Angel Tormented (The Louisiangel Series Book 3)

by C. L. Coffey

  We had gotten to the end of the shipping company’s land and found nothing. I stared down along the tracks spotting a light in the distance, but nothing else. Ty had been right about the location and the name, but what was to say he was right about something going on here? Tonight.

  “Angel, I see nothing,” Michael said, matching my thoughts.

  “No,” I agreed. “Me neither.” I rubbed at my neck and looked back at the next shipping yard. “Maybe my information was wrong? Maybe the timing was wrong.” I kicked at a stone and turned, heading back in the direction we had come from. Michael remained silent, but I could see his figure walking back from the other side of the containers. Great: he was ignoring me.

  I hadn’t gone far before I spotted something. Something that certainly hadn’t been there when I’d walked this way not that long ago. “Am I hallucinating?” I asked myself. In the middle of one of the tracks, between two sleepers, protruding from jagged rocks was a sword. It was sticking out enough to be seen, and probably enough that it would get knocked over by a train should one pass over it.

  I glanced up and down the tracks. It was deserted. I made my way over, sticking to the correct side of the tracks. “Where the hell did you come from?” I muttered as I stared suspiciously at it. As I got closer, I realized the black blade belonged to an angelic sword, the hilt mirroring the black one in my boot. “Are you missing a sword?” I asked Michael, wishing I had better night vision as I tried to find its owner – someone had to have put it there.

  “Only the ones taken by the cherubim, I believe,” Michael responded. “Why?”

  “Because there’s one in the middle of the tracks, and it wasn’t there before,” I responded, ready to step over the steel rail. Before I could, Michael was beside me.

  “Don’t!” he bellowed at me, stopping me in my tracks.

  I lowered my foot and turned to him, my eyebrows arched. “I don’t think it will make me the king of England,” I told him.

  “Stay back,” Michael instructed me.

  I was about to move away when a blur shot past me, knocking me face first to the ground – I only just managed to put my hands out to stop me face-planting. I rolled over, unable to stop myself from crying out in pain as the sharp ballast bit into my bare skin, the large chunks of sharp stone drawing blood.

  When I looked back to Michael, he was between the tracks, in front of the sword, on his knees and doubled over. I blinked, trying to work out how he had gotten in there when I noticed the man stood over him, obscured by the shadows. I didn’t recognize him. He was a tall, white male who was possibly in his mid-fifties – certainly not young enough to be moving as fast as he had. Given the fact that he had managed to get the jump on both Michael and myself, he had to be one of the Fallen.

  “As far as trespassers go, you’re the last person I ever expected here,” the man said, looking genuinely surprised to see Michael there. His expression turned smug. “I’ve been waiting millennia to do this,” he declared. “I guess this is my lucky night.”

  “Do what?” I demanded, my eyes switching between him and Michael.

  The man gestured to Michael. “Kill this archangel, of course.”

  For some reason Michael was still on the ground. “Michael, get up,” I hissed.

  “It’s going to take him a while before he can do that,” the man informed me.

  “Who are you?” I asked, wondering how long ‘a while’ was.

  As if he could hear what I was thinking, the man laughed. “It’s going to take much longer than me telling you my name is Valac,” he told me as I brought myself off my knees and into a crouch. “And he’s stuck in a trap,” he added.

  “Angel, get out of here,” Michael grunted, turning his head with effort to face me.

  I stared at him in horror: his usually golden skin was gray and clammy, with beads of sweat lining his forehead. I could see the pain in his eyes. Like hell I was going anywhere. “Why?” I asked Valac instead, ignoring Michael. “What are you trying to do?”

  “Trying?” Valac laughed. “I’m fairly confident I’m succeeding: succeeding in killing Michael. And it’s really going to hurt as he’s ripped apart.”

  My eyes widened in horror. There was no way I was going to let that happen. “No, you’re trying,” I corrected him. “But you’re not going to succeed. Not while I’m here.”

