I want you to judge him for himself, and not his parents.”

  At that moment, there was earsplitting squeal. The nine of us whirled around to witness one of the Greyhound buses taking the corner far too fast. I watched in horror, unable to do anything, as the wheels of the bus lifted, the momentum continuing until it flipped over. There was an almighty crash as it landed, followed by screeching and sparks as it slid several meters across the street. It came to a stop, but only by slamming straight into the nearby streetcar station.

  Then we were all running, charging across the street. Garret got there first, the emergency exit on the roof closest. The cherubim had refrained from disappearing from the streets to transport themselves into the bus, but the same restraint was not used by Garret with pulling the emergency exit open. The hatch ripped off in his hands and he tossed it to the side like it was nothing. Liam and Charmeine were the first in before anyone could stop them.

  I lingered back with Joshua – he was already on the phone to 911 – while I tried to take in the rest of the scene. The station was wiped out, and the front end of the bus was blocking the street car tracks. The blockage didn’t bother me – the streetcars didn’t move particularly fast, especially not when they were coming into a station. It was the station itself. There hadn’t been many people sheltering under it when we had passed it earlier, but that didn’t mean there had been no one there when the bus overturned.

  I ran around the
bus, trying to make out any bodies in the wreckage. I thought I saw something and hurried over. “Are you okay?” I asked, growing close to the figure, doubled over. Before I could see what he was doing, he had gotten up, whirling around to face me, and grabbed my wrists. “What are you doing?” I demanded as he stepped back.

  All of a sudden, a wave of dizziness washed over me, and I stumbled backwards, fighting against the disorientation I was feeling. I looked down, finding two metallic bands fastened around my wrists, over the top of my sleeves of my jacket - handcuffs. “What did I do?” I demanded, my hand touching the metal. As soon as they did, pain exploded up my arms – like I had stuck my hand into a naked flame. “IT’S A TRAP!” I screamed. I struggled to move away from the fallen angel who had put the metal bands on me. The last thing I saw was another figure attacking Veronica before I blacked out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Angels with Dirty Faces

  I woke to a mixture of feelings. Pain was at the forefront. The background levels had risen though, and the dull throb caused by guilt was more insistent. Accompanying that was ache in my forearm – the wound received when we were attacked in the convent. The arm didn’t feel right. Aside from the pricking feeling of thousands of pins and needles assaulting the wound, the rest of the arm was numb. To top it off, my wrists felt like they were on fire – a really bad sunburn held under hot water. Strangely, I couldn’t feel my feet, either.

  The other feeling was cold. It had been so long that I had felt an extreme of a temperature, that I didn’t immediately recognize the cause of my chattering teeth and shivering body. Every so often, the shiver would transform into a jerk and the burning pain at my wrists would intensify.

  “Don’t move,” I heard Garret rasp at me. “It helps if you don’t move.”