Angel Tormented (The Louisiangel Series Book 3)

by C. L. Coffey

  The room was dimly lit. They’d apparently not managed to get power on in the building, and were instead using hundreds of candles. They lined the edges of the walls, flickering in the drafty room. Although it gave the room some light, I was a little wary of how close they were to the large, mismatched drapes which hung over the windows. It was a good job that they still had the ability to transport themselves to another location in the blink of an eye, because I wasn’t convinced whatever sprinkler system was installed was still working.

  Veronica was tapping her foot as she waited impatiently for me to finish looking around the room. “It looks a lot different in here,” I said, slightly envious of how much effort the cherubim must have put in to accomplish so much in such a short span of time, while I was unable to get the angels to clear their plates at meal times.

  “Would you like a guided tour?” Garret suggested, though the amount of sarcasm dripping from his tone indicated that was the last thing he was prepared to do.

  “Sure,” I accepted brightly. “Maybe you can show me the exit?”

  “You could start with one of the windows,” Garret shrugged.

  “And you wonder why I don’t want to come with you,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Can we please stop arguing?” Veronica begged, addressing the question to Garret. “You agreed we need her help.” Although Garret folded his arms and glared sullenly back at Veronica, he didn’t say anything. “Thank you,” Veronica muttered, turning back to me. “We were wondering if you had reconsidered our offer?”

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I demanded impatiently, my hands finding their way to my hips.

  “Are you going to swear an oath not to tell Michael anything?” Garret responded, hotly.

  Just like that I could feel the blood rush from my head, and I couldn’t stop myself from swaying on the spot. I reached out for the nearest chair, using it to steady myself. They didn’t know Michael was dead. Mentally, I shook myself: how would they know? They no longer had that connection and no one knew where to find them.

  “Are you okay?” Veronica asked, hurrying over to me. Her gray eyes peered at me in concern from behind her black bangs.

  “You don’t know,” I mumbled.

  “Know what?” she asked.

  “Michael,” I said, before clearing my throat. “Michael was killed by one of the Fallen last night.” The words seemed to make my throat burn.

  Veronica stared blankly at me. “I don’t understand,” she said, taking a step back.

  “He was caught in a trap,” I struggled to explain. “He didn’t survive.”

  Veronica’s hands flew to her mouth to cover a sob. She stared at me, silently begging me to tell her it was lies as she shook her head.

  “You’re lying,” Garret said, although he sounded unsure of his own words. “Michael can’t be dead. He’s Michael.”

  “Who?” Veronica demanded, her hands curling into fists as the shock in her eyes was replaced with rage.

  “Valac,” I replied. “But he’s dead too. I killed him.”

  “You killed Valac?” Garret scoffed in disbelief. “You?”

  “You can go jump out that damn window,” I growled at him. I looked to Veronica. “Who was Valac?”

  “He was a throne,” she said, quietly. “I thought he was in Argentina, actually. Running around with the drug cartels. He shouldn’t have been a problem for Michael, though.” Her shoulders sagged. “Are you sure?” she asked me.

  I nodded my head. “He’s gone.” Veronica whirled around to Garret. “This changes everything.”

  “This changes nothing,” Garret disagreed. “We need to discuss this with the other cherubim before we do anything else. I don’t care if she can’t tell Michael anything; this does not change our focus.”

  Veronica paused then nodded, turning back to me. “Sorry,” she said. She caught her lip between her teeth and wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ll take you back.” She stepped forward, and just like that, I was back in the grounds of the convent. “How’s Cupid?” she asked, glancing up at the white building behind us.

  “He’s in charge of the House,” I shrugged.

  “How’s he doing?” she pressed. “He never wanted that, and Michael…”

  “Angry, grieving, trying to do a job he doesn’t want – still missing his best friend,” I added. “You could go in and ask him this yourself,” I pointed out.

  For the first time since I had met Veronica, tears flooded her eyes, but she shook her head. “I can’t. We left the House.”