  Valac rolled his eyes. “We’re going to do this, aren’t we?” he sighed, dramatically. “Guess I’ll need this then.” He reached down and plucked the sword from the ground beside Michael, somehow not affecting the trap. The next thing I knew he was launching himself at me.

  I was prepared. Sort of.

  I drew my dagger, taking a couple of steps backwards to get a firmer gripping beneath me as the dagger grew in length, so that when he flew at me, I was ready to block the blow. I wasn’t expecting the strength he was wielding as it sent painful vibrations reverberating down my sword and along my arm, making the metal hilt bite into my already injured palm. The swords sparked at the impact as the metals collided. The two blades scraped along each other, sending a high-pitched screech echoing around us.

  Much of my training had revolved around defense, and for several minutes, that was all I could manage, blocking blow after blow. Finally, I caught his sword at the right angle and purely through fluke, managed to twist my arm, jarring it free. It shot from out of his hands.

  I was so startled at that accomplishment, he caught me with a high kick to my hand – he may have looked old, but he didn’t move like an old man. Without meaning to, I let go of my sword and it went flying to the side, clattering across the stone just out of reach. My eyes followed the sword to where it had landed instead of keeping their focus on Valac. He had punched the side of my head so hard, I thought I was going to throw up. Stunned, he took advantage once again and swung his fist once more. The blow to my cheek sent me tumbling down, my side taking the full impact as I hit the ground.

  The fall winded me, but before I could catch my breath, Valac was on top of me. I only just managed to get my arms over my head so they could field the worst of the blows aimed at my face. Still winded, and with Valac’s weight pressing down on my chest, I couldn’t breathe, much less work out how to get him off me.

  “It’s in your head,” Michael’s voice rang out as I struggled to inhale while fending off the blows raining down on me. “Your vessel does not need to breathe in the same way your body did.”

  Being an angel meant that I could move faster, and be stronger, for longer. It didn’t mean that I could survive without breathing. My heart didn’t beat the same way it used to, but it still beat. I could feel it hammering in my chest now. From under my hands, I caught Michael staring helplessly at me: I had no choice but to survive this. I knew in my gut if I didn’t survive, Michael wouldn’t either. Why did I always have such a problem believing in the impossible?

  I closed my eyes, sent a quick, silent prayer out, and then allowed what oxygen was left in my lungs to leave. I was dead. I was an angel. This wasn’t my body, but my vessel. I allowed myself to believe it – to accept it. No sooner had I done that, then I could feel the restrictions in my chest lifting.

  But I could also feel something else. Even as I continued to fend of the blows, beneath me the ground was vibrating. At first I thought it was one hit to my body too many, but then Valac pausing in his punches long enough for us both to look up along the tracks.

  TRAIN!

  “Michael!” I screamed. I reached out, grabbing onto a rock, and then swung my arm with all the strength I could muster. It hit the back of Valac’s head hard enough to cast off blood. Valac lurched, swearing, and I swung again. He fell to the side, clutching the side of his head. I scrambled away from him as the train sounded its horn in short, loud blasts.

  I lunged for the nearest sword, half-clambering, half-crawling across the ballast. My hands curled around the hilt, finding my grip, just as Valac threw himself at me, and his arms wrapped around my legs. My h
ead was spinning and there was the coppery taste of blood in my mouth – I was surprised I could only feel a large cut in the side of my cheek instead of a gaping hole where a tooth had come out. From somewhere deep inside, I found one last burst of energy.

  I jerked a foot free, losing a boot in the process, but kicked it at Valac’s head. I hadn’t done as much damage as I could have done with the boot still on, but Valac grunted, nonetheless, and his grip on me lessened. I pulled myself out, just enough that I could sit and get a reasonable angle as I swung my arm around, my hand clutching tightly to the sword as it impaled Valac through his chest, all the way to the hilt. He dropped limply on top of my legs, the blade preventing him from completely trapping me. I pushed his body up with my foot, feeling a wet trickle down my leg as I pulled the sword free. With one last thrust, I kicked him off me and collapsed back on the ground, trying to get my vision to stop dancing while willing myself to stop trembling.

