Angel Tormented (The Louisiangel Series Book 3)

by C. L. Coffey

  “Morning, Joshua,” Leon’s voice filled the car. “Sorry to call you early, but we’ve got a body and we’ve got both the Port Authority and the idiots over on the trains wanting us to wrap things up, while the Lieutenant is arguing with the Harbor PD as to who has jurisdiction. God, this scene’s a mess. I hope you haven’t had breakfast.”

  Joshua glanced over at me. “Is this at the Port of New Orleans?”

  “And we have the media all over this one too,” Leon said, seemingly assuming that was where we were getting our information from. “Vultures,” he sighed. “As far as they’re concerned, it’s a suicide.” Something in my stomach twisted.

  “You don’t think so?” Joshua asked.

  “I… For the love of God, just a second, Josh…” The sound grew muffled, but Leon’s voice was still clear enough to be heard. “Holiday, I thought we had closed this area off… there are three workers there… Josh, I have to go deal with something. Just head to the Port and I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

  “Do you want me to take you back to the convent?” Joshua offered, his eyes fixed firmly on me.

  I narrowed my eyes back at him. “I don’t care how many advanced driver courses you’ve been on, keep your eyes on the road,” I growled.

  Joshua ran his tongue over his lower lip before turning his attention back on the road. Seconds later, he pulled over and put the car into park. “Better?” Without waiting for a response, he turned in his seat to face me. “Do you want me to run you back to the convent? I’m sure the last place you want to be right now is back at that…” he frowned. “At the Port.”

  My mouth felt dry, but I forced the words out. “I’d rather be there than at the convent.”

  Joshua’s eyebrows shot up towards his hair. “Really?” he asked in disbelief.

  “Really,” I confirmed, making the word sound as clear as possible. “If nothing else, I need to make sure that nothing leads back to the convent and the angels.”

  “You know I can do that?” Joshua pointed out. I just stared back at him. Finally, Joshua shrugged. “Fine.”

  * * *

  The Port looked different in daylight. With the sun already heading high in the sky, the shadows didn’t stretch much further than the base of the stacked containers. There were also a lot more people around – police officers littered the surrounding area, the fire department were busy wrapping things up, while forensics were on their knees under and around the enormous train that was still in the same position it had stopped in last night.

  My attention was caught by the white tent which had been set up a few feet from the train – on the opposite side of the track to where I had been fighting Valac. Under it, I spotted Henry examining something on a table. Henry was one of the coroners. He was also an Angel of Death – a reaper.

  I could tell Joshua had seen him too when he shuddered. Although Henry’s job was only to assist souls in getting to Heaven once they were dead, since discovering what Henry was, Joshua had never seemed comfortable around him. Despite this, we ducked under the crime scene tape and headed over to him.

  As we drew close, I finally saw what it was Henry was examining: Michael. Or at least, it was Michael’s head and most of his torso. I stumbled, feeling the bile in my stomach churn angrily. The motion sent the rocks I was walking on skittering. The noise caught Henry’s attention, and the man he had been talking to – Leon.

  Leon looked at me, his eyes darkening, before his eyes slowly widened. He looked down at Michael, and back at me, his mouth dropping open. “Joshua, what the hell is she doing here?” he demanded, horrified.

  “She has a pass,” Joshua started.

  Leon cut him off. “The victim is her brother!” he exclaimed, reaching for a cloth and hurriedly throwing it over Michael.

  “Her brother?” Joshua repeated, almost at the same time as Henry.

  Even I was confused.

  “Half-brother,” Leon clarified. He turned to Joshua. “Aren’t you dating her?” he asked.

  Henry spluttered and quickly tried to turn it into a cough. “Sorry,” he wheezed at Leon, before shooting me a look.

  Leon marched over to me, folding his arms as he stared at me. “How many times have you lied to me?” he demanded.

  I sucked in a deep breath. At this point, I didn’t have a clue. All of a sudden, I felt woozy. “I think I need to sit down,” I muttered.

