by Debra Dunbar
Terrelle frowned. “Then what good is it? I’m assuming it won’t work at all unless this Samael turns up again.”
That wasn’t likely to happen. But there was a good chance this artifact didn’t need a specific person or incantation to make it work. Gabriel once again thought of how the Iblis accidently managed to lock them all out of Aaru — and had no idea how to get them all back in. It was just as likely that once in her hands, this item would be activated and that she’d be unable to turn it off.
Perhaps that’s what Tura and the rebels wanted. Worse, if the Iblis activated Job’s Tear and couldn’t target it, anyone could become cursed. And if it hit the Iblis herself, then all the archangels would fall. All those she loved, all her friends would die.
Except him. She hated Gabe and the feeling was mutual. How ironic it would be if the Iblis and all his siblings were wiped out and he were the only one left behind. Not ironic, horrifying. The idea of losing his family, all of those that he cared about, was his greatest fear. And as strong as he was, without the support of his siblings, he could never hold Aaru against the rebels. Well, if any of them could return to Aaru, that is.
And there was the real irony. No one beyond the Iblis, the archangels, and Nyalla knew that they were locked from Aaru. No doubt these rebels thought to kill off the archangels, then use one of the ancients to break back into Aaru. Instead if they succeeded, they’d find themselves locked out forever, at least until another Iblis came along worthy of the sword. It had been over two million years for the sword to find a worthy successor to Samael. Would the angelic host survive wandering this world among the humans for so long?
As satisfying as that thought was to the part of him that wanted revenge, this could never come to pass. Job’s Tear could never make it to the Iblis, and it most definitely needed to be out of demon and angel hands. Suddenly his mission wasn’t just to bring Tura to justice, it was to save his family and the future of Aaru. And to do that he’d need not only a plan, but the help of a human woman and two demons.
Chapter 18
“I never thought you’d be a shopping kind of guy,” Nyalla teased.
“I’ve never had to purchase anything before,” Gabe admitted. “It’s actually quite enjoyable viewing all the different products that humans create. I’m amazed at how important ornamental items are — both for the body and for the home.”
“And for the car,” Nyalla picked up a pair of bright blue castanets with red hibiscus flowers sloppily painted on the sides and waved them at the angel.
He cocked an eyebrow. Even if I had a vehicle, I wouldn’t decorate it with those. They’re hideous.”
“Then how about this?” She grabbed an I Busted My Nut In Aruba bumper sticker, knowing the angel would have no idea about the slang reference.
“I can bust a nut anywhere. Why would I need to advertise that I’d done so here?”
She giggled. “I’m buying you this. You can put it on your harp or whatever you have up in Aaru.”
“Trumpet. I have a trumpet that is used to herald in the apocalypse.” He hesitated, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “And I will most definitely put that on my trumpet. Can you imagine Micha’s face when he sees it?”
“Actually it’s Sam’s face I’m imagining. Staid, pious old Gabriel telling the world that he ‘busted a nut in Aruba’. That alone would herald in the apocalypse.”
“Probably. I’m not finding what I’m looking for here. Is there another place that sells items crafted from natural materials?”
“Tiffany’s. Or Little Switzerland. Or Gemani.” Somehow she managed to say that with a straight face.
He hesitated. “Is that another one of those stores with glass cases filled with overpriced polished rocks?”
Such a man. “Yes. And they’re very pretty polished rocks. Women like polished rocks.”
“So I’ve read.” Was that an ironic note in his voice? Couldn’t be.
“I’m looking for stores that have items made of natural materials like coconut, and Kukui. Terrelle told me that there is a plant that produces hard pseudocarps that are used as a bead in necklaces. They’re called coixseed or hato mugi. They’re also called by the name Job’s Tears, and look very much like the artifact. I think it’s native to certain Asian countries, so they may not have it here.
Nyalla typed into her cell phone. “They’re often used in rosaries. And given the percentage of Catholics on the island, I think we may be able to find one.”