  The train blasted its horn again. It wasn’t just a beam of light and a horn anymore. The metal dragon was taking form, its body so long I couldn’t see the end, just the silhouettes of the shipping containers on the carriages behind it.

  I ignored the blood covering me and started to hobble over to Michael. My ankle was hurting – I think I had twisted it – and my good foot was missing a shoe, but if the choice was between a broken ankle or losing Michael, there was only one option.

  I had barely taken two steps when something seemed to explode behind me, the energy of a shockwave knocking me off my feet. The impact of my hands hitting the ground, jarring the bones sent pain shooting up my arm. My wrist snapped from under me and I crumpled, my arms unable to keep my weight. I lay on the ground, screaming at the agony. My vision went white.

  “Angel?” Michael called, the panic in his voice forcing me to lift my head up.

  “What was that?” I grunted, looking behind me, barely seeing anything past the dancing white spots.

  “Valac. When angelic beings are killed, their energy is released from their vessels violently,” he explained.

  The hot, burning pain from my wrist was making my world spin. Using my good arm, wincing as the grazed palm bit into the stone below, I pushed myself to my knees, screaming at the exertion. “Sweet mother of God,” I sobbed, trying not to throw up at the sight of my left wrist lying limply in my lap. The pain was excruciating. Just the action of breathing, the arm rising and falling slightly as I did, sent agonizing bolts of pain pulsing everywhere.

  “Angel!” Michael called again, causing me to look in his direction. Michael was finally standing, although rocking on the spot. I dug deep. I was hurt, but I was alive. If I didn’t move, and quickly, it would be Michael who would … With a roar of determination, I managed to get to my feet and hobble over to him, gritting my teeth against the blinding agony as I moved. “Angel, you need to get out of here,” he told me, his voice already sounding weaker. Michael’s skin had a sheen to it, and under the artificial security lights looked gray. His eyes flickered anxiously as he looked over my wounds.

  “Not a problem,” I agreed, doing my upmost to not sound – or feel – like I was going to pass out. “Only you’re coming with me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Michael said quietly. He sucked in a deep, shaky breath and tumbled to his knees, his eyes momentarily losing focus. He took another breath and clenched his fists against his thighs. “We don’t have time to break this trap.”

  “Maybe I can pull you out,” I suggested. My voice had gone high-pitched, desperate, and I couldn’t keep the sob from it. I glanced down the track towards the train. In a few minutes, the headlight would pick us up. There wasn’t much time. I took another step towards Michael – I was getting him out of there.

  “No!” he snapped. I froze. “If you cross the line, you will get stuck too.” I dropped to my knees, looking for the outline of the tracks. Did dark traps work like dark sigils? “It’s the tracks,” Michael told me, as though he knew what I was looking for. I didn’t acknowledge him, instead getting closer to the steel tracks which were now humming loudly from the vibrations of the approaching train.

  “I can stop the train!” I cried, scrambling to my feet. I limped a few steps, trying to keep on the wood which held the tracks in place, without crossing the steel, but I was in so much pain, a fresh wave of tears fogged my eyes.

  “Angel, the train is too close and moving too fast. You will not stop it in time,” Michael called after me.

  I gritted my teeth. “I just have to move fast,” I ground out, forcing one foot in front of the other, trying to ignore how light-headed I was feeling.

  “Angel, stop!” Michael cried, desperately. It was only because the cry was so feeble – something I would never associate with Michael – that I turned back. I couldn’t leave him.

  The horn blared again. The train was finally close enough now that the light was hitting us. Time was running out. I looked to Michael and saw he knew it too. No, he was giving up too easily. There had to be something!

  “Cupid,” I said suddenly, pulling my phone out of my pocket with my good hand. The screen had an enormous crack running down it but it seemed to work. Only I didn’t have the convent’s number saved. My fingers desperately hammered at Safari as I urged the page to load.

