Isobel: (Dark Warrior Alliance Book Six)

by Brenda Trim

  “No one can be everywhere at once, Rami. One thing I’ve learned over the past couple years is that even the Goddess can’t be in all places, but her love is felt throughout the realm. Don’t let these demons take any more from you,” she implored, brushing off the sand on her pants.

  “They’ve already taken everything that meant anything to me. I will have my retribution and do my part to ensure their existence is wiped from your realm. Which is why I came out here. I came to say goodbye.”

  “What?” she exploded. “Don’t let Zander run you off. Izzy still needs you.” As if understanding her mother’s words, Izzy crawled over to Rami and held her arms out to him.

  Picking her up, Rami cuddled her close and laid his hand on her back. “Izzy knows how to call me and our bond has been established. It’s time for me to go. But, don’t worry. I will come whenever she calls. No matter what course I take, I will always be her Guardian Angel. Knowing Izzy, she will call me to her birthday party, so you probably haven’t seen the last of me,” he smiled wryly.

  An all-too familiar sense of loss had emotion clogging her throat. She’d lost him once and almost hadn’t survived it and now she was losing him again. It was difficult to see past the grief to be grateful that he would always be there for her daughter.

  On the one hand, Elsie wanted Rami to visit often. On the other, she didn’t want there to be a reason for him to come back because that would mean her daughter’s life was in danger. It was a no-win situation. Regardless, Elsie would miss Rami.

  “Promise you’ll come back for my birthday, too.” She told him as they embraced with Izzy between them.

  Sensing the severity of the moment, Izzy wrapped her arms around Rami’s neck and held tight before she kissed his cheek. Kissing her back, Rami murmured, “Call me anytime you need me,” and handed her over to Elsie.

  Cupping her cheek, Rami looked into Elsie’s eyes and she was struck with the omen that this was the last time she was going to see his beautiful deep-blue eyes. “Don’t look so sad, Muffin. It is what it is.” With that whispered comment, Rami disappeared, once again taking a piece of her heart with him.

  *****

  Rami punched a wall in his living room, breaking the skin open. Shaking his head he watched blood droplets fly in every direction, splattering on his pristine white sofa. He’d chosen the color white to decorate every square inch of his house in Heaven because he couldn’t stand to see color after losing Elsie. Elsie loved color and was more vibrant than her favorite neon, whereas, white embodied how empty his life had become.

  He wished he had Elsie’s faith in the Gods and Goddesses. But, he didn’t. Truth was they had taken so much and continued to torture him. If he weren’t mistaken, he’d say Fate hated him. Part of him wondered if he would be able to respond when Izzy called him. Perhaps he was in Hell rather than Heaven, he reasoned. Only a demon would get sick satisfaction from seeing him tormented over and over again by watching the love of his life deeply in love with another.

  Before he could punch another hole in the wall, there was a familiar mental knock.

  “What?” he barked at his Chief.

  “You’ve been summoned to the Hall of Reckoning,” Camael informed him, his usual dispassionate tone absent. Rami sensed the archangel was pissed and wondered what had crawled up his ass. Not that he was typically a ball of warmth, but whatever his problem, it couldn’t be worse than what Rami was going through.

  “I’m on my way,” he replied, heading out the front door. He decided to walk rather than teleport so he could get his thoughts under control. Being called to the Hall of Reckoning could only mean one thing. The archangels had made a decision about his request to join the Angels of Retribution. Surely, they wouldn’t deny him the one thing he had left to hold onto.

  Of course they would, he reminded himself. They weren’t the beings of pure love his mother had believed in. Far from it, actually. They were cold, crass and deliberate. And, whatever their decision, it was final. No one could sway them from a course once their decision had been made.

  Rami was ready to shed his brown toga for leather pants and bladed wings. He had some demons to obliterate. Nodding to a group of Joy Angels, he appreciated the momentary sense of peace their presence offered. It reminded him that he needed to send Illianna some flowers. Without her, he never would have been able to tolerate listening to Elsie and Zander having sex every night.

  Rage, instant and hot, coursed through his veins as he thought of how the Vampire King enjoyed taunting him with his possession of Elsie. How the guy drew out kisses, was constantly touching her and made sure their sex was loud and lasted all night long. In fact, Rami deserved his wings and then some for being forced to watch Elsie rush to Izzy as she hastily donned a robe with flushed cheeks.

  Continuing to the Hall, he crossed through the beautiful park that he’d spent many hours daydreaming that Elsie was still by his side. It was lush and green and had a small pond filled with catfish that boldly leapt from the water. Rami loved the various kinds of flowers that covered the ground, creating a vast rainbow. But what had drawn him there were the birds. Dozens of species singing songs of love and eternal happiness.

  Now, the sound made him want to vomit. Love didn’t last. It was snatched from your soul and thrown to the ground to be stomped on until it exploded. He would never entertain the idea again. No, his heart belonged to retribution and avenging justice. That sappy shit of romance and happily-ever-after was better suited to another angel.