  “You left Michael’s House,” I said, but I was speaking the words to an empty garden.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Big Heart

  While my anger had finally dissipated, I still had no desire to return inside, so I left the convent grounds once again. It was completely dark now, but the weather was still thankfully warm enough that I could walk around without a jacket on and not look too out of place.

  This time, I was more aware of my surroundings as I strolled along to the banks of the Mississippi, following it until I reached a spot not too far from the St. Louis Cathedral. I spotted an empty bench and took it, staring out across the water to the lights on the opposite side of the bank. There was a strong breeze tonight. This late in the year, there should have been a chill to it, but instead there was the same muggy warmth there had been in late August. I leaned back and allowed the breeze to tug my hair behind me as I tried to concentrate on the sound of the water lapping against the bank in front of me, over the noise of rush hour in the city behind me.

  Finally, I had some time to myself, time to think and collect my thoughts. I’d been avoiding this all day… Ty. I could not get past the fact that he was the person who had sent me to that Port. Had he really overheard a conversation with Asmodeus? Asmodeus had looked shocked to see Michael’s body, but who was to say he wasn’t a really good actor? What if that had been the intention all along? And if it was, how could I tell any of the archangels – anyone – that he had sent me there. At the end of the day, it was me who had chosen to act on that information. Once again I had put my trust in a nephilim and this time someone had been killed.

  My hands curled into fists around the wooden slat of the bench. I was going to kick Ty’s ass the next time I saw him. I let out a low growl, the wood snapping off in my hands. Kicking his ass was way less than what he deserved. Kicking his ass to the gates of Hell – that was more like it.

  I glanced down at the pieces of wood in my hands, before launching them at the water. I couldn’t tell anyone about Ty. It wasn’t like anyone was asking about the details, but it didn’t change the fact that I was a naive, gullible idiot who had looked to find the good in a nephilim. Again.

  I sank back into the bench and sighed. What the hell was I doing? I stared back out across the water, sucking in a deep breath of the muggy air, the scent of diesel mixing with the slight damp smell. It was kind of reassuring – that no matter what was happening, New Orleans was carrying on as normal. Maybe I would be able to return to that.

  When my phone vibrated in my pocket, even though I knew it would be Joshua, I took a moment before reading the text message: sat there, right in that moment, I felt so small and insignificant, and it was wonderful. How the hell did I get to this point? A year ago, if you’d have told me that angels existed, I would have rolled my eyes. Try telling me that I was going to become one and help run a house full of angels?

  Finally, I opened the text message. Where R U? X

  I quickly responded to Joshua. When his response didn’t come – I assumed he was driving – I closed my eyes again. This feeling of insignificance wasn’t going to last long, but I was going to make the most of it.

  Seventeen minutes later, someone joined me on the bench. “That smells delicious,” I declared, opening my eyes to find Joshua offering me a plastic tub of spicy smelling food. I took it, and the silver fork, peering into the transparent container at the rice. “I take
it this is Maggie’s jambalaya?” I asked.

  Joshua pulled the lid off his own tub, the steam escaping into the night. “You know I can cook, right?”

  “I know that you haven’t had the chance to cook in the last few days,” I said, stabbing my fork into a piece of meat that was either chorizo or Andouille sausage and taking a bite. (It was the latter). “Your cutlery also has squarer handles than these, so I’m guessing you called in to see your godmother and she loaded you up with dinner, and you ‘borrowed’ the forks when she wasn’t looking.”

  Joshua just grinned at me as he wolfed down his food. I couldn’t blame him. Maggie’s jambalaya, a spicy, tomato-based paella-style dish was phenomenal. This one was full of shrimp, chicken, and sausage, and boy was it delicious. I hadn’t even realized how hungry I was until the container was empty.

  Joshua finished his almost as quickly as I did. He gathered up the containers and forks, and put them on the far side of him, before shuffling over and pulling me close to him. “What’s the matter?” he asked, resting his head against my own.