  Joshua was by my side in an instant, his arm wrapping around my waist. “Maybe we should get you back to the convent,” he suggested, quietly.

  “The convent?” Leon repeated. “The convent?” he said again, slowly this time, like he was tasting the word. He took a couple of steps back and looked over at Michael’s covered body. Slowly, he turned back to me, his eyes taking in all the healing wounds that covered my body. Finally, his eyes narrowed once more. “What are you?” he asked, slowly.

  “Angel,” I said, stumbling over my name.

  “Not who, what?” Leon said with a sharp shake of his head. “I remember you. I remember him,” he added, indicating towards Michael. “And I keep having flashes of being in the convent – in the church. What were you doing to me?”

  I could feel blood rushing from my head, and I was grateful that Joshua was helping me remain upright as I struggled to come up with a response.

  “She’s my girlfriend,” Joshua responded, firmly.

  Leon shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, there’s something else.” His face contorted as he closed his eyes. Suddenly, they snapped open. “Demon.”

  Behind us, Henry laughed loudly. “You sound worse than a mother-in-law.”

  I flashed Henry a grateful look, but Leon pulled a face, instead tightening the gap between us. “What are you?” he repeated in a lower tone.

  “I’m not a demon,” I told him.

  “Leon, with all due respect, you sound insane right now,” Joshua told him. “Just stop and listen to yourself. Demons? Michael worked in the convent. Angel’s aunt is there now,” he continued, calmly.

  Leon cleared his throat and straightened his back, looking as conflicted as I felt: I knew the rules and I wasn’t about to tell him what I really was, but I wasn’t sure I liked this other option – even if it was Joshua taking the lead. “Do you know why your brother was here last night?”

  “Do we have to do this now?” Joshua asked him, saving me from answering. “Angel’s seen his body. Let me take her home. I’ll get straight back and do what I need to.”

  Leon considered the request. “She should never have been here in the first place,” he conceded. “It’s a crime scene, Josh, and we’ve had this conversation before. As for you coming back, I’ll have a word with Asmodeus: he was the one that wanted you here, but I think it’s fair to say you’re too close to this one.”

  “Asmodeus requested him?” I asked, feeling anger start to build up in me.

  “Of course his lieutenant requested him. It’s his job,” Leon pointed out. “Unlike you, he should be here.”

  “We’re leaving,” Joshua quickly interjected. “I’ll take Angel back home, and unless I hear otherwise, I’ll come straight back.” Without waiting for a response, and before I could say anything, he turned me around and started to lead me away from his partner.

  We had just ducked under the crime scene tape when a person stepped out in front of us. I was ready to reach for the dagger I’d stuck in my boot when he spoke. “You could do that,” Asmodeus said, seemingly knowing exactly what I was going for. “But you will have to take me down in front of all these witnesses, which will inevitably lead to either your arrest, or more likely, your death.”

  “I’m already dead,” I growled.

  “True, but he isn’t,” Asmodeus pointed out, nodding his head at Joshua. “And attempting anything on me will certainly lead to Joshua’s death. I can assure you that neither of us wants that.”

  “Then what do you want?” I asked, as Joshua tightened his hand around mine. “Or are you here to rub it in?�
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  “Rub what in?” Asmodeus asked, looking amused.

  “Oh please,” I scoffed. “You’re telling me you’re not here because that’s Michael over there?” I asked, only just managing not to burst into tears as I pointed in the general direction of where Michael’s body lay.

  “That’s Michael?” Asmodeus asked, staring over at the white tent. “Well, well, well… and here I was thinking I was here for bad news.” He laughed gleefully, clapping his hands together. “No, my dear; let me thank you for that delightful news and reward you by giving you a once in a lifetime offer,” Asmodeus explained, as though that was obvious. “We want you to join us, like Lilah did.”

  “Let me think about that,” I said, dryly. “No.”

  “Interesting,” Asmodeus mused, stroking his gray streaked beard.