  “Hey,” came a deep voice, bringing Rami out of his thoughts. Looking over, he saw it was Ayil, one of Illianna’s brothers. Rami respected and liked the angel. He was a straight shooter and didn’t waste time beating around the bush.

  “Hey,” Rami returned and kept walking, in a hurry to get to the Hall and hear the fate of his future. If he were denied a spot with the AORs then he’d ask to be assigned to their group. He’d still get to kill demons as a Warrior Angel, but his scope would be broader than he wanted.

  Angels of Retribution were a highly specialized group and their assignments were tailored and very specific. No two AORs were given the same tasks. Rami would get the demons who’d targeted the Goddess Morrigan and her beloved Tehrex Realm, whereas, Cass was always assigned drug dealers because as a human he’d been murdered by one. The Warrior Angels were sent to whatever conflict needed angelic assistance at that moment and it could be any fight on any realm.

  When Dalton died and allowed the bright, white light to encompass him there had been one shock after another. Not only were vampires and demons real, but other realms existed, as well. Places similar to Earth that were populated by various creatures like fire demons (apparently, not all demons were evil and from Hell), dragons, Fae, and countless others.

  Stopping outside the elaborate, golden double doors, Rami took a deep breath and tried to gather his ragging emotions. A decision had been made about his life and he didn’t have a say, regardless of how much he might dislike it. He reminded himself that no matter what, he couldn’t spew venom towards the archangels if it didn’t go the way he wanted. They followed orders like the rest of them and were often given assignments they didn’t agree with.

  The cold handle jarred Rami and reminded him of what he was about to face. Steeling his spine, he pushed the lever down and entered the massive space. The Hall was a large, open room that held one long table at the far end. There were ten chairs, one for each of the chief archangels. Along the edge of the room, the ceiling was held by large, white columns and attached to those were braziers with flames that provided the room’s soft lighting.

  The atmosphere was as intimidating as the day he’d first gone before them and declared his intent to become an AOR. The scent that permeated the room, however, was vastly different. The first time he’d been there the scent was sweet with a hint of roses, the scent of the Dominions. Now, it smelled of bay leaves and spice. A scent that he knew went along with the Angel’s of Retribution. Hope flared th
at he was going to be awarded the assignment he wanted.

  “Come forward, Ramiel,” ordered Raphael, the current leader of the archangels, from his seat at the large table.

  Connecting with Raphael’s green eyes, Rami couldn’t determine what direction the group was taking. Glancing down the table at each stoic face, he was glad he would never own the title of archangel.

  You had to be a first generation angel (meaning one of the Gods created you) or a born angel in order to hold that position. And, you could only become one if there was a vacancy. The only way there was a vacancy was if one of the ten current archangels was killed or cast out. The last time an archangel was cast out spurred the creation of Hell.

  “You’ve proven you can fulfill your obligations, regardless of your personal feelings. As you know, your assignment to Isobel will continue as long as she lives. You’ve asked to join the ranks of the Angels of Retribution. Is this still your desire?” Raphael asked.

  Stopping in the middle of the room, Rami met his gaze and nodded, “I desire that my request be granted and that which I pray for accomplished. For once it is declared by this council, and if it pleases God, my vow is eternal.” The formal language spilled awkwardly from his lips. It belonged to a time in the past and wasn’t something Rami was accustomed to using, but knew it was required.

  He recalled the stammering fool that had gone before them and begged to have his human life back so he could be with Elsie. He’d been humiliated and bewildered when he’d been hit with the irritated wave of their power. It had been Cass, an AOR, who’d explained to him that he would be spending a long time in contemplation until he learned how to communicate with the council of archangels and that it was impossible to regain his human life. It hadn’t taken him long to watch, listen and learn.

  Camael cocked his head to the side. “Even if that means seeing your Elsie everyday? For your enemies are her enemies.”

  Narrowing his eyes at the angel who’d led him thus far, Rami couldn’t say he was unhappy to be leaving his charge. The angel made him look deep inside and consider too much. Rami would rather ignore the hard shit and kill things. “If that’s what it takes, yes. Besides, it will make watching after Isobel easier. I can ensure her enemy never reaches her.”

  “Very well then,” Camael replied before he stood up. The other nine archangels followed suit and came around the table. “Do you promise to defend the weak against demons and their ilk?”

  “Yes, I do so promise,” Rami responded instantly, wondering why Camael was giving him the oath and not Uriel, the leader of the AORs.

  “And, do you promise to uphold the laws of God, keeping your seed of darkness at bay?” Camael’s eyes glowed bright silver with this question and seemed to see right through Rami’s soul to discover just how much he struggled with darkness.

  “Yes,” he answered, not willing to admit how frightened he was that without hope of Elsie returning to his side, the darkness would take over. With every vow, Rami felt a deeper connection to his mission. He wasn’t lying. Every fiber of his being screamed that this was the path for him.

  “Do you give yourself over to Divine intervention? And, before you answer an automatic yes, consider what this means. You have no control over when God imparts his advice and knowledge. I can guarantee it will be at times you won’t want it, and if you agree to this, you must accept it regardless of your personal feelings,” Camael cautioned.