They couldn’t find a religious supplies store, but after wandering through the backstreets of the city, Nyalla spotted an eclectic shop which had rosaries, religious statuary, and prayer books nestled among the potpourri and custom-engraved charm bracelets.
And luck was with them, because the store did have several rosaries that were made using the beads known as Job’s Tears.
Gabe picked one up and held the item in his hand, the silver-linked beads spread across his palm, the plain crucifix draped over his wrist. He frowned. “Are you sure? I’ll admit the beads do resemble the actual artifact, but I don’t think I can purchase this.”
“It’s not very expensive,” Nyalla commented. “Do you have the money? I know you probably only had so much when you became human. I can buy it if you need.”
“It’s not that.” He shot a quick look at the shopkeeper who was hovering nearby. “It’s a holy item, and I feel like I’d be desecrating it to tear it apart. Maybe he has some of the unassembled beads in the back that we can buy.”
“They’re not made here,” the man said. “If you just want the beads, and it would make you feel better, I can take it apart for you after you buy it.”
“Terrelle can take it apart,” Nyalla volunteered. “Or Snip. They’re demons. I’m sure they’ve been desecrating religious items for centuries.”
Oops. She shouldn’t have said that because now the shopkeeper looked downright uncomfortable. “Just kidding,” she laughed. “We’ll take three of them.”
She pulled out her credit card and noticed that Gabriel seemed distracted. “Is this okay? You’re not going to get all weird and we’ll be stuck with three rosaries, right?”
He blinked, then gave her a quick smile. “No, I’m fine. Can you head back to the hotel with these and I’ll meet you there? There’s something I forgot to pick up.”
The idea of Gabriel wandering around a marketplace, even one directly a straight shot on the main road from the resort hotels, was frightening. She felt the urge to put a tracking device on him, or one of those giant bicycle flags so she could find him if he got lost. But he was a grown angel and four billion years old. This island wasn’t so big that he would be lost for any amount of time before managing to stumble across the hotel or at least someone who would give him directions.
“Sure. Don’t be long, though. There’s something I want us to do before dinner.”
She left him, pretty certain that this was how parents felt the first time their teenagers took the car out to meet their friends, then hurried back to the hotel, making a quick stop at the concierge desk first. Once in the room, she changed into a bathing suit went to pull the one Terrelle had bought for Gabe out of the dresser drawer and lay it on the bed.
Good grief the guy was insane about his clothing. She’d never seen anything so carefully folded before. She was willing to bet he ironed his underwear as well as the sheets and probably the towels. He’d separated the glasses in the kitchen cabinets by exactly one-and-three-eighths inch. He’d neatly stacked the pamphlets and organized them alphabetically. Feeling wicked, she tossed his swim trunks carelessly on the bed, then went into the main room to slide the pamphlets randomly around the table, pull one kitchen towel askew, and tilt a picture slightly off level. Then she did something that she knew drove Terrelle crazy — she opened a book, cracked the spine, and laid it face-down on the coffee table.
Afterward she mixed a batch of margaritas and waited. She didn’t have to wait long. Gabe came through the door less
than thirty minutes after she’d left him.
“Put on your swimsuit, drink down one of these, and get ready for fun.”
He took the glass she handed him, his gaze zeroing in on the scattered pamphlets. She could have sworn she saw his eyelid twitch.
“What are we doing?” He took a quick sip of the drink then sat it down, scooping the pamphlets up and shuffling them like cards, placing them neatly back on the table before picking up his drink again.
“Jet skis. How do you feel about skimming insanely fast on top of the ocean waters?”
He straightened the picture above the sofa, then walked into the kitchenette to do the same to the towel. “Walking on water? I’ve done that. Although I’ve never walked insanely fast on top of water.”
“Humans don’t walk on water; they sit on a jet ski. It’s powered by gasoline with an engine. So. Much. Fun. Now, get on your swimsuit.”