  “You’re honestly surprised by that response?” I asked in disbelief.

  “Actually, yes,” Asmodeus said, as a big grin slowly stretched across his face. “I would have thought that by losing Michael you would have realized that you’re on the losing side. I would have thought that you would have seen sense and joined the side that will not only triumph, but have more fun doing so, and I certainly would have thought-”

  I didn’t give him chance to elaborate on his thoughts as I stepped forward and punched him.

  Or at least I tried.

  Instead, he grabbed my fist, twisting my arm, and me, so that my back was flush against his chest, his arms clamping me in place. “Now, now,” he chided. “We’ve just had this discussion: attacking me will only result in you and Joshua getting hurt.”

  “Go to Hell,” I yelled, struggling against his vice-like grip.

  “Joshua, I suggest you get this one out of here,” Asmodeus said, coolly, before shoving me towards him.

  Joshua only just stopped the both of us tumbling to the ground, and by the time I had untangled myself from him, Asmodeus was already joining a group of police officers by the train. “I am going to kill him,” I growled in exasperation. Even though he was a good twenty feet from us, Asmodeus looked over his shoulder and winked.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” Joshua said, reaching for me, his hold strong enough to stop me charging after him.

  * * *

  Things had already begun to change when I returned to the convent. Normally, at this time of day, the majority of the SUVs were missing – out with the angels as they delivered their messages. Today, there were only a handful missing.

  Inside, I was greeted by someone who wasn’t Cupid. Although second-in-command, he had favored working behind the convent’s reception desk. Until just under a year ago, the Old Ursuline Convent had been open to the public. As there were often tourists still trying to view the historical building, there was a need for someone to be sat on the reception – especially considering the angels never seemed to lock anything.

  Today, the front desk was manned by an angel who looked familiar, but just like all of the others, I had never taken the opportunity to learn his name. “Hi…” I sighed. “I don’t know your name, I’m sorry.”

  “Pascal,” he informed me.

  “Do you know where I can find Cupid, Pascal?” I asked him.

  “He’s in the library,” Pascal replied, shortly.

  Maybe I was feeling particularly paranoid, but he didn’t seem to want me to stick around and chat. Then again, I wasn’t exactly in the mood for small talk. I hurried along into the building and realized that someone had finally started doing some cleaning… well, someone had managed to sweep the hardwood floors, but it was a start.

  Cupid was exactly where Pascal said he would be. He’d taken over the only table in the center of the room, papers spread out all over it. His head was resting in one of his hands as he frowned at the document in front of him, but he looked up and smiled when I walked in the room. “I have no idea how Michael did this,” he admitted.

  “What are you looking at?” I asked.

  “The human side of this House,” Cupid said, pulling a face. “Apparently we can’t just commandeer a building. We need to buy it, and there are all the legal ramifications of that. And don’t get me started on utilities.”

  “Sounds fun,” I muttered. I pulled out a chair at the other side of the table and sank into it.

  “Why do I get the impression I’m about to prefer understanding this quagmire of financials?” Cupid asked after taking a long look at me.

  “Joshua got called out to investigate a suicide,” I started to explain before my voice croaked.

  “Michael,” said Cupid.

  I nodded and cleared my throat. “Obviously Joshua knows Michael, but so does Leon, his training officer. He put two and two together when I turned up.”

  “Ah,” Cupid said, as he started massaging his temples.

  “They’re going to have to come here and question us. Joshua got me out of there, but I need to know what to say. I can’t tell Leon what we are, although, he’s beginning to remember what happened to him.”

  “The exorcism,” Cupid sighed, before closing his eyes. “We’re in a mess.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I admitted. “I don’t know why Michael thought I was going to be any good at leading this House, because I don’t have a clue.”

  “He had his reasons,” Cupid shrugged. “But as for Leon, I think the answer is simple: we tell him the truth.”

  My mouth fell open. “We can’t do that,” I squeaked. “Michael said-”

  “Michael said,” Cupid repeated, cutting me off. “Michael’s not here anymore.”

