Juliette shook her head. This was all too much.
But then she frowned. Something niggled at her brain. It was quiet around them. Hadn’t there been a battle going on only seconds ago?
Her eyes widened; she spun around, searching for Abraxos and his Adarians. But the cliff top was empty. A massive gash had been ripped into it from below and rocks and debris had been strewn all over it. However, the General and his men were missing.
She stepped around Gabriel and he let her go, turning with her. Max and Uriel stood to one side. Uriel’s wings were gone. She wondered how he made them disappear. She supposed she would be learning very soon.
Both Uriel and Max watched her in silence. Max smiled a proud smile and Uriel nodded at Juliette’s wings, chuckling softly.
“What happened?” she asked. “Where is everyone?”
“Once you fell off of the cliff, the Adarians began disappearing again,” Uriel told her.
“And you’ve probably been gone a little longer than you think you have,” Michael added. “It was the same way with Uriel and Ellie.”
Juliette thought about that. The Adarians had disappeared? How did they manage that? She had a thousand questions, but they were stilled in her mind when she caught sight of the fourth archangel brother. He stood alone to one side, leaning against a tall boulder. His figure was partially hidden in shadow and his amber gold eyes reflected the moonlight with supernatural eeriness. Juliette could see that his black trench coat was stained wet in places. She swallowed hard.
He straightened and came away from the shadows then, a tall shadow of a man himself, utterly at one with the darkness. His boot stepped out into a shaft of moonlight, illuminating his impressive frame. Blood smeared his neck and part of his beautiful face.
Azrael had been fighting Abraxos. The two were probably the most powerful supernatural creatures on the planet other than Samael. They’d gone head-to-head, tooth and nail—and Azrael’s still, calm facade could not hide the crimson evidence of the viciousness of that battle. Juliette wondered what had happened. Whose life liquid stained Azrael’s clothing—the General’s or Azrael’s?
Az’s golden gaze skirted to the wings at Juliette’s back—and then to those that graced the back of his brother. A small smile curled his perfect lips, a smile that almost reached his eyes.
His gaze returned to Juliette and he nodded once, slowly, as if in reverence. “Welcome,” he said, his deep voice rumbling across the cliff’s top with mesmerizing grace. You are a very resourceful woman, Juliette, his voice continued, but this time in her mind alone. Intelligent, powerful, and kind. You are a true archess.
Juliette wasn’t sure what to say to that. But it turned out it didn’t matter because Az cocked his head then and cut his gaze to Max, who had been watching him with an almost wary kind of care.
“I need blood,” he said simply.
Juliette shivered.
Azrael’s gold gaze sliced back to her. The gesture hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“Of course,” Max said softly. “We’ll see you back at the mansion.”
Az nodded once more and stepped back into the shadows. Juliette watched with wide eyes as his form seemed to melt into the darkness until she could no longer make it out. Within seconds, the unsettling reflection of his eyes was gone. And so was he.
“Wow,” she whispered, shaking her head. “He sure has a lot of powers.”
“Indeed,” Max muttered, coming to stand before her. Gently, he grasped her by her upper arms and smiled down at her. “I never had any doubts that you had survived the fall, Juliette,” he said softly. “I saw what you did. You sacrificed yourself for Gabriel—not once, but twice.”
Juliette frowned up at him, not understanding.
But his smile never wavered and he went on. “You removed the bracelet,” he said as his hands slid down her arms until he was taking her hands in his and turning her wrist over. The bracelet was gone.
Juliette shrugged. The tiny gesture was repeated with her shining, downlike wings, drawing a deep, wonderful chuckle from Gabriel. She glanced up at him and he gave her a knowing look.
“That, in and of itself, was enough for you to prove your love for Gabriel,” Max said.
“Aye,” Gabriel agreed, grinning widely. “Bu’ she’s a strong Scottish lass an’ one manner of proof was no’ enough for her, was it, luv?” He chuckled again, brushing the back of his forefinger down her cheek.