  “What makes you think there’s something wrong?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “Because I know you better than you think I do.”

  “Do you now?” I retorted, shifting my weight so I could look up at him.

  “I do indeed,” he responded with a grin. “I knew you were hungry, didn’t I?”

  “I’m always hungry,” I muttered as I sank back against him. “Cupid told Leon.”

  “I know, I was there,” Joshua responded.

  “There are rules,” I clarified. “Don’t drink, don’t do drugs, don’t have sex, don’t tell anyone I’m an angel, and don’t tell anyone about the convent.”

  “You know you broke two of them yourself, right?” Joshua asked. “Your aunt knows about you, and we both know about the convent.”

  “Technically, I told Sarah in a dream, you, on the other hand, played sneaky and found out about the convent on your own,” I said, poking him in the ribs.

  “Just doing my job, darlin’,” Joshua muttered, reaching over to rub at the spot I’d poked. “But I don’t see what the big deal is? Leon knowing is going to help.”

  “The big deal is that Michael kept insisting that the rules couldn’t be broken or there would be dire consequences, and then Cupid goes ahead and does it, and nothing happens,” I said. I stood up and wandered over to the edge of the water. There weren’t any barriers here, and the water was lapping up against breaker rocks only a couple of meters from me. “It’s not that I want something to happen to Cupid, because I really don’t,” I explained as Joshua came to stand beside me. “It’s just… what other rules aren’t actually rules? Lilah said she never fell, Michael said she did.”

  “This is important to you?” Joshua asked, quietly.

  “I just want to know the truth,” I admitted. “Not just about the rules, but about everything! I’m supposed to be helping Cupid run that House and I don’t think I’m being told everything.”

  Joshua rolled his shoulders before turning his attention away from the water to face me. “I found Darell.”

  It took me a second to place the name, before I quickly whipped around on the spot. “Darell? Lilah’s Darell? You found him?” I repeated as a bolt of excitement shot through me.

  Joshua nodded. “Once you told me his name, and the fact he was once US Army, combined with the fact he was in the city for a time, it was quite easy. He’s in Houston.”

  “That’s only a six-hour drive – less depending on traffic,” I said, already planning on heading back to the convent for an SUV. Okay, it was a day roundtrip, but it was a day out of New Orleans.

  “I’ll go with you, if you want?” Joshua offered.

  I blinked, looking up at him. “You want to come?”

  “Of course,” he said, frowning at the suggestion he wouldn’t. “I get that you can take care of yourself, but it’d be pretty lousy of me to let you go on your own.”

  I flung my arms around his neck and kissed him. I was completely prepared to drive to Houston by myself, but the fact that Joshua was willing to come with me relieved some of the tension I was feeling. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Now?” Joshua asked, his head cocked.

  “Might as well get going,” I confirmed.

  The confused look remained. “You don’t want to run by the convent?”

  “I think some space is a good thing right now. Besides, if we leave now, we can be back before Cupid notices.”

  Joshua still looked concerned, but eventually shrugged. We gathered up the dinner containers and made our way to his car. Soon, we were on the road and New Orleans was nothing but a series of lights in the rearview mirror as we headed out to the west.

  No sooner had we left the city and hit the causeway, the rain moved in. It was only a drizzle that seemed worse than it was because of the speed we were moving at, but the sight of the windscreen wipers going back and forth startled me. “How long has it been since it rained last?” I asked.

  The question was more aimed at myself than Joshua but he answered anyway. “That was on the news the other day. Apparently there was one storm back in October, but before that was only what was left over from Hurricane Tabitha. It’s got the weather guys confused. They seem to think that any raincloud diverts itself before it actually hits the city, and obviously that’s not possible.”