  “He won’t get here in time,” Michael told me, his tone had changed from fear to acceptance, sending a fresh wave of tears to my eyes.

  I looked up at him through blurry eyes and angrily wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. “Summon him,” I demanded. “You share the link with him, right? He falls under you? Hell, summon any of the angels – Cupid will come.”

  “I can’t,” he said quietly. “I’ve been trying. This trap is blocking me.” He swallowed. “Angel, you need to leave,” he pleaded. “You don’t need to see this.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I snapped. “So stop telling me to go or I swear to God, I will step in there and join you,” I informed him as my voice broke. I sniffed and turned my attention back to my surroundings, frantically searching for something to help me. My eyes fell on the sword I had abandoned. Could I use that to break the track, and therefore the trap? “How strong is a sword?”

  “Angel, don’t you dare do anything which will hurt someone on that train. They are innocent humans.” How did he know I was fully prepared to derail that train if it meant saving him? “I mean it, Angel. I’m not worth it.”

  “There’s got to be something I can do,” I yelled in frustration, trying to make my hoarse voice heard over another horn blast. There was a lump in my throat I couldn’t swallow and I was shouting as loud as I could have, but I was too busy looking for some way to free Michael than care if he heard me.

  “There is not enough time and you’re not strong enough to pull me free. Angel, please,” he begged. “Please go.”

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave him. I looked at the train. It was close – maybe only a hundred yards away and getting closer much too quickly. “Michael, I can’t do this without you,” I told him, turning back to him. “There has to be something!”

  A serene expression had fallen over Michael. “When you asked me earlier what I would change about you, I said your vessel,” he said.

  I stared at him, eyes wide. “I’d change that right now too,” I agreed, looking at my weak and damaged limbs. If I’d have had a stronger, faster vessel, I would have stopped Valac sooner and would’ve had more time to get Michael free. A better vessel would have been able to get help.

  “You misunderstand me,” Michael said. “I would change your vessel to your original appearance. I wouldn’t change you. Your vessel is the thing that is not perfect. That red is artificial, a mask, hiding who you really are. You are perfect as you are,” he took a staggered step closer to the rail. “I am sorry if I have ever given you cause to doubt that.”

  The train blasted its horn again; this time like someone was yanking frantically at it, the blasts short and erratic, rather than soun
ding it off with long steady bursts.

  “Angel, my biggest regret has been holding back with you,” Michael told me. “I should have been completely honest with you from the beginning about everything – including my feelings for you. My life had meaning when I met you and has continued to every day since, yet every day I have questioned whether, if it came to it, would I put you over a human. At least now I don’t have to test that. Angel, I-”

  The tears were streaming down my face as the train driver finally slammed the brakes on, sending deafening screeches echoing around me, drowning out Michael’s final words.

  It was too little, too late.

  One moment Michael was there, and then he wasn’t.

  I stood, rooted to the spot, watching the large metal wheels that seemed nearly as big as I was passing in front of me sending dust and gravel whipping at my skin until, suddenly, Cupid was stood between me and the train, horrified. “Angel!” he cried. “Angel, stop screaming – I’m here.”

  I was vaguely aware of the ground hurtling towards me as I blacked out.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lassitude

  I awoke in my bed some time later. For ten blissful seconds I thought it was a dream – a nightmare… then instantly all I was aware of was the pain. There was the constant, deep seated pain which would never go away – the one caused by killing Lilah – but that was just the start of it. My hands, knees, face, and various areas of skin were stinging. My left wrist felt like it was pulsing pain everywhere in sharp bursts.

  All of which only momentarily made me forget about what had happened.

  Then the memory hit me like a tsunami, causing me to gasp and struggle for air as a new pain sucked me under.

  “Angel?” Joshua was at my side in an instant and I launched myself at him, clutching at his shirt with my good hand as he wrapped his arms around me. Without a word, he scooped me up, taking more care with my physical injuries than I had, and maneuvered himself underneath me.