Juliette shivered again, but this time in pleasure.
“Okay, I think we’ve been on this windy precipice long enough,” Uriel interrupted. They turned to watch as he strode across the hilltop in the direction of the golf course that Abraxos had said was over the rise.
Max, who Juliette noticed was no longer dressed in fatigues but was once more wearing a brown suit and glasses, shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “Ah, Scotland,” he said, as he looked around before following Uriel. The moon reflected off the lenses of his glasses. “I grew up here, you know,” he said. “Jus’ up the road in Aberdeen.” He chuckled and Juliette stared at him as his accent changed from American to a Scottish brogue in a heartbeat.
“I can still remember feedin’ the haggis to the family dog. Och, me mom did whip me fer tha’ one.” He shook his head as if lost in memory, and disappeared over the rise after Uriel.
Michael ran a hand through his blond hair and smiled to himself, following after.
Gabriel took Juliette’s hand in his, weaving his fingers with her own. He bent over and whispered in her ear. “Never mind him,” he told her. “That’s jus’ Max. It’s somethin’ he does.”
Juliette nodded, not knowing what to think or say. It didn’t matter to her, though. Not really. She felt light inside, free of worries and pain and longing. Gabriel gave her hand a knowing squeeze and led her after the others.
Juliette was surprised to see that less than a hundred yards inland was a small golf-caddie shack. Uriel raised his hand toward the door of the shack and it began to warp and waver. The portal swirled to life, and at its center crackled a lit fireplace and warm, comforting home.
The five of them made it through the portal in short order and Max waved it shut behind him.
Uriel looked up then as a figure emerged from one of the archways leading to another wing of the mansion. “Uriel,” Eleanore breathed, her voice and expression oozing vast relief. She strode quickly toward him, looking as beautiful and slim and tall as ever. Juliette experienced the tiniest twinge of friendly envy over the girl’s height, and then realized she was just glad to see the other woman. The other archess. It was almost like having a sister.
Uriel met her halfway and then embraced his wife tightly, tilting her head back to kiss her.
And Juliette remembered what Mitchell had said about Abraxos and his love for Eleanore. It was information that needed to be shared. All of it was: the fact that the Adarians planned to steal the archesses’ powers by drinking their blood, the fact that the General was no longer affected by gold—all of it. She had much to tell them.
But she felt him then, his tall hard presence at her back like a sexual beacon. She closed her eyes as his arm snaked around her, his hand spanning across her abdomen to pull her up against his chest. With his other hand, he ran his fingers along the top ridge of her left wing. Juliette’s head fell back upon his shoulder.
The sensation was indescribable. Gabriel’s touch had always set her off—and now it set her off in an entirely new way. He bent to whisper in her ear. “I think I’m goin’ to like these, lass,” he teased her. “I canno’ wait to see you in them and nothin’ else.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The next few days were somewhat of a blur for Juliette. Her parents had been brought back to the mansion. It was a feat worthy of angels—and only angels—as her parents seemed to be only slightly less stubborn than Eleanore’s. It had taken all four of the archangels, Max, and both archesses to get the two couples safely sequestered in their own wings of the never-e
nding, space-defying mansion.
By the end of the following week, Eleanore was hounding Juliette about wedding preparations. Gabriel had proposed. He’d taken her to the Highlands, constructed a cottage for her as only an archangel could, and kept her in his bed until she’d agreed to become his wife. She’d played hard to get . . . until she was so sore from orgasming that she had no choice but to agree. And then Gabriel had kept her there anyway. For a few more days.
The stamina of an archangel was mind-blowing.
Now Juliette stood at the empty stone window frame of Slains Castle, looking out over the North Sea on a gorgeous early-April afternoon. The different colors around her were stark, and if painted, the viewer would have sworn they were imaginary. The water was turquoise, pure and perfect. The seagulls were a crisp, sharp white, the grass was beginning to green, and the moss on the cliff rocks was bright yellow. It was the rocks of the cliff that she gazed at now. Black. As black as her last name would soon be.