  “October?” I muttered. That had to have been the night I had found Joshua in an abandoned house being held at gunpoint with his own gun. If that was the case, that was six weeks ago, and although I had no idea what the average rainfall for the area was, I was willing to bet it was significantly more than ‘nothing’. “I wonder if it’s the work of the Fallen,” I mused.

  “I thought the Fallen were more interested in sending hurricanes in our direction?” Joshua frowned. “What benefit would it be to them to stop all the rain? It’s a city, not farmland, and it’s not like we have a drought watch going on. The Mississippi has the highest levels this year thanks to heavy rainfall upstream.”

  “I don’t know,” I said as I raised a shoulder in a half shrug. “I’ll bring it up with Cupid when we get back.”

  “Speaking of Cupid,” said Joshua. “I realize that I brought up this little road trip, and I’m not against spontaneity, but is this okay?”

  “Is what?” I asked, turning to face him. “Discussing the weather?”

  Joshua shook his head. “We just took off, darlin’,” he pointed out.

  I pulled a face. “On a road trip. It’s not like we’re running away and eloping. We’re coming back tonight.”

  Joshua briefly took his eyes off the road to look at me, an eyebrow disappearing under his hair. “Tonight?”

  “Yes?” I responded, suddenly confused. “Why wouldn’t we?”

  “Because it’s a five and a half hour drive, longer judging from this traffic: we’ll be lucky if we get in before midnight at this rate. Were you thinking we’re going to turn up unannounced on his doorstep in the middle of the night?”

  “Yes?” I admitted. Okay, I hadn’t considered that. Then something else occurred to me. “If you weren’t planning on seeing him tonight, why are we leaving now?”

  “You’re the one that wanted to leave straight away, darlin’,” Joshua pointed out. “I assumed you were happy with us grabbing a room at a motel, or something.”

  “I don’t have anything to sleep in, much less a change of clothes for in the morning,” I realized.

  Joshua glanced at me and gave me a huge grin. “When you didn’t want to swing by the convent, I figured you were happy to be sleeping nude.”

  My mouth fell open. “Of course you were,” I grunted, backhanding his arm.

  Joshua laughed. “Look, we’re nearly off this bridge, I can turn around and head back, if you like?”

  “What were you going to do for clothing?” I asked, curious.

  “We’re going to Houston, not the boonies. They have 24-hour stores
there,” Joshua chuckled. “I believe you can even get a toothbrush in some hotels.”

  I rolled my eyes, a gesture lost in the dark of the car. “Keep going,” I grumbled, reaching for the radio. I knew better than to change the station from the country one Joshua favored, and though I would never admit it to him, it was growing on me the more I listened to it, but some background music was what was needed now. I was also hoping Joshua would sing along too.

  * * *

  The trip was uneventful until we crossed into Texas. By this point, we had made time, with most of the traffic disappearing from the roads as we passed Lafayette – rush hour being over and commuters arriving home. It was just after ten when we arrived in Houston, the traffic picking up despite the time. Although Darell lived near Memorial Park, Joshua had suggested we get a room in a more central location in Houston, closer to where he worked, as it would be easier to catch him there than at home in the morning.

  I didn’t object as we pulled up outside a 24-hour superstore, blinking from the bright lights of the parking lot. It hadn’t stopped raining, and combined with the lack of need to refill the car, we hadn’t stopped. I was quite happy to get out and stretch my legs – even if that meant a dash to the doors.

  Joshua darted around to my door before I was barely out of the car, a jacket hovering over his head as he attempted to shelter us both under it as we ran for the door. It was a pointless effort – the wind blowing the rain in all directions so that even an umbrella would have been useless – and I couldn’t help but laugh as I caught our reflections in the glass of the doors. We were drenched. “Thank you for trying,” I told him, trying to wipe the water from my bare arms.

  Houston was considerably cooler than New Orleans. The few people who were out were wearing jackets, and even Joshua was starting to shiver. “You should take this,” he said, offering me the jacket.

  I pushed it back towards him. “I don’t feel the cold anymore. You should keep it.”