  “But they are the rules!” I objected. I was in no hurry to fall just yet – and certainly not over something as trivial as this.

  “There are exceptions to every rule,” Cupid explained, as though falling was a completely logical option. He looked over and caught my expression, which I’m sure had my eyes bulging out of my head. “If he’s remembering, he will find the truth much easier to accept. It will also keep Joshua from saying something he shouldn’t, and it might also prove useful, especially given the fact his boss is one of the Fallen.”

  I continued to stare dumbfounded until eventually, words started to form. “Michael would never even consider this.”

  “Michael’s not being here is the reason we need to consider it,” Cupid yelled, slamming his hand on the table. I couldn’t stop myself from flinching. “If Michael was here, I wouldn’t be the one trying to work out what to do next!”

  “You’re right, I’m sorry,” I said, my eyes wide. “Look, I don’t want to make things harder. I’ll go see how my aunt is doing,” I added, quickly getting to my feet. I was out of the room before Cupid could say anything else. As soon as the door was closed, I let out a long breath. First Raphael, and now Cupid?

  I couldn’t blame them for being angry. I was angry too. No matter what anyone told me, I couldn’t ignore the fact that Michael was only at that Port because I had asked him to be there: he had no reason to be there otherwise.

  Before I knew where I was going, I found myself in the attic, standing in front of Michael’s room. I pushed the door open – I wasn’t surprised to find it unlocked – and walked in. Despite the fact barely twelve hours had passed, I was expecting something to be different in there. I don’t know why. The only way it could possibly have changed was if Cupid had moved in, and the fact he was in library was evidence enough that he wasn’t ready for that move. I glanced over at the desk, still expecting Michael to be there, arching an eyebrow at my unannounced visit, but already putting his pen down as he waited patiently for me to explain myself.

  For some reason, I felt compelled to sit in his chair. His desk, like his room, was immaculate. The few items that were out on the top were square to the edge of the desk as though he’d had some level of obsessive compulsive disorder. I inhaled deeply, then, holding the breath, opened the top desk drawer.

  I won’t lie: I was expecting a note from him, hidden away in there. There wasn’t one, but why would
there be one? He hadn’t expected to die. Actually, the drawers were pretty empty – I guess Cupid had been in here after all.

  I sank back into the chair, the leather still retaining the scent of Michael: a combination of detergent and the cologne he wore… or used to wear. The thought of an angel wearing cologne seemed odd, but the thought of Michael not wearing it was just wrong. I promptly burst into tears.

  For hours it was like my eyes had sprung a leak and no amount of dabbing or wiping was making them stop. Michael was Heaven’s greatest warrior, the most famous of the archangels – how could he be dead? And selfishly, how the hell was I supposed to do this without Michael’s guidance? I barely knew a fraction of what was needed – I couldn’t be left to run the House with Cupid: I was effectively useless.

  Michael was also my… well, he was the archangel I reported to, but just yesterday he was confessing he still had feelings for me. His death didn’t change the fact that I didn’t feel the same way about him as I did Joshua, but I still cared for him. A lot.

  My head hurt and my heart hurt. I gave up trying to stop the tears and instead curled up on the chair, wrapping my arms around my legs. I didn’t know what I wanted before. Being an archangel had seemed so far away, but now? I certainly didn’t want it now.

  That last thought went through my head for a second time, and just like that, the tears stopped. I was alive. Hell, I was undead – I had been given a second chance – which was more than what Michael was given, and sitting here crying was a waste of a gift, and insulting to Michael. If Michael thought I could do this, then I was going to prove him right, not wrong. And being able to do the same to the likes of Zachary and Savannah would be an additional bonus.

  I was in the process of trying to wipe the tears which had turned my cheeks tight from the salt, when I heard Cupid. “Angel?” For a moment I thought he had stepped through the door – although I’d had the psychic connection with Michael, he had favored summoning me with bells.

  “Cupid?” I returned, hurriedly scrubbing at my face with my palms.