This was where Juliette wanted to get married. In this place, where she had lived, died, and found love. This place that had become more a part of her than any ground upon which she had stood.
These cliffs had seen her death. And now they would see her reborn—into a new life.
It hadn’t been easy to secure the right to hold a wedding there. The owners of Slains were determined to turn the majestic, crumbling ruins into a string of summer homes. It would be yet another part of history—a part of her past—laid to rest and built over, all but forgotten.
Juliette smiled softly as the wind caressed her cheek, brushing her long hair around her face with the gentleness of a lover. She closed her eyes and breathed in. The air smelled like salt and wet grass and the dawn of a promise.
She opened her eyes when she heard the crunch of a boot behind her. She smiled, feeling his nearness like an approaching candle flame. Her green gaze skirted the blue horizon. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” she asked.
There was a stretch of silence and then, in a soft voice filled with a depth of emotion Juliette had only recently begun to understand, Gabriel said, “No, lass. I haven’t.”
She turned to face him and was struck still and silent by the expression on his handsome face. His silver eyes pinned her to the spot, searing through to her soul, his brow furrowed with a near pain. The wind brushed his sable hair against his stubbled jaw, making him seem both vulnerable and strong. His tall frame was draped in the color of his name—the color of these cliffs. He seemed stricken as he stood there, taking her in. Juliette could barely breathe.
Gabriel allowed another eternal moment to pass and then strode toward her, slow and with purpose. She remained still, her head leaning back to take in his height. Her lips parted in awe as he came to tower over her and she drowned in the molten mercury in his gaze.
“No’ in all my life,” he said, not touching her—as if not daring, “have I ever seen anything like you.”
Another beat of stillness passed between them, a silence so pregnant with need, it felt like the space between Adam’s finger and God’s on the Sistine Chapel. And then they were coming together, the both of them, of their own volition. Gabriel’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him with indisputable possession. Juliette ran her fingers through his hair, fisting them in the softness of his wayward waves. They embraced in a passion unequaled, their lips connecting in an explosion of love and loss, memory and pain—and hope.
And after two thousand years of life and death and existence, Juliette at last felt that she’d come home.
* * *
“Good God, Jules, this is amazing.” Sophie shook her head, her immense mane of golden hair shimmering down her back as she did so. “Where the hell did you find this man?”
“You mean this ‘angel,’” Juliette corrected her best friend, shooting her a quick smile.
“Right. Angel.” Sophie nodded. She hopped off the stone railing she’d been sitting on and brushed off her hands. “I’m not sure I’m ever going to get used to that.” She sighed and turned to face Juliette, her golden eyes smiling. But it was clear to Juliette that there was still a bit of shock in those sunny depths.
It was understandable. Since the moment Sophie had arrived two nights ago, Juliette had made strides to explain the situation to her best friend—the whole situation. That meant coming clean about her ability to heal and how she’d had it for more than a year. And then enlightening her on the fact that Juliette was an archess—and her new fiancé was the archangel Gabriel.
To say that Sophie was surprised would be an understatement. But she was less surprised than Juliette’s parents had been. Sophie had always had a very open mind. Juliette was fairly certain it was at least in part due to her upbringing. Or lack thereof.
Sophie was an orphan. She’d been orphaned as a child and handed over to the care of St. Augustine’s orphanage in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. From there, she had been shuffled through three different foster homes. At the first, she had found herself despised by the woman who would have acted as her mother, because Sophie was growing into an incredibly beautiful and bright child. At the second, and at the age of twelve, she barely escaped the sexual advances of her would-be father. At the third, the threat of sexual abuse reached a new high. And in order to defend herself . . . Sophie had run away.
What she’d seen in the final years of her teenage life, she had yet to share in full even with Juliette. But Jules could just imagine. At twenty-seven years old, Sophie was now a uniquely gorgeous young woman. She was taller than most girls, standing at a lithe and willowy five feet and nine inches. She had a dancer’s physique despite the fact that she actually hated ballet and thought it was the harbinger of anorexia. Ironically, Sophie herself didn’t appear to have a single ounce of fat on her body.