  Rami considered what that meant. He’d not had a direct link with God thus far and wondered what that would be like. His mother had taught him that was a great honor and filled you with love and warmth, not this intimidation Camael described. He’d guess his mom was wrong. God led with an iron fist because he had to. Chaos ensued and the consequences were dire if he didn’t. Lucifer had learned that lesson the hard way when he had disobeyed God and was exiled to the Underworld.

  “I give myself up, but I can’t promise not to question things at times,” Rami admitted honestly.

  Camael smiled slightly. “It’s good for you that God is forgiving. I would smite you in his position. Or make you scrub the Hall floors clean. This white marble is difficult to keep pristine.” Rami was put off by Camael’s words until he detected a hint of respect in his tone.

  Camael continued before Rami could respond, “Angel’s of Retribution hold the key to justice. As the council shares our values and traditions, asking you to carry on the legacy, we also look to you for new ideas and inspiration so that we may learn from you as you learn from us.

  “We grant you the wings of an Angel of Retribution.” Camael was handed a dagger and cut across his palm then handed the dagger over to Rami. Stunned that this was actually happening, he took the knife from his chief, still wondering why Camael was performing the ritual. Something in his gut told him he wasn’t going to like the answer. “The mingling of blood is a manifestation of our dreams and desires taking action.”

  Wincing slightly as he cut a deep line across his palm, Rami held his hand out to Camael who clasped it tightly with his, combining their blood. The sensation of ants crawling through his system made him shudder as a portion of Camael’s power seeped into his body. His wings tingled and snapped out, nearly colliding with a few of the archangels who had surrounded the two of them.

  Turning his head, he watched his brown wings darken, turning black. He’d expected the process to be painful like the first time he’d been given wings, but it wasn’t. The first time the process of growing them had been excruciating as bones grew and formed. Just when he thought the process was complete, he heard metal scraping together as he moved. He’d forgotten about the blades that tipped the ends of the AOR’s wings. They weighed him down and were heavier than he’d have anticipated.

  He swallowed hard as emotion clogged his throat. He had finally achieved the goal he’d been working toward for the past two years. Every small job he’d been asked to do as a Dominion right up to the last, big job of becoming Isobel’s Guardian Angel had paid off. Elation filled him, reminding him of the day he’d finally graduated from college and received his Bachelor’s degree. Elsie was there with a bright smile and blueberry pie telling him how proud she was of him.

  Two thoughts bombarded him at the same time. One, his afterlife finally had purpose. And two, he had been looking at it wrong. No job was bigger than the rest. Everything from visiting a hospital, comforting the grieving to bringing reason to the despaired held equal importance. Even the time he had gone to the Fire demon realm and assisted in a battle was meaningful.

  An epiphany slammed into him. There were no small angelic jobs. They didn’t wipe noses and kiss skinned knees. They were called on to do the biggest of jobs for people in dire straits. His heart swelled with pride over the fact that this powerful God had chosen him to be a part of it all. Although, he thought with this transformation the hostility and resentment would be washed away, but it wasn’t. It was there, sharper than ever and was a bitter disappointment to the event.

  “I thought you’d finally grasped what I’ve been trying to tell you. One day you’ll get it,” Camael murmured, shaking his head.

  “Looks like you’ve failed with me. I hope they’re lenient with their punishment because it was really more about me than your guidance,” Rami shrugged his shoulders. “At least I’m out of your hair now.”

  “You’re not done with me yet, Cherub because He decided I was best fit to be in charge of the Angels of Retribution. Looks like we’re stuck with each other,” Camael chuckled.

  “He must have wanted to take AOR to the next level,” Rami boasted, surprised that he was actually relieved that he was keeping his Chief then looked at Uriel, “no offense, of course.”

  “None taken. I needed the change, too,” Uriel responded, his face a blank mask.

  Rami had heard that Uriel was tough as nails and had more kills than any other archangel. He had been looking forward to learning from the angel. Perhaps he could schedule some sparring sessions with him, he thought.<
br />
  “Let’s get you settled in your new quarters,” Camael suggested, clapping him on the shoulder.

  “That would be great,” Rami said, following his Chief.

  He’d taken three steps when he cried out and fell to his knees. Uriel and Camael were at his side, holding his heavy wings. “Careful there,” Uriel urged. “These wings are different and management is more challenging. Each of your fellow AORs have a story to share about their first injuries along with a piece of advice to avoid losing a limb.”

  Rami looked up at Uriel then back over his shoulder. His legs were cut to shreds and looked like hamburger meat. He was damn lucky he hadn’t lost his calves. Strong arms wound under his waist and the Hall suddenly disappeared.

  Blinking, Rami found himself inside his bedroom. “Lie down on your stomach,” Camael ordered. As soon as his head hit the pillow, Uriel let go of his wing and disappeared. “Let me treat those wounds and then we will practice on walking,” Camael teased as he produced a cloth and jar of poultice.