He picked up the book. “Nyalla, how could you do this? There’s a crease in the spine. You’ve broken it and now it won’t stay closed. We’ll need to burn it and buy a new one.”
“It’s a paperback, Gabe. They cost ten dollars at the grocery store. Bending pages and breaking the spine means it’s well loved. And you’re not burning my book.”
He scowled that sexy scowl and ran his finger along the crease. “Can you hide it so I can’t see it? It’s going to be hard to focus on anything else with this damaged book flopping open on the table.”
She snatched it out of his hand and plopped it on the table. “I’m not done reading it. Now go get your swimsuit on.”
He glanced into the bedroom, then back at her, shoving his hand in his pocket. “In a minute. I have something for you. It’s a gift because human men give human women gifts. And angels like to give gifts too.” He pulled a box from his pocket and handed it to her.
She took it, sliding the lid off the blue box. Inside was a gold band bracelet with irregular pieces of dark blue sea glass embedded throughout. She gasped, wondering for a second how he’d come up with the money to buy it. This was Gabriel. He clearly hadn’t stolen it. Had he sold a kidney or something?
“It’s sea glass, because you like the sea.” He shifted from side to side, holding his hands awkwardly at his side. “And they’re the color of your eyes — midnight blue with dark gray and azure flecks.”
Men never gave her presents. Well, besides her brother, and he certainly never gave her a present like this.
“I love it,” she proclaimed, then threw herself at him, wrapping him tight in a hug. He relaxed against her, his arms coming around her waist.
“I’m so glad.” His words were said into the top of her head, his breath warm. In fact, his whole body was warm. And it felt wonderful to be wrapped up in him like this. She wanted to stay here forever, but they had an appointment in ten.
Still, they could continue to hug for a few minutes. And he didn’t seem to mind one bit. Finally, she pulled away, looking up at him with a smile. “I can’t wear it while we’re out in the ocean. I’m afraid I’d lose it. But as soon as we come back and I get a shower and cleaned up, I’m putting it on and not taking it off.”
He blinked. “To sleep, even? I think you should take if off when sleeping. Or showering. Or in the pool. Although I’m pleased that you like it so, and I’m honored that you want to wear it all the time.”
“I do want to wear it all the time.” She pulled away and spun him around, smacking him on the rear. “Now hurry up and get your swim trunks on so we can go play.”
Just as he’d done with the sailboat, Gabe had a natural talent when it came to the jet skis. They spent most of the afternoon zooming around, racing each other to the lighthouse point and back. The two hours was up all too soon, but they had work to do to get ready for tonight’s meeting, and Terrelle had promised to bring shrimp and fried plantains for lunch.
Nyalla pushed the wet hair out of her face, grabbing Gabe’s hand as they walked back to their hotel. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”
“It was. Almost as much fun as walking on the water.”
He was teasing. When she’d heard Sam describe this angel, heard the imp rant about how boring and prudish and intractable Gabriel was, Nyalla had assumed the worst. Clearly Sam had never seen this side of Gabe. Either that, or being forced into humanity had changed him.
Would he be different once he became an angel again? Would all this fade away? He’d bought her the bracelet. He’d made love to her. They were best friends. They were more than friends. But how much of that would fall away when he was an angel again? How much of this would he regret?
“Someday I might like to try this scuba diving you’ve talked about. And the snorkeling.” Gabriel reached out his arm around her shoulder and pulled him against him.
They walked down the wet sand, their bodies touching, his hand warm against her skin. It was easy to think that their love was the stuff of romance novels, but it was a human Gabriel she’d fallen in love with. How much of who he was now was Gabriel the archangel, and how much was due to the magical spell?
“I would be happy to teach you scuba diving and snorkeling.” She poked him gently in the ribs with her elbow. “And someday I’d like to try this ‘becoming the ocean’ you’ve talked about.”
He rubbed her shoulder. “When I’m an angel again, I’ll share that with you.”
She stopped abruptly. “Seriously? I mean, you can really do that? And I wouldn’t drown?”