Her skin was poreless, her lips were full, her breasts were pert, if a tad on the smaller side, and her amber gold eyes were unlike any Juliette had ever beheld . . . until she’d met Azrael, that was. The vampire archangel had eyes a little like Sophie’s. Like candle flames—like fire.
It fit Sophie. A more fiery spirit Jules had never known. Her best friend was a spirit uncageable, unpredictable, and childlike. Sophie’s lovely face lit up at the sight of everything from Strawberry Shortcake to Skelanimals. She loved Saturday morning cartoons, insisted on eating her dessert before her main meal, and never failed to dress up in at least three different costumes on Halloween.
Halloween was Sophie’s favorite day of the year, in fact. It was that part of her that made it easier for her to accept the supernatural nature of what Juliette had been forced to share with her over the last two days.
Sophie had no problem with things “not of this earth.” She’d been subjected to the darker side of humanity and knew enough about its less redeeming qualities that it came natural to her to want to believe that there was something else—something more than what had been dished out to her so far.
Sophie hated the fact that she was too old to go trick-or-treating, so she always volunteered at Halloween parks and carnivals and she never failed to be invited by at least ten different guys to ten different Halloween parties. At these parties, she chose to forgo the expected slutty French-maid-type costumes in favor of those that more truthfully reflected her spirit.
She went as a ghost, as a fortune-teller, as a zombie pirate, and as a vampire. The vampire costume was her favorite, and when Juliette had once asked her why, she’d simply smiled, flashing her fake stick-on fangs. “Can you imagine me with a real set of these?” she’d replied. “No one would ever mess with me again.”
That was understandable. A lot of men came on to Sophie. It was only natural that she would secretly yearn for some other means with which to defend herself. As far as Juliette knew, Soph had read every vampire book and seen every vampire movie in existence.
Juliette smiled at that thought now as she and Sophie descended the stone steps of Edinburgh Castle, weaving in and out of the throng of touris
ts also enjoying the site. Sophie had yet to meet the fourth archangel brother, Azrael. In fact . . . Juliette had yet to tell Soph that Azrael was a little more than just an archangel. Sophie had been overwhelmed enough to learn that one of the archangel brothers was Christopher Daniels, the star of Comeuppance. She’d almost asked Uriel for his autograph. It was even more surprising for Soph when she’d learned that another brother was the Masked One, lead singer of Valley of Shadow, an incredibly popular rock band that was now touring the US.
Jules wondered how Sophie would react when she learned that the Masked One was not only an archangel—but a real, live vampire.
Would she be elated? Or would she freak?
Time will tell, she thought as they passed through the Edinburgh Castle gates and moved out onto the cobblestoned streets of Edinburgh beyond. Azrael was supposed to arrive that night, in fact, coming to Scotland just in time for Gabriel’s bachelor party.
The wedding was in two days, Saturday night at Slains Castle—overlooking the North Sea. They were holding it at night so that Azrael could attend. Uriel had done the same thing. The four brothers were very, very close.
“Hey, did I tell you about the orphanage in Harris?” Jules asked, breaking the silence. She’d wanted to share this news with Sophie since she’d learned it. She figured that, as an orphan herself, Sophie would appreciate knowing.
“What orphanage?” Sophie asked.
“The one that burned down.”
Sophie stopped and gave her a hard look. “Were the kids okay?”
“They’re all fine. In fact, that’s what I wanted to tell you. This adorable little brother and sister were recently adopted by a couple Gabriel and I know personally.”
“That’s wonderful!” Sophie exclaimed, her golden eyes lighting up with real joy. “Good parents?”
“Definitely. The new dad’s a police officer—chief inspector, in fact. And the mom’s a nurse at the hospital. It turns out they’ve been wanting to do this for a while, since the mom can’t have kids of her own. Beth and Tristan took to them both right away.”
Messenger's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels Page 35