He turned to face her. “Well, if I tried to share that with you now, we’d both drown. But as an angel, I can give you the ability to breathe underwater.” He reached out and ran his fingers through her wet hair. “I could gift that to you, so you’d always be able to breathe in the water, even when you’re not with me. It wouldn’t be quite the same as becoming the ocean, but it would be close.”
Her heart twisted. He’d do this? He’d give her something so precious? He’d said that angels liked to give gifts, but she’d never heard of them doing such a thing as this. She’d always assumed that the gift that Gabriel’s eldest brother had given her was a once-in-a-trillion event. And she’d always felt that gift was more about showing how much the angel loved Sam than any feelings for her. She was like Sam’s adopted daughter, therefore Sam’s angel also saw her in that regard.
But this…this would be a gift for her alone. And from an angel she’d, accidently, turned into a human. “I would love that, but I’ve done nothing to deserve such a thing,” she confessed.
He tilted his head, an adorable smile curling up those beautiful lips. Once again, he was so earnestly transparent. It was like she could see right down into his heart even without her gift. “Nyalla, you’re my friend and my love. You deserve such a gift just by being you. There is no need to do anything else.”
It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to her, and she felt her eyes tear up at the thought. It wasn’t just the gift; it was that he was so confident nothing would change between them once he was an angel again. She reached out her hand, entwining her fingers with his, and tugged him along.
“When you are once again an angel, I will be happy to accept such a gift from you.”
Chapter 19
“Are we done arguing about this?” Terrelle grumbled.
They were all three in Nyalla’s room, sitting around the glass-topped dining table, the rosaries spread before them.
“No, we’re not done arguing about this.” Gabriel snapped. “They’re a symbol, and blessed or not, it would be sacrilegious, or at least disrespectful, to take them apart. They were created with holy purpose.”
“They were made in China,” Nyalla huffed. “And I doubt the people in the factory that cranked these out were Catholic, let alone imbuing their work with holy purpose.”
“You don’t know that,” he shot back. “According to your phone, there are Catholics in China.”
“And according to my phone, it’s sacrilegious to consider a rosary to be a talisman. These haven’t been b
lessed. They have no power on their own. They’re a framework for the prayer, to keep track of where someone is in the devotion sequence. The item itself is meaningless. To imbue the beads and the physical item with holy significance is to make it an idol, which would be a blasphemy.”
“You guys are killing me,” Terrelle wailed.
“Symbol.” Gabe argued, ignoring the demon. “There is a difference between something being a symbol and an idol. Disrespecting a symbol gives offense.”
“So does farting in public.” Terrelle rolled her eyes. “Can we do this, or are we going to sit here until midnight having this discussion?”
“But disrespecting a symbol is an act that needs to be done in public. It’s the act of desecration itself that’s the disrespect, not the destruction of the symbol. If you go out in the middle of nowhere, burn a flag, and nobody knows, it’s meaningless. It’s just burning a piece of cloth. It only matters when it’s done in front of an audience, because it’s an open act of disrespect. As long as we’re not standing out in the street, slandering the Catholic religion as we break these apart, then we’re not committing an offense. There’s no disrespect.”
“Oh fuck this.” Terrelle grabbed one of the rosaries and yanked it between her hands. Beads and silver wires flew everywhere. “TaDa. Done. And it doesn’t matter about sacrilege or disrespect, or blasphemy because I’m a demon. I’m supposed to do all that shit. It’s in my nature.”
“I forbid you to break any more of those,” Gabe growled.
Terrelle looked the angel straight in the eye, picked up a second rosary, and yanked it apart. Gabe dove across the table, grabbing for her throat, but the demon was quicker. She scooted to the side, snatching up the last rosary as the angel gripped her shoulder.
“Don’t,” he warned.
She held it with the one hand, looped it around the chair post and pulled. “Oops.”
Gabe reached out to grab the crucifix before it hit the floor, then balled up his fist.
